initial commit of ebook 27678HEADmain

197 files changed, 19532 insertions, 0 deletions

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/27678-8.txt b/27678-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ae8e0cf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,5778 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Nine Little Goslings, by Susan Coolidge
+
+
+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: Nine Little Goslings
+
+
+Author: Susan Coolidge
+
+
+
+Release Date: December 31, 2008  [eBook #27678]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Adrian Mastronardi, Emmy, and the Project Gutenberg
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 27678-h.htm or 27678-h.zip:
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/7/6/7/27678/27678-h/27678-h.htm)
+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/7/6/7/27678/27678-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS.
+
+by
+
+SUSAN COOLIDGE,
+
+Author of "The New Year's Bargain," "Mischief's Thanksgiving," "What
+Katy Did," "What Katy Did at School."
+
+With Illustrations.
+
+   CURLY LOCKS.
+   GOOSEY, GOOSEY GANDER.
+   LITTLE BO-PEEP.
+   MISTRESS MARY.
+   LADY BIRD.
+   ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE.
+   RIDE A COCK-HORSE.
+   LADY QUEEN ANNE.
+   UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, DOWN-Y.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Boston:
+Roberts Brothers.
+1893.
+
+Copyright, 1875.
+By Roberts Brothers.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+University Press · John Wilson & Son,
+Cambridge.
+
+
+
+          _When nursery lamps are veiled, and nurse is singing
+                        In accents low,
+           Timing her music to the cradle's swinging,
+                        Now fast, now slow,--_
+
+          _Singing of Baby Bunting, soft and furry
+                        In rabbit cloak,
+           Or rock-a-byed amid the toss and flurry
+                        Of wind-swept oak;_
+
+          _Of Boy-Blue sleeping with his horn beside him,
+                        Of my son John,
+           Who went to bed (let all good boys deride him)
+                        With stockings on;_
+
+          _Of sweet Bo-Peep following her lambkins straying;
+                        Of Dames in shoes;
+           Of cows, considerate, 'mid the Piper's playing,
+                        Which tune to choose;_
+
+          _Of Gotham's wise men bowling o'er the billow,
+                        Or him, less wise,
+           Who chose rough bramble-bushes for a pillow,
+                        And scratched his eyes,--_
+
+          _It may be, while she sings, that through the portal
+                        Soft footsteps glide,
+           And, all invisible to grown-up mortal,
+                        At cradle side_
+
+          _Sits Mother Goose herself, the dear old mother,
+                        And rocks and croons,
+           In tones which Baby hearkens, but no other,
+                        Her old-new tunes!_
+
+          _I think it must be so, else why, years after,
+                        Do we retrace
+           And mix with shadowy, recollected laughter
+                        Thoughts of that face;_
+
+          _Seen, yet unseen, beaming across the ages,
+                        Brimful of fun
+           And wit and wisdom, baffling all the sages
+                        Under the sun?_
+
+          _A grown-up child has place still, which no other
+                        May dare refuse;
+           I, grown up, bring this offering to our Mother,
+                          To Mother Goose;_
+
+          _And, standing with the babies at that olden,
+                        Immortal knee,
+           I seem to feel her smile, benign and golden,
+                        Falling on me._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+          CHAP                                         PAGE
+             I. CURLY LOCKS                               1
+            II. GOOSEY, GOOSEY GANDER                    40
+           III. LITTLE BO-PEEP                           65
+            IV. MISTRESS MARY                           101
+             V. LADY BIRD                               137
+            VI. ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE                165
+           VII. RIDE A COCK-HORSE                       197
+          VIII. LADY QUEEN ANNE                         228
+            IX. UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, DOWN-Y      259
+
+[Illustration]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CURLY LOCKS.
+
+
+WHEN a little girl is six and a little boy is six, they like pretty much
+the same things and enjoy pretty much the same games. She wears an
+apron, and he a jacket and trousers, but they are both equally fond of
+running races, spinning tops, flying kites, going down hill on sleds,
+and making a noise in the open air. But when the little girl gets to be
+eleven or twelve, and to grow thin and long, so that every two months a
+tuck has to be let down in her frocks, then a great difference becomes
+visible. The boy goes on racing and whooping and comporting himself
+generally like a young colt in a pasture; but she turns quiet and shy,
+cares no longer for rough play or exercise, takes droll little
+sentimental fancies into her head, and likes best the books which make
+her cry. Almost all girls have a fit of this kind some time or other in
+the course of their lives; and it is rather a good thing to have it
+early, for little folks get over such attacks more easily than big ones.
+Perhaps we may live to see the day when wise mammas, going through the
+list of nursery diseases which their children have had, will wind up
+triumphantly with, "Mumps, measles, chicken-pox,--and they are all over
+with 'Amy Herbert,' 'The Heir of Redclyffe,' and the notion that they
+are going to be miserable for the rest of their lives!"
+
+Sometimes this odd change comes after an illness when a little girl
+feels weak and out of sorts, and does not know exactly what is the
+matter. This is the way it came to Johnnie Carr, a girl whom some of you
+who read this are already acquainted with. She had intermittent fever
+the year after her sisters Katy and Clover came from boarding-school,
+and was quite ill for several weeks. Everybody in the house was sorry to
+have Johnnie sick. Katy nursed, petted, and cosseted her in the
+tenderest way. Clover brought flowers to the bedside and read books
+aloud, and told Johnnie interesting stories. Elsie cut out paper dolls
+for her by dozens, painted their cheeks pink and their eyes blue, and
+made for them beautiful dresses and jackets of every color and fashion.
+Papa never came in without some little present or treat in his pocket
+for Johnnie. So long as she was in bed, and all these nice things were
+doing for her, Johnnie liked being ill very much, but when she began to
+sit up and go down to dinner, and the family spoke of her as almost well
+again, _then_ a time of unhappiness set in. The Johnnie who got out of
+bed after the fever was not the Johnnie of a month before. There were
+two inches more of her for one thing, for she had taken the opportunity
+to grow prodigiously, as sick children often do. Her head ached at
+times, her back felt weak, and her legs shook when she tried to run
+about. All sorts of queer and disagreeable feelings attacked her. Her
+hair had fallen out during the fever so that Papa thought it best to
+have it shaved close. Katy made a pretty silk-lined cap for her to wear,
+but the girls at school laughed at the cap, and that troubled Johnnie
+very much. Then, when the new hair grew, thick and soft as the plumy
+down on a bird's wing, a fresh affliction set in, for the hair came out
+in small round rings all over her head, which made her look like a
+baby. Elsie called her "Curly," and gradually the others adopted the
+name, till at last nobody used any other except the servants, who still
+said "Miss Johnnie." It was hard to recognize the old Johnnie, square
+and sturdy and full of merry life, in poor, thin, whining Curly, always
+complaining of something, who lay on the sofa reading story-books, and
+begging Phil and Dorry to let her alone, not to tease her, and to go off
+and play by themselves. Her eyes looked twice as big as usual, because
+her face was so small and pale, and though she was still a pretty child,
+it was in a different way from the old prettiness. Katy and Clover were
+very kind and gentle always, but Elsie sometimes lost patience entirely,
+and the boys openly declared that Curly was a cross-patch, and hadn't a
+bit of fun left in her.
+
+One afternoon she was lying on the sofa with the "Wide Wide World" in
+her hand. Her eyelids were very red from crying over Alice's death, but
+she had galloped on, and was now reading the part where Ellen
+Montgomery goes to live with her rich relatives in Scotland.
+
+"Oh, dear," sighed Johnnie. "How splendid it was for her! Just think,
+Clover, riding lessons, and a watch, and her uncle takes her to see all
+sorts of places, and they call her their White Rose! Oh, dear! I wish
+_we_ had relations in Scotland."
+
+"We haven't, you know," remarked Clover, threading her needle with a
+fresh bit of blue worsted.
+
+"I know it. It's too bad. Nothing ever does happen in this stupid place.
+The girls in books always do have such nice times. Ellen could leap, and
+she spoke French _beau_tifully. She learned at that place, you know, the
+place where the Humphreys lived."
+
+"Litchfield Co., Connecticut," said Clover mischievously. "Katy was
+there last summer, you recollect. I guess they don't _all_ speak such
+good French. Katy didn't notice it."
+
+"Ellen did," persisted Johnnie. "Her uncle and all those people were so
+surprised when they heard her. Wouldn't it be grand to be an adopted
+child, Clover?"
+
+"To be adopted by people who gave you your bath like a baby when you
+were thirteen years old, and tapped your lips when they didn't want you
+to speak, and stole your Pilgrim's Progresses? No, thank you. I would
+much rather stay as I am."
+
+"I wouldn't," replied Johnnie pensively. "I don't like this place very
+much. I should love to be rich and to travel in Europe."
+
+At this moment Papa and Katy came in together. Katy was laughing, and
+Papa looked as if he had just bitten a smile off short. In his hand was
+a letter.
+
+"Oh, Clovy," began Katy, but Papa interposed with "Katy, hold your
+tongue;" and though he looked quizzical as he said it, Katy saw that he
+was half in earnest, and stopped at once.
+
+"We're about to have a visitor," he went on, picking Johnnie up and
+settling her in his lap,--"a distinguished visitor. Curly, you must put
+on your best manners, for she comes especially to see you."
+
+"A visitor! How nice! Who is it?" cried Clover and Johnnie with one
+voice. Visitors were rare in Burnet, and the children regarded them
+always as a treat.
+
+"Her name is Miss Inches,--Marion Joanna Inches," replied Dr. Carr,
+glancing at the letter. "She's a sort of godmother of yours, Curly;
+you've got half her name."
+
+"Was I really named after her?"
+
+"Yes. She and Mamma were school-friends, and though they never met after
+leaving school, Mamma was fond of her, and when little No. 4 came, she
+decided to call her after her old intimate. That silver mug of yours was
+a present from her."
+
+"Was it? Where does she live?"
+
+"At a place called Inches Mills, in Massachusetts. She's the rich lady
+of the village, and has a beautiful house and grounds, where she lives
+all alone by herself. Her letter is written at Niagara. She is going to
+the Mammoth Cave, and writes to ask if it will be convenient for us to
+have her stop for a few days on the way. She wants to see her old
+friend's children, she says, and especially her namesake."
+
+"Oh, dear!" sighed Johnnie, ruffling her short hairs with her fingers.
+"I wish my curls were longer. What _will_ she think when she sees me?"
+
+"She'll think
+
+          "There is a little girl, and she has a little curl
+             Right in the middle of her forehead;
+           When she is good she is very, very good,
+             And when she is bad she is horrid--"
+
+said Dr. Carr, laughing. But Johnnie didn't laugh back. Her lip
+trembled, and she said,--
+
+"I'm not horrid _really_, am I?"
+
+"Not a bit," replied her father; "you're only a little goose now and
+then, and I'm such an old gander that I don't mind that a bit."
+
+Johnnie smiled and was comforted. Her thoughts turned to the coming
+visitor.
+
+"Perhaps she'll be like the rich ladies in story-books," she said to
+herself.
+
+Next day Miss Inches came. Katy was an experienced housekeeper now, and
+did not worry over coming guests as once she did. The house was always
+in pleasant, home-like order; and though Debby and Alexander had
+fulfilled Aunt Izzie's prediction by marrying one another, both stayed
+on at Dr. Carr's and were as good and faithful as ever, so Katy had no
+anxieties as to the dinners and breakfasts. It was late in the afternoon
+when the visitor arrived. Fresh flowers filled the vases, for it was
+early June, and the garden-beds were sweet with roses and lilies of the
+valley. The older girls wore new summer muslins, and Johnnie in white,
+her short curls tied back with a blue ribbon, looked unusually pretty
+and delicate.
+
+Miss Inches, a wide-awake, handsome woman, seemed much pleased to see
+them all.
+
+"So this is my name-child," she said, putting her arm about Johnnie.
+"This is my little Joanna? You're the only child I have any share in,
+Joanna; I hope we shall love each other very deeply."
+
+Miss Inches' hand was large and white, with beautiful rings on the
+fingers. Johnnie was flattered at being patted by such a hand, and
+cuddled affectionately to the side of her name-mamma.
+
+"What eyes she has!" murmured Miss Inches to Dr. Carr. She lowered her
+voice, but Johnnie caught every word. "Such a lambent blue, and so full
+of soul. She is quite different from the rest of your daughters, Dr.
+Carr; don't you think so?"
+
+"She has been ill recently, and is looking thin," replied the prosaic
+Papa.
+
+"Oh, it isn't _that_! There is something else,--hard to put into words,
+but I feel it! You don't see it? Well, that only confirms a theory of
+mine, that people are often blind to the qualities of their nearest
+relations. We cannot get our own families into proper perspective. It
+isn't possible."
+
+These fine words were lost on Johnnie, but she understood that she was
+pronounced nicer than the rest of the family. This pleased her: she
+began to think that she should like Miss Inches very much indeed.
+
+Dr. Carr was not so much pleased. The note from Miss Inches, over which
+he and Katy had laughed, but which was not shown to the rest, had
+prepared him for a visitor of rather high-flown ideas, but he did not
+like having Johnnie singled out as the subject of this kind of praise.
+However, he said to himself, "It doesn't matter. She means well, and
+jolly little Johnnie won't be harmed by a few days of it."
+
+Jolly little Johnnie would not have been harmed, but the pale,
+sentimental Johnnie left behind by the recently departed intermittent
+fever, decidedly _was_. Before Miss Inches had been four days in Burnet,
+Johnnie adored her and followed her about like a shadow. Never had
+anybody loved her as Miss Inches did, she thought, or discovered such
+fine things in her character. Ten long years and a half had she lived
+with Papa and the children, and not one of them had found out that her
+eyes were full of soul, and an expression "of mingled mirth and
+melancholy unusual in a childish face, and more like that of _Goethe's
+Mignon_ than any thing else in the world of fiction!" Johnnie had never
+heard of "_Mignon_," but it was delightful to be told that she resembled
+her, and she made Miss Inches a present of the whole of her foolish
+little heart on the spot.
+
+"Oh, if Papa would but give you to me!" exclaimed Miss Inches one day.
+"If only I could have you for my own, what a delight it would be! My
+whole theory of training is so different,--you should never waste your
+energies in house-work, my darling, (Johnnie had been dusting the
+parlor); it is sheer waste, with an intelligence like yours lying fallow
+and only waiting for the master's hand. Would you come, Johnnie, if
+Papa consented? Inches Mills is a quiet place, but lovely. There are a
+few bright minds in the neighborhood; we are near Boston, and not too
+far from Concord. Such a pretty room as you should have, darling, fitted
+up in blue and rose-buds, or--no, Morris green and Pompeian-red would be
+prettier, perhaps. What a joy it would be to choose pictures for
+it,--pictures, every one of which should be an impulse in the best Art
+direction! And how you would revel in the garden, and in the fruit! My
+strawberries are the finest I ever saw; I have two Alderney cows and
+quantities of cream. Don't you think you could be happy to come and be
+my own little Curly, if Papa would consent?"
+
+"Yes, yes," said Johnnie eagerly. "And I could come home sometimes,
+couldn't I?"
+
+"Every year," replied Miss Inches. "We'll take such lovely journeys
+together, Johnnie, and see all sorts of interesting places. Would you
+like best to go to California or to Switzerland next summer? I think, on
+the whole, Switzerland would be best. I want you to form a good French
+accent at once, but, above all, to study German, the language of
+_thought_. Then there is music. We might spend the winter at
+_Stuttgard_--"
+
+Decidedly Miss Inches was counting on her chicken before hatching it,
+for Dr. Carr had yet to be consulted, and he was not a parent who
+enjoyed interference with his nest or nestlings. When Miss Inches
+attacked him on the subject, his first impulse was to whistle with
+amazement. Next he laughed, and then he became almost angry. Miss Inches
+talked very fast, describing the fine things she would do with Johnnie,
+and for her; and Dr. Carr, having no chance to put in a word, listened
+patiently, and watched his little girl, who was clinging to her new
+friend and looking very eager and anxious. He saw that her heart was set
+on being "adopted," and, wise man that he was, it occurred to him that
+it might be well to grant her wish in part, and let her find out by
+experiment what was really the best and happiest thing. So he did not
+say "No" decidedly, as he at first meant, but took Johnnie on his knee,
+and asked,--
+
+"Well, Curly, so you want to leave Papa and Katy and Clover, and go away
+to be Miss Inches' little girl, do you?"
+
+"I'm coming home to see you every single summer," said Johnnie.
+
+"Indeed! That will be nice for us," responded Dr. Carr cheerfully. "But
+somehow I don't seem to feel as if I could quite make up my mind to give
+my Curly Locks away. Perhaps in a year or two, when we are used to being
+without her, I may feel differently. Suppose, instead, we make a
+compromise."
+
+"Yes," said Miss Inches, eagerly.
+
+"Yes," put in Johnnie, who had not the least idea of what a compromise
+might be.
+
+"I can't _give_ away my little girl,--not yet,"--went on Dr. Carr
+fondly. "But if Miss Inches likes I'll _lend_ her for a little while.
+You may go home with Miss Inches, Johnnie, and stay four months,--to the
+first of October, let us say." ("She'll miss two weeks' schooling, but
+that's no great matter," thought Papa to himself.) "This will give you,
+my dear lady, a chance to try the experiment of having a child in your
+house. Perhaps you may not like it so well as you fancy. If you do, and
+if Johnnie still prefers to remain with you, there will be time enough
+then to talk over further plans. How will this answer?"
+
+Johnnie was delighted, Miss Inches not so much so.
+
+"Of course," she said, "it isn't so satisfactory to have the thing left
+uncertain, because it retards the regular plan of development which I
+have formed for Johnnie. However, I can allow for a parent's feelings,
+and I thank you very much, Dr. Carr. I feel assured that, as you have
+five other children, you will in time make up your mind to let me keep
+Johnnie entirely as mine. It puts a new value into life,--this chance of
+having an immortal intelligence placed in my hands to train. It will be
+a real delight to do so, and I flatter myself the result will surprise
+you all."
+
+Dr. Carr's eyes twinkled wickedly, but he made Miss Inches the politest
+of bows, and said: "You are very kind, I am sure, and I hope Johnnie
+will be good and not give you much trouble. When would you wish her
+visit to commence?"
+
+"Oh--now, if you do not object. I should so enjoy taking her with me to
+the Mammoth Cave, and afterward straight home to Massachusetts. You
+would like to see the Cave and the eyeless fish, wouldn't you, darling?"
+
+"Oh yes, Papa, yes!" cried Johnnie. Dr. Carr was rather taken aback, but
+he made no objection, and Johnnie ran off to tell the rest of the family
+the news of her good fortune.
+
+Their dismay cannot be described. "I really do think that Papa is
+crazy," said Clover that night; and though Katy scolded her for using
+such an expression, her own confidence in his judgment was puzzled and
+shaken. She comforted herself with a long letter to Cousin Helen,
+telling her all about the affair. Elsie cried herself to sleep three
+nights running, and the boys were furious.
+
+"The _idea_ of such a thing," cried Dorry, flinging himself about, while
+Phil put a tablespoonful of black pepper and two spools of thread into
+his cannon, and announced that if Miss Inches dared to take Johnnie
+outside the gate, he would shoot her dead, he would, just as sure as he
+was alive!
+
+In spite of this awful threat, Miss Inches persisted in her plan.
+Johnnie's little trunk was packed by Clover and Katy, who watered its
+contents with tears as they smoothed and folded the frocks and aprons,
+which looked so like their Curly as to seem a part of herself,--their
+Curly, who was so glad to leave them!
+
+"Never mind the thick things," remarked Dr. Carr, as Katy came through
+the hall with Johnnie's winter jacket on her arm. "Put in one warmish
+dress for cool days, and leave the rest. They can be sent on _if_
+Johnnie decides to stay."
+
+Papa looked so droll and gave such a large wink at the word "if," that
+Katy and Clover felt their hearts lighten surprisingly, and finished the
+packing in better spirits. The good-by, however, was a sorry affair. The
+girls cried; Dorry and Phil sniffed and looked fiercely at Miss Inches;
+old Mary stood on the steps with her apron thrown over her head; and Dr.
+Carr's face was so grave and sad that it quite frightened Johnnie. She
+cried too, and clung to Katy. Almost she said, "I won't go," but she
+thought of the eyeless fish, and didn't say it. The carriage drove off,
+Miss Inches petted her, everything was new and exciting, and before long
+she was happy again, only now and then a thought of home would come to
+make her lips quiver and her eyes fill.
+
+The wonderful Cave, with its vaults and galleries hung with glittering
+crystals, its underground river and dark lake, was so like a fairy tale,
+that Johnnie felt as if she _must_ go right back and tell the family at
+home about it. She relieved her feelings by a long letter to Elsie,
+which made them all laugh very much. In it she said, "Ellen Montgomery
+didn't have any thing half so nice as the Cave, and Mamma Marion never
+taps my lips." Miss Inches, it seemed, wished to be called "Mamma
+Marion." Every mile of the journey was an enjoyment to Johnnie. Miss
+Inches bought pretty presents for her wherever they stopped: altogether,
+it was quite like being some little girl taking a beautiful excursion in
+a story-book, instead of plain Johnnie Carr, and Johnnie felt that to be
+an "adopted child" was every bit as nice as she had supposed, and even
+nicer.
+
+It was late in the evening when they reached Inches Mills, so nothing
+could be seen of the house, except that it was big and had trees around
+it. Johnnie went to sleep in a large bedroom with a huge double bed all
+to herself, and felt very grown-up and important.
+
+The next day was given to unpacking and seeing the grounds; after that,
+Miss Inches said they must begin to lead a regular life, and Johnnie
+must study. Johnnie had been to school all winter, and in the natural
+course of things would have had holidays now. Mamma Marion, however,
+declared that so long an idle time would not do at all.
+
+"Education, my darling, is not a thing of periods," she explained. "It
+should be like the air, absorbed, as it were, all the time, not like a
+meal, eaten just so often in the day. This idea of teaching by paroxysms
+is one of the fatal mistakes of the age."
+
+So all that warm July Johnnie had French lessons and German, and lessons
+in natural philosophy, beside studying English literature after a plan
+of Miss Inches' own, which combined history and geography and geology,
+with readings from various books, and accounted for the existence of
+all the great geniuses of the world, as if they had been made after a
+regular recipe,--something like this:--
+
+                      TO MAKE A POET.
+
+          Take a political situation, add a rocky soil, and
+          the western slope of a great water-shed, pour into
+          a mould and garnish with laurel leaves. It will be
+          found delicious!
+
+The "lambent blue" of Johnnie's eyes grew more lambent than ever as she
+tried to make head and tail of this wonderful hash of people and facts.
+I am afraid that Mamma Marion was disappointed in the intelligence of
+her pupil, but Johnnie did her best, though she was rather aggrieved at
+being obliged to study at all in summer, which at home was always
+play-time. The children she knew were having a delightful vacation
+there, and living out of doors from morning till night.
+
+As the weeks went on she felt this more and more. Change of air was
+making her rosy and fat, and with returning strength a good deal of the
+old romping, hearty Johnnie came back; or would have come, had there
+been anybody to romp with. But there was nobody, for Miss Inches
+scarcely ever invited children to her house. They were brought up so
+poorly she said. There was nothing inspiring in their contact. She
+wanted Johnnie to be something quite different.
+
+So Johnnie seldom saw anybody except "Mamma Marion" and her friends, who
+came to drink tea and talk about "Protoplasm," and the "Higher Education
+of Women," which wasn't at all interesting to poor Curly. She always sat
+by, quietly and demurely, and Miss Inches hoped was listening and being
+improved, but really she was thinking about something else, or longing
+to climb a tree or have a good game of play with real boys and girls.
+Once, in the middle of a tea-party, she stole upstairs and indulged in a
+hearty cry all to herself, over the thought of a little house which she
+and Dorry and Phil had built in Paradise the summer before; a house of
+stumps and old boards, lined with moss, in which they had had _such_ a
+good time.
+
+Almost as soon as they got home, Miss Inches sent to Boston for papers
+and furniture, and devoted her spare time to fitting up a room for her
+adopted child. Johnnie was not allowed to see it till all was done, then
+she was led triumphantly in. It was pretty--and queer--perhaps queerer
+than pretty. The walls were green-gray, the carpet gray-green, the
+furniture pale yellow, almost white, with brass handles and hinges, and
+lines of dull red tiles set into the wood. Every picture on the walls
+had a meaning, Miss Inches explained.
+
+"Some of these I chose to strengthen your mind, Johnnie, dear," she
+said. "These portraits, for example. Here are Luther, Mahomet, and
+Theodore Parker, three of the great Protestants of the world. Life, to
+be worthy, must be more or less of a protest always. I want you to
+renumber that. This photograph is of Michael Angelo's Moses. I got you
+that too, because it is so strong. I want you to be strong. Do you like
+it?"
+
+"I think it would be prettier without the curl-papers," faltered the
+bewildered Johnnie.
+
+"Curl-papers! My dear child, where are your eyes? Those are horns. He
+wore horns as a law-giver."
+
+"Yes, ma'am," said Johnnie, not daring to ask any more questions for
+fear of making more mistakes.
+
+"These splendid autotypes are from the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in
+Rome, the glory of the world," went on Miss Inches. "And here, Johnnie,
+is the most precious of all. This I got expressly for you. It is an
+education to have such a painting as that before your eyes. I rely very
+much upon its influence on you."
+
+The painting represented what seemed to be a grove of tall yellow-green
+sea-weeds, waving against a strange purple sky. There was a path between
+the stems of the sea-weeds, and up this path trotted a pig, rather soft
+and smudgy about his edges, as if he were running a little into the
+background. His quirly tail was smudgy also; and altogether it was more
+like the ghost of a pig than a real animal, but Miss Inches said _that_
+was the great beauty of the picture.
+
+Johnnie didn't care much for the painted pig, but she liked him better
+than the great Reformers, who struck her as grim and frightful; while
+the very idea of going to sleep in the room with the horned Moses scared
+her almost to death. It preyed on her mind all day; and at night, after
+Johnnie had gone to bed, Miss Inches, passing the door, heard a little
+sob, half strangled by the pillows. She went in.
+
+"What _is_ the matter?" she cried.
+
+"It's that awful man with horns," gasped Johnnie, taking her head out
+from under the bedclothes. "I can't go to sleep, he frightens me so."
+
+"Oh, my darling, what, _what_ weakness," cried Mamma Marion.
+
+She was too kind, however, to persist in any plan which made Johnnie
+unhappy, so Moses came down, and Johnnie was allowed to choose a picture
+to fill his place. She selected a chromo of three little girls in a
+swing, a dreadful thing, all blue and red and green, which Miss Inches
+almost wept over. But it was a great comfort to Johnnie. I think it was
+the chromo which put it into Mamma Marion's head that the course of
+instruction chosen for her adopted child was perhaps a little above her
+years. Soon after she surprised Johnnie by the gift of a doll, a boy
+doll, dressed in a suit of Swedish gray, with pockets. In one hand the
+doll carried a hammer, and under the other arm was tucked a small
+portfolio.
+
+"I like to make your sports a little instructive when I can," she said,
+"so I have dressed this doll in the costume of Linnæus, the great
+botanist. See what a nice little herbarium he has got under his arm.
+There are twenty-four tiny specimens in it, with the Latin and English
+names of each written underneath. If you could learn these perfectly,
+Johnnie, it would give you a real start in botany, which is the most
+beautiful of the sciences. Suppose you try. What will you name your
+doll, darling?"
+
+"I don't know," replied Johnnie, glaring at the wax-boy with very
+hostile feelings.
+
+"Linnæus? No, I don't quite like to give that name to a doll. Suppose,
+Johnnie, we christen him _Hortus Siccus_. That's the Latin name for a
+herbal, and will help you to remember it when you form one of your own.
+Now take him and have a good play."
+
+How was it possible to have a good play with a doll named _Hortus
+Siccus_? Johnnie hated him, and could not conceal the fact. Miss Inches
+was grieved and disappointed. But she said to herself, "Perhaps she is
+just too old for dolls and just too young to care for pictures. It isn't
+so easy to fix a child's mental position as I thought it would be. I
+must try something else."
+
+She really loved Johnnie and wished to make her happy, so the thought
+occurred of giving her a child's party. "I don't approve of them," she
+told her friends. "But perhaps it may be possible to combine some
+instruction with the amusements, and Johnnie is _so_ pleased. Dear
+little creature, she is only eleven, and small things are great at that
+age. I suppose it is always so with youth."
+
+Twenty children were asked to the party. They were to come at four, play
+for two hours in the garden, then have supper, and afterward games in
+the parlor.
+
+Johnnie felt as if she had taken a dose of laughing-gas, at the sight of
+twenty boys and girls all at once, real boys, real girls! How long it
+was since she had seen any! She capered and jumped in a way which
+astonished Miss Inches, and her high spirits so infected the rest that a
+general romp set in, and the party grew noisy to an appalling degree.
+
+"Oh, Johnnie dear, no more 'Tag,'" cried poor Mamma Marion, catching
+her adopted child and wiping her hot face with a handkerchief. "It is
+really too rude, such a game as that. It is only fit for boys."
+
+"Oh, please!--please!--_please_!" entreated Johnnie. "It is splendid.
+Papa always let us; he did indeed, he always did."
+
+"I thought you were my child now, and anxious for better things than
+tag," said Miss Inches gravely. Johnnie had to submit, but she pouted,
+shrugged her shoulders, and looked crossly about her, in a way which
+Mamma Marion had never seen before, and which annoyed her very much.
+
+"Now it is time to go to supper," she announced. "Form yourselves into a
+procession, children. Johnnie shall take this tambourine and Willy
+Parker these castanets, and we will march in to the sound of music."
+
+Johnnie liked to beat the tambourine very much, so her sulks gave place
+at once to smiles. The boys and girls sorted themselves into couples,
+Miss Inches took the head of the procession with an accordion, Willy
+Parker clashed the castanets as well as he could, and they all marched
+into the house. The table was beautifully spread with flowers and grapes
+and pretty china. Johnnie took the head, Willy the foot, and Dinah the
+housemaid helped them all round to sliced peaches and cream.
+
+Miss Inches meanwhile sat down in the corner of the room and drew a
+little table full of books near her. As soon as they were all served,
+she began,--
+
+"Now, dear children, while you eat, I will read aloud a little. I should
+like to think that each one of you carried away one thought at least
+from this entertainment,--a thought which would stay by you, and be, as
+it were, seed-grain for other thoughts in years to come. First, I will
+read 'Abou Ben Adhem,' by Leigh Hunt, an English poet."
+
+The children listened quietly to Abou Ben Adhem, but when Miss Inches
+opened another book and began to read sentences from Emerson, a deep
+gloom fell upon the party. Willy Parker kicked his neighbor and made a
+face. Lucy Hooper and Grace Sherwood whispered behind their napkins, and
+got to laughing till they both choked. Johnnie's cross feelings came
+back; she felt as if the party was being spoiled, and she wanted to cry.
+A low buzz of whispers, broken by titters, went round the table, and
+through it all Miss Inches' voice sounded solemn and distinct, as she
+slowly read one passage after another, pausing between each to let the
+meaning sink properly into the youthful mind.
+
+Altogether the supper was a failure, in spite of peaches and cream and a
+delicious cake full of plums and citron. When it was over they went into
+the parlor to play. The game of "Twenty Questions" was the first one
+chosen. Miss Inches played too. The word she suggested was "iconoclast."
+
+"We don't know what it means," objected the children.
+
+"Oh, don't you, dears? It means a breaker of idols. However, if you are
+not familiar with it we will choose something else. How would 'Michael
+Angelo' do?"
+
+"But we never heard any thing about him."
+
+Miss Inches was shocked at this, and began a little art-lecture on the
+spot, in the midst of which Willy Parker broke in with, "I've thought of
+a word,--'hash'?"
+
+"Oh, yes! Capital! Hash is a splendid word!" chorussed the others, and
+poor Miss Inches, who had only got as far as Michael Angelo's fourteenth
+year, found that no one was listening, and stopped abruptly. Hash seemed
+to her a vulgar word for the children to choose, but there was no help
+for it, and she resigned herself.
+
+Johnnie thought hash an excellent word. It was so funny when Lucy asked
+whether the thing chosen was animal, vegetable, or mineral? and Willy
+replied, "All three," for he explained in a whisper, there was always
+salt in hash, and salt was a mineral. "Have you all seen it?"
+questioned Lucy. "Lots of times," shouted the children, and there was
+much laughing. After "Twenty Questions," they played "Sim says
+wiggle-waggle," and after that, "Hunt the Slipper." Poor, kind, puzzled
+Miss Inches was relieved when they went away, for it seemed to her that
+their games were all noisy and a fearful waste of time. She resolved
+that she would never give Johnnie any more parties; they upset the child
+completely, and demoralized her mind.
+
+Johnnie _was_ upset. After the party she was never so studious or so
+docile as she had been before. The little taste of play made her dislike
+work, and set her to longing after the home-life where play and work
+were mixed with each other as a matter of course. She began to think
+that it would be only pleasant to make up her bed, or dust a room again,
+and she pined for the old nursery, for Phil's whistle, for Elsie and the
+paper-dolls, and to feel Katy's arms round her once more. Her letters
+showed the growing home-sickness. Dr. Carr felt that the experiment had
+lasted long enough. So he discovered that he had business in Boston, and
+one fine September day, as Johnnie was forlornly poring over her lesson
+in moral philosophy, the door opened and in came Papa. Such a shriek as
+she gave! Miss Inches happened to be out, and they had the house to
+themselves for a while.
+
+"So you are glad to see me?" said Papa, when Johnnie had dried her eyes
+after the violent fit of crying which was his welcome, and had raised
+her head from his shoulder. His own eyes were a little moist, but he
+spoke gaily.
+
+"Oh, Papa, _so_ glad! I was just longing for you to come. How did it
+happen?"
+
+"I had business in this part of the world, and I thought you might be
+wanting your winter clothes."
+
+Johnnie's face fell.
+
+"_Must_ I stay all winter?" she said in a trembling voice. "Aren't you
+going to take me home?"
+
+"But I thought you wanted to be 'adopted,' and to go to Europe, and have
+all sorts of fine things happen to you."
+
+"Oh, Papa, don't tease me. Mamma Marion is ever so kind, but I want to
+come back and be your little girl again. Please let me. If you don't, I
+shall _die_--" and Johnnie wrung her hands.
+
+"We'll see about it," said Dr. Carr. "Don't die, but kiss me and wash
+your face. It won't do for Miss Inches to come home and find you with
+those impolite red rims to your eyes."
+
+"Come upstairs, too, and see my room, while I wash 'em," pleaded
+Johnnie.
+
+All the time that Johnnie was bathing her eyes, Papa walked leisurely
+about looking at the pictures. His mouth wore a furtive smile.
+
+"This is a sweet thing," he observed, "this one with the pickled
+asparagus and the donkey, or is it a cat?"
+
+"Papa! it's a pig!"
+
+Then they both laughed.
+
+I think there was a little bit of relief mixed with Miss Inches'
+disappointment at hearing of Johnnie's decision. The child of theory was
+a delightful thing to have in the house, but this real child, with moods
+and tempers and a will of her own, who preferred chromos to Raphael, and
+pined after "tag," tried her considerably. They parted, however, most
+affectionately.
+
+"Good-by, dear Mamma Marion," whispered Johnnie. "You've been just as
+good as good to me, and I love you so much,--but you know I am _used_ to
+the girls and Papa."
+
+"Yes, dear, I know. You're to come back often, Papa says, and I shall
+call you my girl always." So, with kisses, they separated, and Miss
+Inches went back to her old life, feeling that it was rather comfortable
+not to be any longer responsible for a "young intelligence," and that
+she should never envy mammas with big families of children again, as
+once she had done.
+
+"So we've got our Curly Locks back," said Katy, fondly stroking
+Johnnie's hair, the night after the travellers' return. "And you'll
+never go away from us any more, will you?"
+
+"Never, never, never!" protested Johnnie, emphasizing each word by a
+kiss.
+
+"Not even to be adopted, travel in Europe, or speak Litchfield Co.
+French?" put in naughty Clover.
+
+"No. I've been adopted once, and that's enough. Now I'm going to be
+Papa's little girl always, and when the rest of you get married I shall
+stay at home and keep house for him."
+
+"That's right," said Dr. Carr.
+
+
+
+
+GOOSEY, GOOSEY GANDER.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+"BUT why must I go to bed? It isn't time, and I'm not sleepy yet,"
+pleaded Dickie, holding fast by the side of the door.
+
+"Now, Dickie, don't be naughty. It's time because I say that it's time."
+
+"Papa never tells me it's time when it's light like this," argued
+Dickie. "_He_ doesn't ever send me to bed till seven o'clock. I'm not
+going till it's a great deal darker than this. So there, Mally Spence."
+
+"Oh, yes, you are, Dickie darling," replied Mally coaxingly. "The reason
+it's light is because the days are so long now. It's quite late
+really,--almost seven o'clock,--that is," she added hastily, "it's past
+six (two minutes past!), and sister wants to put Dickie to bed, because
+she's going to take tea with Jane Foster, and unless Dick is safe and
+sound she can't go. Dickie would be sorry to make sister lose her
+pleasure, wouldn't he?"
+
+"I wiss you didn't want me to go," urged Dick, but he was a
+sweet-tempered little soul, so he yielded to Mally's gentle pull, and
+suffered her to lead him in-doors. Upstairs they went, past Mally's
+room, Papa's,--up another flight of stairs, and into the attic chamber
+where Dick slept alone. It was a tiny chamber. The ceiling was low, and
+the walls sloped inward like the sides of a tent. It would have been too
+small to hold a grown person comfortably, but there was room in plenty
+for Dickie's bed, one chair, and the chest of drawers which held his
+clothes and toys. One narrow window lighted it, opening toward the West.
+On the white plastered wall beside it, lay a window-shaped patch of warm
+pink light. The light was reflected from the sunset. Dickie had seen
+this light come and go very often. He liked to have it there; it was so
+pretty, he thought.
+
+Malvina undressed him. She did not talk as much as usual, for her head
+was full of the tea-party, and she was in a hurry to get through and be
+off. Dickie, however, was not the least in a hurry. Slowly he raised one
+foot, then the other, to have his shoes untied, slowly turned himself
+that Mally might unfasten his apron. All the time he talked. Mally
+thought she had never known him ask so many questions, or take so much
+time about every thing.
+
+"What makes the wall pink?" he said. "It never is 'cept just at
+bedtime."
+
+"It's the sun."
+
+"Why doesn't the sun make it that color always?"
+
+"The sun is setting now. He is not setting always."
+
+"That's an improper word. You mustn't say it."
+
+"What's an improper word?"
+
+"Papa _said_, when I said 'setting on the door-steps,' that it wasn't
+proper to say that. He said I must say _sitting_ on the door steps."
+
+"That isn't the same thing, Goosey Gander," cried Mally laughing. "The
+sun sets and little boys sit."
+
+"I'm not a goosey gander," responded Dickie. "And Papa _said_ it wasn't
+proper."
+
+"Never mind," said Mally, whipping on his night-gown: "you're a darling,
+if you are a goosey. Now say your prayers nicely."
+
+"Yes," replied Dick, dreamily. He knelt down and began his usual prayer.
+"Please, God, bless Papa and Mally and Gwandmamma and--" "make Dick a
+good boy" should have come next, but his thoughts wandered. "Why don't
+the sun sit as well as little boys?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, Dickie, Dickie!" cried the scandalized Malvina. "You're saying your
+prayers, you know. Good children don't stop to ask questions when
+they're saying their prayers."
+
+Dickie felt rebuked. He finished the little prayer quickly. Mally lifted
+him into bed. "It's so warm that you won't want this," she said, folding
+back the blanket. Then she stooped to kiss him.
+
+"Tell me a story before you go," pleaded Dickie, holding her tight.
+
+"Oh, not to-night, darling, because I shall be late to Jane's if I do."
+She kissed him hastily.
+
+"I don't think it's nice at all to go to bed when the sun hasn't sit,
+and I'm not sleepy a bit, and there isn't nothing to play with,"
+remarked Dick, plaintively.
+
+"You'll fall asleep in a minute or two, Goosey, then you won't want any
+thing to play with," said Mally, hurrying away.
+
+"I'm _not_ a goosey," shouted Dick after her. Ten minutes later, as she
+was tying her bonnet strings, she heard him calling from the top of the
+stairs.
+
+"What is it, Dickie?"
+
+"I'm not a goose. Goosies has feathers. They say 'quack.'"
+
+"You're the kind that hasn't feathers and doesn't say quack," replied
+Mally from below. "No, darling, you're not a goose; you're Mally's good
+boy. Now, run back to bed."
+
+"Yes, I will," replied Dick, satisfied by this concession. He climbed
+into bed again, and lay watching the pink patch on the wall. Yellow bars
+began to appear and to dance in the midst of the pink.
+
+"Like teeny-weeney little ladders," thought Dick. There was a ladder
+outside his door, at top of which was a scuttle opening on to the roof.
+Dickie turned his head to look at the ladder. The scuttle-door stood
+open; from above, the pink light streamed in and lay on the rungs of the
+ladder.
+
+"I did go up that ladder once," soliloquized Dick. "Papa took me. It was
+velly nice up there. I wiss Papa would take me again. Mally, she said it
+was dangewous. I wonder why she said it was dangewous? Mally's a very
+funny girl, I think. She didn't ought to put me to bed so early. I can't
+go to sleep at all. Perhaps I sha'n't ever go to sleep, not till
+morning,--then she'd feel sorry.
+
+"If I was a bird I could climb little bits of ladders like that," was
+his next reflection. "Or a fly. I'd like to be a fly, and eat sugar, and
+say b-u-z-z-z all day long. Only then perhaps some little boy would get
+me into the corner of the window and squeeze me all up tight with his
+fum." Dickie cast a rueful look at his own guilty thumb as he thought
+this. "I wouldn't like that! But I'd like very much indeed to buzz and
+tickle Mally's nose when she was twying to sew. She'd slap and slap,
+and not hit me, and I'd buzz and tickle. How I'd laugh! But perhaps
+flies don't know how to laugh, only just to buzz.
+
+                   "'Pretty, curious, buzzy fly.'
+
+That's what my book says."
+
+The pink glow was all gone now, and Dick shifted his position.
+
+"I _wiss_ I could go to sleep," he thought. "It isn't nice at all to be
+up here and not have any playthings. Mally's gone, else she'd get me
+something to amoose myself with. I'd like my dwum best. It's under the
+hall table, I guess. P'waps if I went down I could get it."
+
+As this idea crossed his mind, Dickie popped quickly out of bed. The
+floor felt cool and pleasant to his bare little feet as he crossed to
+the door. He had almost reached the head of the stairs when, looking up,
+something so pretty met his eyes that he stopped to admire. It was a
+star, shining against the pure sky like a twinkling silver lamp. It
+seemed to beckon, and the ladder to lead straight up to it. Almost
+without stopping to think, Dickie put his foot on the first rung and
+climbed nimbly to the top of the ladder. The star was just as much out
+of reach when he got there as it had been before, but there were other
+beautiful sights close at hand which were well worth the trouble of
+climbing after.
+
+Miles and miles and miles of sky for one thing. It rose above Dickie's
+head like a great blue dome pierced with pin-pricks of holes, through
+which little points of bright light quivered and danced. Far away
+against the sky appeared a church spire, like a long sharp finger
+pointing to Heaven. One little star exactly above, seemed stuck on the
+end of the spire. Dickie wondered if it hurt the star to be there. He
+stepped out on to the roof and wandered about. The evening was warm and
+soft. No dew fell. The shingles still kept the heat of the sun, and felt
+pleasant and comfortable under his feet. By-and-by a splendid
+rocker-shaped moon came from behind the sky's edge where she had been
+hiding away, and sailed slowly upward. She was a great deal bigger than
+the stars, but they didn't seem afraid of her in the least. Dickie
+reflected that if he were a star he should hurry to get out of her way;
+but the stars didn't mind the moon's being there at all, they kept their
+places, and shone calmly on as they had done before she came.
+
+He was standing, when the moon appeared, by the low railing which
+guarded the edge of the roof. The railing was of a very desirable
+height. Dickie could just rest his chin on top of it, which was nice.
+Suddenly a loud "Maau-w!" resounded from above. Dickie jumped, and gave
+his poor chin a knock against the railing. It couldn't be the moon,
+could it? Moons didn't make noises like that.
+
+He looked up. There, on the ridge pole of the next roof, sat a black
+cat, big and terrible against the sky. "Ma-a-uw," said the cat again,
+louder than before.
+
+"Why, pussy, what's the matter?" cried Dick. His voice quavered a
+little, but he tried to speak boldly. Pussy was displeased at the
+question. She hissed, put up her back, swelled her tail to a puff, and
+fled to a distant part of the roof, where, from some hidden ambush, Dick
+could hear her scolding savagely.
+
+"She's a cwoss cat, I guess," he remarked philosophically. "Why, this
+chimney is warm," he cried, as his arm touched the bricks. "It's 'cause
+there used to be a fire in there. But there isn't any smoke coming out.
+I wonder if all the chimneys are warm too, like this one."
+
+There was another chimney not far off, and Dick hastened to try the
+experiment. To do this he was obliged to climb a railing, but it was low
+and easy to get over. The second chimney was cold, but a little farther
+on appeared a third, and Dick proceeded to climb another railing.
+
+But before he reached this third chimney, a surprising and interesting
+sight attracted his attention. This was a scuttle door just like the
+one at home, standing open, with a ladder leading down into a garret
+below.
+
+Dick peered over the edge of the scuttle. There was no little chamber in
+this attic like his at home. It was all an open space, crammed with
+trunks, furniture, boxes, and barrels. He caught sight of a
+rocking-horse standing in a corner; a rocking-horse with a blue saddle
+on his wooden back, and a fierce bristling mane much in need of brush
+and comb. Drawn by irresistible attraction, Dickie put, first one foot,
+then the other, over the scuttle's edge, crept down the ladder, and in
+another moment stood by the motionless steed. Thick dust lay on the
+saddle, on the rockers, and on the stiffly stretched-out tail, from
+which most of the red paint had been worn away. It was evidently a long
+time since any little boy had mounted there, chirruped to the horse, and
+ridden gloriously away, pursuing a fairy fox through imaginary fields.
+The eye of the wooden horse was glazed and dim. Life had lost its
+interest to the poor animal, turned out, as it were, to pasture as best
+he might in the dull, silent garret.
+
+Dickie patted the red neck, a timid, affectionate pat, but it startled
+the horse a little, for he shook visibly, and swayed to and fro. There
+was evidently some "go" left in him, in spite of his dejected expression
+of countenance. The shabby stirrup hung at his side. Dickie could just
+reach it with his foot. He seized the mane, and, pulling hard, clambered
+into the saddle. Once there, reins in hand, he clucked and encouraged
+the time-worn steed to his best paces. To and fro, to and fro they
+swung, faster, slower, Dickie beating with his heels, the wooden horse
+curveting and prancing. It was famous! The dull thud of the rockers
+echoed through the garret, and somebody sitting in the room below raised
+his head to listen to the strange sound.
+
+This somebody was an old man with white hair and a gray, stern face, who
+sat beside a table on which were paper and lighted candles. A letter
+lay before him, but he was not reading it. When the sound of the rocking
+began, he started and turned pale. A little boy once used to rock in
+that way in the garret overhead, but it was long ago, and for many years
+past the garret had been silent and deserted. "Harry's horse!" muttered
+the old man with a look of fear as he heard the sound. He half rose from
+his chair, then he sat down again. But soon the noise ceased. Dickie had
+caught sight of another thing in the garret which interested him, and
+had dismounted to examine it. The old man sank into his chair again with
+a look of relief, muttering something about the wind.
+
+The thing which Dickie had gone to examine was a little arm-chair
+cushioned with red. It was just the size for him, and he seated himself
+in it with a look of great satisfaction.
+
+"I wiss this chair was mine," he said. "P'waps Mally'll let me take it
+home if I ask her."
+
+A noise below attracted his attention. He peeped over the balusters and
+saw an elderly woman, with a candle in her hand, coming up from the
+lower story. She went into a room at the foot of the attic stair,
+leaving the door open. "Hester! Hester!" called a voice from below. The
+woman came from the room and went down again. She did not take the
+candle with her: Dick could see it shining through the open door.
+
+Like a little moth attracted by a flame, Dick wandered down the stair in
+the direction of the light. The candle was standing on the table in a
+bedroom,--a pretty room, Dickie thought, though it did not seem as if
+anybody could have lived in it lately. He didn't know why this idea came
+into his mind, but it did. It was a girl's bedroom, for a small blue
+dress hung on the wall, and on the bureau were brushes, combs, and
+hair-pins. Beside the bureau was a wooden shelf full of books. A
+bird-cage swung in the window, but there was no bird in it, and the seed
+glass and water cup were empty. The narrow bed had a white coverlid and
+a great white pillow. It looked all ready for somebody, but it was
+years since the girl who once owned the room had slept there. The old
+housekeeper, who still loved the girl, came every day to dust and smooth
+and air and sweep. She kept all things in their places just as they used
+to be in the former time, but she could not give to the room the air of
+life which once it had, and, do what she would, it looked deserted
+always--empty--and dreary.
+
+On the chimney-piece were ranged a row of toys, plaster cats, barking
+dogs, a Noah's ark, and an enormous woolly lamb. This last struck Dick
+with admiration. He stood on tip-toe with his hands clasped behind his
+back to examine it.
+
+"Oh, dear," he sighed, "I wiss I had that lamb." Then he gave a jump,
+for close to him, in a small chair, he saw what seemed to be a little
+girl, staring straight at him.
+
+It was a big, beautiful doll, in a dress of faded pink, and a pink hat
+and feather. Dick had never seen such a fine lady before; she quite
+fascinated him. He leaned gently forward and touched the waxen hand. It
+was cold and clammy; Dick did not like the feel, and retreated. The
+unwinking eyes of the doll followed him as he sidled away, and made him
+uncomfortable.
+
+In the opposite room the old man still sat with his letter before him.
+The letter was from the girl who once played with the big doll and slept
+in the smooth white bed. She was not a child now. Years before she had
+left her father's house against his will, and in company with a person
+he did not like. He had said then that he should never forgive her, and
+till now she had not asked to be forgiven. It was a long time since he
+had known any thing about her. Nobody ever mentioned her name in his
+hearing, not even the old housekeeper who loved her still, and never
+went to bed without praying that Miss Ellen might one day come back. Now
+Ellen had written to her father. The letter lay on the table.
+
+"I was wrong," she wrote, "but I have been punished. We have suffered
+much. My husband is dead. I will not speak of him, for I know that his
+name will anger you; but, father, I am alone, ill, and very poor. Can
+you not forgive me now? Do not think of me as the wild, reckless girl
+who disobeyed you and brought sorrow to your life. I am a weary,
+sorrowful woman, longing, above all other things, to be pardoned before
+I die,--to come home again to the house where all my happy years were
+spent. Let me come, father. My little Hester, named after our dear
+nurse, mine and Harry's, is a child whom you would love. She is like me
+as I used to be, but far gentler and sweeter than I ever was. Let me put
+her in your arms. Let me feel that I am forgiven for my great fault, and
+I will bless you every day that I live. Dear father, say yes. Your
+penitent ELLEN."
+
+Two angels stood behind the old man as he read this letter. He did not
+see them, but he heard their voices as first one and then the other bent
+and whispered in his ear.
+
+"Listen," murmured the white angel with radiant moonlit wings. "Listen.
+You loved her once so dearly. You love her still. I know you do."
+
+"No," breathed the darker angel. "You swore that you would not forgive
+her. Keep your word. You always said that she would come back as soon as
+she was poor or unhappy, or that scamp treated her badly. It makes no
+difference in the facts. Let her suffer; it serves her right."
+
+"Remember what a dear child she used to be," said the fair angel, "so
+bright, so loving. How she used to dance about the house and sing; the
+sun seemed to shine always when she came into the room. She loved you
+truly then. Her little warm arms were always about your neck. She loves
+you still."
+
+"What is love worth," came the other voice, "when it deceives and hurts
+and betrays? All these long years you have suffered. It is her turn
+now."
+
+"Remember that it was partly your fault," whispered the spirit of good.
+"You were harsh and stern. You did not appeal to her love, but to her
+obedience. She had a high spirit; you forgot that. And she was only
+sixteen."
+
+"Quite old enough to know better," urged the spirit of evil. "Remember
+the hard life you have led ever since. The neighbors speak of you as a
+stern, cruel man; the little children run away when you appear. Whose
+fault is that? Hers. She ought to pay for it."
+
+"Think of the innocent child who never did you wrong, and who suffers
+too. Think of the dear Lord who forgives your sins. Pray to him. He will
+help you to forgive her,"--urged the good angel, but in fainter tones,
+for the black angel spoke louder, and thrust between with his fierce
+voice.
+
+"The thing is settled. Why talk of prayer or pardon? Let her go her
+way."
+
+As this last whisper reached his ear the old man raised his bent head. A
+hard, vindictive look was in his eyes. He seized the letter and tore it
+in two. "Alas! alas!" sighed the sweet angel, while the evil one
+rejoiced and waved his dark wings in triumph.
+
+It was at this moment that Dickie, attracted by the rustle of paper,
+appeared at the door. His eyes were beginning to droop a little. He
+rubbed them hard as he crossed the entry. The pit-pat of his bare feet
+made no sound on the carpeted floor, so that the old man had no warning
+of his presence till, turning, he saw the little night-gowned figure
+standing motionless in the door-way.
+
+He sprang from his chair and stretched out his hands. He tried to speak,
+but no voice came at first; then in a hoarse whisper he
+said,--"Harry--is it you? Ellen--"
+
+Dickie, terrified, fled back into the hall as if shod with wings. In one
+moment he was in the attic, up the ladder, on the roof. The old man ran
+blindly after him.
+
+"Come back, Ellen--come back!" he cried. "I will forgive you,--come
+back to your poor old father, dear child." His foot slipped as he spoke.
+It was at the stair-head. He fell forward heavily, and lump, bump, bump,
+down stairs he tumbled, and landed heavily in the hall below.
+
+Hester and the housemaid ran hastily from the kitchen at the sound of
+the fall. When they saw the old man lying in a heap at the foot of the
+stair, they were terribly frightened. Blood was on his face. He was
+quite unconscious.
+
+"He is dead. Mr. Kirton is dead!" cried the housemaid, wringing her
+hands.
+
+"No,--his heart beats," said Hester. "Run for Doctor Poster, Hannah, and
+ask Richard Wallis to come at once and help me lift the poor old
+gentleman."
+
+Hannah flew to do this errand. A moment after, Mr. Kirton opened his
+eyes.
+
+"Where is Ellen?" he said. Then he shut them again. Hester glanced at
+the torn letter, which through all his fall the old man had held
+tightly clasped in his hand, and gave a loud cry.
+
+"Miss Ellen, come back!" she exclaimed. "My own Miss Ellen. God has
+heard my prayers."
+
+When Mr. Kirton's senses returned, late in the night, he found himself
+in his own bed. His head felt strangely; one arm was tied up in a queer
+stiff bandage, so that he could not move it. A cloth wet with water lay
+on his forehead. When he stirred and groaned, a hand lifted the cloth,
+dipped it in ice-water, and put it back again fresh and cool. He looked
+up. Some one was bending over him, some one with a face which he knew
+and did not know. It puzzled him strangely. At last, a look of
+recognition came into his eyes. "Ellen?" he said, in a tone of question.
+
+"Yes, dear father, it is I."
+
+"Why did you come dressed as a little child to frighten me? You are a
+woman," he said wonderingly; "your hair is gray!"
+
+"I did not come as a little child, father. I am an old woman now. I have
+come to be your nurse."
+
+"I don't understand," muttered the old man, but he asked no more, and
+presently dropped asleep. Ellen watched him for a long time, then she
+went across the hall to her old room, where Hester stood looking at a
+little girl, who lay on the bed sleeping soundly, with the pink doll
+hugged tight in her arms.
+
+"She is just like yourself, Miss Ellen," said Hester, with joyful tears
+in her eyes,--"just like your old self, with a thought more brown in the
+hair. Ah! good times have begun again for my poor old master; the light
+has come back to the house."
+
+But neither Hester nor Ellen saw the white-robed angel, who bent over
+the old man's bed with a face of immortal joy, and sang low songs of
+peace to make sleep deep and healing. The dark spirit has fled away.
+
+Meantime Dickie, unconscious messenger of Fate, scrambling easily over
+the roofs, had gained his own room, and was comfortably tucked up in his
+little bed. His dreams were of dolls, rocking-horses, black cats. So
+soundly did he sleep, that, when morning came, Mally had to shake him
+and call loudly in his ear before she could wake him up.
+
+"Why, Dick!" she cried, "look at your night-gown. It's all over dust,
+and there are one--two--three tears in the cotton. What _have_ you been
+doing?"
+
+But Dickie could not tell.
+
+"I dweamed that I walked about on the woof," he said. "But I guess I
+didn't weally, did I?"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+LITTLE BO PEEP.
+
+
+THE sun was setting at the end of an August day. Everybody was glad to
+see the last of him, for the whole world felt scorched and hot,--the
+ground, the houses,--even the ponds looked warm as they stretched in
+the steaming distance. On the edge of the horizon the sun winked with a
+red eye, as much as to say, "Don't flatter yourselves, I shall be back
+again soon;" then he slowly sank out of sight. It was comforting to have
+him go, if only for a little while. "Perhaps," thought the people, "a
+thunder-storm or something may come along before morning, and cool him
+off."
+
+Little Mell Davis was as glad as anybody when the sun disappeared. It
+had been a hard day. Her step-mother had spent it in making soap.
+Soap-making is ill-smelling, uncomfortable work at all times, and
+especially in August. Mrs. Davis had been cross and fractious, had
+scolded a great deal, and found many little jobs for Mell to do in
+addition to her usual tasks of dish-washing, table-setting, and looking
+after the children. Mell was tired of the heat; tired of the smell of
+soap, of being lectured; and when supper was over was very glad to sit
+at peace on the door-steps and read her favorite book, a tattered copy
+of the Fairy Tales. Soon she forgot the trials of the day. "Once upon a
+time there lived a beautiful Princess," she read, but just then came a
+sharp call. "Mell, Mell, you tiresome girl, see what Tommy is about;"
+and Mrs. Davis, dashing past, snatched Tommy away from the pump-handle,
+which he was plying vigorously for the benefit of his small sisters, who
+stood in a row under the spout, all dripping wet. Tommy was wetter
+still, having impartially pumped on himself first of all. Frocks,
+aprons, jacket, all were soaked, shoes and stockings were drenched, the
+long pig tails of the girls streamed large drops, as if they had been
+little rusty-colored water-pipes.
+
+"Look at that!" cried Mrs. Davis, exhibiting the half-drowned brood.
+"You might as well be deaf and blind, Mell, for any care you take of
+'em. Give you a silly book to read, and the children might perish before
+your eyes for all you'd notice. Look at Isaphine, and Gabella Sarah.
+Little lambs,--as likely as not they've taken their deaths. It shan't
+happen again, though. Give me that book--" And, snatching Mell's
+treasure from her hands, Mrs. Davis flung it into the fire. It flamed,
+shrivelled: the White Cat, Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast,--all, all
+were turned in one moment into a heap of unreadable ashes! Mell gave one
+clutch, one scream; then she stood quite still, with a hard, vindictive
+look on her face, which so provoked her step-mother that she gave her a
+slap as she hurried the children upstairs. Mrs. Davis did not often slap
+Mell. "I punish my own children," she would say, "not other people's."
+"Other people's children" meant poor Mell.
+
+It was not a very happy home, this of the Davis's. Mell's father was
+captain of a whaler, and almost always at sea. It was three years now
+since he sailed on his last voyage. No word had come from him for a
+great many months, and his wife was growing anxious. This did not
+sweeten her temper, for in case he never returned, Mell's would be
+another back to clothe, another mouth to fill, when food, perhaps, would
+not be easily come by. Mell was not anxious about her father. She was
+used to having him absent. In fact, she seldom thought of him one way or
+another. If Mrs. Davis had been kinder, and had given her more time to
+read the Fairy Tales, she would have been quite a happy little girl, for
+she lived in dreams, and it did not take much to content her. Half her
+time was spent in a sort of inward play which never came out in words.
+Sometimes in these plays she was a Princess with a gold crown, and a
+delightful Prince making love to her all day long. Sometimes she kept a
+candy-shop, and lived entirely on sugar-almonds and sassafras-stick.
+These plays were so real to her mind that it seemed as if they _must_
+some day come true. Her step-mother and the children did not often
+figure in them, though once in a while she made believe that they were
+all changed into agreeable people, and shared her good luck. There was
+one thing in the house, however, which invariably took part in her
+visions. This was a large wooden chest with brass handles which stood
+upstairs in Mrs. Davis's room, and was always kept locked.
+
+Mell had never seen the inside of this chest but once. Then she caught
+glimpses of a red shawl, of some coral beads in a box, and of various
+interesting looking bundles tied up in paper. "How beautiful!" she had
+cried out eagerly, whereupon Mrs. Davis had closed the lid with a snap,
+and locked it, looking quite vexed. "What is it? Are all those lovely
+things yours?" asked Mell, and she had been bidden to hold her tongue,
+and see if the kitchen fire didn't need another stick of wood. It was
+two years since this happened. Mell had never seen the lid raised since,
+but every day she had played about the big chest and its contents.
+
+Sometimes she played that the chest belonged to the beautiful Princess,
+and was full of her clothes and jewels. Sometimes a fairy lived there,
+who popped out, wand in hand, and made things over to Mell's liking.
+Again, Mell played that she locked her step-mother up into the chest,
+and refused to release her till she promised never, never again, so long
+as she lived, to scold about any thing. Mrs. Davis would have been very
+vexed had she known about these plays. It made her angry if Mell so much
+as glanced at the chest. "There you are again, peeping, peeping," she
+would cry, and drive Mell before her downstairs.
+
+So this evening, after the burning of the book, Mell's sore and angry
+fancies flew as usual to the chest. "It's so big," she thought, "that
+all the children could get into it. I'll play that a wicked enchanter
+came and flew away with mother, and never let her come back. Then I
+should have to take care of the children; and I'd get somebody to nail
+some boards, so as to make five dear little cubby-houses inside the
+chest. I'd put Tommy in one, Isaphine in another, Arabella Jane in
+another, Belinda in another, and Gabella Sarah in another. Then I'd
+shut the lid down and fasten it, and wouldn't I have a good time! When
+dinner was ready I'd fetch a plate and spoon, feed 'em all round, and
+shut 'em up again. It would be just the same when I washed their faces;
+I'd just take a wet cloth and do 'em all with a couple of scrubs. They
+couldn't get into mischief I suppose in there. Yet I don't know. Tommy
+is so bad that he would if he could. Let me see,--what could he do? If
+he had a gimlet he'd bore holes in the boards, and stick pins through to
+make the others cry. I must be sure to see if he has any gimlets in his
+pocket before I put him in. Oh, dear, I hope I shan't forget!"
+
+Mell was so absorbed in these visions that she did not hear the gate
+open, and when a hand was suddenly laid on her shoulder she gave a
+little cry and a great jump. A tall man had come in, and was standing
+close to her.
+
+"Does Mrs. Captain Davis live here?" asked the tall man.
+
+"Yes," said Mell, staring at him with her big eyes.
+
+"Is she to home?"
+
+"Yes," said Mell again. "She's in there," pointing to the kitchen.
+
+The tall man stepped over Mell, and went in. Mell heard the sound of
+voices, and grew curious. She peeped in at the door. Her step-mother was
+folding a letter. She looked vexed about something.
+
+"What time shall you start?" she said.
+
+"Half-past five," replied the man. "I've my hands to pay at ten, and the
+weather's so hot it's best to get off early."
+
+"I suppose I must go," went on Mrs. Davis, "though I'd rather be whipped
+than do it. You can stop if you've a mind to: I'll be ready."
+
+"Very well," said the man. "You haven't got a drink of cider in the
+house, have you? This dust has made me as dry as a chip."
+
+"Mell, run down cellar and fetch some," said Mrs. Davis. "It was good
+cider once, but I'm afraid it's pretty hard now." She bustled about;
+brought doughnuts and a pitcher of water. The man drank a glass of the
+sour cider and went away. Mrs. Davis sat awhile thinking. Then she
+turned sharply on Mell.
+
+"I've got to go from home to-morrow on business," she said. "Perhaps I
+shall be back by tea-time, and perhaps I sha'n't. If there was anybody I
+could get to leave the house with I would, but there isn't anybody. Now,
+listen to me, Mell Davis. Don't you open a book to-morrow, not once; but
+keep your eyes on the children, and see that they don't get into
+mischief. If they do, I shall know who to thank for it. I'll make a
+batch of biscuit to-night before I go to bed; there's a pie in the
+cupboard, and some cold pork, and you can boil potatoes for the
+children's breakfast and for dinner. Are you listening?"
+
+"Yes'm," replied Mell.
+
+"See that the children have their faces and hands washed," went on her
+step-mother. "Oh, dear, if you were a different kind of girl how much
+easier would it be! I wish your father would come home and look after
+his own affairs, instead of my having to leave things at sixes and
+sevens and go running round the country hunting up his sick relations
+for him."
+
+"Is it grandmother who is sick?" asked Mell timidly. She had never seen
+her grandmother, but she had played about her very often.
+
+"No," snapped Mrs. Davis. "It's your Uncle Peter. Don't ask questions;
+it's none of your business who's sick. Mind you strain the milk the
+first thing to-morrow, and wring out the dishcloth when you're through
+with it. Oh, dear, to think that I should have to go!"
+
+Mell crept to bed. She was so very tired that it seemed just one moment
+before Mrs. Davis was shaking her arm, and calling her to get up at
+once, for it was five o'clock. Slowly she unclosed her sleepy eyes. Sure
+enough, the night was gone. A fiery red bar in the East showed that the
+sun too was getting out of bed, and making ready for a hot day's work.
+Mell rubbed her eyes. She wished that it was all a dream, from which she
+had waked only to fall asleep again. But it was no use playing at dreams
+with Mrs. Davis standing by.
+
+Mrs. Davis was by no means in a humor for play. People rarely are at
+five in the morning. She rushed about the house like a whirlwind, giving
+Mell directions, and scolding her in advance for all the wrong things
+she was going to do, till the poor child was completely stunned and
+confused. By and by the tall man appeared with his wagon. Mrs. Davis got
+in and drove away, ordering and lecturing till the last moment. "What's
+the use of telling, for you're sure to get it all wrong," were her last
+words, and Mell thought so too.
+
+She walked back to the house feeling stupid and unhappy. But the quiet
+did her good, and as gradually she realized that her step-mother was
+actually gone,--gone for the whole day,--her spirits revived, and she
+began to smile and sing softly to herself. Very few little girls of
+twelve would, I think, have managed better than Mell did for the first
+half of that morning.
+
+First she got breakfast, only bread and milk and baked potatoes, but
+there is a wrong as well as a right way with even such simple things,
+and Mell really did all very cleverly. She swept the kitchen, strained
+the milk, wound the clock. Then, as a sound of twittering voices began
+above, she ran up to the children, washed and dressed, braided the red
+pigtails, and got them downstairs successfully, with only one fight
+between Tommy and Isaphine, and a roaring fit from Arabella Jane, who
+was a tearful child. After breakfast, while the little ones played on
+the door-steps, she tidied the room, mended the fire, washed plates and
+cups, and put them away in the cupboard, wrung out the dishcloth
+according to orders, and hung it on its nail. When this was finished she
+looked about with pride. The children were unusually peaceful;
+altogether, the day promised well. "Mother'll not say that I'm a
+good-for-nothing girl _this_ time," thought Mell, and tried to recollect
+what should be done next.
+
+The kerosene can caught her eye.
+
+"I'll clean the lamp," she said.
+
+She had never cleaned the lamp before, but had seen her step-mother do
+it very often. First, she took the lamp-scissors from the table drawer
+and cut the wick, rather jaggedly, but Mell did not know that. Then she
+tipped the can to fill the lamp. Here the misfortunes of the day began;
+for the can slipped, and some of the oil was spilled on the floor. This
+terrified Mell, for that kitchen-floor was the idol of Mrs. Davis's
+heart. It was scrubbed every day, and kept as white as snow. Mell knew
+that her step-mother's eyes would be keen as Blue Beard's to detect a
+spot; and, with all the energy of despair, she rubbed and scoured with
+soap and hot water. It was all in vain. The spot would not come out.
+
+"I'll put a chair there," thought Mell. "Then perhaps she won't see it
+just at first."
+
+"I want that scissors," cried Tommy from the door.
+
+"You can't have it," replied Mell, hurrying them into the drawer. "It's
+a bad scissors, Tommy, all oily and dirty. Nice little boys don't want
+to play with such dirty scissors as that."
+
+"Yes, they do," whined Tommy, quite unconvinced.
+
+"Now, children," continued Mell, "I'm going upstairs to make the beds.
+You must play just here, and not go outside the gate till I come down
+again. I shall be at the window, and see you all the time. Will you
+promise to be good and do as I tell you?"
+
+"Es," lisped Gabella Sarah.
+
+"Es," said Isaphine.
+
+"Yes, yes," clamored the others, headed by Tommy, who was a child of
+promise if ever there was one. All the time his eyes were fixed on the
+table drawer!
+
+Mell went upstairs. First into the children's room, then into her own.
+She put her head out of the window once or twice. The children were
+playing quietly; Tommy had gone in for something, they said. Last of
+all, Mell went to her step-mother's room. She had just begun to smooth
+the bed, when an astonishing sight caught her eyes. _The key was in the
+lock of the big chest!_
+
+Yes, actually, the fairy treasury, home of so many fancies, was left
+unlocked! How Mrs. Davis came to do so careless a thing will never be
+known, but that she had done so was a fact.
+
+Mell thought at first that her eyes deceived her. She stole across the
+room and touched the key timidly with her forefinger to make sure. Then
+she lifted the lid a little way and let it fall again, looking over her
+shoulder as if fearing to hear a sharp voice from the stairs. Next,
+grown bolder, she opened the lid wide. There lay the red shawl, just as
+she remembered it, the coral beads in their lidless box, the blue paper
+parcels, and, forgetting all consequences in a rapture of curiosity,
+Mell sat down on the floor, lifted out the red shawl, tied the coral
+beads round her neck, and plunged boldly into the contents of the big
+chest.
+
+Such a delightful chest as it proved to be! Mell thought it a great deal
+better than any fairy tale, as one by one she lifted out and handled the
+things which it contained. First and most beautiful was a parasol. It
+was covered with faded pink silk trimmed with fringe, and had a long
+white handle ending in a curved hook. Mell had never seen a parasol so
+fine. She opened it, shut it, opened it again; she held it over her head
+and went to the glass to see the effect. It was gorgeous, it was like
+the parasols of Fairy-land, Mell thought. She laid it on the floor close
+beside her, that she might see it all the while she explored the chest.
+
+Below the parasol was a big paper box. Mell lifted the lid. A muff and
+tippet lay inside, made of yellow and brown fur like the back of a
+tortoise-shell cat. These were beautiful, too. Then came rolls of
+calico and woollen pieces, some of which were very pretty, and would
+make nice doll's dresses, Mell thought.
+
+A newspaper parcel next claimed her attention. It held an old-fashioned
+work-bag made of melon seeds strung on wire, and lined with green. Mell
+admired this exceedingly, and pinned it to her waist. Then she found a
+fan of white feathers with pink sticks. This was most charming of all.
+Mell fanned herself a long time. She could not bear to put it away.
+Princesses, she thought, must use fans like that. On the paper which
+wrapped the fan was something written in pencil. Mell spelled it out.
+"For my little Melicent" was what the writing said.
+
+Was the fan really hers? Perhaps the parasol was hers too, the coral
+beads, the muff and tippet! All sorts of delightful possibilities
+whirled through her brain, as she tossed and tumbled the parcels in the
+chest out on to the floor. More bundles of pieces, some
+knitting-needles, an old-fashioned pair of bellows (Mell did not know
+what these were), a book or two, a package of snuff, which flew up into
+her face and made her sneeze. Then an overcoat and some men's clothes
+folded smoothly. Mell did not care for the overcoat, but there were two
+dresses pinned in towels which delighted her. One was purple muslin, the
+other faded blue silk; and again she found her own name pinned on the
+towel,--"For my little Mell." A faint pleasant odor came from the folds
+of the blue silk dress. Mell searched the pocket, and found there a
+Tonquin bean, screwed up in a bit of paper. It was the Tonquin bean
+which had made the dress smell so pleasantly. Mell pressed the folds
+close to her nose. She was fond of perfumes, and this seemed to her the
+most delicious thing she ever smelt.
+
+Suddenly the clock downstairs struck something very long, and Mell,
+waking up as it were, recollected that it was a good while since she had
+heard any sounds from the children in the yard. She jumped up and ran
+to the window. No children were there.
+
+"Children, children, where are you?" she called; but nobody answered.
+
+"Tiresome little things," thought Mell. "They've gone round to the pump
+again. I must hurry, or they will be all sopping wet." She seized the
+parasol, which she could not bear to part with, and, leaving the other
+things on the floor, ran downstairs. The red shawl, which had been lying
+in her lap, trailed after her as far as the kitchen, and then fell, but
+Mell did not notice it.
+
+"What!" she cried, looking at the clock, "noon already! Why, where has
+the morning gone to?"
+
+Where had the children gone to? was another question. Back yard, side
+yard, front yard, cellar, shed, Mell searched. There were no small
+figures ranged about the pump, no voices replied to her calls. Mell ran
+to the gate. She strained her eyes down the road, this way, that way;
+not a sign of the little flock was visible in any direction.
+
+Now Mell _was_ frightened. "What _will_ mother say?" she thought, and
+began to run distractedly along the road, crying and sobbing as she
+went, and telling herself that it wasn't her fault, that she only went
+upstairs to make the beds,--but here her conscience gave a great prick.
+It was but ten o'clock when she went upstairs to make the beds!
+
+"Oh, dear!" she sobbed. "If only Tommy isn't drowned!" Drowning came
+into her head first, because her step-mother was always in an agony
+about the pond. The pond was a mile off at least, but Mrs. Davis never
+let the children even look that way if she could help it.
+
+Toward the pond poor Mell bent her way; for she thought as Tommy had
+been strictly forbidden to go there, it was probably the very road he
+had taken. The sun beat on her head and she put up the parasol, which
+through all her trouble she had grasped firmly in her hand. Even under
+these dreadful circumstances, with the children lost, and the certainty
+of her step-mother's wrath before her, there was joy in carrying a
+parasol like that.
+
+By and by she met a farmer with a yoke of oxen.
+
+"Oh, please," said Mell, "have you seen five children going this
+way,--four girls and one little boy?"
+
+The farmer hummed and hawed. "I did see some children," he said at last.
+"It was a good piece back, nearly an hour ago, I reckon. They was making
+for the pond?"
+
+"Oh, dear!" sighed Mell. She thanked the farmer, and ran on faster than
+ever.
+
+"Have you passed any children on this road?" she demanded of a boy with
+a wheelbarrow, who was the next person she met.
+
+"Boys or girls?"
+
+"One boy and four girls."
+
+"Do they belong to you?"
+
+"Yes, they're my brothers and sisters," said Mell. "Where did you see
+them?"
+
+"Haven't seen 'em," replied the boy. He grinned as he spoke, seized his
+barrow, and wheeled rapidly away.
+
+Mell's tears broke forth afresh. What a horrid boy!
+
+The pond was very near now. It was a large pond. There were hills on one
+side of it; on the other the shore was low, and covered with thick
+bushes. In and out among these bushes went Mell, hunting for her lost
+flock. It was green and shady. Flowers grew here and there; bright
+berries hung on the boughs above her head; birds sang; a saucy squirrel
+ran to the end of a branch, and chippered to her as she passed. But Mell
+saw none of these things. She was too anxious and unhappy to enjoy what
+on any other day would have been a great pleasure; and she passed the
+flowers, the berries, and the chattering squirrel unheeded by.
+
+No signs of the children appeared, till at last, in a marshy place, a
+small shoe was seen sticking in the mud. Belinda's shoe! Mell knew it
+in a minute.
+
+She picked up the shoe, wiped the mud from it with a tuft of dried
+grass, and, carrying it in her hand, went forward. She was on the track
+now, and here and there prints of small feet in the earth guided her.
+She called "Tommy! Isaphine! Belinda!" but no answer came. They were
+either hidden cleverly, or else they had wandered a longer distance than
+seemed possible in so short a time.
+
+Suddenly Mell gave a shriek and a jump. There on the path before her lay
+a snake, or what looked like one. It did not move. Mell grew bold and
+went nearer. Alas! alas! it was not a snake. It was a pigtail of braided
+hair,--Isaphine's hair: the red color was unmistakable. She seized it. A
+smell of kerosene met her nose. Oh that Tommy!
+
+With the pigtail coiled inside of the lost shoe, Mell ran on. She was
+passing a thicket of sassafras bushes, when a sound of crying met her
+ears. Instantly she stopped, and, parting the bushes with her hands,
+peered in. There they were, sitting in a little circle close
+together,--Arabella and Gabella Sarah fast asleep, with their heads in
+Belinda's lap; Isaphine crying; Tommy sitting a little apart, an evil
+smile on his face, in his hand a pair of scissors!
+
+"You naughty, naughty, naughty boy," screamed Mell, flinging herself
+upon him.
+
+With a howl of terror, Tommy started up and prepared to flee. Mell
+caught and held him tight. Something flew from his lap and fell to the
+ground. Alas! alas! three more pigtails. Mell looked at the children.
+Each little head was cropped close. What _would_ mother say?
+
+"He cut off my hair," sobbed Isaphine.
+
+"So did he cut mine," whined Belinda. "He took those nassy scissors you
+told him not to take, and he cut off all our hairs. Boo-hoo! boo-hoo!
+Tommy's a notty boy, he is."
+
+"I'm going to tell Ma when she comes home, see if I don't," added
+Isaphine.
+
+"I ain't a bad boy," cried Tommy. "Stop a-shaking of me, Mell Davis. We
+was playing they was sheep. I was a-shearing of em."
+
+"O Tommy, Tommy!" cried poor Mell, hot, angry, and dismayed, "how could
+you do such a thing?"
+
+"They was sheep," retorted Tommy sulkily.
+
+"Boo-hoo! boo-hoo!" blubbered Belinda. "I don't like my hair to be cut
+off. It makes my head feel all cold."
+
+"He didn't play nice a bit," sobbed Isaphine. "He's always notty to us."
+
+"I'll cut off your head," declared Tommy, threatening with the scissors.
+
+Mell seized the scissors, and captured them, Tommy kicking and
+struggling meantime. Then she waked up the babies, tied on Belinda's
+shoe, collected the unhappy pigtails, and said they must all go home.
+Home! The very idea made her sick with fright.
+
+I don't suppose such a deplorable little procession was ever seen
+before. Isaphine and Belinda went first; then the little ones, very
+cross after their nap; and, lastly, Mell, holding Tommy's arm, and
+driving the poor little shorn sheep before her with the handle of the
+parasol, which she used as a shepherdess uses her crook. They were all
+tired and hungry. The babies cried. The sun was very hot. The road
+seemed miles long. Every now and then Mell had to let them sit down to
+rest. It was nearly four o'clock when they reached home; and, long
+before that, Mell was so weary and discouraged that it seemed as if she
+should like to lie down and die.
+
+They got home at last. Mell's hand was on the garden gate, when suddenly
+a sight so terrible met her eyes that she stood rooted to the spot,
+unable to move an inch further. There in the doorway was Mrs. Davis. Her
+face was white with anger as she looked at the children. Mell felt the
+coral beads burn about her throat. She dropped the parasol as if her arm
+was broken, the guilty tails hung from her hand, and she wished with
+all her heart that the earth could open and swallow her up.
+
+It was a full moment before anybody spoke. Then "What does this mean?"
+asked Mrs. Davis, in an awful voice.
+
+Mell could not answer. But the children broke out in full chorus of
+lament.
+
+"Tommy was so bad to us." "He lost us in the woods." "He stole the
+scissors, and they were dirty scissors." "Mell went away and left us all
+alone."
+
+"Yes," cried Mrs. Davis, her wrath rising with each word, "I know very
+well what you were up to, miss. All my things upset. As soon as I found
+out that I had forgotten my key, I knew very well--" her voice died away
+into the silence of horror. She had just caught sight of Belinda's
+cropped head.
+
+"Tommy did it. He cut off all our hairs," blubbered Belinda.
+
+Mell shut her eyes tight. She was too frightened to move. She felt
+herself clutched, dragged in-doors, upstairs, and her ears boxed, all
+in a moment. Mrs. Davis pushed her violently forward, a door banged, a
+key turned.
+
+"There you stay for a week, and on bread and water," cried a voice
+through the keyhole; and Mell, opening her eyes, found herself in the
+dark and alone. She knew very well where she was,--in the closet under
+the attic stairs; a place she dreaded, because she had once seen a mouse
+there, and Mell was particularly afraid of mice.
+
+"Oh, don't shut me up here! Please don't; please let me out, please,"
+she shrieked. But Mrs. Davis had gone downstairs, and nobody replied.
+
+"They'll come and eat me up as soon as it grows dark," thought Mell; and
+this idea so terrified her that she began to beat on the door with her
+hands, and scream at the top of her voice. No one came. And after a
+while she grew so weary that she could scream no longer; so she curled
+herself up on the floor of the closet and went to sleep.
+
+When she woke the closet was darker than ever. Mell felt weak and ill
+for want of food. Her head ached; her bones ached from lying on the hard
+floor; she was feverish and very miserable.
+
+"It's dark; she's going to leave me here all night," sobbed Mell. "Oh!
+won't somebody come and let me out?" Now _would_ have been a chance to
+play that she was a princess shut up in a dark dungeon! But Mell didn't
+feel like playing. She was a real little girl shut up in a closet, and
+it wasn't nice at all. There was no "make believe" left in her just
+then.
+
+Suddenly a fine scratching sound began in the wall close to her head.
+"The mouse, the mouse," thought Mell, and she gave a shriek so loud that
+it would have scared away a whole army of mice. The shriek sounded all
+over the house. It woke the children in their beds, and rang in the ears
+of Mrs. Davis, who was sitting down to supper in the kitchen with
+somebody just arrived,--a big, brown, rough-bearded somebody, who smelt
+of salt-water; Mell's father, in short, returned from sea.
+
+"What's that?" asked Captain Davis, putting down his cup.
+
+Mrs. Davis was frightened. In the excitement of her husband's sudden
+return she had quite forgotten poor Mell in her closet.
+
+"Some of the children," she answered, trying to speak carelessly. "I'll
+run up."
+
+Another terrible shriek. Captain Davis seized a candle, and hurried
+upstairs after his wife.
+
+He was just in time to see her unlock the closet door, and poor Mell
+tumble out, tear-stained, white, frightened almost out of her wits. She
+clutched her step-mother's dress with both hands.
+
+"Oh, don't make me go in there again!" she pleaded. "I will be good.
+I'll never meddle with the things in the chest any more. There are mice
+in there, hundreds of 'em; they'll run all over me; they'll eat me up.
+Oh, _don't_ make me go in there again!"
+
+"Why, it's my little Mell!" cried the amazed Captain. "Shiver my
+timbers! what does this mean?" He lifted Mell into his arms and looked
+sternly at his wife.
+
+"She's been a _very_ naughty girl," said Mrs. Davis, trying to speak
+boldly. "So naughty that I had to shut her up. Stop crying so, Mell. I
+forgive you now. I hope you'll never be so bad again."
+
+"Oh, may I come out?" sobbed Mell, clinging to her father's neck. "You
+said I must stay a week, but I couldn't do that, the mice would kill me.
+Mice are so awful!" She shuddered with horror as she spoke.
+
+"This ain't a pleasant welcome for a man just in from sea," remarked
+Captain Davis.
+
+Mrs. Davis explained and tried to smooth the matter over, but the
+Captain continued very sober all that evening. Mell thought it was
+because he was angry with her, but her step-mother knew very well that
+she also was in disgrace. The truth was that the Captain was thinking
+what to do. He was not a man of many words, but he felt that affairs at
+home must go very wrong when he was away, and that such a state of
+things was bad for his wife, and very bad for Mell.
+
+So in a day or two he went off to Cape Cod, "to see his old mother," as
+he said, in reality to consult her as to what should be done. When he
+came back, he asked Mell how she would like to go and live with
+Grandmother and be her little girl.
+
+"Will she shut me up in closets?" asked Mell apprehensively.
+
+"No, she'll be very kind to you if you are a good girl. Grandma's an old
+lady now. She wants a handy child about the house to help, and sort of
+pet and make much of."
+
+"I--guess--I'll--like--it," said Mell slowly. "It's a good way from
+here, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes,--a good way."
+
+Mell nodded her head in a satisfied manner. "_She'll_ not often come
+there," she thought. "She" meant Mrs. Davis.
+
+Mrs. Davis was unusually pleasant for the few remaining days which Mell
+spent at home. I do not think she had ever meant to treat Mell unkindly,
+but she had a hot temper, and the care of five unruly children is a good
+deal for one woman to undertake, without counting in a little
+step-daughter with a head stuffed with fairy stories. She washed and
+ironed, mended and packed for Mell as kindly as possible, and did not
+say one cross word, not even when her husband brought the coral necklace
+from the big chest and gave it to Mell for her very own. "The child had
+a right to her mother's necklace," he said. All was peaceful and serene,
+and when Mell said good-by she surprised herself by feeling quite sorry
+to go, and kissed Gabella Sarah's small face with tears in her eyes.
+
+Grandmother was just such a dear old woman as one reads about in books.
+Her cheeks were all criss-crossed with little wrinkles, which made her
+look as if she were always smiling. Her forehead was smooth, her eyes
+kind and blue. She was small, thin, and wiry. Her laugh was as fresh as
+a young woman's. Mell loved her at once, and was sure that she should be
+happy to live with her and be her little girl.
+
+"Why, Bethuel, you've brought me a real good helper," said Grandmother,
+as Mell ran to and fro, setting the tea-table, cutting bread, and
+learning where things were kept. "I shall sit like a lady and do nothing
+but rock in my cheer now that I've got Mell." Mell heard the kind words,
+and sprang about more busily than ever. It was a new thing to be
+praised.
+
+Before Captain Davis went next day he walked over to Barnstable, and
+came back with a parcel in his hand. The parcel was for Mell. It
+contained the Fairy Tales,--all new and complete, bound in beautiful red
+covers.
+
+"You shall read them aloud to me in the evenings," said Grandmother.
+
+That night, if anybody had peeped through the window of Grandmother's
+little house he would have seen a pleasant sight. The kitchen was all
+in order; the lamp burned clear; Grandmother sat in her rocking-chair
+with a smile on her kind old face, while Mell, at her feet on a little
+stool, opened the Fairy Tales, and prepared to read. "Once upon a time
+there lived a beautiful Princess," she began;--then a sudden sense of
+the delightfulness of all this overcame her. She dropped the book into
+her lap, clasped her hands tight, and said, half to herself, half to
+Grandmother, "_Isn't_ it nice?"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+MISTRESS MARY.
+
+
+IT was the first of May; but May was in an April mood,--half cloudy,
+half shiny,--and belied her name. Sprinkles of silvery rain dotted the
+way-side dust; flashes of sun caught the drops as they fell, and turned
+each into a tiny mirror fit for fairy faces. The trees were raining too,
+showers of willow-catkins and cherry-bud calyxes, which fell noiselessly
+and strewed the ground. The children kicked the soft brown drifts aside
+with their feet as they walked along.
+
+The doors of the Methodist meeting-house at Valley Hill stood open, and
+crowds of men and women and children were going into them. It was not
+Sunday which called the people together: it was the annual Conference
+meeting; and all the country round was there to hear the reports and
+learn where the ministers were to be sent for the next two years.
+Methodist clergymen, you know, are not "called" by the people of the
+parish, as other clergymen are. They go where the church sends them, and
+every second year they are all changed to other parishes. This, it is
+thought, keeps the people and pastors fresh and interested in each
+other. But I don't know. Human beings, as well as vegetables, have a
+trick of putting down roots; and even a cabbage or a potato would resent
+such transplanting, and would refuse to thrive.
+
+Sometimes, when a parish has become attached to its minister, it will
+plead to have him stay longer. Now and then this request is granted;
+but, as a rule, the minister has to go. And it is a hard rule for his
+wife and children, who have to go too.
+
+The Valley Hill people "thought a heap" of their minister, Mr. Forcythe,
+and had begged hard that he might stay with them for another term.
+Everybody belonging to the church had come to the meeting feeling
+anxious, and yet pretty certain that the answer would be favorable. All
+over the building, people were whispering about the matter, and heads
+were nodding and bowing. The bonnets on these heads were curiously
+alike. Mrs. Perry, the village milliner, never had more than one pattern
+hat. "That is what is worn," she said; and nobody disputed the fact,
+which saved Mrs. Perry trouble. The Valley Hill people liked it just as
+well, and didn't mind the lack of variety. This year Mrs. Perry had
+announced yellow to be the fashion, so nine out of ten of the hats
+present were trimmed with yellow ribbon crossed in just the same way
+over a yellow straw crown; and the church looked like a bed of sisterly
+tulips nodding and bowing in the wind.
+
+Bishop Judson was the person to read the announcements. He was a nice
+old man, kind at heart, though formal in manner, and anxious eyes were
+fixed on him as he got up with a paper in his hand. That important
+little paper held comfort or discomfort for ever so many people. Every
+one bent forward to listen. It was so still all over the church that you
+might have heard a pin drop. The Bishop began with a little speech about
+the virtues of patience and contentment, and how important it was that
+everybody should be quite satisfied whatever happened to them. Then he
+opened the paper.
+
+"Brother Johnson, Middlebury," he read. Middlebury was a favorite
+parish, so Brother Johnson looked pleased, and Sister Johnson was
+congratulated by the friends who sat near her. "Brother Woodward, Little
+Falls; Brother Ashe, Plunxet; Brother Allen, Claxton Corners." And so
+on. Some faces grew bright, some sad, as the reading proceeded. At last
+"Brother Forcythe, Redding; Brother Martin, Valley Hill," was announced.
+A quiver of disappointment went over the church, and a little girl
+sitting in the gallery began to cry.
+
+"My dear, my dear," whispered her mother, much distressed at her sobs
+and gulps. People looked up from below; but Mary could not stop. She
+took her mother's handkerchief and held it tight over her mouth; but the
+sobs would come. Her heart was half-broken at the idea of leaving Valley
+Hill and going to that horrid Redding, where nobody wanted to go.
+
+Old Mrs. Clapp, from behind, reached over and gave her a bunch of
+fennel. But the fennel only made Mary cry harder. In Redding, she was
+sure, would be no kind Mrs. Clapp, no "meeting-house seed;" and her sobs
+grew thicker at the thought.
+
+"I observe that your little daughter seems to be distressed," said
+Bishop Judson, as Mrs. Forcythe led the sobbing Mary down from the
+gallery at the end of service. "Children of her age form strong
+attachments to places, I am aware. But it is well to break them before
+they become unduly strong. Here we have no continuing city, you know."
+
+"Yes," said poor Mrs. Forcythe, with a meek sigh. She had been married
+fourteen years, and this was her seventh move.
+
+"Redding--hum--is a desirable place in some respects," went on the
+Bishop. "There is a great work to do there,--a great work. It requires a
+man of Brother Forcythe's energy to meet it. Mistress Mary here will
+doubtless find consolation in the thought that her father's sphere of
+usefulness is--h'm--enlarged."
+
+"But we shan't have any garden," faltered Mary, "Tilly Brooks, who was
+there before, says it isn't a bit nice. She never saw a flower all the
+time she was there, she said. I'd just planted my bed in the garden
+here. Mrs. Clapp gave me six pansies, and it was going to be so pretty.
+Now I've got to--leave--'em." Her voice died away into sobs.
+
+"Tut, tut!" said the Bishop. "The customs of a church cannot be set
+aside to accommodate a child's flower-bed. You'll find other things to
+please you in Redding, Mistress Mary. Come, come, dry your eyes. Your
+father's daughter should not set an example like this."
+
+"No, sir," gulped Mary, mortified at this reproof from the Bishop, who
+was an important person, and much looked up to. She did her best to stop
+crying, but it was hard work. When they reached home, the sight of the
+pansies perking their yellow and purple faces up to meet her, renewed
+her grief. There was her mignonette seed not yet sprouted. If she had
+known that they were going away, she would not have planted any. There,
+worst of all, was the corner where she had planned such a nice surprise
+for her mother,--"A. F." in green parsley letters. A. F. stood for Anne
+Forcythe. Now, mother would never see the letters or know any thing
+about it. Oh dear, oh dear!
+
+Mrs. Forcythe's own disappointment was great, for they had all made sure
+that they should stay. But, like a true mother, she put her share of the
+grief aside, and thought only of comforting Mary.
+
+"Don't feel so badly, dear," she said. "Recollect, you'll have Papa
+still, and me and Frank and little Peter. We'll manage to be happy
+somehow. Redding isn't half so disagreeable as you think."
+
+"Yes, it is. Tilly said so. I was going to have radishes and a
+rose-bush," replied Mary tearfully. "There's a robin just building in
+the elm-tree now. There won't be any trees in Redding; only horrid hard
+cobble-stones."
+
+"We must hope for the best," said Mrs. Forcythe, who did not enjoy the
+idea of the cobble-stones any more than Mary did.
+
+"Only ten days more at Valley Hill," was the first thought that came
+into Mary's mind the next morning. She went downstairs cross and out of
+spirits. Her mother was laying sheets and table-cloths in a trunk. The
+books were gone from the little book-shelf; every thing had already
+begun to look unsettled and uncomfortable.
+
+"I shall depend on you to take care of little Peter," said Mrs.
+Forcythe. "We shall all have to work hard if we are to get off next
+Monday week."
+
+Mary gave an impatient shrug with her shoulders. She loved little Peter,
+but it seemed an injury just then to have to take care of him. All the
+time that her mother was sorting, counting, and arranging where things
+should go, she sat in the window sullen and unhappy, looking out at the
+pansy-bed. Peter grew tired of a companion who did nothing to amuse him,
+and began to sprawl and scramble upstairs.
+
+"O baby, come back!" cried Mary, and, I am sorry to say, gave him a
+shake. Peter cried, and that brought poor weary Mrs. Forcythe
+downstairs.
+
+"Can't you manage to make him happy?" she said. Mary only pouted.
+
+All that day and the next and the next it was the same. Mrs. Forcythe
+was busy every moment. There were a thousand things to do, another
+thousand to remember. People kept coming in to say good-by. Peter
+wandered out on the door-steps when Mary's back was turned, took cold,
+and was threatened with croup. Mrs. Forcythe was half sick herself from
+worry and fatigue. And all this time Mary, instead of helping, was one
+of her mother's chief anxieties. She fretted and complained continually.
+Every thing went wrong. Each article put into the boxes cost her a flood
+of tears. Each friend who dropped in, renewed the sense of loss. She
+scarcely noticed her mother's pale face at all. All the brightness and
+busy-ness in her was changed for selfish lamentations, and still the
+burden of her complaint was, "I shan't have any flowers in Redding. My
+garden, oh, my garden."
+
+"I don't know what's come to her," said poor Mrs. Forcythe. "She's not
+like the same child at all." And old Mrs. Clapp, who had been very fond
+of Mary, declared that she never knew a girl so altered.
+
+"She's the most _contrary_ piece you ever saw," she said to her
+daughter. "I could have given her a right-down good slap just now for
+the way she spoke to her mother. It's all her fault that the baby took
+cold. She don't lift a hand to help, and I expect as sure as Fate that
+we'll have Mrs. Forcythe sick before we get through. I wouldn't have
+believed that such a likely girl as Mary Forcythe could act so."
+
+Poor "contrary" Mary! She was very unhappy. The fatal last morning came.
+All the boxes were packed. The drays, laden with furniture and beds,
+stood at the gate. Mrs. Clapp, and Mrs. Elder, the class-leader, were
+going over the house collecting last things and doing last jobs. Mary
+wandered out alone into the garden for a farewell look at her pets.
+
+"Good-by, pansies," she said, bending over them. There were only five in
+the bed now, for Mary had taken up one and packed it in paper to carry
+with her. A big tear hopped down her nose and splashed into the middle
+of the yellow pansy, her favorite of all. It turned up its bright
+kitten-face just the same. None of them minded Mary's going away.
+Flowers are sometimes so unkind to people.
+
+"Good-by, rose-bush," proceeded Mary, turning from the pansy-bed.
+"Good-by, honey-suckle. Good-by, peony. Good-by, matter-i-mony." This
+sounds funny, but Mary only meant by it a vine with a small purple
+flower which grew over the back-door. "Good-by, lilac," she went on.
+"Good-by, grass plot." This brought her to the gate. The wagon stood
+waiting to carry them to the railroad, three miles away. Mrs. Forcythe,
+with the baby in her arms, was just getting in. "Hurry, Mary," called
+her father. Slowly she opened the gate, slowly shut it. Her father
+helped her over the wheel. She sat down beside Frank. Mrs. Clapp waved
+her handkerchief, then put it to her eyes. Mary took a long look at the
+pretty garden just budding with spring, and burst into tears. Mr.
+Forcythe chirruped to the horse; they were off,--and that was their
+good-by to Valley Hill.
+
+Redding was certainly very different. It was an old-fashioned town with
+narrow streets, which smelt of fish. Most of the people were sailors, or
+had something to do with ships. There were several nice churches, and
+outside the town a few handsome houses, but there were a great many poor
+people in the place and not many rich ones.
+
+In the very narrowest of all the streets stood the parsonage; a little
+brick house with a paved yard behind, just wide enough for
+clothes-lines. When the wash was hung out there was not an inch to
+spare on either side. Mary gave up all hope as soon as she saw it. There
+was not room even for _one_ pansy. The windows looked out on chimneys
+and roofs and other backyards, with lines of wet clothes flapping in the
+sun. Not a tree was to be seen. Any one might be excused for thinking it
+doleful; and Mary, having made up her mind beforehand to dislike it,
+found it easy to keep her resolution.
+
+There was no possibility of getting things to rights that night; though
+several people came in to help, and a comfortable supper was ready
+spread for the travellers on their arrival. Mrs. Forcythe was cheered by
+this kindness, but Mary could not be cheerful. She had to sleep upon a
+mattress laid on the floor. At another time this would have been fun,
+but now it did not seem funny at all; it was only part and parcel of the
+misery of coming to live in Redding. She cried herself to sleep, and
+came down in the morning with swollen eyelids and a disposition to make
+the very worst of things,--easy enough for any girl to do if she sets
+about it.
+
+She scarcely thanked her father when he went out and bought a red pot
+for the unlucky pansy, which, after its travels and its night in brown
+paper, looked as disconsolate as Mary herself. "I know it'll die right
+away," she muttered as she set it on the window-sill. "Oh, dear, there's
+mother calling. What _does_ she want?"
+
+"Mary, dear," said Mrs. Forcythe when she went down, "where have you
+been? I want you to put away the dishes for me."
+
+"I'm so tired," objected Mary crossly.
+
+"Don't you think that mother must be tired too?" asked her father
+gravely.
+
+Mary blushed and began to place the cups and plates on the cupboard
+shelves. Her slow movements attracted her father's attention.
+
+"What's the matter?" he said. "At Valley Hill you were as brisk as a
+bee, always wanting to help in every thing. Here you seem unwilling to
+move. How is it?"
+
+"I--don't--like--Redding," broke out Mary in a burst of petulance.
+
+"You haven't seen it yet."
+
+"Yes, I have, Papa. I've seen it as much as I want to. It's horrid!"
+
+"I never knew her to behave so before," said Mr. Forcythe in a perplexed
+tone, as Mary, having unpacked the dishes, sobbed her way upstairs.
+
+"She'll brighten when we are settled," replied Mrs. Forcythe, indulgent
+as mothers are, and ready to hope the best of her child. "Oh, dear!
+there's the baby waked up. Would you call Mary to go to him?"
+
+So it went on all that week. Mr. and Mrs. Forcythe were very patient
+with Mary, hoping always that this evil mood would pass, and their
+bright, helpful little daughter come back to them again. She never
+refused to do any thing that was asked of her; but you know the
+difference between willing and unwilling service: Mary just did the
+tasks set her, no more, and as soon as they were finished fled to her
+own room to fret and cry. Her father took her out to walk and showed her
+the new church, but Mary thought the church ugly, and the outside view
+of Redding as unpleasant as the inside one. Dull streets, small houses
+everywhere; no gardens, except now and then a single bed, edged with a
+row of stiff cockle-shells by way of fence, and planted with pert
+sweet-williams or crown imperials. These Mary thought were worse than no
+flowers at all. Every thing smelt of fish. The very sea was made ugly by
+warehouses and shabby wharves. The people they met were strangers; and,
+altogether, the effect of Mary's walk was to send her back more homesick
+than ever for Valley Hill.
+
+By Friday night the little parsonage was in order. Mrs. Forcythe was a
+capital manager. She planned and contrived, turned and twisted and made
+things comfortable in a surprising way. But she overtired herself
+greatly in doing this, and on Saturday morning Mary was waked by her
+father calling from below that mother was very ill, and she must come
+down at once and stay with her while he went for a doctor.
+
+"Oh, dear!" sighed Mary, as she hurried on her clothes. "Now mother is
+sick. It's all this hateful Redding. She never was sick when we lived in
+the country."
+
+But the hard mood melted the moment she saw her mother's pale face and
+feeble smile.
+
+"I hope I'm not going to be very ill," said Mrs. Forcythe; "probably
+it's only that I have tired myself out. You'll have to be 'Mamma' for a
+day or two, Mary dear. Make Papa as comfortable as you can. See that
+Frank has his lunch put up for school, and don't let Peter take cold.
+Oh, dear!--my head aches so hard that I can't talk. I know you'll do
+your best Mary, won't you?"
+
+Guess how Mary felt at this appeal! All her better nature came back in a
+moment. She saw how wrong she had been in nursing her selfish griefs,
+and letting this dear mother over-work herself. "O mother, I will,
+indeed I will!" she cried, kissing the pale face; and, only waiting to
+draw the blind so that the sun should not shine in, she flew
+downstairs, eager to do all she could to make up for past ill-conduct.
+
+The Doctor came. He said Mrs. Forcythe was threatened with fever, and
+must be kept very quiet for several days. Mary had never in her life
+worked so hard as she did that Saturday. There was breakfast, dinner,
+supper to get, dishes to wash, water to heat, the fire to tend, rooms to
+dust, beds to make, the baby to keep out of mischief. She was very tired
+by night, but her heart felt lighter than it had for many days past. Do
+you wonder at this? I can tell you the reason. Mary's troubles were
+selfish troubles, and the moment she forgot herself in thinking of
+somebody else, they became small and began to creep away.
+
+"Pitty, pitty!" said little Peter, as he heard her singing over her
+dish-washing. Mary caught him up and gave him a hearty kiss,--a real
+Valley Hill kiss, such as she had given no one since they came to
+Redding.
+
+"Mary is doing famously," Mr. Forcythe told his wife that night. "She
+has a first-rate head on her shoulders for a girl of her age." Mary
+heard him, and was pleased. She liked--we all like--to be counted useful
+and valuable. The bit of praise sent her back to her work with redoubled
+zeal.
+
+Next morning Mrs. Forcythe was a little better. Her head ached less; she
+sat up on her pillows and drank a cup of tea. Mary was smoothing her
+mother's hair with soft pats of the brush, when suddenly the church
+bells began to ring. She had never heard such sounds before. The bell at
+Valley Hill was cracked, and went tang--tang--tang, as if the
+meeting-house were an old cow walking slowly about. These bells had a
+dozen different voices,--some deep and solemn, others bright and clear,
+but all beautiful; and across their pealing a soft, delicious chime from
+the tower of the Episcopal church went to and fro, and wove itself in
+and out like a thread of silver embroidery. Mary dropped the brush, and
+clasped her hands tight. It was like listening to a song of which she
+could not hear enough. When the last tinkle of the chime died away, she
+unclasped her hands, and, turning from the window, cried, "O mother!
+wasn't that lovely? There is _one_ pleasant thing in Redding, after
+all!"
+
+I do not think matters ever seemed so hard again after that morning when
+Mary made friends with the church bells. It was the beginning of a
+better understanding between her and her new home; and there is a great
+deal in beginnings, even though they may work slowly toward their ends.
+
+By the close of the week Mrs. Forcythe was downstairs again, weak and
+pale, but able to sit in her chair and direct things, which Mary felt to
+be a great comfort. The parishioners began to call. There were no rich
+people among them; but it was a hard-working, active parish, and did a
+great deal for its means. The Sunday-school was large and flourishing;
+there was a missionary association, a home missionary association, a
+mite society, and a sewing circle, which met every week to make clothes
+for the poor and partake of tea, soda biscuit, and six sorts of cake.
+Beside these, a new project had just been started, "The Seamen's
+Daughters' Industrial Society;" or, in other words, a sewing-school for
+little girls whose fathers were sailors. There were plenty of such
+little girls in Redding.
+
+"Your daughter will join, of course," said Mrs. Wallis, when she came to
+call on her minister's wife. "It's important that the pastor's family
+should take a part in every good work." Mrs. Wallis was the most
+energetic woman of the congregation,--at the head of every thing.
+
+"I'm afraid Mary's sewing is not good enough," replied Mrs. Forcythe.
+"She isn't very skilful with her needle yet."
+
+"Oh! she knows enough to teach those ignorant little creatures. Half of
+them are foreigners, and never touch a needle in their homes. It's
+every thing to give them some ideas beyond their own shiftless ways."
+
+"Would you like to try, Mary?" asked her mother.
+
+"I--don't--know," replied Mary, afraid to refuse, because Mrs. Wallis
+looked so sharp and decided.
+
+"Very well, then I'll call for you on Saturday, at half-past ten," went
+on Mrs. Wallis, quite regardless of Mary's hesitating tone. "I'm glad
+you'll come. It would never do not to have some of the minister's
+family. Saturday morning, at half-past ten! Good-by, Mrs. Forcythe.
+Don't get up; you look peaked still. To-morrow is baking day, and I
+shall send you a green-currant pie. Perhaps _that'll_ do you good." With
+these words she departed.
+
+"Must I really teach in that school?" asked Mary dolefully.
+
+"I think you'd better. The people expect it, and it will be a good thing
+for you to practise sewing a little," replied her mother. "I daresay it
+will be pleasanter than you think."
+
+"It seems so funny that I should be set to teach any one to sew," said
+Mary, bursting into a laugh. "Don't you recollect how Mrs. Clapp used to
+scold me, and say I 'gobbled' my darns?"
+
+"You mustn't 'gobble' before the seamen's daughters," said Mrs.
+Forcythe, smiling. "It will be a capital lesson for you to try to teach
+what you haven't quite learned yourself."
+
+Punctual as the clock Mrs. Wallis appeared on Saturday, and bore the
+unwilling Mary away to the sewing-school. Mrs. Forcythe watched them
+from the window. She couldn't help laughing, their movements were so
+comically different,--Mrs. Wallis was so brisk and decided, while Mary
+lagged behind, dragging one slow foot after the other as if each moment
+she longed to stop and dared not. Very different was her movement,
+however, two hours later, when she returned. She came with a kind of
+burst, her eyes bright with excitement, and her cheeks pinker than they
+had been since she left Valley Hill.
+
+"O mother, it is _so_ nice! Ever so many children were there,--thirty at
+least; and Mrs. Wallis said I might choose any five I liked to be my
+class. First, I chose the dearest little Irish girl. Her name is Norah,
+and she's just as pretty as she can be, only her face was dreadfully
+dirty, and her clothes all rags. Then her little sister Kathleen cried
+to come; so I took her too. Then I chose a cunning little German tot
+named Gretchen. She has yellow hair, braided in tight little tails down
+her back, and is a good deal cleaner than the rest, but not very clean,
+you know; and she hadn't any shoes at all. Then Mrs. Wallis brought up
+the funniest little French girl, with a name I can't pronounce. I'm
+going to call her Amy. And the last of all is an American, real pretty.
+Her name is Rachel Gray. Her father is gone on a whaling voyage, and
+won't be back for three years. Don't they sound nice, mother? I think I
+shall like teaching them so much!"
+
+"Do they know any thing about sewing?" asked Mrs. Forcythe.
+
+"Not a thing. They made dreadful stitches. Kathleen cried because the
+needle pricked her, and Rachel wanted to wear the thimble on the wrong
+finger. Amy did the best. When they went away they all wanted to kiss
+me, and Norah said she guessed I was the best teacher in the school.
+Wasn't that cunning? Mrs. Wallis is real kind. She brought ever so much
+gingerbread, and gave each of the children a piece."
+
+"I'm glad it begins so well--"
+
+"Yes. There's just one thing, though. The children's faces! You can't
+think how dirty they are. I should like to give them a good scrub all
+round."
+
+"Well, why don't you?"
+
+"How can I? There isn't any wash-bowl down at the school-room."
+
+"If you liked you might have them all come here at ten o'clock, and walk
+down with you. Then you could take them up to your room, wash their
+faces and hands, and brush their hair smooth before you start. I really
+think you would enjoy your teaching more if the scholars were clean."
+
+"May I really do that?"
+
+"Yes. I'll buy you a fresh cake of soap and a brush, and you can take
+two clean towels from the drawer every Saturday morning. Make it a rule,
+but be very gentle and pleasant about it or the children may refuse."
+
+"O mother, what a good plan! Thank you so much," said Mary with
+sparkling eyes. "Now I shall have real comfort with them."
+
+There was great excitement in the sewing-class when they were told that
+in future they were to go to "Teacher's" house every Saturday, and walk
+down to school with her. They were a droll little procession enough when
+they appeared the next week at the appointed time. Norah's toes were out
+of her shoes. Her tangled curls were as rough as a bird's-nest, and the
+hat on top of them looked as if it had sailed across every mud-puddle in
+town. Little Kathleen's scanty garments were rather rags than clothes.
+And Gretchen, tidiest of all, had smears of sausage on her rosy face,
+and did not seem to have been brought into contact with soap and water
+for weeks.
+
+Mary led them up into her own room, which, plain as it was, looked like
+a palace to the little ones after the dirt and discomfort of their
+crowded homes. There were the nice clean towels, the new hair-brush, and
+the big cake of honey-soap, mother's contributions to the undertaking.
+The washing was quite a frolic. Norah cried a little at having her hair
+pulled, but Mary was gentle and pleasant, and made the affair so amusing
+that the children thought it pleasant to be clean, instead of disliking
+it. She rewarded their patience by a kiss all round. Kathleen threw her
+arms about Mary's neck and gave her a great hug. "You're iver so nice,"
+she said, and Mary kissed her again.
+
+So every Saturday from that time forward, Mary went to school followed
+by a crowd of clean little faces, which looked all the brighter and
+happier for their cleanliness. She was proud of her class, but their
+ragged clothes distressed her greatly.
+
+"It is such a pity," she told her mother. "They are so pretty, and they
+look like beggars."
+
+Mrs. Forcythe had only been waiting for this. She was not a woman to
+give much advice, even to her own child. "Drop in a seed and let it
+grow," was her motto.
+
+"There's that old gingham of yours," she suggested. "You could spare
+that for one of them, if there were anybody to make it over."
+
+"_I'll_ make it!" cried Mary, "only--" her, face falling, "I don't know
+how to cut dresses."
+
+"I'll cut it for you if you like," said Mrs. Forcythe quietly.
+
+"Will you, mother dear? How splendid. I'll make it for Norah. She's the
+raggedest of all."
+
+The gingham was measured, and proved enough to make frocks for Norah
+and Kathleen too. Mary had double work to undertake, but her heart was
+in her fingers, and they flew fast. It took every spare moment for a
+fortnight to make the frocks, but when they were done and tried on to
+the delighted children, they looked so nicely that Mary was rewarded for
+her trouble and for the many needle-pricks in her forefinger.
+
+"Only it's such a pity about the others," she told her mother. "They'll
+think I'm partial, and I'm not, though I _do_ love Norah a little bit
+the best, she's so affectionate. I wish we were rich. Then I could buy
+frocks for them all."
+
+"If you were rich, perhaps you wouldn't care about it," said her mother.
+"A little here and a little there, a stitch, a kind word, a small
+self-denial, these are in the power of all of us, and in course of time
+they mount up and make a great deal. And, Mary dear, I've always found
+if you once start in a path and are determined to keep on, somebody's
+sure to come along and lend a helping hand, when you think you have got
+to the end of every thing, and must stop or turn back."
+
+"Well, I've got to the end of every thing now," said Mary. "There aren't
+any more old frocks to make over, and we can't afford to buy new ones."
+
+"Don't be discouraged," said her mother. "The way is sure to open
+somehow."
+
+"How wise mother is," thought Mary, when the very next week on their way
+back from school Mrs. Wallis said, "I noticed that two of your scholars
+had respectable frocks on to-day. I wonder if their mothers made them?
+If they did, I've an old chintz dress which I could spare, and perhaps
+Gretchen's mother and Amadine's could take it and fit them out too."
+
+"I made the dresses," cried Mary joyfully. "And if you'll let me have
+the old chintz, I'll make some more for the others, Mrs. Wallis. Oh, I'm
+so glad."
+
+"Did you make them," said Mrs. Wallis in a pleased tone. "Well, that's
+first-rate. I'll send the chintz round to-night; and any other old
+things I can find to help along."
+
+So that night came a great bundle, which, on opening, revealed not only
+the chintz, but a nice calico, some plaid ribbon, a large black alpaca
+apron, and an old shirt of Mr. Wallis's. Such a busy time as Mary had in
+planning how to make the most of these gifts. The chintz was long and
+full. It had a cape, and made two beautiful frocks. The calico made
+another frock and two nice pinafores, the black alpaca some small
+aprons. Mary trimmed the two worst hats with the ribbon. Last of all,
+she cut and stitched five narrow bands of the linen, which mother washed
+and starched, and behold, the class had collars! I don't know which was
+most pleased at this last decoration, Mary or the children.
+
+"They are just as good as dolls to you, aren't they," said her father.
+
+"O Papa! much better than _that_. Dolls can't laugh and talk, and they
+don't really care any thing about you, you only just make believe that
+they do. It's horrid to fit a doll's clothes; she sticks her arm out
+stiff and won't bend it a bit. I'd rather have my class than all the
+dolls in the world."
+
+"Teaching those children is having a capital effect on Mary herself,"
+said Mrs. Forcythe to her husband after Mary had gone away. "She gains
+all the time in patience and industry, and is twice as careful of her
+things as she used to be. I found her crying the other day because she
+had torn her oldest frock, and the darn was sure to come in a bad place
+when the frock was made over for Gretchen! Think of Mary's crying
+because of having torn any thing!"
+
+Time flies rapidly when people are busy and happy. Days crept into
+weeks, weeks into months; before any one knew it two years were passed
+and another Conference day was at hand. It met this time at Redding.
+
+Mary, a tall girl of fifteen now, went with her mother to hear the
+appointments read. The Redding people had applied to keep Mr. Forcythe
+for another term, but the request was denied; and, when his name was
+reached on the list, it appeared that he was to go back to Valley Hill.
+
+"There's one person I know will be pleased," said the Bishop, pausing on
+his way out of church to speak to Mrs. Forcythe. "Mistress Mary here!
+She'll be glad to go back to Valley Hill again. But, hey-day! she
+doesn't look glad. What! tears in her eyes. How is this?"
+
+"I--don't--know--" sighed Mary. "I thought--I thought we should stay
+here. Of course I feel sorry just at first."
+
+"Sorry! Not want to leave Redding! Why, what a contrary little maid you
+are! Don't you recollect how you cried, and said Redding was horrid."
+
+"Yes," said Mary, on the verge of a sob. "But I like it now, Bishop. I
+don't mind the fish a bit, and the funny old streets and the posy-beds
+with cockle-shell edges are so nice, and the bells sound so sweet on
+Sunday morning!--I like Redding ever so much."
+
+"But your garden,--I remember how badly you felt to leave that. You
+can't have a garden in Redding."
+
+"No, but I have my little girls. I'd rather have them than a garden, a
+great deal!"
+
+"What does she mean?" asked the Bishop, turning to Mrs. Forcythe.
+
+"Her sewing-class," replied Mrs. Forcythe, smiling.
+
+"There they are!" cried Mary eagerly. "They're waiting for me. Do look
+at them, Bishop; it's those five little girls in a row behind the second
+pillar from the door. That big one is Norah, and the one in blue is
+Rachel, and the littlest is named Kathleen. Isn't she pretty? They're
+the sweetest little things, oh, I shall miss them so. I shan't ever have
+such good times again as I've had with them." Her voice faltered; a lump
+came in her throat. To hide it she slipped away, and went across the
+church to where the little ones sat.
+
+"That's a dear child of yours," said the good Bishop, looking after her.
+"I guess she'll _do_ wherever she goes."
+
+And I think Mary will.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+LADY BIRD.
+
+
+"NOW, Pocahontas Maria, sit still and don't disturb the little ones.
+Imogene, that lesson must be learned before I come back, you know. Now,
+dear, that was very, very naughty. When Mamma tells you to do things you
+mustn't pout and poke Stella with your foot in that way. It isn't nice
+at all. Stella is younger than you, and you ought to set her samples, as
+Nursey says. Look at Ning Po Ganges, how good she is, and how she minds
+all I say, and yet she's the littlest child I've got."
+
+If anybody had been walking in Madam Bird's old-fashioned garden that
+morning, and had heard these wise words coming from the other side of
+the rose thicket, he would certainly have supposed that some old dame
+with a school was hidden away there, or at the least an anxious Mamma
+with a family of unruly children. But if this somebody had gone into the
+thicket, bobbing his head to avoid the prickly, wreath-like branches, he
+would have found on the other side only one person, little Lota Bird,
+playing all alone with her dolls. "Lady Bird" Nursey called Lota,
+because when, six years before, Papa fetched her home from China, she
+wore a speckled frock of orange-red and black, very much the color of
+those other tiny frocks in which the real lady-birds fly about in
+summer-time. The speckled frock was outgrown long ago, but the name
+still clung to Lota, and every one called her by it except Grandmamma,
+who said "Charlotte," sighing as she spoke, and Papa, whose letters
+always began, "My darling little Lota." Papa had been away so long now
+that Lota would quite have forgotten him had it not been for these
+letters which came regularly every month. The paper on which they were
+written had an odd, pleasant smell. Nurse said it was the smell of
+sandal-wood. Sometimes there were things inside for Lota, bird's
+feathers of gay colors, Chinese puzzles of carved ivory, or small
+pictures painted on rice paper. Lota liked these things very much. It
+was like playing at a Papa rather than really having one, but she
+enjoyed the play; and when they told her that Papa was soon coming home
+to stay always, she was only half glad, and said: "Won't there be any
+more letters then? I shan't like that." Poor little girlie: we, who know
+how nice it is to have real Papas, can feel sorry for her; can't we?
+
+But Lota did not pity herself in the least. Grandmamma's house was stiff
+and gloomy, shaded by high trees and thick vines which jealously shut
+out the sun whenever he tried to shine in at the window panes.
+Grandmamma's servants were old too, like the house. Most of them had
+gray hair. Nursey wore spectacles; the coachman indulged in rheumatism.
+Grandmamma herself was old and feeble. She rarely laughed or seemed to
+enjoy any thing, but sat in an easy chair all the year round, and read
+solemn books bound in black leather, which made her cry. Jennings her
+maid waited on her, fetched footstools and cushions, pushed the blinds
+down as soon as the cheerful noon got round to that side of the house.
+"Missus is uncommon poorly to-day," she announced every morning. "Miss,
+you must be very quiet." Lota was quiet. She was the only young thing
+in the sad old house, but the shadows of age and sorrow fell lightly
+upon her, and in spite of them she was as happy a child as you will find
+in a summer's day. The garden was her kingdom and her Paradise. It was a
+wide, fragrant, shaded place, full of the shrubs and flowers of former
+days. Huge pink and white oleanders, planted in tubs, stood on either
+side the walks. Thick spikes of purple lavender edged the beds; the
+summer-house was a tangle of honey-suckle, rosemary, and eglantine.
+Roses of all colors abounded. They towered high above Lota's head as she
+walked,--twined and clasped, shut her in with perfumed shadows, rained
+showers of many-colored petals on the grass. An old-fashioned fairy
+would have delighted to dwell in that garden, and perhaps one did dwell
+there, else why should little lonely Lota have been always so very, very
+happy left alone among the trees and flowers? Can any one tell me that?
+
+Far up in the curved angle made by the rose-hedge was the little house
+where she and her dollies lived. Jacob the gardener built this house, of
+roots and willow-osiers curiously twisted. It was just big enough for
+Lady Bird and her family. The walls were pasted over with gay prints cut
+from the "Illustrated News" and other papers. There was a real window.
+The moss floor had a blue cotton rug laid over it. A small table and
+chair for Lota and one apiece for the dolls made up the furniture,
+beside a shelf on which the baby-house tea-set was displayed. The roof
+kept out the weather pretty well, except when it rained hard; then
+things got wet. Here Lota sat all the morning, after she had finished
+her lessons with Nursey,--short lessons always, and easy ones, by Papa's
+particular request, for the doctors had said that Lota must not study
+much till she was really big and strong. Pocahontas Maria and the other
+children had to work much harder than their Mamma, I assure you. Lota
+was very strict with them. When they were idle she put them into the
+corner, and made them sit with their faces to the wall by way of
+punishment. Once Lota had the measles, and for two whole weeks was kept
+away entirely from the garden-house. When she came back, she found that
+during all this time poor little Ning-Po Ganges had been sitting in this
+ignominious position with her face hidden. Lota cried with remorse at
+this, and promised Ning-Po that never, so long as she lived, should she
+be put into the corner again; so after that, for convenience' sake,
+Ning-Po was always called the best child in the family. Now and then,
+when Lota felt hospitable, she would give a tea-party, and ask Lady
+Green and her children from under the snow-ball bush next door. Nobody
+but Lota and the dolls could see the Greens, even when they sat about
+the table talking and being talked to, but that was no matter; and when
+Nursey said, "Law, Miss Lady Bird, how can you; there's never any such
+people, you know," Lota would point triumphantly to a card tacked on to
+the snow-ball bush, which had "Lady Green" printed on it, and would say,
+"Naughty Nursey! can't you read? There's her door-plate!"
+
+As this story is all about Lota, I think I would better tell you just
+how she spent one week of her life, she and the dolls.
+
+The week began with Sunday, which was always a dull day, because Lota
+was forbidden to go into the garden.
+
+In the morning she went to church with Grandmamma, drawn thither by two
+fat old black horses, who seemed to think it almost too much trouble to
+switch the flies off with their tails. Church was warm and the sermon
+was drowsy, so poor Lady Bird fell asleep, and tumbled over suddenly on
+to Grandmamma's lap. This distressed the old lady a good deal, for she
+was very particular about behavior in church. By way of punishment, Lota
+had to learn four verses of a hymn after dinner. It was the hymn which
+begins,--
+
+          "Awake, my soul, and with the sun
+           Thy daily course of duty run,"
+
+and learning it took all the time from dinner till four o'clock.
+
+The hymn learned and repeated, Lota read for awhile in one of her Sunday
+books. She was ashamed of her sleepiness in the morning, and had every
+intention of being very good till bedtime; but unluckily she looked
+across to where the dolls were sitting, and, as she explained to Nursey
+afterward, Pocahontas Maria was whispering to Imogene, and both of them
+were laughing so hard and looking so mischievous that she _had_ to see
+what was the matter. Result;--at five, Jennings, coming to call Lota,
+found her with all the dolls in a row before her teaching them hymns.
+And, though this seems most proper, Jennings, who was a strict
+Methodist, did not think so; so Lota had another lecture from
+Grandmamma, and went to bed under a sense of disgrace. So much for
+Sunday.
+
+Monday opened with bright sunshine. It had rained all night; but by
+eleven o'clock the dear old garden was quite dry, and how sweet it did
+look! The pink roses twinkled and winked their whisker-like calyxes as
+she went by; the white ones shook their serene leaves, and sent out
+delicious smells. Every green thing looked greener than it had done
+before the rain. The blue sky, swept clear of clouds, seemed to have
+been rubbed and made brilliant. It was a day for gardens; and Lady Bird
+and her family celebrated it by a picnic, to which they invited all the
+Greens.
+
+"Lady Green hasn't treated me quite properly," remarked Lota to her
+oldest child, Pocahontas. "She didn't leave her card at this house I
+don't know when. But we won't mind about that, because it's such a nice
+day, and we want the picnic. And we can't have the picnic without the
+Greens, you know, dear, because there aren't any other people to
+invite."
+
+So they had the picnic,--a delightful one. The young Greens behaved
+badly. They almost always did behave badly when they came to see Lady
+Bird; but it was rather a good thing, because she could warn her own
+children that, if they did the same, they would be severely punished.
+"Lady Green is too indulgent," she would say. "I want _my_ children to
+be much gooder than hers. Mind that, Imogene." So, on this occasion,
+when Clarissa Green snatched at the rose-cakes which formed the staple
+of the feast, Lota looked very sharply at Stella, and said, "Don't let
+me ever see you do so, Stella, or I shall have to slap your little
+hands." Stella heeded the warning, and sat upright as a poker and
+perfectly still.
+
+Clarissa was perhaps not so much to blame, for the rose-cakes were
+delicious. Would you like Lady Bird's recipe? Any little girl can make
+them. Take a good many rose-leaves; put some sugar with them,--as much
+sugar as you can get; tie them up in paper, or in a good thick
+grape-leaf; lay them on a bench, and _sit down on them hard several
+times_: then they are done. Some epicures pretend that they must be
+buried in the ground, and left there for a week; but this takes time,
+and reasonable children will find them quite good enough without. These
+particular rose-cakes were the best Lota had ever made. The whole party,
+Greens and all, agreed to that. For the rest of the feast there was a
+motto-paper, which had ornamented several picnics before. It could not
+be eaten, but it looked well sitting in the middle of the table. At the
+close of the banquet all the party sang a song. Lady Green's voice was
+not very good, but Lota explained to the children afterward that it
+isn't polite to laugh at company even when they do make funny squeaks
+with their high notes. Pocahontas had to sit in the corner awhile for
+having done so. She was sorry, and promised never to offend again; as a
+reward for which, her Mamma gave her a small blank book made of
+writing-paper and a pin, which she told her was for her very own.
+
+"You are such a big girl now," said Mamma Lota, "that it is time you
+began to keep a Diary like I do. I shall read it over every day, and see
+how you spell."
+
+Here is Pocahontas Maria's journal as it stood on Tuesday afternoon,
+after the children had done their lessons and had their dinners:--
+
+"Tuseday. I am going to keep a Diry like Mamma's. Studded as usel. Mamma
+said I was cairless, and didn't get my jography lesson propperly. Stella
+had hers better than me. I hurt my ellbow against the table. It won't
+bend any more. Mamma is going to get Doctor Jacob to put in a woulden
+pin. I hope it won't hurt."
+
+"Oh, Pocahontas! Pocahontas!" cried the scandalized Lady Bird as she
+read this effusion. "After all the pains I have taken, to think you
+should spell so horridly as this." Then she sat down and corrected all
+the words. "I don't wonder your cheeks are so red," she said severely.
+Pocahontas sat up straight and blushed, but made no excuses. It is not
+strange that Lota, who really spelt very nicely for a little girl of
+her age, should have been shocked.
+
+On Tuesday night it rained again, and the sun got up in a cloud next
+morning, and seemed uncertain whether or not to shine. Grandmamma was
+going to drive out to make a call, and Jennings came early to the
+nursery to tell Nurse to dress Lady Bird nicely, so that she might go
+too. Accordingly Nursey put on Lota's freshest white cambric and her
+best blue sash, and laid a pair of white gloves and a little hat trimmed
+with blue ribbons and forget-me-nots on the bed, so that they might be
+ready when the carriage came to the door. "Now, Miss Lady Bird, you must
+sit still and keep yourself very nice," she said. This was hard, for the
+children had all been left in the garden-house the night before, and
+Lota wanted very much to see them. She stood at the window looking
+wistfully out. By and by the sun flashed gloriously from the clouds, and
+sent a bright ray right into her eyes. It touched the rain-drops which
+hung over the bushes, and instantly each became a tiny mimic sun,
+sending out separate rays of its own. Lota forgot all about Nursey's
+injunctions. "I'll just run out one minute and fetch little Ning-Po in,"
+she thought. "That child's too delicate to be left out in the damp. She
+catches cold so easily; really it quite troubles me sometimes the way
+she coughs."
+
+So down the garden walk she sped. The shrubs, shaken by her swift
+passage, scattered showers of bright drops upon the white frock and the
+pretty sash. But Lota didn't mind or notice. The air and sun, the clear,
+fresh feeling, the birds' songs, filled her with a kind of intoxication.
+Her head spun, her feet danced as she ran along. Suddenly a cold feeling
+at the toes of her bronze boots startled her. She looked down. Behold,
+she was in a pool of water, left by the rain in a hollow of the
+gravel-walk. Was she frightened? Not at all. The water felt delightfully
+fresh, her spirits flashed out like the sun himself, and in the joy of
+her heart she began to waltz, scattering and splashing the water about
+her. The crisp ruffles of the cambric lost all their starch, the pretty
+boots were quite spoiled, but Lota waltzed on, and in this plight
+Nursey, flying indignantly out from the kitchen door, found her naughty
+pet.
+
+"Well, Miss Charlotte, I _am_ discouraged," she said, as she pulled off
+the wet things. "Waltzing in a mud-puddle! That's nice work for a young
+lady! I am discouraged, Miss Charlotte."
+
+Nursey never said "Miss Charlotte" except on the most solemn occasions,
+so Lota knew that she was very vexed. She should have been cast down by
+this, but somehow she was not.
+
+"But _I'm_ not discouraged," she replied. "I'm not discouraged a bit!
+And the birds aren't discouraged! They sang all the while I was waltzing
+in the mud-puddle, Nursey; I heard 'em!"
+
+Nursey gave it up. She loved Lady Bird dearly, and could not hear to
+scold her or to have any one else do so. So she made haste to change
+the unlucky frock and shoes, so that she should be neat and trim
+whenever Grandmamma sent for her. I suppose this forbearance touched
+Lota's heart, for at the last moment she turned, ran back, threw her
+arms round Nursey's neck, and whispered, "I'm sorry, and I'll never
+waltz in mud-puddles again." Nursey squeezed her hard by way of answer.
+"Precious lamb!" she said, and Lota ran downstairs quite happy.
+
+The lady whom Grandmamma drove out to see, had a little granddaughter
+visiting her. Isabel Bernard was her name. She came from the city, and
+was so beautifully dressed and so well-mannered, that Grandmamma took
+quite a fancy to her, and invited her to spend a day with Lota.
+
+"Charlotte will enjoy a young companion," said Grandmamma. So the next
+day was fixed upon.
+
+This was a very exciting event for the Bird family, who rarely had any
+visitors except Lady Green, who did not count, being such a near
+neighbor. Pocahontas wrote in her journal, "A grand lady is coming to
+see Mamma. Me and all of us are going to have on our best frocks. I hope
+she'll think us pretty;" and though Lota told her that little girls
+ought not to mind about being pretty if only they obey their mammas and
+are good, the sentiment was so natural that she really hadn't the heart
+to scold the child much. The baby-house was swept and garnished for the
+occasion, a fresh batch of rose-cakes was made, and a general air of
+festivity pervaded the premises.
+
+Lota hoped that Isabel would come early, soon after breakfast, so as to
+have a longer day; but it was quite twelve o'clock before she made her
+appearance, all alone by herself in a huge barouche, which made her seem
+scarcely larger than a doll. She wore a fine frilled muslin frock over
+blue silk, a white hat, and dainty lemon-colored boots. When Lota,
+feeling shy at the spectacle of this magnificence, proposed going into
+the garden, she hung back.
+
+"Are you quite sure that it isn't damp?" she said, "because--you
+see--this is my best frock."
+
+"Oh, quite sure," pleaded Lota. "The grass was cut only day before
+yesterday, and Jacob rolled the gravel last night. Do come! The children
+want to see you so much."
+
+"The children!" said Isabel, surprised. But when she saw the doll-family
+sitting in a row with their best clothes on, and their four pairs of
+fixed blue eyes looking straight before them, she laughed scornfully.
+
+"Do you play with dolls?" she asked. "I gave them up long ago."
+
+Lady Bird's eyes grew large with distress. "Oh, don't call them _that_,"
+she cried. "I never do. It hurts their feelings so. You can't think."
+
+Isabel laughed again. She wasn't at all a nice girl to play with. The
+rose-cakes she pronounced "nasty." When Lota explained about Lady Green,
+she stared and said it was ridiculous, and that there was no such
+person. She turned up her nose at Pocahontas's journal, and declared
+that Lota wrote it herself! "Did you ever hear of such a thing?" asked
+Lady Bird afterward of Lady Green. "As if my child could not write!" It
+was just so all day. The only thing Isabel seemed to enjoy was dining in
+state with Grandmamma, and answering all her questions with the air of a
+little grown-up woman. Grandmamma said she was a very well-behaved
+child, and she wished Charlotte would take pattern by her. But Lota
+didn't agree with Grandmamma. She hoped with all her heart that Isabel
+would never come to visit her again.
+
+Pocahontas Maria wrote in her journal next day:--
+
+"The lady who came to see Mamma wasn't very nice, I think. She didn't
+even speak to us children, and she made fun at my diry. We didn't like
+her a bit. Stella says she's horrid, and Ning-Po hopes Mamma won't ever
+ask her any more." Lady Bird reproved Pocahontas very gravely for these
+sentiments, and reminded her again that "diry" is not the way to spell
+diary; but she said to Lady Green, who dropped in for a call, "Poor
+little thing, I don't wonder! children always find out when people isn't
+nice; and Isabel, she _was_ very disagreeable, you know, calling them
+'dolls' and things like that! It's not surprising that they didn't like
+her, I'm sure."
+
+Saturday was an eventful day. There were no lessons to do for one thing,
+because Nursey's daughter had come to see her, and Grandmamma said Lady
+Bird might be excused for once. This gave her the whole morning to
+attend to domestic matters, which was nice, or would have been, only
+unluckily little Stella took this opportunity to break out with measles.
+Of course Lady Bird was much distressed. She put Stella to bed at once,
+and sent the others to the farthest side of the room lest they should
+catch the disease also, "though," as she told Pocahontas, "You'll be
+sure to have it. It always runs straight through families; the doctor
+said so when I had it; and whatever I shall do with all of you on my
+hands at once, I can't imagine." There is always a great deal to do in
+times of sickness, so this was a very busy day. Lota had to make broth
+for Stella, to concoct medicine out of water and syringa-stems, to
+prepare dinner for the other children, and hear all their lessons, for
+of course education must not be neglected let who will have measles!
+Pocahontas was unusually troublesome. Imogene cried over the spelling
+lesson; and altogether Lady Bird had her hands full that morning.
+
+"I shall certainly send you all away to boarding-school if you don't
+learn to behave better," she cried in despair, at which awful threat the
+children wept aloud and promised to be good. Then came dinner,--real
+dinner, I mean,--which Lady Bird could scarcely eat, so anxious was she
+about her sick child in the garden. The moment it was over back she
+flew, oblivious of the charms of raisins and almonds. Stella was asleep,
+but she evidently had fever, for her cheeks were bright pink, and her
+lips as red as sealing-wax.
+
+"I must have a doctor for her," cried poor Lady Bird.
+
+She tried to think what article would be best to choose for the doctor,
+and fixed on an old black muff of Nursey's which lived on the shelf of
+the nursery closet. To get it, however, it was needful to leave the
+children again.
+
+"You must all be good," she said, fussing about and tidying the room,
+"very good and very quiet, so as not to wake up Stella. Dear me, what a
+queer smell there is here! Let me think. What did Nursey do when I had
+measles? She burned some sort of paper and made it smell nice again. I
+must burn some paper too, else Stella'll suffocate, won't you, dear?"
+
+No sooner thought than done. Jacob had left his coat hanging near the
+tool-house while he went to dinner, and he always carried matches in his
+pipe-pocket. Lady Bird knew that. She put her hand in and drew one out,
+feeling guilty, for one of Nursey's chief maxims was, "Never touch
+matches, Lady Bird; remember what I say, never!"
+
+"If Nursey knew about Stella's having the measles she'd say different,"
+she soliloquized.
+
+There was a good-sized bit of brown paper in the garden-house. Lota
+rolled it up, laid it near the bedside, lit the edge, and carefully blew
+out the match. The paper did not flame, but smouldered slowly, sending
+up a curl of smoke. Lady Bird gazed at it with much satisfaction, then,
+with a last kiss to Stella, she went away to fetch the doctor, stopping
+at Lady Green's door as she passed, to tell her that she had better not
+let any of her children come over, because they might catch the measles
+and be sick too.
+
+It took some time to rummage out the muff, for Nursey had tucked it far
+back on the shelf behind other things. There was nobody in the nursery.
+Something unusual seemed to be going on downstairs, for doors were
+opening and shutting, and persons were talking and exclaiming. Lota
+paid no attention to this; her head was full of her own affairs, and she
+had no time to spend on other people's. Muff in hand, she hastened down
+the garden walk. As she drew near she smelt smoke, and smiled with
+satisfaction. But the smell grew stronger, and the air was blue and
+thick. She became alarmed, and began to run. Another moment, and the
+house was in sight. Smoke was pouring from the door, from the window,
+and--what was that red thing which darted out from the smoke like a long
+tongue? Oh, Lady Bird! Lady Bird! fly, hasten, your house is on fire,
+and there are the children inside with none but you to aid them!
+
+Did ever mother hesitate when her little ones were in danger? Lady Bird
+did not. With a shriek of affright she plunged boldly into the midst of
+the smoke. An awful sight met her eyes through the open door. The
+wall-paper was on fire, the cotton rug, the table-cover! Little red
+flames were creeping up the valance of the crib in which poor sick
+Stella lay! The other children were sitting in a row opposite, very
+calm and still, but blisters had begun to form on Imogene's waxen
+cheeks, and a cinder, lodged on Ning-Po's flaxen wig, was scorching and
+singeing. What a spectacle to meet a mother's eyes! Oh, Lady Bird, haste
+to the rescue!
+
+She did not falter. In the twinkling of an eye she had dashed into the
+burning room, had caught Stella from her bed, the others from their
+chairs, and with all four hugged tight to her heart was making for the
+door. Ah! a spark fell on the white apron, on the holland frock! Her
+rapid movement fanned it. It flickered, blazed, the red flame rushed
+upward. What would have happened I dare not think, if just at that
+moment a gentleman, who was hastening down the garden walk, had not
+caught sight of the little figure, and, with a horrified exclamation,
+seized, held it fast, wrapped round it a great woollen shawl from his
+own shoulders, and in one moment put out the deadly fire which was
+snatching at the sweet young life. Who was this gentleman, do you
+think, thus arrived at the very nick of time? Why, no other than Lady
+Bird's own Papa, come home from China a few weeks before any one
+expected him!
+
+I cannot pretend to describe all that followed on that bewildering day,
+the dismay of Grandmamma and Nursey, the wrath of Jennings over the
+match, the joy of everybody at Lady Bird's escape, or her own confusion
+of mind at the fire and the excitement and the new Papa, who was and was
+not the Papa of the letters. At first she hugged the rescued dolls and
+said nothing. But Papa gave her time to get used to him, and she soon
+did so. He was very kind and nice, and did not laugh at the children and
+call them names as Isabel had done, but felt Stella's pulse, recommended
+pomatum for the scorch on Imogene's forehead, and even produced a little
+out of his own dressing-case. Best of all, he led Lady Bird upstairs,
+unlocked a box and showed her a beautiful little Chinese lady in purple
+silk and lovely striped muslin trowsers, which he had brought for her.
+
+"Another child for you to take care of," said Papa.
+
+Pocahontas Maria wrote in her Diary the next day:--
+
+"My Grandpapa has come home from China. He is _very_ nice. He brought me
+a little Chinese sister. Her name is Loo Choo, he says, but Mamma calls
+her Loo Loo, because it sounds prettier. Grandpapa treats us very
+kindly, and never says 'dolls,' as Isabel Berners did; and he went to
+call on Lady Green with Mamma. I'm so glad he is come."
+
+When Lady Bird read this she kissed Pocahontas and said,--
+
+"That's right, dear; so am I!"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE.
+
+
+THE old clock on the stairs was drowsy. Its ticks, now lower, now
+louder, sounded like the breathings of one asleep. Now and then came a
+distincter tick, which might pass for a little machine-made snore. As
+striking-time drew near, it roused itself with a quiver and shake. "One,
+two, three, four, five," it rang in noisy tones, as who should say,
+"Behold, I am wide awake, and have never closed an eye all night." The
+sounds sped far. Marianne the cook heard them, rubbed her eyes, and put
+one foot out of bed. The nurse, Louisa, turned over and began to dream
+that she was at a wedding. Perhaps the sun heard too, for he stood up on
+tip-toe on the edge of the horizon, looked about him, then launched a
+long yellow ray directly at the crack in the nursery shutter. The ray
+was sharp: it smote full on Archie's eyelids, as he lay asleep,
+surrounded by "Robinson Crusoe," two red apples, a piece of gingerbread,
+and a spade, all of which he had taken to bed with him. When he felt the
+prick of the sun-ray he opened his eyes wide. "Why, morning's come!" he
+said, and without more ado raised himself and sat up.
+
+"What'll I do to-day?" he thought. "I know. I'll go into the wood and
+build a house, a nice little house, just like Wobinson Cwusoe's, all
+made of sticks, Nobody'll know where my house is; I'll not tell, not
+even Mamma, where it is. Then when I don't want to study or any thing, I
+can run away and hide, and they won't know where to find me. That'll be
+nice! I guess I'll go and begin it now, 'cause the days are getting
+short. Papa said so once. I wonder what makes 'em get short? Pr'aps
+sometime they'll be so short that there won't be any days at all, only
+nights. That wouldn't be pleasant, I think. Mamma'd have to buy lots of
+candles then, or else we couldn't see."
+
+With this he jumped out of bed.
+
+"I must be very quiet," he thought, "else Loo--isa'll hear, and then she
+won't let me go till I've had my bekfast. Loo--isa's real cross
+sometimes; only sometimes she's kind when she makes my kite fly."
+
+His clothes were folded on a chair by the bedside. Archie had never
+dressed himself before, but he managed pretty well, except that he
+turned the small ruffled shirt wrong-side out. The other things went on
+successfully. There were certain buttons which he could not reach, but
+that did not matter. The small stocking toes were folded neatly in, all
+ready to slip on to the feet. But the shoes _were_ a difficulty; they
+fastened with morocco bands and buckles, and Archie couldn't manage them
+at all.
+
+"Oh, dear!" he said to himself, "I wish Loo--isa would come and buckle
+my shoes for me. No, I don't, though, 'cause p'raps she'd say, 'Go back
+to bed, naughty boy; it isn't time to get up.' I wouldn't like that.
+Sometimes Loo--isa does say things to me."
+
+So he put on the shoes without buckling them, and, not stopping to brush
+his hair or wash his face, he clapped on his broad-brimmed straw hat,
+took "Robinson Crusoe" and the spade, dropped the red apples and the
+gingerbread into his pocket, and stole softly downstairs. The little
+feet made no noise as they passed over the thick carpets. Marianne, who
+was lighting the kitchen fire and clattering the tongs, heard nothing.
+He reached the front door, and, stretching up, pulled hard at the bolt.
+It was stiff, and would not move.
+
+"Oh, dear!" sighed Archie, "I wish somebody _would_ come and open this
+door for me."
+
+He looked at the bolt a minute. Then an idea struck him, and, laying
+"Robinson Crusoe" and the little spade down on the floor, he went into
+the dining-room pantry, where was a drawer with tools in it.
+
+"I'll get Papa's hammer," he thought to himself, "and I'll pound that
+old bolt to pieces."
+
+While he was gone, Marianne, who had lighted her fire, came from the
+kitchen with a broom in her hand. She opened the door, shook the mat,
+and began to sweep the steps. A sharp tinkle, tinkle met her ear from
+the back gate. It was the milkman ringing for some one to come and take
+in the milk. Marianne set her broom against the side of the door, and
+hurried back to the kitchen. Her foot struck against "Robinson Crusoe"
+as she went. She picked it up and laid it on the table.
+
+"Why, the door's open!" exclaimed Archie, who at that moment came from
+the dining-room, hammer in hand.
+
+He did not trouble himself to speculate as to how the door happened to
+be open, but, picking up the spade, wandered forth into the garden. The
+gate gave no trouble. He walked fast, and long before Marianne came back
+to her sweeping he had gained the woods, which were near, and enclosed
+the house on two sides in a shady half-circle. They were pretty woods,
+full of flowers and squirrels and winding, puzzling paths. Archie had
+never been allowed to go into them alone before.
+
+The morning was delicious, so full of snap and sunshine that it set him
+to dancing and skipping as he went along. All the wood-flowers were as
+wide awake as he. They nodded at Archie, as if saying "Good-morning,"
+and sent out fresh smells into the air. Busy birds flapped and flew,
+doing their marketing, and fetching breakfast to hungry nestlings,
+chirping and whistling to each other, as they did so, that the sun was
+up and it was a fine day. A pair of striped squirrels frisked and
+laughed and called out something saucy as Archie trotted by. None of
+these wild things feared the child: he was too small and too quick in
+his movements to be fearful. They accepted him as one of themselves,--a
+featherless bird, or a squirrel of larger growth; while he, on his part,
+smiled vaguely at them and hurried past, intent on his projects for a
+house and careless of every thing else.
+
+The sun rose higher and higher. But the thick branching trees kept off
+the heat, and the wood remained shady and cool. The paths twisted in and
+out, and looped into each other like a tangled riband. No grown person
+could have kept a straight course in their mazes. Archie did not even
+try, but turned to right or to left just as it happened, taking always
+the path which looked prettiest, or which led into deepest shade. If he
+saw anywhere a particularly red checkerberry, he went that way;
+otherwise it was all one to him where he went. So it came to pass that,
+by the end of an hour, he was as delightfully and completely lost as
+ever little boy has succeeded in being since woods grew or the world was
+made.
+
+"I dess this is a nice place for my house," he said suddenly, as the
+path he had been following led into a small open space, across which lay
+a fallen tree, with gray moss, which looked like hair, hanging to its
+trunk. It _was_ a nice place; also, Archie's feet were tired, and he was
+growing hungry, which aided in the decision. The ground about the fallen
+tree was carpeted with thick mosses. Some were bright green, with stems
+and little branches like tiny, tiny pine-trees. Others had horn-shaped
+cups of yellow and fiery red. Others still were bright beautiful brown,
+while here and there stood round cushion-shaped masses which looked as
+soft as down.
+
+Into the very middle of one of these pretty green cushions plumped
+Archie. He rested his back against a tree trunk, and gave a sigh of
+comfort. It was like an easy chair, except that it had no arms; but what
+does a little boy want of arms to chairs? He put his hand into his
+pocket and pulled out, first the red apples, and then the gingerbread.
+The gingerbread was rather mashed; but it tasted most delicious, only
+there was too little of it.
+
+"I wish I'd brought a hundred more pieces," soliloquized Archie, as he
+nibbled the last crumb. "One isn't half enough bekfast."
+
+The red apples, however, proved a consolation; and, quite rested and
+refreshed now, he jumped from the moss cushion and prepared to begin his
+house-building.
+
+"First, I must pick up some sticks," he thought,--"a great many, many
+sticks, heaps of 'em. Then I'll hammer and make a house. Only--I
+haven't got any nails," he added with an after-thought.
+
+There were plenty of sticks to be had in that part of the wood; twigs
+and branches from the dead tree, fragments of bark, odds and ends of dry
+brush. Close by stood a white birch. The thin, paper-like covering hung
+loose on its stem, like grey-white curls. Archie could pull off large
+pieces, and he enjoyed this so much that he pulled till the birch trunk,
+as far up as he could reach, was perfectly bare. Some of the boughs were
+crooked. Archie tried to lay them straight with the others, but they
+wouldn't fit in nicely, and stuck their stiff angles out in all
+directions.
+
+"Those are naughty sticks," said Archie, giving the crookedest a shove.
+"They shan't go into my house at all."
+
+The want of nails became serious as the heap of wood grew large and
+Archie was ready to build. What was the use of a hammer without nails?
+He tried various ways. At last he laid the longest boughs in a row
+against the side of the fallen tree. This left a little place beneath
+their slope into which it was possible to creep. Archie smiled with
+satisfaction, and proceeded to thatch the sloping roof with moss and
+bits of bark. Then he grubbed up the green cushion and transferred it
+bodily to his house.
+
+"This'll be my chair," he said to himself. "I dess I don't want any more
+furnture except just a chair. Loo--isa, she said, 'so many things to
+dust is a bodder.'"
+
+At that moment came a rustling sound in the underbrush. "P'raps it's
+savages," thought Archie, and, half pleased, half frightened at the
+idea, he gave a loud whoop. Out flew a fat motherly hen, cackling and
+screaming. What she was doing there in the woods I cannot imagine.
+Perhaps she had lost her way. Perhaps she had private business there
+which only hens can understand. Or it may be that she, too, had built a
+little house and hidden it away so that no one should know where it
+was.
+
+Archie was enchanted. "A hen, a hen," he cried. "I'll catch her and keep
+her for my own. Then I'll have eggs, and I'll give 'em to Mamma, and
+I'll make custards. Custards _is_ made of eggs. Loo--isa said so."
+
+"Chicky, chicky, chicky," he warbled in a winning voice, waving his
+fingers as if he were sprinkling corn on the ground for the hen to eat.
+But the hen was not to be enticed in that manner, and, screaming louder
+than ever, ran into the bushes again. Then Archie began to run too.
+Twice he almost seized her brown wings, but she slipped through his
+hands. Had the hen been silent she would easily have escaped him, but
+she cackled as she flew, and that guided him along. His shoe came off,
+next the hammer flew out of his hand, but he did not stop for either.
+Running, plunging, diving, on he went, the frightened hen just before,
+till at last a root tripped him up and he fell forward on his face. The
+hen vanished into the thicket. Her voice died away in distance. By the
+time Archie had picked himself up there was not even the rustling of a
+leaf to show which way she had gone.
+
+He rose from the ground disconsolate. His nose bled from the fall, and
+there was a bump on his forehead, which ached painfully. A strong desire
+to cry came over him. But, like a brave fellow, he would not give way to
+it, and sat down under a tree to rest and decide what was to be done
+next.
+
+"I'll go back again to my house," was his decision. But where _was_ the
+house? He ran this way, that way; the paths all looked alike. The house
+had vanished like the hen. Archie had not the least idea which way he
+ought to turn to find it.
+
+One big tear did force its way to his eyes when this fact became
+evident. House and hen, it was hard to lose both at once. The hammer,
+too, was gone. Only the spade remained, and, armed with this, Archie,
+like a true hero, started to find a good place and build another house.
+Surely nowhere, save in the histories of the great Boston and Chicago
+fires, is record to be found of parallel pluck and determination!
+
+House-building was not half so easy in this part of the wood where he
+then was, for the bushes were thick and stood closely together. Their
+branches hung so low, that, small as Archie was, he had to bend forward
+and walk almost double to avoid having his eyes scratched by them. At
+last, in the middle of a circle of junipers, he found a tolerably free
+space which he thought would do. The ground, however, was set thick with
+sharp uncomfortable stones, and the first thing needed was to get rid of
+them.
+
+So for an hour, with fingers and spade, Archie dug and delved among the
+stones. It was hard work enough, but at last he cleared a place somewhat
+larger than his small body, which he carpeted with soft mosses brought
+from another part of the wood. This done, he lay down flat on his back,
+and looked dreamily up at the pretty green roof made by the juniper
+boughs overhead. "I dess I'll take a nappy now," he murmured, and in
+five minutes was sleeping as soundly as a dormouse. Two striped
+squirrels, which may or may not have been the same which he had seen in
+the early morning, came out on a bough not a yard from his head,
+chattered, winked, put their paws to their noses and made disrespectful
+remarks to each other about the motionless figure. Birds flew and sang,
+bees hummed, the wind went to and fro in the branches like the notes of
+a low song. But Archie heard none of these things. The hen herself might
+have come back, cackled her best, and flapped her wings in his very face
+without arousing him, so deep was his slumber.
+
+Meantime at home, two miles away, there was great commotion over the
+disappearance of Master Archie. Marianne had lingered quite a long time
+at the back gate. The milkman was a widower, looking out for a wife,
+and Marianne, as she said, could skim cream with anybody; so it was
+only natural that they should have a great deal to say to each other,
+and that measuring the milk at that particular gate should be a slow
+business. This morning their talk was so interesting that twenty minutes
+at least went by before Marianne, with very rosy cheeks and very bright
+eyes, came back, pail in hand, along the garden walk. As she took up the
+broom to finish her sweeping, she heard a great commotion overhead,
+steps running about, voices exclaiming; but her mind was full of the
+milkman, and she paid no attention, till Louisa came flying downstairs,
+half-dressed, and crying,--
+
+"Sake's alive, Marianne, where's Master Archie?"
+
+"How should I know? Not down here, anyway," was Marianne's reply.
+
+"But he _must_ be down here," persisted Louisa. "He's gone out of the
+nursery, and so are his clothes. Whatever's taken him I can't imagine.
+I've searched the closets, and looked under the beds, and up in the
+attic, and I took Mr. Gray his hot water, and he isn't there. His
+spade's gone too, and his ap-- Oh, mercy! there's his story-book now,"
+and she pounced on "Robinson Crusoe," where it lay on the table. "He's
+been down here certain sure, for that book was on his bed when he went
+to sleep last night. Don't stand there, Marianne, but come and help me
+find him."
+
+Into the parlor, the dining-room, the pantry, ran the maids, calling
+"Archie! Archie!" at the tops of their voices. But Archie, who as we
+know was a good mile away by that time, did not hear them. They searched
+the kitchen, the cellar, the wood-shed, the store-closet. Marianne even
+lifted the lid of the great copper boiler and peeped in to make sure
+that he was not there! Louisa ran wildly about the garden, looking
+behind currant bushes and raspberry vines, and parting the tall feathers
+of the asparagus lest Archie should have chosen to hide among them. She
+tapped the great green watermelons with her fingers as she
+passed,--perhaps she fancied that Archie might be stowed away inside of
+one. All was in vain. Archie was not behind the currant bushes, not even
+in the melon patch. Louisa began to sob and cry, Marianne, never
+backward, joined her with a true Irish howl; and it was in this
+condition that Archie's Papa found things when he came downstairs to
+breakfast.
+
+Then ensued a fresh confusion.
+
+"Where did you say the book was lying, Louisa?" said Mr. Gray, trying to
+make out the meaning of her sobbing explanation.
+
+"Just here, sir, on the hall table. Oh, the darling child, whatever has
+come to him?"
+
+"Oh, wurra! wurra!" chimed in Marianne. "He been and got took away by
+wicked people, perhaps. Well niver get him back, niver!"
+
+"The hall table? Then he must have passed out this way. Surely you must
+have seen him or heard him open the door, Marianne?"
+
+"Is it I see him, sir? I'd niver forget it if I had. Oh, the pretty face
+of him! Wurra! wurra!"
+
+"But, now I think of it, the child couldn't have opened the door for
+himself," went on Papa, growing impatient. "Did you leave it standing
+open at all, Marianne?"
+
+"Only for a wee moment while I fetched in the milk," faltered Marianne,
+growing rosy-red as she reflected on the length of the "moment" which
+she had passed at the gate with the milkman.
+
+"That must have been the time, then," said Mr. Gray. "Probably the
+little fellow has set off by himself for a walk. I'll go after and look
+for him. Don't frighten Mrs. Gray when she comes down, Louisa, but just
+say that Archie and I are both gone out. Try to look as you usually do."
+
+This, however, was beyond Louisa's powers. Her eyes were as red as a
+ferret's, and her cheeks the color of purple cherries from crying and
+excitement of mind. Mrs. Gray saw at once that something was wrong. She
+began to question, Louisa to cry, and the secret came out in a burst of
+sobs and tears. "Master Archie--bless his little heart!--has got out of
+bed and ran away into the woods. The master was gone after him, but he'd
+niver find him at all at all"--(this was Marianne's addition). "The
+tramps had him fast by this time, no doubt. They'd niver let him go."
+
+"How could he get away all by himself?" asked poor frightened Mrs. Gray.
+
+"Ah, who knows? Like as not the thaves came into the room and lifted him
+out of his very bed. They're iverywhere, thim tramps! There's no
+providing against thim. Oh, howly St. Patrick! who'd have thought it?"
+
+This happy idea of tramps having lodged itself in Marianne's mind, the
+story grew rapidly. The butcher was informed of it when he came, the
+fishmonger, and the grocer's boy. By noon all the village had heard the
+tale, and farmers' wives for ten miles round were shuddering over these
+horrible facts, that three men in black masks, with knives as long as
+your arm, had broken into Mr. Gray's house at midnight, gagged the
+family, stowed the silver and money in pillow-cases, token the little
+boy from his bed,--that pretty little boy with curly hair, you know, my
+dear,--and, paying no attention to his screams and cries, had carried
+him off nobody knew where. Poor Mrs. Gray was half dead with grief, of
+course, and Mr. Gray had gone in pursuit; but law! my dear, he'll never
+catch 'em, and if he did, what could he do against three men?
+
+"He'd a ought to have taken the constable with him," said old Mrs.
+Fidgit, "then perhaps he'd have got him back. I guess the thieves won't
+keep the boy long though, he's too troublesome! His ma sent him over
+once on an errand, and I'd as lieve have a wild-cat in the house any
+day. Mark my word, they'll let him drop pretty soon!"
+
+As the day went on, Louisa began to disbelieve this theory about
+robbers. It was Marianne's theory for one thing; for another, she
+recollected that Archie must have taken his apples and gingerbread with
+him, and his spade. "Is it likely that thieves would stop to pack up
+things like that?" she asked Marianne, who was highly indignant at the
+question. The afternoon came, still Mr. Gray had not returned, and there
+were no tidings of Archie. Mrs. Gray, half ill with anxiety and
+headache, went to her room to lie down. Marianne was describing the
+exact appearance of the imaginary robbers to a crony, who stood outside
+the kitchen window. "Six foot high, ivery bit, and a face as black as
+chimney sut," Louisa heard her say. "Pshaw," she called out; but sitting
+still became unbearable; and the motion of her needle in and out of the
+work made her feel half crazy. She flung down the work,--it was a jacket
+for Archie,--and, tying on her bonnet, set off by herself in the
+direction of the woods. Where she was going she did not
+know,--somewhere, anywhere, to search for her lost boy!
+
+The blind wood paths puzzled Louisa more than they had puzzled Archie in
+the morning; for she wanted to keep her way, which he did not. She lost
+it, however, continually. Her eyes were scratched by boughs and
+brambles, the tree roots tripped her up, her dress caught in a briar and
+was torn. "Archie! Archie!" she cried, as she went along. Her voice came
+back from the forest in strange echoing tones which made her start. At
+last, after winding and turning for a long time, she found herself again
+upon the main path, not far from the place where she had entered the
+wood. She was hot, tired, and breathless; her voice was hoarse with
+crying and calling. "I'll wait here awhile," she thought. "Perhaps the
+blessed little dear'll come this way; but, whether he does or not, I'm
+too tired to move another step till I've had some rest." She found a
+smooth place under an oak, sat down, and leaned her back against the
+stem.
+
+"Cheep, cheep, chickeree," sang one bird to another. "What a stupid girl
+that is! I could tell her which way to go. Why, there's the mark of his
+big foot on the moss close by. Why doesn't she see it and follow? Cheep,
+cheep."
+
+"Cluck, cluck, whirr, whillahu," sang the other bird. "Human beings are
+_too_ stupid."
+
+Poor stupid Louisa, her eyes blurred with tears, did not heed the birds'
+songs or understand those plain directions for finding Archie which they
+were so ready to give. The tree trunk felt comfortable against her back.
+The air came cool and spicy from the wood depths to steal the smart from
+her hot face. The rustle of the leaves was pleasant in her ear. So the
+faithful maid waited.
+
+Mr. Gray meantime had tracked Archie for a little way by the traces of
+his small feet on the dewy grass. Then the marks became too confused to
+help him longer; he lost the track, and, after a long and weary walk,
+found himself on the far side of the wood, near a little village. There
+he hired a wagon, and drove home; resolving to rouse the neighbors, and
+give the wood a thorough search, even should it keep them out all night.
+
+While he was bargaining for his wagon in the distant village, Archie, in
+the midst of his nest of moss, was waking up. He had slept three hours,
+and so soundly that, at first arousing, he could not in the least
+remember where he was. He rubbed his eyes, and stared about him
+wonderingly. "Why, I'm out in the woods!" he said in a surprised voice.
+Gradually he recollected how he had built the house, chased a hen, and
+lost his hammer. This last accident troubled him a little. "Papa said I
+mustn't touch that big hammer ever," he thought to himself, "'cause I'd
+be sure to spoil it. But I'll tell him it isn't spoiled, and he can pick
+it up and put it back into the drawer; then he won't mind."
+
+One of the striped squirrels came down from a bough overhead, and
+stopped just in front of the place where Archie sat. Archie looked at
+him; he looked at Archie. The squirrel put its paws together and rubbed
+its nose. It chippered a minute, twinkled its bead-like eyes, then, with
+a final flick of its tail, it was off, and up the tree again like a
+flash. Archie looked after it delighted.
+
+"What a pretty bunny!" he said out loud.
+
+"Now I'll go home," was his next remark, getting suddenly up from the
+ground.
+
+The cause of this resolution was a little gnawing sensation which had
+begun within him and was getting stronger every moment. In other words,
+he was hungry. Gingerbread and apples do not satisfy little boys as
+roast beef does. Archie's stomach was quite empty, and began to cry with
+an unmistakable voice, "I want my dinner, I want my dinner. Give me my
+dinner quick, or I shall do something desperate." Everybody in the world
+has to listen when voices like these begin to sound inside of them. All
+at once home seemed the most attractive spot in the world to Archie.
+Visions of Mamma and bread and milk and a great plate full of something
+hot arose before his eyes, and an immense longing for these delights
+took possession of him. So he shouldered his spade and set forth, not
+having the least notion--poor little soul!--as to which side home lay,
+but believing, with the confidence of childhood, that now he wanted to
+go that way, the way was sure to be easily found. Refreshed by his long
+sleep, he marched sturdily on, taking any path which struck his eye
+first.
+
+There is a pretty picture--I wonder if any of you have ever seen it?--in
+which a little child is seen walking across a narrow plank which bridges
+a deep chasm, while behind flies a tall, beautiful angel, with a hand on
+either side the child, guiding it along. The child does not see the
+angel, and walks fearlessly; but the heavenly hands are there, and the
+little one is safe. It may be that just such a good angel flew behind
+our little Archie that afternoon to guide him through the mazes of the
+wood. Certain it is that, without knowing it, he turned, or something
+turned him, in the direction of home. It was far for such small feet to
+go, and he made the distance farther by straying, now to left and now to
+right; but, after each of these strayings, the unseen hands brought him
+back again to the right path and led him on. He did not stop to play
+now, for the hungry voices grew louder each minute, and he was in a
+hurry to get home. Speculations as to whether dinner would be all eaten
+up crossed his mind. "But I dess not," he said confidently, "'cause it
+isn't very long since morning." It was really four in the afternoon, but
+Archie's long nap had cheated the time, and he had no idea that it was
+so late.
+
+The path grew wider, and was hedged with barberries and wild roses. The
+lovely pink of the roses pleased Archie's eye. He stopped and tugged at
+a great branch till it broke, then he laid it across his shoulder to
+carry to Mamma. Suddenly, as he tramped along, a gasp and exclamation
+was heard, and a tall figure rose up from under a tree and caught him in
+its arms. It was Louisa, who had fallen half asleep at her post, and had
+been roused by the sound of the well-known little feet as they went by.
+
+"Master Archie, dear," she cried, sobbing, "how could you run away and
+scare us so?"
+
+"Why, it's Loo--isa," said Archie wonderingly. "Did you come out here to
+build a house too, Loo--isa?"
+
+"Where _have_ you been?" clamored Louisa, holding him tight in her arms.
+
+"Oh, out there," explained Archie, waving his hand toward the woods
+generally.
+
+"How could you slip away and frighten Nursey so, and poor Mamma and
+Papa? Papa's been all the day hunting you. And where are you going now?"
+
+"Home! Stop a squeezing of me, Loo--isa. I don't like to be squeezed.
+Has the dinner-bell runged yet? I want my dinner."
+
+"Dinner! Why it's most evening, Master Archie. And nobody could eat,
+because we was so frightened at your being lost."
+
+"I wasn't lost!" cried Archie indignantly. "I was building a house. Come
+along, Loo--isa, I'll show you the way."
+
+So Archie took Louisa's hand and led her along. Neither of them knew the
+path, but they were in the right direction, and by and by the trees grew
+thinner, and they could see where they were, on the edge of Mr.
+Plimpton's garden, not far from home.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Gray were consulting together on the piazza, when the click
+of the gate made them look up, and behold! the joyful Louisa, displaying
+Archie, who walked by her side.
+
+"Here he is, ma'am," she cried. "I found him way off in the wood. He'd
+run away."
+
+"I didn't," said Archie, squirming out of his mother's arms. "I was
+building houses. And you didn't find me a bit, Loo--isa. I found you,
+and I showed you the way home!"
+
+"Never mind who found who, so long as we have our little runaway back,"
+said Mr. Gray, stooping to kiss Archie. "Another time we must have a
+talk about boys who go to build houses without leave from their Mamma's
+and Papa's, and make everybody anxious. Meantime, I fancy somebody I
+know about is half-starved. Tell Marianne to send some dinner in at
+once, Louisa."
+
+"Yes, sir, I will." And Louisa hastened off to triumph over her friend
+Marianne.
+
+"Archie, darling, how could you go away and frighten us so?" asked Mrs.
+Gray, taking him in her lap.
+
+"Why, Mamma, were you frightened?" replied Archie wonderingly. "I was
+building a house. It's a _beau_-tiful house. I'll let you come and sit
+in it if you want to. And I've got a hen, and I'll give you all the eggs
+she lays, to cook, you know. Only the hen's runned away, and I couldn't
+find my house any more, and the hammer tumbled down, and I lost my
+shoe. I know where the hammer is, I dess, and to-morrow I'll go back and
+get it."--Here the expression of Archie's face changed. Louisa had
+appeared at the door with a plate of something which smelt excessively
+nice, and sent a little curl of steam into the air. She beckoned. He
+jumped down from Mamma's lap, ran to the door, and both disappeared.
+Nothing more was heard of him except his feet on the stairs, and by and
+by the sound of Louisa's rocking-chair, as she sat beside his bed
+singing Archie to sleep. Mamma and Papa went in together a little later
+and stood over their boy.
+
+"Oh, the comfort of seeing him safe in his little bed to-night!" said
+Mrs. Gray.
+
+Roused by her voice, Archie stirred. "I _dess_ I know where the hammer
+is," he said drowsily. Then his half-opened eyes closed, and he was
+sound asleep.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+RIDE A COCK-HORSE.
+
+
+IT was a drizzly day in the old market-town of Banbury. The clouds hung
+low: all the world was wrapped in sulky mist. When the sun tried to
+shine out, as once or twice he did, his face looked like a dull yellow
+spot against the sky, and the clouds hurried up at once and extinguished
+him. Children tapped on window panes, repeating--
+
+          "Rain, rain, go away,
+           Come again some other day."
+
+But the rain would not take the hint, and after awhile the sun gave up
+his attempts, hid his head, and went away disgusted, to shine somewhere
+else.
+
+"It's too bad, it's _too_ bad!" cried Alice Flower, the Mayor's little
+daughter, looking as much out of sorts as the weather itself.
+
+"You mustn't say too bad. It is God who makes it rain or shine, and He
+is always right," remarked her Aunt.
+
+"Yes--I know," replied Alice in a timid voice. "But, Aunty, I did want
+to go to the picnic very much."
+
+"So did I. We are both disappointed," said Aunty, smiling.
+
+"But I'm the _most_ disappointed," persisted Alice, "because you're
+grown up, you know, and I haven't any thing pleasant to do. All my
+doll's spring clothes are made, and I've read my story-books till I'm
+tired of 'em, and I learned my lessons for to-morrow with Miss Boyd
+yesterday, because we were going to the picnic. Oh, dear, what a long
+morning this has been! It feels like a week."
+
+Just then, Toot! toot! toot! sounded from the street below. Alice
+hurried back to the window. She pressed her nose close to the glass, but
+at first could see nothing; then, as the sound grew nearer, a man on
+horseback rode into view. He was gorgeously dressed in black velveteen,
+with orange sleeves and an orange lining to his cloak. He carried a
+brass trumpet, which every now and then he lifted to his lips, blowing a
+long blast. This was the sound which Alice had heard.
+
+Following the man came a magnificent scarlet chariot, drawn by ten black
+horses with scarlet trappings and scarlet feathers in their heads. Each
+horse was ridden by a little page in a costume of emerald green. The
+chariot was full of musicians in red uniforms. They held umbrellas over
+their instruments, and looked sulky because of the rain, which was no
+wonder. Still, the effect of the whole was gay and dazzling. Behind the
+chariot came a long procession of horses, black, gray, sorrel, chestnut,
+or marked in odd patches of brown and white. These horses were ridden by
+ladies in wonderful blue and silver and pink and gold habits, and by
+knights in armor, all of whom carried umbrellas also. Pages walked
+beside the horses, waving banners and shields with "Visit Currie's
+World-Renowned Circus" painted on them. A droll little clown, mounted on
+an enormous bay horse, made fun of the pages, imitated their gestures,
+and rapped them on the back with his riding-stick in a droll way. A long
+line of blue and red wagons closed the cavalcade.
+
+But prettiest of all was a little girl about ten years old, who rode in
+the middle of the procession upon a lovely horse as white as milk. The
+horse had not a single spot of dark color about him, and his trappings
+of pale blue were so slight that they seemed like ribbons hung on his
+graceful limbs. The little girl had hair of bright, pale yellow, which
+fell to her waist in loose shining waves. She was small and slender, but
+her color was like roses, and her blue eyes and sweet pink mouth smiled
+every moment as she bent and swayed to the motion of the horse, which
+she managed beautifully, though her bits of hands seemed almost too
+small to grasp the reins. Her riding-dress of blue was belted and
+buttoned with silver; a tiny blue cap with long blue plumes was on her
+head; and altogether she seemed to Alice like a fairy princess, or one
+of those girls in story-books who turn out to be kings' daughters or
+something else remarkable.
+
+"O Aunty! come here do come," cried Alice.
+
+Just then the procession halted directly beneath the window. The
+trumpeter took off his hat and made a low bow to Alice and her Aunt.
+Then he blew a final blast, rose in his stirrups and began to speak.
+Miss Flower opened the window that they might hear more distinctly. This
+seemed to bring the pretty little girl on the horse nearer. She looked
+up at Alice and smiled, and Alice smiled back at her.
+
+This is what the trumpeter said:--
+
+"Ladies and gentlemen,--I have the honor to announce to you the arrival
+in Banbury of Signor James Currie's World-Renowned Circus and Grand
+Unrivalled Troupe of Equestrian Performers, whose feats of equitation
+and horsemanship have given unfeigned delight to all the courts of
+Europe, her Majesty the Queen, and the nobility and gentry of this and
+other countries. Among the principal attractions of this unrivalled
+troupe are Mr. Vernon Twomley, with his famous trained steed Bucephalus;
+Madame Orley, with her horse Chimborazo, who lacks only the gift of
+speech to take a first class at the University of Oxford; M. Aristide,
+the admired trapezeist; Goo-Goo, the unparalleled and side-splitting
+clown; and last, but not least, Mademoiselle Mignon, the child
+equestrienne, whose feats of agility are the wonder of the age! On
+account of Mr. Currie's unprecedented press of engagements, his
+appearance in Banbury is limited to a single performance, which will
+take place this evening under the Company's magnificent tent, in the
+Market Place, behind the old cross. Come one, come all! Performances to
+begin at eight precisely. Admission, one-and-sixpence. Children under
+ten years of age, half price. God save the Queen."
+
+Having finished this oration, the trumpeter bowed once more to the
+window, blew another blast, and rode on, followed by all the procession;
+the little girl on the white horse giving Alice a second smile as she
+moved away. For awhile the toot, toot, toot of the trumpet could be
+heard from down the street. Then the sounds grew fainter. At last they
+died in distance, and all was quiet as it had been before.
+
+Alice was sorry to have them go. But the interruption had done her good
+by taking her thoughts away from the rain and the lost picnic. She could
+think and talk of nothing now except the gay riders, and especially the
+pretty little girl on the white horse.
+
+"Wasn't she sweet?" she asked her Aunt. "And didn't she ride
+_beau_tifully. I wish I could ride like that. And what a pretty name,
+Mademoiselle Mignon! It must be very nice to belong to a circus, I
+think."
+
+"I'm afraid that Mademoiselle Mignon does not always find it so nice,"
+remarked Miss Flower.
+
+"O Aunty, what makes you say so? She looks as if she were perfectly
+happy! Didn't you see her laugh when the clown stole the other man's cap
+from his head? And such a dear horse as she was riding! I never saw such
+a dear horse in all my life. I wish I had one just like him."
+
+"It _was_ a beauty. So perfectly white."
+
+"Wasn't it! O Aunty, don't you wish Papa would take you and me to the
+performance? There will only be one, you know, because Mr. Currie has
+such un--un--unpresidential engagements. I mean to ask Papa if he won't.
+There he is now! I hear his key in the door. May I run down and ask him,
+Aunty?"
+
+"Yes, indeed--"
+
+Downstairs ran Alice.
+
+"O Papa!" she cried, "_did_ you meet the Circus? It was the most
+wonderful Circus, Papa. Just like a story-book. And such a dear little
+girl on a white horse! Won't you please take me to see it, Papa--and
+Aunty too? We both want to go very much. It's only here for one night,
+the man said."
+
+"We'll see," said the Mayor, taking off his coat. Alice danced with
+pleasure when she heard this "we'll see," for with Papa "we'll see"
+meant almost always the same thing as "yes." Alice was an only child,
+and a petted one, and Papa rarely refused any request on which his
+motherless little girl had set her heart.
+
+She skipped upstairs beside him, full of satisfaction, and had just
+settled herself on his knee for the half hour of frolic and talk which
+was her daily delight and his, when a knock came to the door below, and
+Phebe the maid appeared.
+
+"Two persons to see you, sir."
+
+"Show them in here," said the Mayor. Alice lingered and was rewarded,
+for the "persons" were no other than Signor Currie himself and his
+ring-master. Alice recognized them at once. Both were gorgeously dressed
+in black and orange and velvet-slashed sleeves, and came in holding
+their plumed hats in their hands. The object of the call was to solicit
+the honor of the Mayor's patronage for the evening's entertainment. How
+pleased Alice was when Papa engaged a box and paid for it!
+
+"I shall bring my little daughter here," he told Signor Currie. "She is
+much taken by a child whom she saw to-day among your performers."
+
+"Mademoiselle Mignon, no doubt," replied the Signor solemnly. "She is,
+indeed, a prodigy of talent,--one of the wonders of the age, I assure
+your worship!"
+
+"Well," said his worship, smiling, "we shall see to-night. Good-day to
+you."
+
+"O Papa, that is delightful!" cried Alice, the moment the men were gone.
+"How I wish it were evening already! I can scarcely wait."
+
+Evenings come at last, even when waited for. Alice had not time, after
+all, to get _very_ impatient before the carriage was at the door, and
+she and Papa and Aunty were in it, rolling away toward the market-place.
+Crowds of people were going in the same direction. Half the Papas and
+Mammas in Banbury had taken their boys and girls to see the show. There,
+behind the market cross, rose the great tent, a flapping red flag on
+top. Bright lights streamed from within. How exciting it was! The tent
+was so big inside that there was plenty of room for all the people who
+wished to come, and more. Ranges of benches ran up till they met the
+canvas roof. Below were the boxes, hung with red and white cloth and
+banners. Dazzling lights were everywhere, the band was playing, from
+behind the green curtain came sounds of voices and horses whinnying to
+each other. Alice had never been to a circus before. It seemed to her
+the most beautiful and bewildering place which she had ever imagined.
+
+By and by the performance began. How the Banbury children did enjoy it!
+The clown's little jokes had done duty in hundreds of places before.
+Some of them had even appeared in the almanac! But in Banbury they were
+all new, and so funny that everybody laughed till their sides ached. And
+the wonderful horses! Madame Orley's educated steed, which picked out
+letters from a card alphabet and spelled words with them, went through
+the military drill with the precision of a trooper, and waltzed about
+the arena with his mistress on his back!--well, he was not a horse; he
+was a wizard steed, like the one described in the "Arabian Nights
+Tales." Alice almost thought she detected the little peg behind his ear!
+
+She shuddered over the feats of the sky-blue trapezeist, who seemed to
+do every thing but fly. The knights in imitation armor were real knights
+to Alice; the pink and gold ladies were veritable damsels of romance,
+undergoing adventures. But, delightful as all this was, she was
+conscious that the best remained behind, and eagerly watched the door of
+entrance, in hopes of the appearance of the white steed and the little
+rider who had so fascinated her imagination in the morning. Papa noticed
+it, and laughed at her; but, for all that, she watched.
+
+At last they came, and Alice was satisfied. Mignon looked prettier and
+daintier than ever in her light fantastic robe of white and spangles,
+with silver bracelets on her wrists and little anklets hung with bells
+about her slender ankles. Round and round and round galloped the white
+horse, the fairy figure on his back now standing, now lying, now on her
+knees, now poised on one small foot, or, again, dancing to the music on
+top of the broad saddle, keeping exact time, every movement graceful and
+light as that of a happy elf. Hoops, wreathed with roses and covered
+with silver paper, were raised across her path. She bounded through them
+easily, smiling as she sprang. The white horse seemed to love her, and
+to obey her every gesture; and Mignon evidently loved the horse, for
+more than once in the pauses Alice saw her pat and caress the pretty
+creature. At length the final bound was taken, the last rose-wreathed
+hoop was carried away, Mignon kissed her hand to the audience and
+disappeared at full gallop, the curtain fell, and the ring-master
+announced that Part First was ended, and that there would be an
+intermission of fifteen minutes.
+
+By this time Alice was in a state of tumultuous admiration which knew no
+bounds.
+
+"Oh, if I could only speak to her and kiss her, just once!" she cried.
+"Isn't she the darlingest little thing you ever saw? I wish I could.
+Don't you think they'd let me, Papa?"
+
+"Would there be any harm in it, do you think?" asked the Mayor of his
+sister. "She's a pretty, innocent-looking little creature."
+
+"I don't quite like having Alice associate with such people," objected
+Miss Flower. Then, softened by the wistful eagerness of Alice's face,
+she added, "Still, in this case, the child is so young that I really
+think there would be no harm, except that the manager might object to
+having the little girl disturbed between the acts."
+
+"I'll inquire," said Papa.
+
+The manager was most obliging. Managers generally are, I fancy, when
+Mayors express wishes. "Mademoiselle Mignon," he said, "would be very
+pleased and proud to receive Miss Flower, if she would take the trouble
+to come behind the scenes." So Alice, trembling with excitement, went
+with Papa behind the big green curtain. She had fancied it a sort of
+fairy world; but instead she found a great bare, disorderly place.
+Sawdust was scattered on the ground; huge boxes were standing about,
+some empty, some half unpacked. From farther away came sounds of loud
+voices talking and disputing, and the stamping of horses' feet. It was
+neither a pretty or a pleasant place; and Alice, feeling shy and half
+frightened, held Papa's hand tight, and squeezed it very hard as they
+waited.
+
+Pretty soon the manager came to them with Mignon beside him. She looked
+smaller and more childish than she had done on horseback. A little plaid
+shawl was pinned over her gauzy dress to keep her warm. Alice lost her
+fears at once. She realized that here was no fairy princess, but a
+little girl like herself. Mignon's face was no less sweet when seen so
+near. Her cheeks were the loveliest pink imaginable. Her blue eyes
+looked up frankly and trustfully. When the Mayor spoke to her she
+blushed and made a pretty courtesy, clasping Alice's hand very tight in
+hers, but saying nothing.
+
+"The performances will recommence in ten minutes," said Signor Currie,
+consulting his watch. Then he and the Mayor moved a little aside and
+began talking together, leaving the little girls to make acquaintance.
+
+"I saw you this morning," said Alice.
+
+Mignon nodded and smiled.
+
+"Oh, did you see me? I thought you did, but I wasn't sure, because we
+were up so high. Aunty and I thought the procession was beautiful. But I
+liked your horse best of all. Is he gentle?"
+
+"Pluto? oh, he's very gentle," replied Mignon. "Only now and then he
+gets a little wild when the people hurrah and clap very loud. But he
+always knows me."
+
+"How beautifully you do ride," went on Alice. "It looks just like flying
+when you jump through the hoops. I wish I knew how. Is it very hard to
+do?"
+
+"No--except when I get tired. Then I don't do it well. But as long as
+the music plays I don't feel tired. Sometimes before I come out I am
+frightened, and think I can't do it at all, but then I hear the band
+begin, and I know I can. Oh! don't you love music?"
+
+"Y--es," said Alice wonderingly, for Mignon's eyes sparkled and her face
+flushed as she asked this question. "I like music when it's pretty."
+
+"I love it so _so_ much," went on Mignon confidentially. "It's like
+flowers--and colors--all sorts of things--sunsets too. Our band plays
+beautifully, don't you think so? It makes me feel as if I could do any
+thing in the world, fly or dance on the air,--any thing! It's quite
+different when they stop. Then I don't want to jump or spring, but just
+to sit still. If they would keep on playing always, I don't believe I
+should ever get tired."
+
+"How funny!" said the practical Alice. "I never feel that way at all.
+Aunty says I haven't got a bit of ear for music. Did you see Aunty at
+the window this morning when you looked up?"
+
+"Was that your Aunty? I thought it was your Mamma."
+
+"No; I haven't got any Mamma. She died when I was a little baby. I don't
+remember her a bit."
+
+"Neither do I mine," said Mignon wistfully. "Mr. Currie says he guesses
+I never had any. Do you think I could? Little girls always have Mammas,
+don't they?"
+
+"But haven't you an Aunty or any thing?" cried Alice.
+
+Mignon shook her head.
+
+"No," she said. "No Aunty."
+
+"Why! Who takes care of you?"
+
+"Oh, they all take care of me," replied Mignon smiling. "Madame
+Orley,--that's Mrs. Currie, you know,--she's very kind. She curls my
+hair and fastens my frock in the morning, and she always dresses me for
+the performance herself. Mr. Currie,--he's kind too. He gave me these
+anklets and my silver bracelets and two rings--see--one with a blue
+stone and one with a red stone. Aren't they pretty? Goo-Goo is nice too.
+He taught me to write last year. And old Jerry,--that's the head groom,
+you know,--he's the kindest of all. He says I'm like his little
+granddaughter that died, and wherever we go he almost always buys me a
+present. Look what he gave me this morning," putting her hand into the
+bosom of her frock and pulling out an ivory needle-case. "I keep it here
+for fear it'll get lost. There's always such a confusion when we only
+stop one night in a place."
+
+"Isn't it pretty," said Alice admiringly. "I'm glad Jerry gave it to
+you. But I wish you had an Aunty, because mine is so nice."
+
+"Or a Mamma," said Mignon thoughtfully. "If I only had a Mamma of my
+own, and music which would play _all the time_ and never stop, I should
+be just happy. I wouldn't mind the Enchanted Steed then,--or any
+thing."
+
+"What's the Enchanted Steed?" asked Alice.
+
+"Oh,--one of the things I do. It's harder than the rest, so I don't like
+it quite so well. You'll see--it's the grand _finale_ to-night."
+
+A sharp little bell tinkled.
+
+"That's to ring up the curtain," said Mignon. "I must go. Thank you so
+much for coming to see me."
+
+"Oh, wait one minute!" cried Alice, diving into her pocket. "Yes, I
+thought so. Here's my silver thimble. Won't you take it for a keepsake,
+dear, to go with your needle-book, you know? And don't forget me,
+because I never, never shall forget you. My name's Alice,--Alice
+Flower."
+
+"How pretty!" cried Mignon, looking admiringly at the thimble. "How kind
+you are! Good-by."
+
+"Kiss your hand to me from the back of the horse, won't you, please?"
+said Alice. "That will be splendid! Good-by, dear, good-by."
+
+The two children kissed each other; then Mignon ran away, tucking the
+thimble into her bosom as she went.
+
+"O Aunty! you never saw such a darling little thing as she is!" cried
+Alice, when they had got back to the box. "So sweet, and so pretty,
+prettier than any of the little girls we know, Aunty. I'm sure you'd
+think so if you saw her near. She hasn't any Mamma either, and no Aunty
+or any thing. She wishes so much she had. But she says all the circus
+people are real kind to her. You can't think how much she loves music.
+If the band would play all the time, she could fly, she says, or do any
+thing else that was hard. It was so queer to hear her talk about it. I
+never saw any little girl that I liked so much. I wish she was my
+sister, my own true sister; really I do, Aunty."
+
+"Why, Alice, I never knew you so excited about anybody before," remarked
+Miss Flower.
+
+"O Aunty! she isn't _anybody_; she's quite different from common people.
+How I wish she'd hurry and come out again. She promised to kiss her
+hand to me from the horse's back, Papa. Won't that be splendid?"
+
+The whole performance was more interesting to Alice since her
+conversation with Mignon. Madame Orley and her trained steed were quite
+new and different now that she knew that Madame Orley's real name was
+Currie, and that she curled Mignon's hair every morning. Goo-Goo seemed
+like an intimate friend, because of the writing-lessons. Alice was even
+sure that she could make out old Jerry of the needle-book among the
+attendants. Round and round and round sped the horses. Goo-Goo cracked
+his whip. The trapezeist swung high in air like a glittering blue spider
+suspended by silver threads. Mr. Vernon Twomley's Bucephalus did every
+thing but talk. Somebody else on another horse played the violin and
+stood on his head meanwhile, all at full gallop! It was delightful. But
+the best of all was when Mignon came out again. Her cheeks were rosier,
+her eyes brighter than ever, and--yes--she recollected her promise, for
+during the very first round she turned to Alice, poised on one foot like
+a true fairy, smiled charmingly, and kissed her hand twice. How
+delightful that was! Not Alice only, but all the children present were
+bewitched by Mignon that evening. Twenty little girls at least said to
+their mothers, "Oh, how I would like to ride like that!" and many who
+did not speak wished privately that they could change places and _be_
+Mignon. Alice did not wish this any longer. The noise and confusion
+behind the scenes, the stamping horses and swearing men, had given her a
+new idea of the life which poor Mignon had to lead among these sights
+and sounds, the only child among many grown people, dependant upon the
+chance kindness of clowns and head grooms for her few pleasures, her
+little education. She no longer desired to change places. What she now
+wanted was to carry Mignon away for a companion and friend, sharing
+lessons with her and Aunty and all the other good things which she had
+forgotten, when in the morning she wished herself a part of the gay
+circus troupe.
+
+And now the performances were almost over. One last feat remained, the
+_Finale_, of which Mignon had spoken. It stood on the bills thus:--
+
+                  "GRAND FINALE!!
+                   IN CONCLUSION
+          WILL BE GIVEN THE STUPEFYING FEAT
+                        OF
+               THE ENCHANTED STEED,
+                       AND
+             THE FLIGHT THROUGH THE AIR!
+                  _Performers:_
+   MADEMOISELLE MIGNON; HER HORSE PLUTO; M. ARISTIDE;
+                 AND M. JOACHIN."
+
+Alice watched with much interest the arrangements making for this feat.
+Fresh sawdust was sprinkled over the arena, the ropes of the trapezes
+were lowered and tested: evidently the feat was a difficult one, and
+needed careful preparation. M. Aristide and M. Joachin took their places
+on the suspended bars, the ring-master cleared the circle, and Mignon
+rode in at a gallop. Three times she went round the arena at full speed,
+then she was snatched from the horse's back by the long arm of M.
+Aristide extended from the trapeze above. Pluto galloped steadily on.
+One second only M. Aristide held Mignon poised in air, then he flung her
+lightly across the space to M. Joachin, who as lightly caught her,
+waited a second, and, as Pluto passed beneath, dropped her upon his
+back. It looked fearfully dangerous; all depended upon the exact time at
+which each movement was executed. The whole audience caught its breath,
+but Mignon did not seem to be frightened. Her little face was quite
+unruffled as the strong men tossed her to and fro, her limbs and dress
+fell into graceful lines as she went through the air; it was really like
+a bird's flight. Alice's hands were squeezed tightly together, she could
+hardly breathe. Ah!--Pluto was an instant too late, or M. Joachin a
+second too soon,--which was it? Mignon missed the saddle,--grazed it
+with her foot, fell,--striking one of the wooden supports of the tent
+with her head as she touched the ground. There was a universal thrill
+and shudder. Mr. Currie hurried up, Pluto faltered in his pace, whinnied
+and ran back to where his little mistress lay. But in one moment Mignon
+was on her feet again, making her graceful courtesy and kissing her
+hand, though she looked very pale. The curtain fell rapidly. Alice,
+looking anxiously that way, had a vague idea that she saw Mignon drop
+down again, but Aunty said, "How fortunate that that sweet little thing
+was not hurt;" and Alice, being used to finding Aunty always in the
+right, felt her heart lightened. They went out, following the audience,
+who were all praising Mignon, and saying that it might have been a
+terrible accident; and, for their part, it didn't seem right to let
+children run such risks, and they were thankful that the little dear was
+not injured. Many a child envied Mignon that night; many dreamed of
+silver spangles, galloping steeds, roses, applause, and waked up
+thinking how charming it must be to live on a horse's back with music
+always playing, and exciting things going on, and people praising you!
+
+Oh, dear! I wish I could stop here. Why should there be painful things
+in the world which must be written about? That pretty courtesy, that
+spring from the earth were poor Mignon's last. She had risen and bowed
+with the instinct which all players feel to act out their parts to the
+end, but as the curtain fell down she dropped again, this time heavily.
+Mr. Currie, much frightened, lifted and carried her to his wife's tent.
+The band, who were playing out the audience, stopped with a dismayed
+suddenness. Goo-Goo untied his mask and hurried in. Madame Orley, who
+was feeding Chimborazo with sugar, dropped the sugar on the floor and
+ran too. Jerry flew for a doctor. Mignon was laid on a bed. They fanned
+her, rubbed her feet, put brandy into her pale lips. But it was all of
+no use. The little hands were cold, the blue-veined eyelids would not
+unclose. Madame Orley and the other women riders who were clustered
+beside the bed began to sob bitterly. They all loved Mignon; she was the
+pet and baby of the whole circus troupe.
+
+It was not long before the doctor came. He felt Mignon's pulse, and
+tried various things, but his face was very grave.
+
+"She's a frail little creature," he said. "No stamina to carry her
+through."
+
+"She's opening her eyes," cried Madame Orley. "She's coming to herself."
+
+Slowly the blue eyes opened. At first she seemed not to see the anxious
+countenances bent over her. Then a look of recognition crept into her
+face, and a wan little smile parted the lips. She lifted one hand and
+began to fumble feebly in the bosom of her frock.
+
+"What is it, Mignon, dear?" said one of the women. It was Alice's silver
+thimble that Mignon was seeking after. When it was given her she seemed
+content, and lay clasping it in her hand.
+
+Just then a strange noise came from outside. Pluto, suspecting that
+something had gone wrong, had slipped his halter. A groom tried to catch
+him. He snorted back and cantered away. At the door of Madame Orley's
+tent he paused, put in his head and gave a long whinny.
+
+Mignon started. The bells on her ankles tinkled a little as she moved.
+
+"Now, Pluto"--she whispered faintly,--"steady, dear Pluto. Ah, there's
+the music at last! I thought it would never begin. How sweet,--oh, how
+sweet! They never made such sweet music before. I can do it now." A
+smile brightened her face.
+
+"Has she a mother?" asked the doctor.
+
+The words caught Mignon's ear. She looked up. "Mamma," she said--"Mamma!
+Did _you_ make the music?" Her head fell back, she closed her
+eyes.--That was all.
+
+"She loved music so dearly," said one of the women weeping.
+
+"She has it now," replied the good old doctor, laying down the little
+hand from which the pulse had ebbed away. "Don't cry so over her, my
+good girl. She was a tender flower for such a life as this. Depend upon
+it, it is better as it is. Heaven is a home-like place for such little
+ones as she, and the angels' singing will be sweeter to her ears than
+the music of your brass band."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+LADY QUEEN ANNE.
+
+
+"WHERE is Annie?" demanded old Mrs. Pickens.
+
+"I'm sure I don't know. Not far away, for I heard her voice just now
+singing in the woods near the house."
+
+"That child is always singing, always," went on Mrs. Pickens in a
+melancholy voice. "What she finds to sing about in this miserable place
+I cannot imagine. It's really unnatural!"
+
+"Oh, no! mother,--not unnatural. Remember what a child she is. She
+hardly remembers the old life, or misses it. The sun shines, and she
+sings,--she can't help it. We ought to be glad instead of sorry that she
+doesn't feel the changes as we do."
+
+"Well, I _am_ glad," responded the old lady. "You needn't take me up so
+sharply, Susan. All I say is that it seems to me _unreasonable_."
+
+Miss Pickens glanced about the room, and suppressed a sigh. It was,
+indeed, a miserable dwelling, scarcely better than a hut. Very few of
+you who read this have ever seen a place so comfortless or so poor. The
+roof let in rain. Through the cracked, uneven floor the ground could be
+distinctly seen. A broken window-pane was stopped by an old hat thrust
+into the hole. For furniture was only a rusty stove, a table, three
+chairs, a few battered utensils for cooking, and a bed laid on the floor
+of the inner room,--that was all. And the dwellers in this wretched
+home, for which they were indebted to the charity of friends scarcely
+richer than themselves, were ladies born and bred, accustomed to all the
+comforts and enjoyments of life.
+
+It was the old story,--alas! too common in these times,--the story of a
+Southern family reduced to poverty by the ravages of war. Six years
+before, all had been different. Then the fighting was not begun, and the
+Southern Confederacy was a thing to boast over and make speeches about.
+The gray uniforms were smart and new then; the volunteers eager and full
+of zeal. All things went smoothly in the stately old house known to
+Charleston people as the "Pickens Mansion." The cotton was regularly
+harvested on the Sea Islands, and on the Beaufort plantation, which
+belonged to Annie; for little Annie, too, was an heiress, with acres and
+negroes of her own. War seemed an easy thing in those days, and a
+glorious one. There was no lack felt anywhere; only a set of fresh and
+exciting interests in lives which had always been interesting enough.
+Mrs. Pickens and the other Charleston ladies scraped lint and rolled
+bandages with busy fingers; but they smiled at each other as they did
+so, and said that these would never be needed, there would never be any
+real fighting! They stood on their balconies to cheer and applaud the
+incoming regiments,--regiments of gallant young men, their own sons and
+the sons of neighbors: and it was like the opening chapter of a story.
+Ah! the story had run through many chapters since then, and what
+different ones! The smart uniforms had lost all their gloss, blood was
+upon the flags, the glory had changed to ashes; every family wore
+mourning for somebody. The pleasant Charleston home, where Mrs. Pickens
+had stood on the balcony to watch the gray-coated troops pass by, and
+little Annie had fluttered her mite of a handkerchief, and laughed as
+the gay banners danced in air, where was it? Burned to the ground; only
+a sorry heap of ruin marked where once it stood. No more cotton bales
+came from the Sea Islands. First one army, then the other, had swept
+over the Beaufort plantation, trampling its fields into mire. It had
+been seized, confiscated, retaken, re-confiscated, sold to this person
+and that. Nobody knew exactly to whom it belonged nowadays; but it was
+not to little Annie, rightful heiress of all. Stripped of every thing,
+reduced to utter want, Mrs. Pickens and her daughter took refuge in a
+lonely village, far up among the Carolina hills, where some former
+friends, also ruined by the war, offered them the wretched home where
+now we find them. Little Annie, sole blossom left upon the blasted tree,
+went with them. It was a miserable life which they led. The pinch of
+poverty is never so keenly felt as when the recollection of better days
+mixes with it like a perpetual sting. All the bright hopes of six years
+before were over, and the poor ladies could have said, "Behold, was ever
+sorrow like unto my sorrow!" They grieved for themselves; they grieved
+most of all for their beautiful little Annie, but Annie did not
+grieve,--not she!
+
+Never was a happier little maiden,--as blithe and merry in her coarse
+cotton frock and bare feet as though the cotton were choicest satin. She
+was as pretty too. No frock could spoil that charming little face framed
+in thick chestnut curls, or hide the graceful movements which would have
+made her remarkable anywhere. Her eyes, which were brown like her curls,
+danced continually. Her mouth was always smiling. The dimples came and
+went with every word she spoke. And, however shabby might be her dress,
+she was a little lady always. No one could mistake it, who listened to
+her sweet voice and prettily chosen words. The pitiful sadness of her
+Grandmother, the rigid melancholy of her Aunt, passed over her as a
+cloud drifts over a blue sky on a summer's day, leaving the blue
+undimmed. She loved them, and was sorry when they were sorry; but God
+had given her such a happy nature, that happy she must be in spite of
+all. Just to be alive was pleasant enough, but there were many other
+pleasant things beside. The woods were full of flowers, and Annie loved
+flowers dearly. Then there were the beautiful pine forests themselves,
+with their cool shades and fragrant smell. There was sunshine too, and
+now and then a story, when Aunty felt brighter than usual. The negroes
+in the neighborhood were all fond of little "Missy Annie." They would
+catch squirrels for her, or climb for birds' eggs; and old Sambo
+scarcely ever passed the hut without bringing some little gift of
+flowers or nuts. There was Beppo, also, a large and handsome hound
+belonging to a distant plantation, who came now and then to make Annie
+visits. It was a case of pure affection on his part, for she was not
+allowed to give him any thing to eat, not even a piece of corn bread,
+for food was too precious with the stricken family to be shared with
+dogs. But Beppo came all the same, and seemed to like to race and romp
+with Annie just as well as though the entertainment had wound up with
+something more substantial. Oh! there were many pleasant things to do,
+Annie thought.
+
+When Aunty went out to call her that day, she was sitting under a tree
+with a lap full of yellow jessamines, which she was tying into a bunch.
+As she worked she sang.
+
+"Who are those for, Annie?" asked Miss Pickens.
+
+"I was going to give them to Mrs. Randolph, Aunty. She came yesterday to
+the camp, Juba says. I thought she'd like them."
+
+Miss Pickens looked rigid, but she made no reply. "The Camp" was a depôt
+of United States supplies, established for the relief of the poor
+blacks and whites of the region, and Major Randolph was the officer in
+charge of it. In her great poverty, Miss Pickens had been forced to
+apply with the rest of her neighbors for this aid, going every week with
+a basket on her arm, and receiving the same rations of bacon and
+corn-meal which the poorest negroes received. It was bitter bread; but
+what can one do when one is starving? Major Randolph was sorry for the
+poor lady, and kind and courteous always, but Miss Pickens could not be
+grateful; he was one of the Northern invaders who had helped to crush
+her hopes and that of her State, and to bring them to this extremity;
+and though she took the corn-meal, she had no thanks in her heart.
+
+"We are going to the village this afternoon, aren't we, Aunty?" went on
+Annie.
+
+"Yes, we must," replied her Aunt. "I came to tell you to get ready. And,
+Annie, don't sing so loud when you are near the house. Grandmamma
+doesn't like to hear it."
+
+"Doesn't she?" said Annie wondering. "I'll try to remember, Aunty. But
+sometimes I don't know when I am singing. It just sings of itself."
+
+"Getting ready" consisted of tying on two faded, flapping sun-bonnets,
+to which Miss Pickens added an old ragged India shawl, relic of past
+grandeur. Annie's feet were bare, her Aunt wore army shoes made of
+cow-skin, part of the Bureau supply. She was a tall, thin woman, and,
+with the habit of former days, carried her head high in air as she
+walked along. Little fairy Annie danced by her side, now stopping to
+gather a flower, now to listen to a bird, chatting and laughing all the
+way, as though she were a bird herself, and never heeding Aunty's
+melancholy looks or short answers.
+
+"Who _are_ those people?" asked Mrs. Randolph of her husband, as she
+watched the odd-looking pair come along the road. "Do look, Harry. Such
+a strange woman, and--I do declare, the prettiest child I ever saw in my
+life. Tell me who they are?"
+
+"Oh, that's my little pet, Annie Pickens," replied the Major. Then he
+hastily told his wife the story.
+
+"The poor ladies suffer dreadfully both in pride and in pocket, I fear,"
+he added. "But Annie, bless her! she doesn't know what suffering means,
+any more than if she were a bird or a squirrel. I thought you'd take a
+fancy to her, Blanche; and perhaps you can think of some way to help
+them. Women know how to set about such things. I'm such a clumsy fellow
+that all I dared attempt was to deal out as much meal and bacon as the
+Aunt could carry."
+
+Blanche Randolph found it easy to "take a fancy" to the sweet little
+creature who lifted to her such beaming eyes as she made her offering of
+the yellow jessamines. "Oh, dear!" she said to herself, "how I wish she
+belonged to me." She kissed and fondled her, and while Miss Pickens
+transacted her business, Annie sat on Mrs. Randolph's lap and talked to
+her, quite as though they were old acquaintances.
+
+"What do you do all day, dear? Have you any one to play with?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I have Beppo. That's Mr. Ashley's dog, you know. He runs over
+to see me almost every week, and we have such nice times."
+
+"And don't you study any lessons?" asked Mrs. Randolph.
+
+"No, not now. I used to, but Aunty is so busy now that she says she
+hasn't time to teach me. Beside, all my books were burned up."
+
+"Come, Annie, it is time to go," said Miss Pickens, moving away, with a
+curt bow to Mrs. Randolph.
+
+Annie lingered to kiss her new friend.
+
+"I shall pick you some fresh flowers next time we come," she said.
+
+"I'll tell you what, Harry," said Mrs. Randolph, "that is the most
+_pathetically_ sweet little darling I ever saw."
+
+"Pathetic? Why she's as happy as the day is long."
+
+"Ah, you don't understand! That's the very reason. 'I feel to cry' over
+her, as old Mauma Sally would say."
+
+Medville was a quiet, lonely place. All the people, black and white
+alike, were very poor. Nobody called to see Mrs. Randolph; there were no
+parties to go to; and after a while she learned to look forward to
+little Annie's visit as the pleasantest thing in the whole week. Annie
+looked forward to it also. Her new friend was both kind and gay. Always
+some little treat was prepared for her coming,--a book, a parcel of
+cakes, or a picture-paper with gay colored illustrations. Mrs. Randolph
+chose these gifts carefully, because she was afraid of offending Miss
+Pickens, but Miss Pickens was not offended; she loved Annie too dearly
+for that, and became almost gracious as she thanked Mrs. Randolph for
+her kindness. After some time Mrs. Randolph ventured to walk out to the
+cottage. What she saw there horrified her, but I can best tell what that
+was by quoting a letter which she wrote about that time to her sister,
+Mrs. Boyd, who was spending the summer in England:--
+
+"Fancy, dear Mary, a miserable log hut not one bit better than those in
+which the negroes dwell. In fact, it used to be a negro hut, some say a
+pig-pen; but that is too bad, I cannot believe it. The roof lets in
+water, the floor is broken away, the windows are stuffed with rags and
+an old hat. Every thing is perfectly clean inside, swept and scrubbed
+continually by the poor ladies, and they are real ladies, Mary. It was
+pitiful to see old Mrs. Pickens sitting in her wooden chair in a dress
+which her former cook would have disdained, and yet with all the dignity
+and sad politeness of a duchess in difficulties. They make no secret of
+their extreme poverty; they cannot, in fact, for it stares you in the
+face; but they ask for nothing, and you would scarcely dare to offer
+aid. I was so shocked that I could not restrain my tears. Miss Pickens
+brought me a tin cupful of water, and I think my sympathy touched her,
+for she has thawed a little since, and has permitted Annie to accept a
+gingham frock which I made for her, and some stockings and shoes. Such
+dainty little feet as hers are, and such a lovely child! I have scarcely
+ever seen one so beautiful, and it is not common beauty, but of the
+rarest sort, with elegance and refinement in every feature and movement.
+It is a thousand pities that she should be left here to grow up in
+poverty without education, or any of the things she was born to, for, as
+I told you in my last, the family was once wealthy, and Annie herself
+would be a great heiress had not the war ruined them all."
+
+When Mrs. Boyd received this letter, she was making a visit to some
+friends who lived in a villa on the banks of the Thames. Mr. and Mrs.
+Grant were the names of these friends. They were all sitting on the lawn
+when the post came in. The sunset cast a pink glow on the curves of the
+beautiful river; the roses were in perfect bloom; overhead and
+underfoot the grass and trees were of that rich and tender green which
+is peculiar to England. The letter interested Mrs. Boyd so much that she
+read it aloud to her friends, who were rich and kind-hearted people,
+with one little boy of their own.
+
+Mrs. Grant almost cried over the letter. It was the saddest thing that
+she had ever heard of, and all that evening she and her husband could
+talk of nothing else. Little Annie, sound asleep in her Carolina cabin,
+did not dream that, three thousand miles away, two people, whom she had
+never heard of, were spending half the night in the discussion of her
+fate and fortunes! Long after their guest had gone to bed, the Grants
+sat up together conversing about Annie; and in the morning they came
+down with a proposal so astonishing, that Mrs. Boyd could hardly believe
+her ears when she heard it.
+
+"We have been talking in a vague way for years past of adopting a little
+girl," said Mr. Grant. "We always wished for a daughter, and felt sure
+that to have a sister would be the best thing in the world for Rupert,
+who is an affectionate little fellow, and would enjoy such a playmate of
+all things. But you can easily guess that there have been difficulties
+in the way of these plans, especially as to finding the right child, so
+we have done nothing about it. Now it strikes my wife, and it strikes me
+also, that this story of your sister's is a clear leading of Providence.
+Here is a child who wants a home, and here are we who want a child. So
+we have made up our minds to send to America for Annie, and, if her
+relatives will consent, to adopt her as our own. Will you give me Mrs.
+Randolph's exact address?"
+
+"But it is so sudden. Are you sure you won't repent?" asked Mrs. Boyd.
+
+"I don't think we shall. And it seems less sudden to us than to you,
+because, as I have explained, this idea has been in our minds for a a
+long time."
+
+You can fancy the excitement of Major and Mrs. Randolph when Mr.
+Grant's letter reached Medville. He offered to adopt Annie, and treat
+her in every respect as though she were his own daughter, provided her
+Grandmother and Aunt would give her up entirely, and promise never again
+to claim her as theirs.
+
+"If they will consent to this," wrote Mr. Grant, "I will settle a
+hundred pounds a year on them for the rest of their lives. I will also
+employ a lawyer to see if any thing can be done towards getting back a
+part of the confiscated property. But all this is only on condition that
+the child is absolutely made over to me. I am not willing to take her
+with any loop-hole left open by which she may, by and by, be claimed
+back again just as we have learned to consider her our own. I beg that
+Major Randolph will have this point most clearly understood, and will
+attend to the drawing up of a legal paper which shall put it beyond the
+possibility of dispute."
+
+The day after this letter came, Mrs. Randolph put it in her pocket and
+walked out to the mountain hut. She felt very nervous as she tapped at
+the door.
+
+"It was a terrible thing to do," she wrote afterwards to her sister.
+"There were the two poor ladies as stately as ever, and little Annie so
+bright and winning. It was like asking for the only happy thing left in
+their lives. I explained first about my letter to you, and how you
+happened to be staying with the Grants when you received it, and then I
+gave Miss Pickens Mr. Grant's letter. Her face was like iron as she read
+it, and she swallowed hard several times, but she never uttered one
+word. When she had done, she thought for several minutes; then she said,
+in a choked voice, 'If you will leave this with us, Madam, you shall
+have an answer to-morrow.' I came away. Dear little Annie walked half
+way down the hill with me. I hope, oh, so much, that they will let her
+go. The life they lead is too sad for such a child, and in every way it
+is better for them all; but oh, dear! I am so sorry for them that I
+don't know what to do."
+
+Next day Miss Pickens walked down alone to the Relief Station.
+
+"My mother and I have talked it over," she said briefly, "and we have
+decided. Annie must go."
+
+"I am glad," said Mrs. Randolph. "Glad for her, but very sorry for you."
+
+"It is like cutting out my heart," said the poor Aunt. "But what can we
+do? I am not able to give the child proper food even, or decent clothes.
+If we keep her she must grow up in ignorance. These English strangers
+offer every thing; we have nothing to offer. If we could count on the
+bare necessaries of life,--no more than those,--I would never, never
+give up Annie. As it is, it would be sinning against her to refuse."
+
+"Mr. Grant's assistance will do much to make your own lives more
+comfortable," suggested Mrs. Randolph.
+
+"I don't care about that. We could go on suffering and not say a word,
+if only we might keep Annie. But she would suffer too, and more and
+more as she grows older. No, Annie must go."
+
+"The Grants are thoroughly good people, and will be kindness itself, I
+am sure. The only danger is that they may spoil your dear little girl
+with over-indulgence."
+
+"She can stand a good deal, having had none for so long a time," replied
+Miss Pickens with a sad smile. "But Annie is not that sort of child;
+nothing could spoil her. When must she go, Mrs. Randolph?"
+
+"Mr. Grant spoke of the 'Cuba,' on which some friends of his are to
+sail. She leaves on the 24th."
+
+"The 24th. That is week after next."
+
+"If it seems to you too soon--"
+
+"No. The sooner it is over the better for us all."
+
+"I half feel as if I had done you a wrong," said Mrs. Randolph, with
+tears in her eyes.
+
+"No, you have done us no wrong. It is in our own hands, you see. We
+could say no, even now. Oh, if I dared say it! But I dare not,--that is
+worst of all,--I dare not." She gave a dry sort of sob and walked away
+rapidly. Mrs. Randolph, left behind, broke down and indulged in a good
+fit of crying.
+
+Dear little Annie! she was partly puzzled, partly pleased, partly pained
+by the news of what was going to befall her. She clung to her Aunty, and
+declared that she could not go. Then Mrs. Randolph talked with her and
+explained that Aunty would be better off, and Grandmamma have a more
+comfortable house to live in--making pictures of the sweet English home,
+the kind people, the dear little brother waiting for her on the other
+side of the sea, till Annie felt as if it would be pleasant to go. There
+was not much time for discussion; every thing was done in a hurry. Mrs.
+Randolph sewed all day long on her machine, making little underclothes
+and a pretty blue travelling dress. Miss Pickens patched up one of her
+faded silks, for she was to accompany Annie to New York and see her
+sail, Mr. Grant paying all the expenses of the journey for both of them.
+Grandmamma cried all night, but in the daytime her face looked set and
+hard. There were papers to sign and boxes to pack. Beppo seemed to smell
+in the air that something was about to happen. All day long he hung
+around the hut, whining and sniffing. Now and then he would throw back
+his head and give a long, sorrowful bay, which echoed from some distant
+point in the pine wood. The last day came,--the last kisses. It was like
+a rapid whirling dream, the journey, the steam cars, the arrival in New
+York, and Annie only seemed to wake up when she stood on the steamer's
+deck and felt the vessel throb and move away. On the wharf, among the
+throng of people who had come down to say good-by, stood Aunty's tall
+figure in her faded silk and ragged shawl, looking so different from any
+one else there. She did not wave her handkerchief or make any sign, but
+fixed her eyes on Annie as if she could never look away, and there was
+something in the expression of her face which made Annie suddenly burst
+into tears. She wiped them fast, but before she could see clearly, the
+wharf was far distant, and Aunty's face was only a white spot among
+other white spots, which were partly faces and partly fluttering
+handkerchiefs. A few minutes more and the spots grew dim, the wharf
+could no longer be seen, the vessel began to rock and plunge in the
+waves, and the great steamer was fairly at sea.
+
+Do you suppose that Annie cried all the voyage? Bless you, no! It was
+not in her to be sorrowful long. In a very little while her tears dried,
+smiles came back, and the trustful brown eyes were as bright as ever.
+Everybody on board noticed the dear little girl and was kind. The
+Captain, who had little girls of his own at home, would walk with her on
+the deck for an hour at a time, telling her stories which he called
+"yarns," and which were very interesting. The old sailors would coax the
+little maiden amidships and tell her "yarns" also, about sharks and
+whales and albatrosses. One of them was such a nice old fellow. His name
+was "Jack," and he won Annie's affections completely, by catching a
+flying-fish in a bucket and making her a present of it. Did you ever see
+a flying-fish? Annie's did not seem at all happy in the bucket, so she
+threw him into the sea again, but none the less was she pleased that
+Jack gave him to her. She liked to watch the porpoises turn and wheel in
+the water, and the gulls skim and dive; but most of all she delighted in
+the Mother Carey's chickens, which on stormy days fluttered in and out,
+rocking on the waves, and never seeming afraid, however hard the wind
+might blow. Going to sea was to Annie as pleasant as all the other
+pleasant things in her life. She would have laughed hard enough had
+anybody asked whether unpleasant things had never happened to her, and
+would have said "No!" in a minute.
+
+The voyage ended at Liverpool. Annie felt sorry and homesick at leaving
+the vessel, as travellers are apt to do. But pretty soon a gentleman
+came on board, and a pretty little boy. It was Mr. Grant and Rupert,
+come down to meet her, and they were so pleasant and so glad to see
+Annie that she forgot all her home-sickness at once.
+
+"What a funny carriage," she exclaimed, when, after they had all landed,
+Mr. Grant helped her into a cab.
+
+"It's a Hansom," explained Rupert. "Papa engaged one because I asked
+him. It's such fun to ride in 'em, I think. Don't they have any in
+America where you live?"
+
+"No,--not any carriages at all where I live," replied Annie, nestling
+down among the cushions,--"only mule carts and--wheelbarrows--and--oh,
+yes--Major Randolph had an ambulance. There were _beau_-tiful carriages
+in New York though, but I didn't see any like this."
+
+"Don't you like it?"
+
+"Oh, yes,--very much," replied Annie, cuddling cosily between her new
+Papa and Brother.
+
+"Isn't she pretty?" whispered Rupert to his father. "None of the other
+fellows at our school have got such a pretty sister as she is. And she's
+a jolly little thing, too," he added confidentially.
+
+Mrs. Grant had grown a little anxious about the first meeting. "If we
+_should_ be disappointed!" she thought. But when the carriage drove up
+and her husband lifted Annie out, a glance made her easy. "I can love
+that child," she said to herself, and her embrace was so warm that Annie
+rested in her arms with the feeling that here was real home and a real
+Mamma, and that England was just as nice as America.
+
+You can guess how she enjoyed the lawn with its roses, and the beautiful
+river. Fresh from the poor little cabin on the hill-top, she
+nevertheless fell with the greatest ease into the ways and habits of her
+new life. It did not puzzle or disturb her in the least to live in
+large rooms, be waited on by servants, or have nice things about her;
+she took to all these naturally. For a few days Mr. and Mrs. Grant
+watched with some anxiety, fearing to discover a flaw in their treasure,
+but no flaw appeared. Not that Annie was faultless, but hers were honest
+little faults; there was nothing hidden or concealed in her character,
+and in a short time her new friends had learned to trust her and to love
+her entirely.
+
+So here was our little girl fairly settled in England, with dainty
+dresses to wear, a governess coming every day to give her lessons,
+masters in French and music, a carriage to ride in, and half a dozen
+people at least ready to pet and make much of her all the time. Do you
+think she was happier than she had been before? How could she be? One
+cannot be more than happy. She was happy then, she was happy now,--no
+more, no less.
+
+Rupert used to talk to her sometimes about that old life, which seemed
+to him so strange and dismal.
+
+"How you must have hated it!" he said once. "I can't bear to have you
+tell me any more. What's corn-meal? It sounds very nasty! And didn't you
+have anybody to play with, not anybody at all, or any fun, ever?"
+
+"Fun!" cried Annie; "I should think so! Why, Rupert, our woods were full
+of squirrels. Such dear little things!--you never saw such pretty
+squirrels. One of them got so tamed that he used to eat out of my hand.
+His name was Torpedo. I named him myself. Then there was Beppo, the
+dearest dog! I wish you knew him. We used to run races and have the
+greatest fun. And Aunty and I had nice times going down to the camp."
+
+"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" sighed Rupert. He could not see the fun at all.
+
+When Annie had been three years with the Grants, Major and Mrs. Randolph
+came to London, and drove down to the villa to see her. It was a great
+pleasure to them all. Annie had a thousand questions to ask about
+Grandmamma and Aunty, who no longer lived in the hut, but in Medville,
+where Mr. Grant had hired a small house for them.
+
+"They are quite comfortable now," said Mrs. Randolph. "Aunty has gained
+a little flesh, and Grandmamma is stronger, and able to walk out
+sometimes. Old Sambo came down the very night before we left with a box
+of birds' eggs, which he wished to send to 'Missy Annie.' They are in
+the carriage; you shall have them presently. And here is a long letter
+from Aunty."
+
+"Annie, you look just the same," remarked the Major; "only you are
+grown, and the sunburn has worn off and left you as fair as a lily. You
+used to be brown as a bun when I knew you first. I needn't ask if you
+are happy here?"
+
+"Oh! very, very happy," said Annie warmly.
+
+"A great deal happier than you were when you lived with Grandmamma and
+Aunty?" inquired Mrs. Randolph.
+
+"Why, no!" cried Annie wonderingly; "not any happier than _that_. I used
+to have lovely times then; but I have lovely times here too."
+
+"That child will never lack for happiness," said the Major, as they
+drove back to London. "She's the brightest little being I ever saw."
+
+"Yes," replied his wife; "rain or shine, it's all one with Annie. Her
+cheer comes from within, and is so warm and radiant that, whatever sky
+is overhead, she always rejoices. Let the clouds do what they may, it
+makes no difference: Annie will always sit in the sun,--the sunshine of
+her own sweet, happy little heart."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, DOWN-Y.
+
+
+"NOW, Dinah, it's time to try the jelly."
+
+"Wait a minute, Miss May; it can't be stiff yet."
+
+"Oh, yes! Dinah, it is; I think it is. I'll only just breathe on it,
+Dinah; I'll not disturb it a bit."
+
+"Let me breathe on it too."
+
+"And me."
+
+Dinah chuckled silently to herself in a way she had. She opened the
+kitchen window, and in one second three little girls had climbed on
+three chairs, and three curly heads had met over the saucer of currant
+juice which stood on the sill.
+
+"I _think_ it's going to jelly," said May.
+
+Lulu touched it delicately with the point of her small forefinger.
+
+"There!" she cried triumphantly. "It _crinkled_; it did, Dinah! The
+jelly's come."
+
+"Oh, how good!" added Bertha, applying her finger, not so gently, to the
+hot surface, and then putting it into her mouth to cool it! "It's the
+bestest jelly we ever made, Dinah."
+
+Dinah chuckled again at this "we." But, after all, why not? Had not the
+children watched her scald and squeeze the currants, and stir and skim?
+Had not May wielded the big wooden spoon for at least three minutes? Had
+not Lulu eaten a mouthful of skimmings on the sly? Were they not testing
+the product now? The little ones had surely a right to say "we," and
+Dinah accepted the partnership willingly. She lifted the preserving
+kettle on to the table; and the junior (not silent!) members of the firm
+mounted on their chairs, watched with intense interest as she dipped the
+glasses in hot water, and filled each in turn with the clear red liquid.
+
+"It's first-rate jell," she remarked. "Be hard in no time."
+
+"Put a tiny, tiny bit in my doll's tumbler," said Bertha, producing a
+minute vessel. "She likes jelly very much, my dolly does."
+
+"Oh, isn't it nice to cook!" exclaimed Lulu, jumping up and down in her
+chair! "Such fun! I wish Mamma'd always let us do it."
+
+"What shall we make next?" asked May.
+
+"Jumbles," responded the senior partner briefly.
+
+"I like to make jumbles," cried May. "I may cut out all the
+diamond-shaped ones, mayn't I, Di?"
+
+"And I, all the round ones?"
+
+"And I, the hearts?"
+
+Dinah nodded. The children got down from their chairs, and ran to the
+closet. They came back each with a tin cookie-pattern in her hand. Dinah
+sifted flour and jumbled egg and sugar rapidly together, with that
+precise carelessness which experience teaches. In a few minutes the
+smooth sheet of dough lay glistening on the board, and the children
+began cutting out the cakes; first a diamond, then a heart, then a
+round, each in turn. As fast as the shapes were cut, Dinah laid them in
+baking-tins, and carried them away to the oven. The work went busily on.
+It was great fun. But, alas! in the very midst of it, interruption came.
+The door opened, and a lady walked in,--a pretty lady in a beautiful
+silk gown of many flounces. When she saw what the children were doing,
+she frowned, and did not seem pleased.
+
+"My dears," she said, "I was wondering where you were. It is quite time
+that you should be dressed for the afternoon. Come upstairs at once."
+
+"O Mamma!--we're helping Dinah. Mayn't we stay and finish?"
+
+"Helping? Nonsense! Hindering, you mean. Dinah will be glad to get rid
+of you. Come at once."
+
+May got down from her chair. But Lulu and Bertha pouted.
+
+"We've hung all our dolls' things out on the line," they said. "It's
+washing-day in the baby-house, Mamma. Mayn't we stay just a little while
+to clap and fold up?"
+
+"Clap and fold," exclaimed Mrs. Frisbie. "Where do you pick up such
+words, I wonder. Of course you can't stay, you must come and be made
+decent. Susan shall finish your dolls' wash."
+
+"Oh, no! please Mamma, it's so much nicer to do 'em ourselves," pleaded
+Lulu. "Don't let Susan touch them. We love so to wash. Dinah says we're
+worth our wages, we do it so well."
+
+"Dinah should not say such things," said Mrs. Frisbie, severely, leading
+the unwilling flock upstairs. "Now, Lulu, do look pleasant. I really
+cannot have all this fuss made each time that I tell you to come and sit
+with me and behave like little ladies. This passion for house-work is
+vulgar; I don't like it at all. With plenty of servants in the house,
+and your Pa's money, and all, there's no need that you should know any
+thing about such common doings. Now, go upstairs and tell Justine to put
+on your French cambrics and your sashes, and when you're ready come
+straight down. I want you."
+
+Mrs. Frisbie went into the drawing-room as she spoke, and shut the door
+behind her with a little bang. She was a good-natured woman in the
+main, but at that moment she was really put out. Why should _her_
+children have this outlandish taste for cooking and washing? _She_ liked
+to be beautifully dressed, and sit on a sofa doing nothing. Why
+shouldn't they like to do the same? It was really too bad, she thought.
+The children were not a bit like her. They were "clear Frisbie straight
+through," and it was really a trial. She felt quite unhappy, and, as I
+said, gave the door a bang to relieve her feelings.
+
+While the children are putting on their French cambrics, I will tell you
+a Fairy story.
+
+Once upon a time, in a wonderful country where all the inhabitants are
+Kings and Queens, a little Prince was born. His father's kingdom was not
+big, being only a farm-house, two clover fields, and a potato patch, but
+none the less was it a kingdom, because no one else had right to it or
+could dispute it. The Prince was born on a Sunday, and the Fairy who has
+charge of Sunday children came and stood by his cradle.
+
+"You shall be lucky always," she said, touching the baby's soft cheek
+with the point of her finger. "I give you four gifts, Sunday Prince. The
+first is a strong and handsome body,"--and the Fairy, as she spoke,
+stroked the small limbs with her wand. "The next is a sweet temper. The
+third is a brave heart--you'll need it, little Prince,--all people do in
+this world. Lastly,"--and the Fairy touched the sleeping eyelids
+lightly,--"I give you a pair of clear, keen eyes, which shall tell you
+the difference between hawks and hernshaws from the very beginning. This
+gift is worth something, as you'll soon find out. Now, good-by, my baby.
+Sleep well, and grow fast. Here's a pretty plaything for you,"--taking
+from her pocket a big, beautiful bubble, and tossing it in the air. "Run
+fast," she said, "blow hard, follow the bubble, catch it if you can;
+but, above all things, keep it flying. Its name is Fortune,--a pretty
+name. All the little boys like to run after my bubbles. As long as it
+keeps up, up, all will go brightly; but if you fail to blow, or blow
+unwisely, and it goes down, down--well--you'll be lucky either way, my
+Sunday Prince; 'tis I who say so." Thereupon the Fairy kissed the
+sleeping child and vanished.
+
+Only the clear eyes of the little Prince could see the rainbow bubble
+which hung in air above his head, and flew before, wherever he went. He
+began to see it when still very young, and as he grew bigger he saw it
+more clearly still. And he blew, blew, and the gay bubble went up, up,
+and all things prospered. Before long, the baby Prince was a man, and
+took possession of his kingdom; for in this wonderful country plenty of
+kingdoms are to be had, and Princes are not forced to wait until their
+fathers die before taking possession of their crowns. So, being a grown
+Prince, he began to look about for a Princess to share his throne with
+him. And he found a very nice little one; who, when he asked her, made a
+courtesy and said, "Yes, thank you," in the prettiest way possible. Then
+the Prince was pleased, and sent for a priest. The priest's name was
+Slack. He belonged to the Methodist persuasion, Otsego Conference, but
+he married the Prince and the Princess just as well as though he had
+been an archbishop. They went to live in a small palace of their own,
+and after awhile some little princelings came to live with them, and
+they were all very happy together. And the lucky Prince, being
+fairy-blessed, kept on being lucky. The rainbow bubble flew before; he
+blew strongly, wisely; it soared high, high, and all things prospered.
+His kingdom increased, his treasure-bags were filled with gold. By and
+by the little palace grew too small for them, or they fancied it so, and
+another was built, a real palace this time, with lawns, and fish-ponds,
+and graperies, and gardens. The only trouble was--
+
+But here come the children downstairs, so I must drop into plain prose,
+and tell you what already you have guessed, that the Prince I mean is
+their father, John Frisbie,--Prince John, if you like,--and the
+Princess's name was Mary Jones before she was married, but now, of
+course, it is Mary Frisbie. There were five of the princelings,--Jack
+and May and Arthur and Lulu and Bertha. The new palace was a beautiful
+house, with wide, lovely grounds. But since they came to live in it,
+Mrs. Frisbie had taken it into her head that so fine a house required
+manners to match, and that the things the children liked best, and had
+been allowed to do in the small house, were vulgar, and might not be
+permitted now. This was a real trouble to the little ones, for, as their
+mother said, they were "clear Frisbie all through;" and the thrift,
+energy, cleverness, and other qualities by which their father had made
+his fortune, were strong in them. Perhaps the Fairy had visited their
+cradles also. Who knows?
+
+The girls came down crisp and fresh in their ruffled frocks, with curls
+smoothed, sashes tied, and their company dolls in their hands.
+
+"Now sit down and be comfortable," said Mrs. Frisbie.
+
+Dear me, what a number of meanings there are to that word "comfortable"!
+Mrs. Frisbie thought it meant pretty clothes, pretty rooms, and nothing
+to do. To the boys it took the form of hard, hearty work of some sort.
+Papa understood it as a cool day in his office, business brisk, but not
+too brisk, and an occasional cigar. May, Lulu, and Bertha would have
+translated it thus: "our old ginghams and our own way;" while Dinah, if
+asked, would have defined "comfort" as having the kitchen "clar'd up"
+after a successful bake, and being free to sit down, darn stockings, and
+read the "Illustrated Pirate's Manual," a newspaper she much affected on
+account of the blood-thirstiness of its pictures. None of these various
+explanations of the word mean the same thing, you see. And the drollest
+part is that no one can ever be made "comfortable" in any way but his
+own: that is impossible.
+
+The company dolls were very fine ladies indeed; they came from Paris,
+and had trunks full of splendid dresses. The children did not care much
+for them, and liked better certain decrepit babies of rag and
+composition, which were thought too shabby to be allowed in the parlor.
+
+"Where are the boys?" asked Mrs. Frisbie, when the small sisters had
+settled themselves.
+
+"Jack was going to have his sale this afternoon," replied Mary. "And
+Arthur is auctioneer."
+
+"His sale! What on earth is that?"
+
+"Why, Mamma--don't you know? Jack's chickens, of course. Croppy had
+eleven and Top-knot nine. There's a 'corner' in chickens just now,
+Arthur says, because most of the other boys have lost theirs. Alfred's
+were sick and died, and the rats ate all of Charley Ross's, and a hawk
+carried off five of Howard's. Jack expects to make a lot of money,
+because Croppy is a Bramahpootra hen, you know, and her chicks are very
+valuable."
+
+"Corner! Lot of money! Oh, dear!" sighed poor Mrs. Frisbie, "what words
+the boys do teach you. Where they learn them I can't imagine. Not from
+me."
+
+"From Papa, I guess," explained Lulu innocently. "He used to have hens
+when he was little, and sell 'em. It was splendid fun, he says.
+Grandmamma thinks that Jack is just Papa over again."
+
+"All of you are," said Mrs. Frisbie. "Not one of you is a bit like me.
+Can't you sit still, Bertha? What _are_ you doing there with your
+handkerchief?"
+
+"Only dusting the table leg, Mamma; it wasn't quite clean."
+
+"Dear, dear! and in your nice frock. Do let the furniture alone, child.
+Ring for Bridget, if any thing wants cleaning. You're a real Meddlesome
+Matty, Bertha."
+
+"O Mamma!" cried Bertha, aggrieved. "Grandmamma taught me to dust when
+we lived in the other house, you know. Grandmamma said it was a good
+thing for little girls to be useful. And I didn't meddle with any thing
+on the table; really I didn't, Mamma."
+
+"Never mind, dear," said Mrs. Frisbie. "It's no great matter, only I
+don't like to have you do such things. Now sit still and play with your
+doll." She opened a book and began to read. The children crept nearer to
+each other and talked in low whispers.
+
+"Let's play that Eugenie and Victoria are little girls come to make each
+other a visit, and Isabella is their Mamma."
+
+"You can't! Little girls never have trains to their dresses or
+necklaces."
+
+"Oh! I wish Nippy Scatch-Face and old Maria were down here," sighed
+Lulu.
+
+"I'll tell you," put in May. "We'll play they are three stiff old
+ladies, who always wear best clothes, you know, and sit so in chairs;
+and that Nippy and Maria are coming to make them a visit. They needn't
+really come, you know. Mrs. Eugenie, sit up straight. Now listen to the
+hateful old thing! She's talking to Victoria."
+
+"Sister, when are those children coming?"
+
+"I don't know, sister," squeaked back Lulu in the character of Victoria.
+"I wish they wouldn't come at all. Children are the bane of my
+existence."
+
+"You horrid doll, talking that way about _my_ baby," cried Bertha,
+giving Victoria a shove.
+
+"Don't, Beppie; you'll push her down," said May. Then changing her voice
+again, "Your manners is most awful, I'm sure," she squeaked, in the
+person of the irate Victoria.
+
+All the children giggled, and Mrs. Frisbie looked up from her book.
+
+At this moment in ran the two boys, hot, dusty, and excited,--Arthur
+with a handful of "fractional currency," and Jack waving a two-dollar
+bill.
+
+"See!" they cried. "Four dollars and sixty-five cents. Isn't that
+splendid? Mr. Ashurst bought all the Croppys, and gave twenty-five cents
+a piece for them."
+
+"Let us see, let us see!" cried the little girls, precipitating
+themselves on the money.
+
+"Look here, now, Mary Frisbie--no snatching!" protested Jack,--"I
+haven't told you the best yet. Mr. Ashurst says we're such good farmers,
+that he'll give us work whenever we like to take it. He says I could
+earn three dollars a week _now_! Think of that."
+
+"Oh, how much!" cried Lulu, awe-struck. "What could you do with so much,
+Jacky?"
+
+"Now boys,--listen to me," said their mother. "Go upstairs right away
+and get ready for tea. You look like real farmers' boys at this moment,
+I declare, so hot and dusty. I don't wonder Mr. Ashurst offered you
+work,--though I think it was very impertinent of him to do so. I hope
+you said that your father's sons didn't need to earn money in any such
+way."
+
+"Why, Mamma, of course I didn't. Arthur and me like to work, and we are
+going to somehow just as soon as we're big enough. It's lots better fun
+than going to school. Besides, Papa says we may. He told us all American
+boys ought to work, whether their fathers are rich or poor."
+
+"Papa likes to talk nonsense with you," said Mrs. Frisbie, biting her
+lips. "Go up now and dress."
+
+There was a howl from both boys.
+
+"O Mamma! not yet. It's too early for that horrid dressing, oh, a great
+deal too early, Mamma. We've got a lot to do in our chicken house.
+Mayn't we go out again for a little while, just for half an hour,
+Mamma?"
+
+"Well--for half an hour you may," said Mrs. Frisbie reluctantly,
+consulting her watch. Away clattered the boys,--the girls looking after
+them with envious eyes.
+
+Presently Lulu slipped out and was gone a few minutes. She came back
+sparkling, with her cheeks very rosy.
+
+"Mamma," she cried, "what _do_ you think? David says if you haven't any
+objections, we may each of us have a little garden down there behind the
+asparagus beds. He'll make them for us, Mamma, he says, and we can plant
+just what we like in them. O Mamma! don't have any objections--please."
+
+"Will he really?" cried May. "I'll put peppergrass in mine,--and
+parsley. Dinah says she never has as much parsley as she wants."
+
+"Yes, and little green cucumbers," added Bertha,--"little teeny-weeny
+ones, for pickles, you know. Dinah is always wishing she could get them,
+but David never sends in any but big ones. O Mamma! do say yes. It'll be
+so nice."
+
+"Cucumbers! peppergrass! Well, you are the strangest children! Why don't
+you have pinks and pansies and pretty things?"
+
+"Oh, we will, and make bouquets for you, Mamma; only we thought of the
+useful things first."
+
+"Somehow you always do think of useful things first," murmured Mrs.
+Frisbie. "However, have the gardens if you like. I'm sure I don't care."
+
+The children's thanks were cut short by the click of a latch-key in the
+hall-door.
+
+"There's Papa!" cried Bertha; and, like three arrows dismissed from the
+string, the children were off to greet him. It was always a joy to have
+Papa come home.
+
+He was looking grave as he opened the door, but his face lit up at once
+at the sight of his little girls. Papa's face without a smile upon it
+would have seemed a strange sight indeed to that household. It did cross
+May's mind that evening that the smiles were not so merry as usual, and
+that Papa seemed tired; but no one else noticed it, either then or on
+the days that followed.
+
+Bubbles are pretty things, but the keeping them in air grows wearisome
+after a while. About this time the rainbow bubble set afloat by the kind
+Fairy for the sleeping Prince began to misbehave itself. Contrary winds
+seized it; it flew wildly, now here, now there; and, instead of sailing
+steadily, it was first up, then down, then up again, but more down than
+up. Prince John blew his hardest and did his best to keep it from
+sinking; for he knew, as we all do, that once let a bubble touch the
+earth, and all is over,--its glittering wings collapse,--they fly no
+more.
+
+So the weeks went on. Unconscious of trouble, the children dug and
+planted in their little gardens. Each new leaf and shoot was a wonder
+and a delight to them. Bertha's plants flourished less than the others,
+because of a habit she had of digging them all up daily to see how the
+roots were coming on; but, except for that, all went well, and the
+bluest of skies stretched itself over the heads of the small gardeners.
+In the City, where Papa's office was, the sky was not blue at all. High
+winds were blowing, stormy black clouds shut out the sun. Bubbles were
+sinking and bursting on every side, and men's hearts were heavy and
+anxious. Prince John did his best. He watched his bubble anxiously, and
+followed it far. It was fairy-blessed, as I said, and its wings were
+stronger than bubble's wings usually are; but at last the day came when
+it could soar no longer. The pretty shining sphere hovered, sank,
+touched a rock, and in a minute--hey! presto!--there was no bubble
+there; it had utterly disappeared, and Prince Frisbie, with a very sober
+face, walked home to tell his wife that he had lost every thing they had
+in the world. This was not a pleasant or an easy thing to do, as you can
+readily imagine.
+
+The children never forgot this evening. They used to vaguely refer to it
+among themselves as "That time, you know." Papa came in very quiet and
+pale, and shut himself up with Mamma. She--poor soul!--was much
+distressed, and sobbed and cried. They heard her as they came downstairs
+dressed for the evening, and it frightened them. Papa, coming out after
+a while, found them huddled together in a dismayed little group in the
+corner of the entry.
+
+"O Papa! is it any thing dreadful?" asked May. "Is Mamma sick?"
+
+"No, not sick, darling, but very much troubled about something. Come
+with me and I will explain it to you." Then Papa led them into the
+dining-room; and, with Bertha on his knee and the others close to him,
+he told them that he had lost a great deal of money (almost all he had),
+and they would have to sell the place, and go and live in a little house
+somewhere,--he didn't yet know exactly where.
+
+The children had looked downcast enough when Papa commenced, but at this
+point their faces brightened.
+
+"A really little house?" exclaimed May. "O Papa! do you know, I'm glad.
+Little houses are so pretty and cunning, I always wanted to live in one.
+Susie Brown's Papa does, and Susie can go into the kitchen whenever she
+likes, and she toasts the bread for tea, and does all sorts of things.
+Do you suppose that I may toast the bread when we go to live in our
+little house, Papa?"
+
+"I daresay Mamma will be glad of your help in a great many ways,"
+replied Papa.
+
+"Shall we be poor, very poor indeed?" demanded Bertha anxiously.
+
+"Pretty poor for the present, I am afraid," replied her Father.
+
+"Goody! goody!" cried May, hopping up and down on her toes. "I always
+wanted to be poor, it's so nice! We'll have the _best_ times, Papa; see
+if we don't!"
+
+Papa actually laughed, May's happy, eager face amused him so much.
+
+"I know what we'll do," said Jack, who had been considering the matter
+in silence. "We'll raise lots of chickens, and give you all the money,
+Papa."
+
+"My boy, I am afraid you must give up your chickens. There will be no
+place for them in the new home."
+
+"Must we?" Jack gave a little gulp, but went on manfully, "Well, never
+mind, we'll find something else that we can do."
+
+"Mr. Ashurst says Jack is the 'handiest' boy he ever saw, Papa," put in
+Arthur eagerly.
+
+"Well, handiness is a capital stock-in-trade. Now, dears, one thing,--be
+as good and gentle as possible with Mamma, and don't trouble her a bit
+more than you can help."
+
+"We will, we will," promised the little flock. Mrs. Frisbie was quite
+right in saying that the children took after their father. Their brave,
+bright natures were as unlike hers as possible.
+
+It is sad to see what short time it requires to pull down and destroy a
+home which has taken years to build. The Frisbies' handsome, luxurious
+house seemed to change and empty all in a moment. Carriages were sold,
+servants dismissed. Furniture was packed and carried away. In a few days
+nothing remained but a fine empty shell, with a staring advertisement of
+"For Sale" pasted on it. The familiar look was all gone, and everybody
+was glad to get away from the place. It took some time to find the
+"little house," and some time longer to put it to rights. Papa attended
+to all that, the children remaining meanwhile with Grandmamma. Mamma
+had taken to her bed with a nervous attack, and cried day and night.
+Everybody was sorry; they all waited on her, and did their best to raise
+her spirits.
+
+At last the new home was ready. It was evening when the carriage set
+them down at the gate, and they could only see that there were trees and
+shrubs in the tiny front yard, and a cheerful light streaming from the
+door, where Dinah stood to welcome them,--dear old Di, who had insisted
+on following their fortunes as maid of all work. As they drew nearer,
+they perceived that she stood in a small, carpeted entry, with a room on
+either side. The room on the right was a sitting-room; the room on the
+left, a kitchen. There were three bedrooms upstairs, and a small coop in
+the attic for Dinah. That was all; for it was indeed a "really little
+house," as Papa had said.
+
+"Oh, how pretty!" cried Lulu, as she caught sight of the freshly papered
+parlor, with its cheerful carpet, and table laid for tea, and on the
+other hand of the glowing kitchen stove and steaming kettle. "Such a
+nice parlor, and the dearest kitchen. Why, it's smaller than Susie
+Brown's house, which we used to wish we lived in. Don't you like it,
+Mamma? I think it's _sweet_."
+
+Mrs. Frisbie only sighed by way of reply. But the children's pleasure
+was a comfort to Papa. He and Dinah had worked hard to make the little
+home look attractive. They had papered the walls themselves, put up
+shelves and hooks, arranged the furniture, and even set a few late
+flowers in the beds, that the garden might not seem bare and neglected.
+
+The next day was a very busy one, for there were all the trunks to
+unpack, and the bureau drawers to fill, and places to be settled for
+this thing and that. By night they were in pretty good order, and began
+to feel at home, as people always do when their belongings are
+comfortably arranged about them.
+
+Mrs. Frisbie was growing less doleful. Her husband, who was very tired,
+lay back in a big arm-chair. The evening was chilly, so Dinah had
+lighted a small fire of chips, which flickered and made the room bright.
+The glow danced on Bertha's glossy curls as she sat at Mamma's knee, and
+on the rosy faces of the two boys. All looked cheerful and cosy; a smell
+of toast came across the entry from the kitchen.
+
+"Bertha, your hair is very nicely curled to-night," said Mrs. Frisbie.
+"I don't know how Dinah found time to do it."
+
+"Dinah didn't do it, Mamma. May did it. She did Lulu's too, and Lulu did
+hers. We're always going to dress each other now."
+
+Just then May came in with a plate of hot toast in her hand. Lulu
+followed with the teapot.
+
+"It's so nice having the kitchen close by," said May, "instead of way
+off as it was in the other house. This toast is as warm as--toast"--she
+concluded, not knowing exactly how to end her simile.
+
+"Your face looks as warm as toast, too," remarked her Father.
+
+"Yes, Papa, that's because I toasted to-night. Dinah was bringing the
+clothes from the lines, so she let me."
+
+"I stamped the butter, Papa," added Lulu. "Look, isn't it a pretty
+little pat?"
+
+"And I sifted the sugar for the blackberries," put in Bertha from her
+place at Mamma's knee.
+
+"You don't mind, do you Mamma?" observed Mary anxiously. "Di pinned a
+big apron over my frock. See, it hasn't got a spot on it."
+
+"I'm glad she did," said Mrs. Frisbie, surprised. "But it doesn't matter
+so much how you dress here, you know. It was in the other house I was so
+particular."
+
+"But I like to please you, Mamma, and you always want us to look nice,
+you know. We mean to be very careful now, because if we don't we shall
+worry you all the time."
+
+Mrs. Frisbie put her arm round Mary and kissed her.
+
+"I declare," she said, half-laughing, half-crying. "This house _is_
+pleasant. It seems snugger somehow, as if we were closer together than
+we ever were before. I guess I shall like it after all."
+
+"Hurrah!" cried Prince John, rousing from his fatigue at these
+comfortable words. "That's right, Molly, dear! You don't know what good
+it does me to hear you say so. If only you can look bright and the
+chicks keep well and happy, I shall go to work with a will, and the
+world will come right yet." He smiled with a look of conscious power as
+he spoke; his eyes were keen and eager.
+
+I think that just then, as the children gathered round the table, as
+Mrs. Frisbie took up the teapot and began to pour the tea, and her
+husband pushed back his chair,--that just then, at that very moment, the
+Fairy entered the room. Nobody saw her, but there she was! She smiled on
+the group; then she took from her pocket another bubble, more splendid
+than the one she had brought before, and tossed it into the air above
+Prince John's head. "There," she said, "catch that. You'll have it this
+time, and it won't break and go to pieces as the first one did. Look at
+it sailing up, up, up,--this bubble has wings, but it sails toward and
+not away from you. Catch it, as I say, and make it yours. But even when
+it _is_ yours, when you hold it in your hand and are sure of it, you'll
+be no luckier and no happier, my lucky Prince, than you are at this
+moment, in this small house, with love about you, hope in your heart,
+and all these precious little people to work for, and to reward you when
+work is done."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF JULIETTE.
+
+A Child's Romance. By BEATRICE WASHINGTON. With 45 illustrations by J.
+F. Goodridge. Small 4to. Cloth. Price, $1.00.
+
+[Illustration: "SHE WAS CARRIED IN HER TRUE KNIGHT'S ARMS."]
+
+_Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, by the Publishers._
+
+ROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON.
+
+
+
+
+_Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications._
+
+OLD ROUGH THE MISER.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+By LILY F. WESSELHOEFT, author of "Sparrow the Tramp," "Flipwing the
+Spy," "The Winds, the Woods, and the Wanderer." With twenty-one
+illustrations by J. F. Goodridge. Square 16mo, cloth, $1.25.
+
+[Illustration: OLD ROUGH THE MISER.]
+
+Mrs. Wesselhoeft's "Fable Stories" are proving themselves more and
+more acceptable to the children. "Old Rough" is a decided acquisition to
+the series.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, by the publishers._
+
+          ROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON.
+
+
+
+
+_Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications._
+
+SUSAN COOLIDGE'S POPULAR BOOKS.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE BARBERRY BUSH. And Seven Other Stories about Girls for Girls. By
+SUSAN COOLIDGE. Illustrated by Jessie McDermott. 16mo. Cloth. Uniform
+with "What Katy Did," etc. Price, $1.25.
+
+_For sale by all booksellers, and mailed, post-paid, on receipt of price
+by the publishers._
+
+          ROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON, MASS.
+
+
+
+
+_Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications._
+
+By the Author of Dear Daughter Dorothy.
+
+ROBIN'S RECRUIT.
+
+BY A. G. PLYMPTON,
+
+AUTHOR OF "BETTY A BUTTERFLY," AND "THE LITTLE SISTER OF WILIFRED."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+With illustrations by the author. Small 4to. Cloth, gilt. Price, $1.00.
+
+_Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of price, by the
+Publishers._
+
+          ROBERTS BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
+          BOSTON.
+
+
+
+
+SUSAN COOLIDGE'S POPULAR BOOKS.
+
+A GUERNSEY LILY;
+
+OR,
+
+HOW THE FEUD WAS HEALED.
+
+A Story for Girls and Boys.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+BY
+
+SUSAN COOLIDGE,
+
+Author of "What Katy Did," "Clover," "In the High Valley," etc.
+
+NEW EDITION. Square 16mo. ILLUSTRATED. Price, $1.25.
+
+          ROBERTS BROTHERS,
+          BOSTON.
+
+
+
+
+SUSAN COOLIDGE'S POPULAR BOOKS.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+IN THE HIGH VALLEY.
+
+Being the Fifth and last volume of the "Katy Did Series." With
+illustrations by JESSIE MCDERMOTT.
+
+One volume, square 16mo, cloth. Price, $1.25.
+
+          ROBERTS BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, BOSTON.
+
+
+
+
+_Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Juveniles._
+
+THE LITTLE SISTER OF WILIFRED.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A Story. By Miss A. G. Plympton, author of "Dear Daughter Dorothy" and
+"Betty a Butterfly." Illustrated by the author. Small 4to. Cloth. Price,
+$1.00.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+The author of "Dear Daughter Dorothy" needs no passport to favor. That
+bewitching little story which she not only wrote but illustrated must
+have given the name A. G. Plympton a notable place among the writers of
+children's stories. Followed by "Betty, a Butterfly" and now by "The
+Little Sister of Wilifred," we have a most interesting trio with which
+to adorn a child's library.--_Boston Times._
+
+_Sold by all booksellers; mailed, post-paid, by the publishers,[** .?]_
+
+          ROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON.
+
+
+
+
+JOLLY GOOD TIMES AT HACKMATACK
+
+[Illustration: "There," said Miss Patty, "that's a surtout as _is_ a
+surtout." PAGE 259.]
+
+By MARY P. W. SMITH,
+
+Author of "Jolly Good Times; or, Child-Life on a Farm," "Jolly Good
+Times at School," "Their Canoe Trip," "The Browns." With illustrations.
+16mo. Cloth. Price, $1.25.
+
+          ROBERTS BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, _Boston_.
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+Varied hyphenation was retained when there was an equal number of each,
+as in doorway and door-way.
+
+Obvious punctuation errors corrected.
+
+Page 33, "o" changed to "of" (The game of)
+
+Page 158, "what" changed to "when" (said so when)
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 27678-8.txt or 27678-8.zip *******
+
+
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/7/6/7/27678
+
+
+
+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.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://www.gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+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
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
diff --git a/27678-8.zip b/27678-8.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6846269
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-8.zip
diff --git a/27678-h.zip b/27678-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a88e0ab
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h.zip
diff --git a/27678-h/27678-h.htm b/27678-h/27678-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7d89a63
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h/27678-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,7960 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" />
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Nine Little Goslings, by Susan Coolidge</title>
+    <style type="text/css">
+/*<![CDATA[  XML blockout */
+<!--
+    p {margin-top: .75em;
+       text-align: justify;
+       text-indent: 1.25em;
+       margin-bottom: .75em;
+        }
+    img {border: 0;}
+    .tnote      {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em;
+                  padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;}
+    ins {text-decoration:none;  border-bottom: thin dotted gray;}
+    h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {
+         text-align: center; /* all headings centered */
+         clear: both;
+         }
+    hr { width: 33%;
+	 margin-top: 2em;
+	 margin-bottom: 2em;
+         margin-left: auto;
+         margin-right: auto;
+         clear: both;
+       }
+
+    table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;}
+
+    body{margin-left: 10%;
+         margin-right: 10%;
+        }
+
+    .pagenum  { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */
+            /*  visibility: hidden;  */
+                position: absolute;
+                left: 92%;
+                font-size: smaller;
+                text-align: right;
+              } /* page numbers */
+     .copyright {text-align: center; font-size: 70%;}
+    .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify;}
+
+    .bbox     {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em;
+                  padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;}
+
+    .center   {text-align: center;}
+    .smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
+
+    .caption  {font-weight: bold;}
+
+    .figcenter   {margin: auto; text-align: center;}
+
+    .figleft     {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top:
+                 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;}
+
+    .figright    {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;
+                 margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;}
+
+    .unindent {margin-top: .75em;
+       text-align: justify;
+       margin-bottom: .75em;
+        }
+    .right    {text-align: right;}
+    .poem      {margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;}
+    .poem2   {margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;}
+    .sig    {margin-right: 10%; text-align: right;}
+    .u        {text-decoration: underline;}
+    .linenum  {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */
+    .hang1 {text-indent: -3em; margin-left: 3em;}
+.cap:first-letter {float: left; clear: left;
+  margin: -0.2em 0.1em  0; margin-top: 0%;
+  padding: 0;
+  line-height: .75em; font-size: 300%; text-align: justify;}
+  .cap {text-align: justify;}
+
+    hr.full { width: 100%;
+              margin-top: 3em;
+              margin-bottom: 0em;
+              margin-left: auto;
+              margin-right: auto;
+              height: 4px;
+              border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */
+              border-style: solid;
+              border-color: #000000;
+              clear: both; }
+    pre      {font-size: 85%;}
+    // -->
+    /* XML end  ]]>*/
+    </style>
+</head>
+<body>
+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Nine Little Goslings, by Susan Coolidge</h1>
+<pre>
+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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: Nine Little Goslings</p>
+<p>Author: Susan Coolidge</p>
+<p>Release Date: December 31, 2008  [eBook #27678]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>E-text prepared by Adrian Mastronardi, Emmy,<br />
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 362px;">
+<img src="images/illus-001.png" width="362" height="500" alt="Nine little Goslings" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><span class="smcap">Nine Little Goslings.</span></h1>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">By</span> SUSAN COOLIDGE,</h2>
+
+<div class='center'><small>AUTHOR OF "THE NEW YEAR'S BARGAIN," "MISCHIEF'S THANKSGIVING,"
+"WHAT KATY DID," "WHAT KATY DID AT SCHOOL."</small><br />
+<br /><br />
+<i>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.</i></div>
+
+
+<div class='bbox'>
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Nursery Rhymes">
+<tr><td align='left'><small>CURLY LOCKS.</small></td><td align='left'><small>ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE.</small></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><small>GOOSEY,&nbsp;GOOSEY&nbsp;GANDER.</small>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td align='left'><small>RIDE A COCK-HORSE.</small></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><small>LITTLE BO-PEEP.</small></td><td align='left'><small>LADY QUEEN ANNE.</small></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><small>MISTRESS MARY.</small></td><td align='left'><small>UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, DOWN-Y.</small></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><small>LADY BIRD.</small></td></tr>
+</table></div></div>
+
+
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><br /><br />
+BOSTON:<br />
+ROBERTS BROTHERS.<br />
+1893.<br />
+</div>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class='copyright'>
+Copyright, 1875.<br />
+<span class="smcap">By Roberts Brothers.</span><br />
+<br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
+<img src="images/emblem.png" width="150" height="137" alt="Qui Legit Regit" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class='copyright'><br /><br /><br />
+<span class="smcap">University Press &middot; John Wilson &amp; Son,<br />
+Cambridge.</span><br />
+</div>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class='poem'>
+<i>When nursery lamps are veiled, and nurse is singing</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>In accents low,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Timing her music to the cradle's swinging,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Now fast, now slow,&mdash;</i></span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Singing of Baby Bunting, soft and furry</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>In rabbit cloak,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Or rock-a-byed amid the toss and flurry</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Of wind-swept oak;</i></span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Of Boy-Blue sleeping with his horn beside him,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Of my son John,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Who went to bed (let all good boys deride him)</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>With stockings on;</i></span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Of sweet Bo-Peep following her lambkins straying;</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Of Dames in shoes;</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Of cows, considerate, 'mid the Piper's playing,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Which tune to choose;</i></span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Of Gotham's wise men bowling o'er the billow,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Or him, less wise,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Who chose rough bramble-bushes for a pillow,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>And scratched his eyes,&mdash;</i></span><br />
+<br />
+<i>It may be, while she sings, that through the portal</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Soft footsteps glide,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>And, all invisible to grown-up mortal,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>At cradle side</i></span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Sits Mother Goose herself, the dear old mother,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>And rocks and croons,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>In tones which Baby hearkens, but no other,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Her old-new tunes!</i></span><br />
+<br />
+<i>I think it must be so, else why, years after,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Do we retrace</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>And mix with shadowy, recollected laughter</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Thoughts of that face;</i></span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Seen, yet unseen, beaming across the ages,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Brimful of fun</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>And wit and wisdom, baffling all the sages</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Under the sun?</i></span><br />
+<br />
+<i>A grown-up child has place still, which no other</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>May dare refuse;</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>I, grown up, bring this offering to our Mother,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 8em;"><i>To Mother Goose;</i></span><br />
+<br />
+<i>And, standing with the babies at that olden,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Immortal knee,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>I seem to feel her smile, benign and golden,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Falling on me.</i></span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/contentsa.png" width="500" height="126" alt="Harp decoration" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
+
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="contents">
+<tr><td align='right'><small>CHAP</small></td><td align='right'>&nbsp;</td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>I.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Curly Locks</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>II.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Goosey, Goosey Gander</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>III.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Little Bo-Peep</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>IV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mistress Mary</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>V.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Lady Bird</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>VI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">One, Two, Buckle My Shoe</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>VII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Ride a Cock-Horse</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>VIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Lady Queen Anne</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>IX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Up, Up, Up, and Down, Down, Down-y</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_259">259</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
+<img src="images/contentsb.png" width="150" height="105" alt="flower decoration" title="" />
+</div><hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;">
+<img src="images/illus-008.png" width="350" height="386" alt="Curly Locks" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>CURLY LOCKS.</h2>
+
+
+<p>WHEN a little girl is six and a little boy is
+six, they like pretty much the same things
+and enjoy pretty much the same games. She
+wears an apron, and he a jacket and trousers,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>
+but they are both equally fond of running races,
+spinning tops, flying kites, going down hill on
+sleds, and making a noise in the open air. But
+when the little girl gets to be eleven or twelve,
+and to grow thin and long, so that every two
+months a tuck has to be let down in her frocks,
+then a great difference becomes visible. The
+boy goes on racing and whooping and comporting
+himself generally like a young colt in a
+pasture; but she turns quiet and shy, cares no
+longer for rough play or exercise, takes droll
+little sentimental fancies into her head, and likes
+best the books which make her cry. Almost all
+girls have a fit of this kind some time or other
+in the course of their lives; and it is rather a
+good thing to have it early, for little folks get
+over such attacks more easily than big ones.
+Perhaps we may live to see the day when wise
+mammas, going through the list of nursery diseases
+which their children have had, will wind up
+triumphantly with, "Mumps, measles, chicken-pox,&mdash;and
+they are all over with 'Amy Herbert,'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span>
+'The Heir of Redclyffe,' and the notion
+that they are going to be miserable for the rest
+of their lives!"</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes this odd change comes after an
+illness when a little girl feels weak and out of
+sorts, and does not know exactly what is the
+matter. This is the way it came to Johnnie
+Carr, a girl whom some of you who read this
+are already acquainted with. She had intermittent
+fever the year after her sisters Katy
+and Clover came from boarding-school, and was
+quite ill for several weeks. Everybody in the
+house was sorry to have Johnnie sick. Katy
+nursed, petted, and cosseted her in the tenderest
+way. Clover brought flowers to the bedside and
+read books aloud, and told Johnnie interesting
+stories. Elsie cut out paper dolls for her by
+dozens, painted their cheeks pink and their eyes
+blue, and made for them beautiful dresses and
+jackets of every color and fashion. Papa never
+came in without some little present or treat in
+his pocket for Johnnie. So long as she was in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>
+bed, and all these nice things were doing for her,
+Johnnie liked being ill very much, but when
+she began to sit up and go down to dinner, and
+the family spoke of her as almost well again,
+<i>then</i> a time of unhappiness set in. The Johnnie
+who got out of bed after the fever was not
+the Johnnie of a month before. There were
+two inches more of her for one thing, for she
+had taken the opportunity to grow prodigiously,
+as sick children often do. Her head ached at
+times, her back felt weak, and her legs shook
+when she tried to run about. All sorts of queer
+and disagreeable feelings attacked her. Her
+hair had fallen out during the fever so that
+Papa thought it best to have it shaved close.
+Katy made a pretty silk-lined cap for her to
+wear, but the girls at school laughed at the cap,
+and that troubled Johnnie very much. Then,
+when the new hair grew, thick and soft as the
+plumy down on a bird's wing, a fresh affliction
+set in, for the hair came out in small round
+rings all over her head, which made her look like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>
+a baby. Elsie called her "Curly," and gradually
+the others adopted the name, till at last
+nobody used any other except the servants, who
+still said "Miss Johnnie." It was hard to recognize
+the old Johnnie, square and sturdy and
+full of merry life, in poor, thin, whining Curly,
+always complaining of something, who lay on
+the sofa reading story-books, and begging Phil
+and Dorry to let her alone, not to tease her, and
+to go off and play by themselves. Her eyes
+looked twice as big as usual, because her face
+was so small and pale, and though she was still
+a pretty child, it was in a different way from
+the old prettiness. Katy and Clover were very
+kind and gentle always, but Elsie sometimes
+lost patience entirely, and the boys openly declared
+that Curly was a cross-patch, and hadn't
+a bit of fun left in her.</p>
+
+<p>One afternoon she was lying on the sofa with
+the "Wide Wide World" in her hand. Her
+eyelids were very red from crying over Alice's
+death, but she had galloped on, and was now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>
+reading the part where Ellen Montgomery goes
+to live with her rich relatives in Scotland.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear," sighed Johnnie. "How splendid
+it was for her! Just think, Clover, riding
+lessons, and a watch, and her uncle takes her
+to see all sorts of places, and they call her their
+White Rose! Oh, dear! I wish <i>we</i> had relations
+in Scotland."</p>
+
+<p>"We haven't, you know," remarked Clover,
+threading her needle with a fresh bit of blue
+worsted.</p>
+
+<p>"I know it. It's too bad. Nothing ever
+does happen in this stupid place. The girls in
+books always do have such nice times. Ellen
+could leap, and she spoke French <i>beau</i>tifully.
+She learned at that place, you know, the place
+where the Humphreys lived."</p>
+
+<p>"Litchfield Co., Connecticut," said Clover
+mischievously. "Katy was there last summer,
+you recollect. I guess they don't <i>all</i> speak
+such good French. Katy didn't notice it."</p>
+
+<p>"Ellen did," persisted Johnnie. "Her uncle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>
+and all those people were so surprised when
+they heard her. Wouldn't it be grand to be
+an adopted child, Clover?"</p>
+
+<p>"To be adopted by people who gave you
+your bath like a baby when you were thirteen
+years old, and tapped your lips when they didn't
+want you to speak, and stole your Pilgrim's
+Progresses? No, thank you. I would much
+rather stay as I am."</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't," replied Johnnie pensively. "I
+don't like this place very much. I should love
+to be rich and to travel in Europe."</p>
+
+<p>At this moment Papa and Katy came in together.
+Katy was laughing, and Papa looked
+as if he had just bitten a smile off short. In
+his hand was a letter.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Clovy," began Katy, but Papa interposed
+with "Katy, hold your tongue;" and
+though he looked quizzical as he said it, Katy
+saw that he was half in earnest, and stopped at
+once.</p>
+
+<p>"We're about to have a visitor," he went on,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>
+picking Johnnie up and settling her in his lap,&mdash;"a
+distinguished visitor. Curly, you must
+put on your best manners, for she comes especially
+to see you."</p>
+
+<p>"A visitor! How nice! Who is it?" cried
+Clover and Johnnie with one voice. Visitors
+were rare in Burnet, and the children regarded
+them always as a treat.</p>
+
+<p>"Her name is Miss Inches,&mdash;Marion Joanna
+Inches," replied Dr. Carr, glancing at the letter.
+"She's a sort of godmother of yours, Curly;
+you've got half her name."</p>
+
+<p>"Was I really named after her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. She and Mamma were school-friends,
+and though they never met after leaving school,
+Mamma was fond of her, and when little No. 4
+came, she decided to call her after her old intimate.
+That silver mug of yours was a present
+from her."</p>
+
+<p>"Was it? Where does she live?"</p>
+
+<p>"At a place called Inches Mills, in Massachusetts.
+She's the rich lady of the village, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>
+has a beautiful house and grounds, where she
+lives all alone by herself. Her letter is written
+at Niagara. She is going to the Mammoth Cave,
+and writes to ask if it will be convenient for us
+to have her stop for a few days on the way.
+She wants to see her old friend's children, she
+says, and especially her namesake."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear!" sighed Johnnie, ruffling her
+short hairs with her fingers. "I wish my curls
+were longer. What <i>will</i> she think when she
+sees me?"</p>
+
+<p>"She'll think</p>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+"There is a little girl, and she has a little curl<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Right in the middle of her forehead;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">When she is good she is very, very good,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">And when she is bad she is horrid&mdash;"</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<div class='unindent'>said Dr. Carr, laughing. But Johnnie didn't
+laugh back. Her lip trembled, and she said,&mdash;</div>
+
+<p>"I'm not horrid <i>really</i>, am I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a bit," replied her father; "you're only
+a little goose now and then, and I'm such an old
+gander that I don't mind that a bit."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Johnnie smiled and was comforted. Her
+thoughts turned to the coming visitor.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps she'll be like the rich ladies in
+story-books," she said to herself.</p>
+
+<p>Next day Miss Inches came. Katy was an
+experienced housekeeper now, and did not
+worry over coming guests as once she did. The
+house was always in pleasant, home-like order;
+and though Debby and Alexander had fulfilled
+Aunt Izzie's prediction by marrying one another,
+both stayed on at Dr. Carr's and were as good
+and faithful as ever, so Katy had no anxieties
+as to the dinners and breakfasts. It was late in
+the afternoon when the visitor arrived. Fresh
+flowers filled the vases, for it was early June,
+and the garden-beds were sweet with roses and
+lilies of the valley. The older girls wore new
+summer muslins, and Johnnie in white, her
+short curls tied back with a blue ribbon, looked
+unusually pretty and delicate.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Inches, a wide-awake, handsome woman,
+seemed much pleased to see them all.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"So this is my name-child," she said, putting
+her arm about Johnnie. "This is my little
+Joanna? You're the only child I have any
+share in, Joanna; I hope we shall love each
+other very deeply."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Inches' hand was large and white, with
+beautiful rings on the fingers. Johnnie was
+flattered at being patted by such a hand, and
+cuddled affectionately to the side of her name-mamma.</p>
+
+<p>"What eyes she has!" murmured Miss Inches
+to Dr. Carr. She lowered her voice, but Johnnie
+caught every word. "Such a lambent blue,
+and so full of soul. She is quite different from
+the rest of your daughters, Dr. Carr; don't you
+think so?"</p>
+
+<p>"She has been ill recently, and is looking
+thin," replied the prosaic Papa.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it isn't <i>that</i>! There is something else,&mdash;hard
+to put into words, but I feel it! You
+don't see it? Well, that only confirms a theory
+of mine, that people are often blind to the qualities<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
+of their nearest relations. We cannot get
+our own families into proper perspective. It
+isn't possible."</p>
+
+<p>These fine words were lost on Johnnie, but
+she understood that she was pronounced nicer
+than the rest of the family. This pleased her:
+she began to think that she should like Miss
+Inches very much indeed.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Carr was not so much pleased. The note
+from Miss Inches, over which he and Katy had
+laughed, but which was not shown to the rest,
+had prepared him for a visitor of rather high-flown
+ideas, but he did not like having Johnnie
+singled out as the subject of this kind of praise.
+However, he said to himself, "It doesn't matter.
+She means well, and jolly little Johnnie won't be
+harmed by a few days of it."</p>
+
+<p>Jolly little Johnnie would not have been
+harmed, but the pale, sentimental Johnnie left
+behind by the recently departed intermittent
+fever, decidedly <i>was</i>. Before Miss Inches had
+been four days in Burnet, Johnnie adored her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>
+and followed her about like a shadow. Never
+had anybody loved her as Miss Inches did, she
+thought, or discovered such fine things in her
+character. Ten long years and a half had she
+lived with Papa and the children, and not one
+of them had found out that her eyes were full
+of soul, and an expression "of mingled mirth
+and melancholy unusual in a childish face, and
+more like that of <i>Goethe's Mignon</i> than any
+thing else in the world of fiction!" Johnnie
+had never heard of "<i>Mignon</i>," but it was delightful
+to be told that she resembled her, and
+she made Miss Inches a present of the whole of
+her foolish little heart on the spot.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, if Papa would but give you to me!" exclaimed
+Miss Inches one day. "If only I could
+have you for my own, what a delight it would
+be! My whole theory of training is so different,&mdash;you
+should never waste your energies in
+house-work, my darling, (Johnnie had been
+dusting the parlor); it is sheer waste, with an
+intelligence like yours lying fallow and only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>
+waiting for the master's hand. Would you
+come, Johnnie, if Papa consented? Inches
+Mills is a quiet place, but lovely. There are
+a few bright minds in the neighborhood; we
+are near Boston, and not too far from Concord.
+Such a pretty room as you should have, darling,
+fitted up in blue and rose-buds, or&mdash;no, Morris
+green and Pompeian-red would be prettier,
+perhaps. What a joy it would be to choose
+pictures for it,&mdash;pictures, every one of which
+should be an impulse in the best Art direction!
+And how you would revel in the garden, and in
+the fruit! My strawberries are the finest I
+ever saw; I have two Alderney cows and quantities
+of cream. Don't you think you could be
+happy to come and be my own little Curly, if
+Papa would consent?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," said Johnnie eagerly. "And I
+could come home sometimes, couldn't I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Every year," replied Miss Inches. "We'll
+take such lovely journeys together, Johnnie,
+and see all sorts of interesting places. Would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>
+you like best to go to California or to Switzerland
+next summer? I think, on the whole,
+Switzerland would be best. I want you to
+form a good French accent at once, but, above
+all, to study German, the language of <i>thought</i>.
+Then there is music. We might spend the
+winter at <i>Stuttgard</i>&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Decidedly Miss Inches was counting on her
+chicken before hatching it, for Dr. Carr had
+yet to be consulted, and he was not a parent
+who enjoyed interference with his nest or nestlings.
+When Miss Inches attacked him on the
+subject, his first impulse was to whistle with
+amazement. Next he laughed, and then he
+became almost angry. Miss Inches talked very
+fast, describing the fine things she would do
+with Johnnie, and for her; and Dr. Carr, having
+no chance to put in a word, listened patiently,
+and watched his little girl, who was clinging to
+her new friend and looking very eager and anxious.
+He saw that her heart was set on being
+"adopted," and, wise man that he was, it occurred<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>
+to him that it might be well to grant
+her wish in part, and let her find out by experiment
+what was really the best and happiest
+thing. So he did not say "No" decidedly, as
+he at first meant, but took Johnnie on his knee,
+and asked,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Curly, so you want to leave Papa
+and Katy and Clover, and go away to be
+Miss Inches' little girl, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm coming home to see you every single
+summer," said Johnnie.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed! That will be nice for us," responded
+Dr. Carr cheerfully. "But somehow
+I don't seem to feel as if I could quite make
+up my mind to give my Curly Locks away.
+Perhaps in a year or two, when we are used
+to being without her, I may feel differently.
+Suppose, instead, we make a compromise."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Miss Inches, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," put in Johnnie, who had not the least
+idea of what a compromise might be.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't <i>give</i> away my little girl,&mdash;not yet,"&mdash;went<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>
+on Dr. Carr fondly. "But if Miss Inches
+likes I'll <i>lend</i> her for a little while. You may
+go home with Miss Inches, Johnnie, and stay
+four months,&mdash;to the first of October, let us
+say." ("She'll miss two weeks' schooling, but
+that's no great matter," thought Papa to himself.)
+"This will give you, my dear lady, a
+chance to try the experiment of having a child
+in your house. Perhaps you may not like it so
+well as you fancy. If you do, and if Johnnie
+still prefers to remain with you, there will be
+time enough then to talk over further plans.
+How will this answer?"</p>
+
+<p>Johnnie was delighted, Miss Inches not so
+much so.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," she said, "it isn't so satisfactory
+to have the thing left uncertain, because it
+retards the regular plan of development which
+I have formed for Johnnie. However, I can
+allow for a parent's feelings, and I thank you
+very much, Dr. Carr. I feel assured that, as
+you have five other children, you will in time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>
+make up your mind to let me keep Johnnie entirely
+as mine. It puts a new value into life,&mdash;this
+chance of having an immortal intelligence
+placed in my hands to train. It will be a real
+delight to do so, and I flatter myself the result
+will surprise you all."</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Carr's eyes twinkled wickedly, but he
+made Miss Inches the politest of bows, and said:
+"You are very kind, I am sure, and I hope
+Johnnie will be good and not give you much
+trouble. When would you wish her visit to
+commence?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;now, if you do not object. I should so
+enjoy taking her with me to the Mammoth Cave,
+and afterward straight home to Massachusetts.
+You would like to see the Cave and the eyeless
+fish, wouldn't you, darling?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, Papa, yes!" cried Johnnie. Dr.
+Carr was rather taken aback, but he made no
+objection, and Johnnie ran off to tell the rest
+of the family the news of her good fortune.</p>
+
+<p>Their dismay cannot be described. "I really<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
+do think that Papa is crazy," said Clover that
+night; and though Katy scolded her for using
+such an expression, her own confidence in his
+judgment was puzzled and shaken. She comforted
+herself with a long letter to Cousin
+Helen, telling her all about the affair. Elsie
+cried herself to sleep three nights running, and
+the boys were furious.</p>
+
+<p>"The <i>idea</i> of such a thing," cried Dorry,
+flinging himself about, while Phil put a tablespoonful
+of black pepper and two spools of
+thread into his cannon, and announced that if
+Miss Inches dared to take Johnnie outside the
+gate, he would shoot her dead, he would, just as
+sure as he was alive!</p>
+
+<p>In spite of this awful threat, Miss Inches persisted
+in her plan. Johnnie's little trunk was
+packed by Clover and Katy, who watered its
+contents with tears as they smoothed and folded
+the frocks and aprons, which looked so like
+their Curly as to seem a part of herself,&mdash;their
+Curly, who was so glad to leave them!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Never mind the thick things," remarked
+Dr. Carr, as Katy came through the hall with
+Johnnie's winter jacket on her arm. "Put in
+one warmish dress for cool days, and leave the
+rest. They can be sent on <i>if</i> Johnnie decides
+to stay."</p>
+
+<p>Papa looked so droll and gave such a large
+wink at the word "if," that Katy and Clover
+felt their hearts lighten surprisingly, and finished
+the packing in better spirits. The good-by,
+however, was a sorry affair. The girls
+cried; Dorry and Phil sniffed and looked fiercely
+at Miss Inches; old Mary stood on the steps with
+her apron thrown over her head; and Dr. Carr's
+face was so grave and sad that it quite frightened
+Johnnie. She cried too, and clung to Katy.
+Almost she said, "I won't go," but she thought
+of the eyeless fish, and didn't say it. The carriage
+drove off, Miss Inches petted her, everything
+was new and exciting, and before long
+she was happy again, only now and then a
+thought of home would come to make her lips
+quiver and her eyes fill.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The wonderful Cave, with its vaults and galleries
+hung with glittering crystals, its underground
+river and dark lake, was so like a
+fairy tale, that Johnnie felt as if she <i>must</i> go
+right back and tell the family at home about it.
+She relieved her feelings by a long letter to
+Elsie, which made them all laugh very much.
+In it she said, "Ellen Montgomery didn't have
+any thing half so nice as the Cave, and Mamma
+Marion never taps my lips." Miss Inches, it
+seemed, wished to be called "Mamma Marion."
+Every mile of the journey was an enjoyment to
+Johnnie. Miss Inches bought pretty presents
+for her wherever they stopped: altogether, it
+was quite like being some little girl taking a
+beautiful excursion in a story-book, instead of
+plain Johnnie Carr, and Johnnie felt that to be
+an "adopted child" was every bit as nice as she
+had supposed, and even nicer.</p>
+
+<p>It was late in the evening when they reached
+Inches Mills, so nothing could be seen of the
+house, except that it was big and had trees<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>
+around it. Johnnie went to sleep in a large
+bedroom with a huge double bed all to herself,
+and felt very grown-up and important.</p>
+
+<p>The next day was given to unpacking and
+seeing the grounds; after that, Miss Inches said
+they must begin to lead a regular life, and Johnnie
+must study. Johnnie had been to school all
+winter, and in the natural course of things
+would have had holidays now. Mamma Marion,
+however, declared that so long an idle time
+would not do at all.</p>
+
+<p>"Education, my darling, is not a thing of
+periods," she explained. "It should be like the
+air, absorbed, as it were, all the time, not like a
+meal, eaten just so often in the day. This idea
+of teaching by paroxysms is one of the fatal
+mistakes of the age."</p>
+
+<p>So all that warm July Johnnie had French
+lessons and German, and lessons in natural
+philosophy, beside studying English literature
+after a plan of Miss Inches' own, which combined
+history and geography and geology, with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>
+readings from various books, and accounted for
+the existence of all the great geniuses of the
+world, as if they had been made after a regular
+recipe,&mdash;something like this:&mdash;</p>
+<div class='center'>TO MAKE A POET.</div>
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p>Take a political situation, add a rocky soil, and the
+western slope of a great water-shed, pour into a mould
+and garnish with laurel leaves. It will be found delicious!</p></div>
+
+<p>The "lambent blue" of Johnnie's eyes grew
+more lambent than ever as she tried to make
+head and tail of this wonderful hash of people
+and facts. I am afraid that Mamma Marion
+was disappointed in the intelligence of her pupil,
+but Johnnie did her best, though she was rather
+aggrieved at being obliged to study at all in
+summer, which at home was always play-time.
+The children she knew were having a delightful
+vacation there, and living out of doors from
+morning till night.</p>
+
+<p>As the weeks went on she felt this more and
+more. Change of air was making her rosy and
+fat, and with returning strength a good deal of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>
+the old romping, hearty Johnnie came back; or
+would have come, had there been anybody to
+romp with. But there was nobody, for Miss
+Inches scarcely ever invited children to her
+house. They were brought up so poorly she
+said. There was nothing inspiring in their
+contact. She wanted Johnnie to be something
+quite different.</p>
+
+<p>So Johnnie seldom saw anybody except
+"Mamma Marion" and her friends, who came
+to drink tea and talk about "Protoplasm," and
+the "Higher Education of Women," which
+wasn't at all interesting to poor Curly. She
+always sat by, quietly and demurely, and Miss
+Inches hoped was listening and being improved,
+but really she was thinking about something else,
+or longing to climb a tree or have a good game
+of play with real boys and girls. Once, in the
+middle of a tea-party, she stole upstairs and
+indulged in a hearty cry all to herself, over the
+thought of a little house which she and Dorry
+and Phil had built in Paradise the summer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>
+before; a house of stumps and old boards,
+lined with moss, in which they had had <i>such</i> a
+good time.</p>
+
+<p>Almost as soon as they got home, Miss Inches
+sent to Boston for papers and furniture, and
+devoted her spare time to fitting up a room for
+her adopted child. Johnnie was not allowed to
+see it till all was done, then she was led triumphantly
+in. It was pretty&mdash;and queer&mdash;perhaps
+queerer than pretty. The walls were
+green-gray, the carpet gray-green, the furniture
+pale yellow, almost white, with brass handles
+and hinges, and lines of dull red tiles set into
+the wood. Every picture on the walls had a
+meaning, Miss Inches explained.</p>
+
+<p>"Some of these I chose to strengthen your
+mind, Johnnie, dear," she said. "These portraits,
+for example. Here are Luther, Mahomet, and
+Theodore Parker, three of the great Protestants
+of the world. Life, to be worthy, must be
+more or less of a protest always. I want you to
+renumber that. This photograph is of Michael<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>
+Angelo's Moses. I got you that too, because it
+is so strong. I want you to be strong. Do you
+like it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think it would be prettier without the
+curl-papers," faltered the bewildered Johnnie.</p>
+
+<p>"Curl-papers! My dear child, where are your
+eyes? Those are horns. He wore horns as a
+law-giver."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am," said Johnnie, not daring to
+ask any more questions for fear of making more
+mistakes.</p>
+
+<p>"These splendid autotypes are from the ceiling
+of the Sistine Chapel in Rome, the glory
+of the world," went on Miss Inches. "And
+here, Johnnie, is the most precious of all. This
+I got expressly for you. It is an education to
+have such a painting as that before your eyes.
+I rely very much upon its influence on you."</p>
+
+<p>The painting represented what seemed to be
+a grove of tall yellow-green sea-weeds, waving
+against a strange purple sky. There was a
+path between the stems of the sea-weeds, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>
+up this path trotted a pig, rather soft and
+smudgy about his edges, as if he were running a
+little into the background. His quirly tail was
+smudgy also; and altogether it was more like
+the ghost of a pig than a real animal, but Miss
+Inches said <i>that</i> was the great beauty of the
+picture.</p>
+
+<p>Johnnie didn't care much for the painted pig,
+but she liked him better than the great Reformers,
+who struck her as grim and frightful;
+while the very idea of going to sleep in the
+room with the horned Moses scared her almost
+to death. It preyed on her mind all day; and
+at night, after Johnnie had gone to bed, Miss
+Inches, passing the door, heard a little sob, half
+strangled by the pillows. She went in.</p>
+
+<p>"What <i>is</i> the matter?" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>"It's that awful man with horns," gasped
+Johnnie, taking her head out from under the
+bedclothes. "I can't go to sleep, he frightens
+me so."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my darling, what, <i>what</i> weakness," cried
+Mamma Marion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She was too kind, however, to persist in
+any plan which made Johnnie unhappy, so
+Moses came down, and Johnnie was allowed to
+choose a picture to fill his place. She selected a
+chromo of three little girls in a swing, a dreadful
+thing, all blue and red and green, which
+Miss Inches almost wept over. But it was a
+great comfort to Johnnie. I think it was the
+chromo which put it into Mamma Marion's head
+that the course of instruction chosen for her
+adopted child was perhaps a little above her
+years. Soon after she surprised Johnnie by the
+gift of a doll, a boy doll, dressed in a suit of
+Swedish gray, with pockets. In one hand the
+doll carried a hammer, and under the other
+arm was tucked a small portfolio.</p>
+
+<p>"I like to make your sports a little instructive
+when I can," she said, "so I have dressed
+this doll in the costume of Linn&aelig;us, the great
+botanist. See what a nice little herbarium he
+has got under his arm. There are twenty-four
+tiny specimens in it, with the Latin and English<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>
+names of each written underneath. If you
+could learn these perfectly, Johnnie, it would
+give you a real start in botany, which is the
+most beautiful of the sciences. Suppose you
+try. What will you name your doll, darling?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," replied Johnnie, glaring at
+the wax-boy with very hostile feelings.</p>
+
+<p>"Linn&aelig;us? No, I don't quite like to give
+that name to a doll. Suppose, Johnnie, we
+christen him <i>Hortus Siccus</i>. That's the Latin
+name for a herbal, and will help you to remember
+it when you form one of your own. Now
+take him and have a good play."</p>
+
+<p>How was it possible to have a good play with
+a doll named <i>Hortus Siccus</i>? Johnnie hated
+him, and could not conceal the fact. Miss Inches
+was grieved and disappointed. But she
+said to herself, "Perhaps she is just too old for
+dolls and just too young to care for pictures.
+It isn't so easy to fix a child's mental position
+as I thought it would be. I must try something
+else."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She really loved Johnnie and wished to make
+her happy, so the thought occurred of giving
+her a child's party. "I don't approve of them,"
+she told her friends. "But perhaps it may be
+possible to combine some instruction with the
+amusements, and Johnnie is <i>so</i> pleased. Dear
+little creature, she is only eleven, and small
+things are great at that age. I suppose it is
+always so with youth."</p>
+
+<p>Twenty children were asked to the party.
+They were to come at four, play for two hours
+in the garden, then have supper, and afterward
+games in the parlor.</p>
+
+<p>Johnnie felt as if she had taken a dose of
+laughing-gas, at the sight of twenty boys and
+girls all at once, real boys, real girls! How long
+it was since she had seen any! She capered and
+jumped in a way which astonished Miss Inches,
+and her high spirits so infected the rest that a
+general romp set in, and the party grew noisy
+to an appalling degree.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Johnnie dear, no more 'Tag,'" cried<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>
+poor Mamma Marion, catching her adopted
+child and wiping her hot face with a handkerchief.
+"It is really too rude, such a game as
+that. It is only fit for boys."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, please!&mdash;please!&mdash;<i>please</i>!" entreated
+Johnnie. "It is splendid. Papa always let us;
+he did indeed, he always did."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you were my child now, and
+anxious for better things than tag," said Miss
+Inches gravely. Johnnie had to submit, but
+she pouted, shrugged her shoulders, and looked
+crossly about her, in a way which Mamma
+Marion had never seen before, and which annoyed
+her very much.</p>
+
+<p>"Now it is time to go to supper," she announced.
+"Form yourselves into a procession,
+children. Johnnie shall take this tambourine
+and Willy Parker these castanets, and we will
+march in to the sound of music."</p>
+
+<p>Johnnie liked to beat the tambourine very
+much, so her sulks gave place at once to smiles.
+The boys and girls sorted themselves into couples,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>
+Miss Inches took the head of the procession
+with an accordion, Willy Parker clashed
+the castanets as well as he could, and they all
+marched into the house. The table was beautifully
+spread with flowers and grapes and pretty
+china. Johnnie took the head, Willy the foot,
+and Dinah the housemaid helped them all round
+to sliced peaches and cream.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Inches meanwhile sat down in the corner
+of the room and drew a little table full of books
+near her. As soon as they were all served, she
+began,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Now, dear children, while you eat, I will
+read aloud a little. I should like to think that
+each one of you carried away one thought at
+least from this entertainment,&mdash;a thought which
+would stay by you, and be, as it were, seed-grain
+for other thoughts in years to come.
+First, I will read 'Abou Ben Adhem,' by Leigh
+Hunt, an English poet."</p>
+
+<p>The children listened quietly to Abou Ben
+Adhem, but when Miss Inches opened another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>
+book and began to read sentences from Emerson,
+a deep gloom fell upon the party. Willy
+Parker kicked his neighbor and made a face.
+Lucy Hooper and Grace Sherwood whispered
+behind their napkins, and got to laughing till
+they both choked. Johnnie's cross feelings
+came back; she felt as if the party was being
+spoiled, and she wanted to cry. A low buzz of
+whispers, broken by titters, went round the table,
+and through it all Miss Inches' voice sounded
+solemn and distinct, as she slowly read one passage
+after another, pausing between each to let
+the meaning sink properly into the youthful
+mind.</p>
+
+<p>Altogether the supper was a failure, in spite
+of peaches and cream and a delicious cake full
+of plums and citron. When it was over they
+went into the parlor to play. The game <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'o'">of</ins>
+"Twenty Questions" was the first one chosen.
+Miss Inches played too. The word she suggested
+was "iconoclast."</p>
+
+<p>"We don't know what it means," objected
+the children.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't you, dears? It means a breaker
+of idols. However, if you are not familiar with
+it we will choose something else. How would
+'Michael Angelo' do?"</p>
+
+<p>"But we never heard any thing about him."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Inches was shocked at this, and began
+a little art-lecture on the spot, in the midst of
+which Willy Parker broke in with, "I've thought
+of a word,&mdash;'hash'?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes! Capital! Hash is a splendid
+word!" chorussed the others, and poor Miss
+Inches, who had only got as far as Michael
+Angelo's fourteenth year, found that no one
+was listening, and stopped abruptly. Hash
+seemed to her a vulgar word for the children to
+choose, but there was no help for it, and she
+resigned herself.</p>
+
+<p>Johnnie thought hash an excellent word. It
+was so funny when Lucy asked whether the
+thing chosen was animal, vegetable, or mineral?
+and Willy replied, "All three," for he explained
+in a whisper, there was always salt in hash, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>
+salt was a mineral. "Have you all seen it?"
+questioned Lucy. "Lots of times," shouted the
+children, and there was much laughing. After
+"Twenty Questions," they played "Sim says
+wiggle-waggle," and after that, "Hunt the
+Slipper." Poor, kind, puzzled Miss Inches was
+relieved when they went away, for it seemed to
+her that their games were all noisy and a fearful
+waste of time. She resolved that she would
+never give Johnnie any more parties; they upset
+the child completely, and demoralized her
+mind.</p>
+
+<p>Johnnie <i>was</i> upset. After the party she was
+never so studious or so docile as she had been
+before. The little taste of play made her dislike
+work, and set her to longing after the home-life
+where play and work were mixed with each
+other as a matter of course. She began to
+think that it would be only pleasant to make up
+her bed, or dust a room again, and she pined
+for the old nursery, for Phil's whistle, for Elsie
+and the paper-dolls, and to feel Katy's arms<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>
+round her once more. Her letters showed the
+growing home-sickness. Dr. Carr felt that the
+experiment had lasted long enough. So he discovered
+that he had business in Boston, and one
+fine September day, as Johnnie was forlornly
+poring over her lesson in moral philosophy, the
+door opened and in came Papa. Such a shriek
+as she gave! Miss Inches happened to be out,
+and they had the house to themselves for a while.</p>
+
+<p>"So you are glad to see me?" said Papa,
+when Johnnie had dried her eyes after the
+violent fit of crying which was his welcome, and
+had raised her head from his shoulder. His
+own eyes were a little moist, but he spoke
+gaily.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Papa, <i>so</i> glad! I was just longing for
+you to come. How did it happen?"</p>
+
+<p>"I had business in this part of the world, and
+I thought you might be wanting your winter
+clothes."</p>
+
+<p>Johnnie's face fell.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Must</i> I stay all winter?" she said in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
+trembling voice. "Aren't you going to take
+me home?"</p>
+
+<p>"But I thought you wanted to be 'adopted,'
+and to go to Europe, and have all sorts of fine
+things happen to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Papa, don't tease me. Mamma Marion
+is ever so kind, but I want to come back and be
+your little girl again. Please let me. If you
+don't, I shall <i>die</i>&mdash;" and Johnnie wrung her
+hands.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll see about it," said Dr. Carr. "Don't
+die, but kiss me and wash your face. It won't
+do for Miss Inches to come home and find you
+with those impolite red rims to your eyes."</p>
+
+<p>"Come upstairs, too, and see my room, while
+I wash 'em," pleaded Johnnie.</p>
+
+<p>All the time that Johnnie was bathing her
+eyes, Papa walked leisurely about looking at
+the pictures. His mouth wore a furtive smile.</p>
+
+<p>"This is a sweet thing," he observed, "this
+one with the pickled asparagus and the donkey,
+or is it a cat?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Papa! it's a pig!"</p>
+
+<p>Then they both laughed.</p>
+
+<p>I think there was a little bit of relief mixed
+with Miss Inches' disappointment at hearing of
+Johnnie's decision. The child of theory was a
+delightful thing to have in the house, but this
+real child, with moods and tempers and a will
+of her own, who preferred chromos to Raphael,
+and pined after "tag," tried her considerably.
+They parted, however, most affectionately.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-by, dear Mamma Marion," whispered
+Johnnie. "You've been just as good as good
+to me, and I love you so much,&mdash;but you know
+I am <i>used</i> to the girls and Papa."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear, I know. You're to come back
+often, Papa says, and I shall call you my girl
+always." So, with kisses, they separated, and
+Miss Inches went back to her old life, feeling
+that it was rather comfortable not to be any
+longer responsible for a "young intelligence,"
+and that she should never envy mammas with
+big families of children again, as once she had
+done.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"So we've got our Curly Locks back," said
+Katy, fondly stroking Johnnie's hair, the night
+after the travellers' return. "And you'll never
+go away from us any more, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never, never, never!" protested Johnnie,
+emphasizing each word by a kiss.</p>
+
+<p>"Not even to be adopted, travel in Europe, or
+speak Litchfield Co. French?" put in naughty
+Clover.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I've been adopted once, and that's
+enough. Now I'm going to be Papa's little girl
+always, and when the rest of you get married
+I shall stay at home and keep house for him."</p>
+
+<p>"That's right," said Dr. Carr.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p>
+<h2>GOOSEY, GOOSEY GANDER.</h2>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 350px;">
+<img src="images/illus-047.png" width="350" height="389" alt="Goosey, Goosey" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<p>"BUT why
+must I go to
+bed? It isn't
+time, and I'm
+not sleepy yet,"
+pleaded Dickie,
+holding fast by the
+side of the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Dickie,
+don't be naughty.
+It's time because I say that it's time."</p>
+
+<p>"Papa never tells me it's time when it's light
+like this," argued Dickie. "<i>He</i> doesn't ever
+send me to bed till seven o'clock. I'm not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
+going till it's a great deal darker than this. So
+there, Mally Spence."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, you are, Dickie darling," replied
+Mally coaxingly. "The reason it's light is because
+the days are so long now. It's quite late
+really,&mdash;almost seven o'clock,&mdash;that is," she
+added hastily, "it's past six (two minutes past!),
+and sister wants to put Dickie to bed, because
+she's going to take tea with Jane Foster, and
+unless Dick is safe and sound she can't go.
+Dickie would be sorry to make sister lose her
+pleasure, wouldn't he?"</p>
+
+<p>"I wiss you didn't want me to go," urged
+Dick, but he was a sweet-tempered little soul,
+so he yielded to Mally's gentle pull, and suffered
+her to lead him in-doors. Upstairs they went,
+past Mally's room, Papa's,&mdash;up another flight of
+stairs, and into the attic chamber where Dick
+slept alone. It was a tiny chamber. The ceiling
+was low, and the walls sloped inward like
+the sides of a tent. It would have been too
+small to hold a grown person comfortably, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>
+there was room in plenty for Dickie's bed, one
+chair, and the chest of drawers which held his
+clothes and toys. One narrow window lighted
+it, opening toward the West. On the white
+plastered wall beside it, lay a window-shaped
+patch of warm pink light. The light was reflected
+from the sunset. Dickie had seen this
+light come and go very often. He liked to
+have it there; it was so pretty, he thought.</p>
+
+<p>Malvina undressed him. She did not talk as
+much as usual, for her head was full of the tea-party,
+and she was in a hurry to get through
+and be off. Dickie, however, was not the least
+in a hurry. Slowly he raised one foot, then the
+other, to have his shoes untied, slowly turned
+himself that Mally might unfasten his apron.
+All the time he talked. Mally thought she had
+never known him ask so many questions, or
+take so much time about every thing.</p>
+
+<p>"What makes the wall pink?" he said. "It
+never is 'cept just at bedtime."</p>
+
+<p>"It's the sun."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Why doesn't the sun make it that color
+always?"</p>
+
+<p>"The sun is setting now. He is not setting
+always."</p>
+
+<p>"That's an improper word. You mustn't
+say it."</p>
+
+<p>"What's an improper word?"</p>
+
+<p>"Papa <i>said</i>, when I said 'setting on the door-steps,'
+that it wasn't proper to say that. He
+said I must say <i>sitting</i> on the door steps."</p>
+
+<p>"That isn't the same thing, Goosey Gander,"
+cried Mally laughing. "The sun sets and little
+boys sit."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not a goosey gander," responded Dickie.
+"And Papa <i>said</i> it wasn't proper."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind," said Mally, whipping on his
+night-gown: "you're a darling, if you are a
+goosey. Now say your prayers nicely."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," replied Dick, dreamily. He knelt
+down and began his usual prayer. "Please,
+God, bless Papa and Mally and Gwandmamma
+and&mdash;" "make Dick a good boy" should have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>
+come next, but his thoughts wandered. "Why
+don't the sun sit as well as little boys?" he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Dickie, Dickie!" cried the scandalized
+Malvina. "You're saying your prayers, you
+know. Good children don't stop to ask questions
+when they're saying their prayers."</p>
+
+<p>Dickie felt rebuked. He finished the little
+prayer quickly. Mally lifted him into bed.
+"It's so warm that you won't want this," she
+said, folding back the blanket. Then she stooped
+to kiss him.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me a story before you go," pleaded
+Dickie, holding her tight.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, not to-night, darling, because I shall
+be late to Jane's if I do." She kissed him
+hastily.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think it's nice at all to go to bed
+when the sun hasn't sit, and I'm not sleepy a
+bit, and there isn't nothing to play with," remarked
+Dick, plaintively.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll fall asleep in a minute or two, Goosey,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>
+then you won't want any thing to play with,"
+said Mally, hurrying away.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm <i>not</i> a goosey," shouted Dick after her.
+Ten minutes later, as she was tying her bonnet
+strings, she heard him calling from the top of
+the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, Dickie?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not a goose. Goosies has feathers.
+They say 'quack.'"</p>
+
+<p>"You're the kind that hasn't feathers and
+doesn't say quack," replied Mally from below.
+"No, darling, you're not a goose; you're Mally's
+good boy. Now, run back to bed."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I will," replied Dick, satisfied by this
+concession. He climbed into bed again, and lay
+watching the pink patch on the wall. Yellow
+bars began to appear and to dance in the midst
+of the pink.</p>
+
+<p>"Like teeny-weeney little ladders," thought
+Dick. There was a ladder outside his door,
+at top of which was a scuttle opening on to
+the roof. Dickie turned his head to look at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>
+the ladder. The scuttle-door stood open;
+from above, the pink light streamed in and lay
+on the rungs of the ladder.</p>
+
+<p>"I did go up that ladder once," soliloquized
+Dick. "Papa took me. It was velly nice up
+there. I wiss Papa would take me again.
+Mally, she said it was dangewous. I wonder
+why she said it was dangewous? Mally's a very
+funny girl, I think. She didn't ought to put
+me to bed so early. I can't go to sleep at all.
+Perhaps I sha'n't ever go to sleep, not till morning,&mdash;then
+she'd feel sorry.</p>
+
+<p>"If I was a bird I could climb little bits of
+ladders like that," was his next reflection. "Or
+a fly. I'd like to be a fly, and eat sugar, and
+say b-u-z-z-z all day long. Only then perhaps
+some little boy would get me into the corner
+of the window and squeeze me all up tight with
+his fum." Dickie cast a rueful look at his own
+guilty thumb as he thought this. "I wouldn't
+like that! But I'd like very much indeed to
+buzz and tickle Mally's nose when she was twying<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>
+to sew. She'd slap and slap, and not hit me,
+and I'd buzz and tickle. How I'd laugh! But
+perhaps flies don't know how to laugh, only just
+to buzz.</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+"'Pretty, curious, buzzy fly.'<br />
+</div>
+
+<div class='unindent'>That's what my book says."</div>
+
+<p>The pink glow was all gone now, and Dick
+shifted his position.</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>wiss</i> I could go to sleep," he thought.
+"It isn't nice at all to be up here and not have
+any playthings. Mally's gone, else she'd get me
+something to amoose myself with. I'd like my
+dwum best. It's under the hall table, I guess.
+P'waps if I went down I could get it."</p>
+
+<p>As this idea crossed his mind, Dickie popped
+quickly out of bed. The floor felt cool and
+pleasant to his bare little feet as he crossed to
+the door. He had almost reached the head of
+the stairs when, looking up, something so pretty
+met his eyes that he stopped to admire. It was
+a star, shining against the pure sky like a twinkling
+silver lamp. It seemed to beckon, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
+ladder to lead straight up to it. Almost without
+stopping to think, Dickie put his foot on the
+first rung and climbed nimbly to the top of the
+ladder. The star was just as much out of reach
+when he got there as it had been before, but
+there were other beautiful sights close at hand
+which were well worth the trouble of climbing
+after.</p>
+
+<p>Miles and miles and miles of sky for one thing.
+It rose above Dickie's head like a great blue
+dome pierced with pin-pricks of holes, through
+which little points of bright light quivered and
+danced. Far away against the sky appeared
+a church spire, like a long sharp finger pointing
+to Heaven. One little star exactly above,
+seemed stuck on the end of the spire. Dickie
+wondered if it hurt the star to be there. He
+stepped out on to the roof and wandered about.
+The evening was warm and soft. No dew fell.
+The shingles still kept the heat of the sun, and
+felt pleasant and comfortable under his feet.
+By-and-by a splendid rocker-shaped moon came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>
+from behind the sky's edge where she had been
+hiding away, and sailed slowly upward. She
+was a great deal bigger than the stars, but they
+didn't seem afraid of her in the least. Dickie
+reflected that if he were a star he should hurry
+to get out of her way; but the stars didn't mind
+the moon's being there at all, they kept their
+places, and shone calmly on as they had done
+before she came.</p>
+
+<p>He was standing, when the moon appeared,
+by the low railing which guarded the edge of
+the roof. The railing was of a very desirable
+height. Dickie could just rest his chin on
+top of it, which was nice. Suddenly a loud
+"Maau-w!" resounded from above. Dickie
+jumped, and gave his poor chin a knock against
+the railing. It couldn't be the moon, could it?
+Moons didn't make noises like that.</p>
+
+<p>He looked up. There, on the ridge pole of
+the next roof, sat a black cat, big and terrible
+against the sky. "Ma-a-uw," said the cat again,
+louder than before.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Why, pussy, what's the matter?" cried
+Dick. His voice quavered a little, but he tried
+to speak boldly. Pussy was displeased at the
+question. She hissed, put up her back, swelled
+her tail to a puff, and fled to a distant part of
+the roof, where, from some hidden ambush, Dick
+could hear her scolding savagely.</p>
+
+<p>"She's a cwoss cat, I guess," he remarked philosophically.
+"Why, this chimney is warm," he
+cried, as his arm touched the bricks. "It's
+'cause there used to be a fire in there. But
+there isn't any smoke coming out. I wonder if
+all the chimneys are warm too, like this one."</p>
+
+<p>There was another chimney not far off, and
+Dick hastened to try the experiment. To do
+this he was obliged to climb a railing, but it was
+low and easy to get over. The second chimney
+was cold, but a little farther on appeared a third,
+and Dick proceeded to climb another railing.</p>
+
+<p>But before he reached this third chimney, a
+surprising and interesting sight attracted his
+attention. This was a scuttle door just like the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>
+one at home, standing open, with a ladder leading
+down into a garret below.</p>
+
+<p>Dick peered over the edge of the scuttle.
+There was no little chamber in this attic like his
+at home. It was all an open space, crammed
+with trunks, furniture, boxes, and barrels. He
+caught sight of a rocking-horse standing in a
+corner; a rocking-horse with a blue saddle on
+his wooden back, and a fierce bristling mane
+much in need of brush and comb. Drawn by
+irresistible attraction, Dickie put, first one foot,
+then the other, over the scuttle's edge, crept
+down the ladder, and in another moment stood
+by the motionless steed. Thick dust lay on
+the saddle, on the rockers, and on the stiffly
+stretched-out tail, from which most of the red
+paint had been worn away. It was evidently
+a long time since any little boy had mounted
+there, chirruped to the horse, and ridden gloriously
+away, pursuing a fairy fox through imaginary
+fields. The eye of the wooden horse was
+glazed and dim. Life had lost its interest to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>
+the poor animal, turned out, as it were, to pasture
+as best he might in the dull, silent garret.</p>
+
+<p>Dickie patted the red neck, a timid, affectionate
+pat, but it startled the horse a little,
+for he shook visibly, and swayed to and fro.
+There was evidently some "go" left in him,
+in spite of his dejected expression of countenance.
+The shabby stirrup hung at his side.
+Dickie could just reach it with his foot. He
+seized the mane, and, pulling hard, clambered
+into the saddle. Once there, reins in hand, he
+clucked and encouraged the time-worn steed to
+his best paces. To and fro, to and fro they
+swung, faster, slower, Dickie beating with his
+heels, the wooden horse curveting and prancing.
+It was famous! The dull thud of the rockers
+echoed through the garret, and somebody sitting
+in the room below raised his head to listen
+to the strange sound.</p>
+
+<p>This somebody was an old man with white
+hair and a gray, stern face, who sat beside a
+table on which were paper and lighted candles.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>
+A letter lay before him, but he was not reading
+it. When the sound of the rocking began, he
+started and turned pale. A little boy once
+used to rock in that way in the garret overhead,
+but it was long ago, and for many years
+past the garret had been silent and deserted.
+"Harry's horse!" muttered the old man with
+a look of fear as he heard the sound. He half
+rose from his chair, then he sat down again.
+But soon the noise ceased. Dickie had caught
+sight of another thing in the garret which interested
+him, and had dismounted to examine it.
+The old man sank into his chair again with a
+look of relief, muttering something about the
+wind.</p>
+
+<p>The thing which Dickie had gone to examine
+was a little arm-chair cushioned with red. It
+was just the size for him, and he seated himself
+in it with a look of great satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"I wiss this chair was mine," he said. "P'waps
+Mally'll let me take it home if I ask her."</p>
+
+<p>A noise below attracted his attention. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>
+peeped over the balusters and saw an elderly
+woman, with a candle in her hand, coming up
+from the lower story. She went into a room at
+the foot of the attic stair, leaving the door open.
+"Hester! Hester!" called a voice from below.
+The woman came from the room and went down
+again. She did not take the candle with her:
+Dick could see it shining through the open door.</p>
+
+<p>Like a little moth attracted by a flame, Dick
+wandered down the stair in the direction of the
+light. The candle was standing on the table in
+a bedroom,&mdash;a pretty room, Dickie thought,
+though it did not seem as if anybody could
+have lived in it lately. He didn't know why
+this idea came into his mind, but it did. It was
+a girl's bedroom, for a small blue dress hung on
+the wall, and on the bureau were brushes, combs,
+and hair-pins. Beside the bureau was a wooden
+shelf full of books. A bird-cage swung in the
+window, but there was no bird in it, and the
+seed glass and water cup were empty. The
+narrow bed had a white coverlid and a great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>
+white pillow. It looked all ready for somebody,
+but it was years since the girl who once owned
+the room had slept there. The old housekeeper,
+who still loved the girl, came every day to dust
+and smooth and air and sweep. She kept all
+things in their places just as they used to be in
+the former time, but she could not give to the
+room the air of life which once it had, and, do
+what she would, it looked deserted always&mdash;empty&mdash;and
+dreary.</p>
+
+<p>On the chimney-piece were ranged a row of
+toys, plaster cats, barking dogs, a Noah's ark,
+and an enormous woolly lamb. This last struck
+Dick with admiration. He stood on tip-toe with
+his hands clasped behind his back to examine it.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear," he sighed, "I wiss I had that
+lamb." Then he gave a jump, for close to him,
+in a small chair, he saw what seemed to be a
+little girl, staring straight at him.</p>
+
+<p>It was a big, beautiful doll, in a dress of faded
+pink, and a pink hat and feather. Dick had
+never seen such a fine lady before; she quite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>
+fascinated him. He leaned gently forward and
+touched the waxen hand. It was cold and
+clammy; Dick did not like the feel, and retreated.
+The unwinking eyes of the doll followed
+him as he sidled away, and made him
+uncomfortable.</p>
+
+<p>In the opposite room the old man still sat with
+his letter before him. The letter was from the
+girl who once played with the big doll and slept
+in the smooth white bed. She was not a child
+now. Years before she had left her father's
+house against his will, and in company with a
+person he did not like. He had said then that
+he should never forgive her, and till now she
+had not asked to be forgiven. It was a long
+time since he had known any thing about her.
+Nobody ever mentioned her name in his hearing,
+not even the old housekeeper who loved
+her still, and never went to bed without praying
+that Miss Ellen might one day come back.
+Now Ellen had written to her father. The
+letter lay on the table.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I was wrong," she wrote, "but I have been
+punished. We have suffered much. My husband
+is dead. I will not speak of him, for I
+know that his name will anger you; but, father,
+I am alone, ill, and very poor. Can you not forgive
+me now? Do not think of me as the wild,
+reckless girl who disobeyed you and brought
+sorrow to your life. I am a weary, sorrowful
+woman, longing, above all other things, to be
+pardoned before I die,&mdash;to come home again to
+the house where all my happy years were spent.
+Let me come, father. My little Hester, named
+after our dear nurse, mine and Harry's, is a
+child whom you would love. She is like me as
+I used to be, but far gentler and sweeter than I
+ever was. Let me put her in your arms. Let
+me feel that I am forgiven for my great fault,
+and I will bless you every day that I live.
+Dear father, say yes. Your penitent <span class="smcap">Ellen</span>."</p>
+
+<p>Two angels stood behind the old man as he
+read this letter. He did not see them, but he
+heard their voices as first one and then the
+other bent and whispered in his ear.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Listen," murmured the white angel with
+radiant moonlit wings. "Listen. You loved
+her once so dearly. You love her still. I
+know you do."</p>
+
+<p>"No," breathed the darker angel. "You
+swore that you would not forgive her. Keep
+your word. You always said that she would
+come back as soon as she was poor or unhappy,
+or that scamp treated her badly. It makes no
+difference in the facts. Let her suffer; it serves
+her right."</p>
+
+<p>"Remember what a dear child she used to
+be," said the fair angel, "so bright, so loving.
+How she used to dance about the house and
+sing; the sun seemed to shine always when she
+came into the room. She loved you truly then.
+Her little warm arms were always about your
+neck. She loves you still."</p>
+
+<p>"What is love worth," came the other voice,
+"when it deceives and hurts and betrays? All
+these long years you have suffered. It is her
+turn now."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Remember that it was partly your fault,"
+whispered the spirit of good. "You were harsh
+and stern. You did not appeal to her love, but
+to her obedience. She had a high spirit; you
+forgot that. And she was only sixteen."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite old enough to know better," urged
+the spirit of evil. "Remember the hard life you
+have led ever since. The neighbors speak of
+you as a stern, cruel man; the little children
+run away when you appear. Whose fault is
+that? Hers. She ought to pay for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Think of the innocent child who never did
+you wrong, and who suffers too. Think of the
+dear Lord who forgives your sins. Pray to him.
+He will help you to forgive her,"&mdash;urged the
+good angel, but in fainter tones, for the black
+angel spoke louder, and thrust between with his
+fierce voice.</p>
+
+<p>"The thing is settled. Why talk of prayer
+or pardon? Let her go her way."</p>
+
+<p>As this last whisper reached his ear the old
+man raised his bent head. A hard, vindictive<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>
+look was in his eyes. He seized the letter and
+tore it in two. "Alas! alas!" sighed the sweet
+angel, while the evil one rejoiced and waved his
+dark wings in triumph.</p>
+
+<p>It was at this moment that Dickie, attracted
+by the rustle of paper, appeared at the door.
+His eyes were beginning to droop a little. He
+rubbed them hard as he crossed the entry. The
+pit-pat of his bare feet made no sound on the
+carpeted floor, so that the old man had no warning
+of his presence till, turning, he saw the
+little night-gowned figure standing motionless
+in the door-way.</p>
+
+<p>He sprang from his chair and stretched out
+his hands. He tried to speak, but no voice
+came at first; then in a hoarse whisper he said,&mdash;"Harry&mdash;is
+it you? Ellen&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Dickie, terrified, fled back into the hall as if
+shod with wings. In one moment he was in
+the attic, up the ladder, on the roof. The old
+man ran blindly after him.</p>
+
+<p>"Come back, Ellen&mdash;come back!" he cried.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>
+"I will forgive you,&mdash;come back to your poor
+old father, dear child." His foot slipped as he
+spoke. It was at the stair-head. He fell forward
+heavily, and lump, bump, bump, down
+stairs he tumbled, and landed heavily in the
+hall below.</p>
+
+<p>Hester and the housemaid ran hastily from
+the kitchen at the sound of the fall. When
+they saw the old man lying in a heap at the
+foot of the stair, they were terribly frightened.
+Blood was on his face. He was quite unconscious.</p>
+
+<p>"He is dead. Mr. Kirton is dead!" cried the
+housemaid, wringing her hands.</p>
+
+<p>"No,&mdash;his heart beats," said Hester. "Run
+for Doctor Poster, Hannah, and ask Richard
+Wallis to come at once and help me lift the
+poor old gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>Hannah flew to do this errand. A moment
+after, Mr. Kirton opened his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Ellen?" he said. Then he shut
+them again. Hester glanced at the torn letter,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>
+which through all his fall the old man had held
+tightly clasped in his hand, and gave a loud cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Ellen, come back!" she exclaimed.
+"My own Miss Ellen. God has heard my
+prayers."</p>
+
+<p>When Mr. Kirton's senses returned, late in
+the night, he found himself in his own bed.
+His head felt strangely; one arm was tied up in
+a queer stiff bandage, so that he could not move
+it. A cloth wet with water lay on his forehead.
+When he stirred and groaned, a hand lifted the
+cloth, dipped it in ice-water, and put it back
+again fresh and cool. He looked up. Some
+one was bending over him, some one with a face
+which he knew and did not know. It puzzled
+him strangely. At last, a look of recognition
+came into his eyes. "Ellen?" he said, in a
+tone of question.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear father, it is I."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you come dressed as a little child
+to frighten me? You are a woman," he said
+wonderingly; "your hair is gray!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I did not come as a little child, father. I
+am an old woman now. I have come to be your
+nurse."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't understand," muttered the old man,
+but he asked no more, and presently dropped
+asleep. Ellen watched him for a long time,
+then she went across the hall to her old room,
+where Hester stood looking at a little girl, who
+lay on the bed sleeping soundly, with the pink
+doll hugged tight in her arms.</p>
+
+<p>"She is just like yourself, Miss Ellen," said
+Hester, with joyful tears in her eyes,&mdash;"just
+like your old self, with a thought more brown
+in the hair. Ah! good times have begun again
+for my poor old master; the light has come
+back to the house."</p>
+
+<p>But neither Hester nor Ellen saw the white-robed
+angel, who bent over the old man's bed
+with a face of immortal joy, and sang low songs
+of peace to make sleep deep and healing. The
+dark spirit has fled away.</p>
+
+<p>Meantime Dickie, unconscious messenger of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>
+Fate, scrambling easily over the roofs, had
+gained his own room, and was comfortably
+tucked up in his little bed. His dreams were
+of dolls, rocking-horses, black cats. So soundly
+did he sleep, that, when morning came, Mally
+had to shake him and call loudly in his ear
+before she could wake him up.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Dick!" she cried, "look at your
+night-gown. It's all over dust, and there are
+one&mdash;two&mdash;three tears in the cotton. What
+<i>have</i> you been doing?"</p>
+
+<p>But Dickie could not tell.</p>
+
+<p>"I dweamed that I walked about on the woof,"
+he said. "But I guess I didn't weally, did I?"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;">
+<img src="images/illus-072.png" width="350" height="263" alt="Little Bo Peep" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2>LITTLE BO PEEP.</h2>
+
+
+<p>THE sun was setting at the end of an August
+day. Everybody was glad to see the last of
+him, for the whole world felt scorched and hot,&mdash;the
+ground, the houses,&mdash;even the ponds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>
+looked warm as they stretched in the steaming
+distance. On the edge of the horizon the sun
+winked with a red eye, as much as to say,
+"Don't flatter yourselves, I shall be back again
+soon;" then he slowly sank out of sight. It
+was comforting to have him go, if only for a
+little while. "Perhaps," thought the people,
+"a thunder-storm or something may come
+along before morning, and cool him off."</p>
+
+<p>Little Mell Davis was as glad as anybody
+when the sun disappeared. It had been a hard
+day. Her step-mother had spent it in making
+soap. Soap-making is ill-smelling, uncomfortable
+work at all times, and especially in August.
+Mrs. Davis had been cross and fractious, had
+scolded a great deal, and found many little jobs
+for Mell to do in addition to her usual tasks of
+dish-washing, table-setting, and looking after
+the children. Mell was tired of the heat; tired
+of the smell of soap, of being lectured; and when
+supper was over was very glad to sit at peace
+on the door-steps and read her favorite book, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
+tattered copy of the Fairy Tales. Soon she
+forgot the trials of the day. "Once upon a
+time there lived a beautiful Princess," she read,
+but just then came a sharp call. "Mell, Mell,
+you tiresome girl, see what Tommy is about;"
+and Mrs. Davis, dashing past, snatched Tommy
+away from the pump-handle, which he was plying
+vigorously for the benefit of his small sisters,
+who stood in a row under the spout, all
+dripping wet. Tommy was wetter still, having
+impartially pumped on himself first of all.
+Frocks, aprons, jacket, all were soaked, shoes
+and stockings were drenched, the long pig tails
+of the girls streamed large drops, as if they had
+been little rusty-colored water-pipes.</p>
+
+<p>"Look at that!" cried Mrs. Davis, exhibiting
+the half-drowned brood. "You might as
+well be deaf and blind, Mell, for any care you
+take of 'em. Give you a silly book to read,
+and the children might perish before your eyes
+for all you'd notice. Look at Isaphine, and
+Gabella Sarah. Little lambs,&mdash;as likely as not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>
+they've taken their deaths. It shan't happen
+again, though. Give me that book&mdash;" And,
+snatching Mell's treasure from her hands, Mrs.
+Davis flung it into the fire. It flamed, shrivelled:
+the White Cat, Cinderella, Beauty
+and the Beast,&mdash;all, all were turned in one
+moment into a heap of unreadable ashes! Mell
+gave one clutch, one scream; then she stood
+quite still, with a hard, vindictive look on her
+face, which so provoked her step-mother that
+she gave her a slap as she hurried the children
+upstairs. Mrs. Davis did not often slap Mell.
+"I punish my own children," she would say,
+"not other people's." "Other people's children"
+meant poor Mell.</p>
+
+<p>It was not a very happy home, this of the
+Davis's. Mell's father was captain of a whaler,
+and almost always at sea. It was three years
+now since he sailed on his last voyage. No
+word had come from him for a great many
+months, and his wife was growing anxious.
+This did not sweeten her temper, for in case he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>
+never returned, Mell's would be another back to
+clothe, another mouth to fill, when food, perhaps,
+would not be easily come by. Mell was not
+anxious about her father. She was used to
+having him absent. In fact, she seldom thought
+of him one way or another. If Mrs. Davis had
+been kinder, and had given her more time to
+read the Fairy Tales, she would have been quite
+a happy little girl, for she lived in dreams, and
+it did not take much to content her. Half her
+time was spent in a sort of inward play which
+never came out in words. Sometimes in these
+plays she was a Princess with a gold crown, and
+a delightful Prince making love to her all day
+long. Sometimes she kept a candy-shop, and
+lived entirely on sugar-almonds and sassafras-stick.
+These plays were so real to her mind
+that it seemed as if they <i>must</i> some day come
+true. Her step-mother and the children did not
+often figure in them, though once in a while she
+made believe that they were all changed into
+agreeable people, and shared her good luck.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>
+There was one thing in the house, however,
+which invariably took part in her visions. This
+was a large wooden chest with brass handles
+which stood upstairs in Mrs. Davis's room, and
+was always kept locked.</p>
+
+<p>Mell had never seen the inside of this chest
+but once. Then she caught glimpses of a red
+shawl, of some coral beads in a box, and of various
+interesting looking bundles tied up in paper.
+"How beautiful!" she had cried out eagerly,
+whereupon Mrs. Davis had closed the lid with a
+snap, and locked it, looking quite vexed. "What
+is it? Are all those lovely things yours?"
+asked Mell, and she had been bidden to hold
+her tongue, and see if the kitchen fire didn't
+need another stick of wood. It was two years
+since this happened. Mell had never seen the
+lid raised since, but every day she had played
+about the big chest and its contents.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes she played that the chest belonged
+to the beautiful Princess, and was full of her
+clothes and jewels. Sometimes a fairy lived<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>
+there, who popped out, wand in hand, and made
+things over to Mell's liking. Again, Mell played
+that she locked her step-mother up into the
+chest, and refused to release her till she promised
+never, never again, so long as she lived, to
+scold about any thing. Mrs. Davis would have
+been very vexed had she known about these
+plays. It made her angry if Mell so much as
+glanced at the chest. "There you are again,
+peeping, peeping," she would cry, and drive
+Mell before her downstairs.</p>
+
+<p>So this evening, after the burning of the
+book, Mell's sore and angry fancies flew as usual
+to the chest. "It's so big," she thought, "that
+all the children could get into it. I'll play that
+a wicked enchanter came and flew away with
+mother, and never let her come back. Then I
+should have to take care of the children; and
+I'd get somebody to nail some boards, so as to
+make five dear little cubby-houses inside the
+chest. I'd put Tommy in one, Isaphine in
+another, Arabella Jane in another, Belinda in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>
+another, and Gabella Sarah in another. Then
+I'd shut the lid down and fasten it, and wouldn't
+I have a good time! When dinner was ready
+I'd fetch a plate and spoon, feed 'em all round,
+and shut 'em up again. It would be just the
+same when I washed their faces; I'd just take a
+wet cloth and do 'em all with a couple of scrubs.
+They couldn't get into mischief I suppose in
+there. Yet I don't know. Tommy is so bad
+that he would if he could. Let me see,&mdash;what
+could he do? If he had a gimlet he'd bore
+holes in the boards, and stick pins through to
+make the others cry. I must be sure to see if
+he has any gimlets in his pocket before I put
+him in. Oh, dear, I hope I shan't forget!"</p>
+
+<p>Mell was so absorbed in these visions that she
+did not hear the gate open, and when a hand
+was suddenly laid on her shoulder she gave a
+little cry and a great jump. A tall man had
+come in, and was standing close to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Does Mrs. Captain Davis live here?" asked
+the tall man.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mell, staring at him with her big
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Is she to home?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mell again. "She's in there,"
+pointing to the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>The tall man stepped over Mell, and went in.
+Mell heard the sound of voices, and grew curious.
+She peeped in at the door. Her step-mother
+was folding a letter. She looked vexed
+about something.</p>
+
+<p>"What time shall you start?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Half-past five," replied the man. "I've my
+hands to pay at ten, and the weather's so hot
+it's best to get off early."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I must go," went on Mrs. Davis,
+"though I'd rather be whipped than do it. You
+can stop if you've a mind to: I'll be ready."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said the man. "You haven't
+got a drink of cider in the house, have you?
+This dust has made me as dry as a chip."</p>
+
+<p>"Mell, run down cellar and fetch some," said
+Mrs. Davis. "It was good cider once, but I'm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>
+afraid it's pretty hard now." She bustled about;
+brought doughnuts and a pitcher of water. The
+man drank a glass of the sour cider and went
+away. Mrs. Davis sat awhile thinking. Then
+she turned sharply on Mell.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got to go from home to-morrow on
+business," she said. "Perhaps I shall be back by
+tea-time, and perhaps I sha'n't. If there was
+anybody I could get to leave the house with I
+would, but there isn't anybody. Now, listen to
+me, Mell Davis. Don't you open a book to-morrow,
+not once; but keep your eyes on the children,
+and see that they don't get into mischief.
+If they do, I shall know who to thank for it.
+I'll make a batch of biscuit to-night before I go
+to bed; there's a pie in the cupboard, and some
+cold pork, and you can boil potatoes for the
+children's breakfast and for dinner. Are you
+listening?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes'm," replied Mell.</p>
+
+<p>"See that the children have their faces and
+hands washed," went on her step-mother. "Oh,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>
+dear, if you were a different kind of girl how
+much easier would it be! I wish your father
+would come home and look after his own affairs,
+instead of my having to leave things at sixes and
+sevens and go running round the country hunting
+up his sick relations for him."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it grandmother who is sick?" asked Mell
+timidly. She had never seen her grandmother,
+but she had played about her very often.</p>
+
+<p>"No," snapped Mrs. Davis. "It's your
+Uncle Peter. Don't ask questions; it's none
+of your business who's sick. Mind you strain
+the milk the first thing to-morrow, and wring
+out the dishcloth when you're through with it.
+Oh, dear, to think that I should have to go!"</p>
+
+<p>Mell crept to bed. She was so very tired
+that it seemed just one moment before Mrs.
+Davis was shaking her arm, and calling her to
+get up at once, for it was five o'clock. Slowly
+she unclosed her sleepy eyes. Sure enough,
+the night was gone. A fiery red bar in the
+East showed that the sun too was getting out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>
+of bed, and making ready for a hot day's work.
+Mell rubbed her eyes. She wished that it was
+all a dream, from which she had waked only to
+fall asleep again. But it was no use playing at
+dreams with Mrs. Davis standing by.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Davis was by no means in a humor for
+play. People rarely are at five in the morning.
+She rushed about the house like a whirlwind,
+giving Mell directions, and scolding her in advance
+for all the wrong things she was going to
+do, till the poor child was completely stunned
+and confused. By and by the tall man appeared
+with his wagon. Mrs. Davis got in and drove
+away, ordering and lecturing till the last moment.
+"What's the use of telling, for you're
+sure to get it all wrong," were her last words,
+and Mell thought so too.</p>
+
+<p>She walked back to the house feeling stupid
+and unhappy. But the quiet did her good, and
+as gradually she realized that her step-mother
+was actually gone,&mdash;gone for the whole day,&mdash;her
+spirits revived, and she began to smile and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>
+sing softly to herself. Very few little girls of
+twelve would, I think, have managed better
+than Mell did for the first half of that morning.</p>
+
+<p>First she got breakfast, only bread and milk
+and baked potatoes, but there is a wrong as well
+as a right way with even such simple things, and
+Mell really did all very cleverly. She swept
+the kitchen, strained the milk, wound the clock.
+Then, as a sound of twittering voices began
+above, she ran up to the children, washed and
+dressed, braided the red pigtails, and got them
+downstairs successfully, with only one fight between
+Tommy and Isaphine, and a roaring fit
+from Arabella Jane, who was a tearful child.
+After breakfast, while the little ones played on
+the door-steps, she tidied the room, mended the
+fire, washed plates and cups, and put them away
+in the cupboard, wrung out the dishcloth according
+to orders, and hung it on its nail. When
+this was finished she looked about with pride.
+The children were unusually peaceful; altogether,
+the day promised well. "Mother'll not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>
+say that I'm a good-for-nothing girl <i>this</i> time,"
+thought Mell, and tried to recollect what should
+be done next.</p>
+
+<p>The kerosene can caught her eye.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll clean the lamp," she said.</p>
+
+<p>She had never cleaned the lamp before, but
+had seen her step-mother do it very often. First,
+she took the lamp-scissors from the table drawer
+and cut the wick, rather jaggedly, but Mell did
+not know that. Then she tipped the can to fill
+the lamp. Here the misfortunes of the day
+began; for the can slipped, and some of the oil
+was spilled on the floor. This terrified Mell, for
+that kitchen-floor was the idol of Mrs. Davis's
+heart. It was scrubbed every day, and kept as
+white as snow. Mell knew that her step-mother's
+eyes would be keen as Blue Beard's to detect a
+spot; and, with all the energy of despair, she
+rubbed and scoured with soap and hot water.
+It was all in vain. The spot would not come
+out.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll put a chair there," thought Mell. "Then
+perhaps she won't see it just at first."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I want that scissors," cried Tommy from
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>"You can't have it," replied Mell, hurrying
+them into the drawer. "It's a bad scissors,
+Tommy, all oily and dirty. Nice little boys
+don't want to play with such dirty scissors as
+that."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, they do," whined Tommy, quite unconvinced.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, children," continued Mell, "I'm going
+upstairs to make the beds. You must play just
+here, and not go outside the gate till I come
+down again. I shall be at the window, and see
+you all the time. Will you promise to be good
+and do as I tell you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Es," lisped Gabella Sarah.</p>
+
+<p>"Es," said Isaphine.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," clamored the others, headed by
+Tommy, who was a child of promise if ever
+there was one. All the time his eyes were
+fixed on the table drawer!</p>
+
+<p>Mell went upstairs. First into the children's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>
+room, then into her own. She put her head
+out of the window once or twice. The children
+were playing quietly; Tommy had gone in for
+something, they said. Last of all, Mell went
+to her step-mother's room. She had just begun
+to smooth the bed, when an astonishing sight
+caught her eyes. <i>The key was in the lock of
+the big chest!</i></p>
+
+<p>Yes, actually, the fairy treasury, home of so
+many fancies, was left unlocked! How Mrs.
+Davis came to do so careless a thing will never
+be known, but that she had done so was a fact.</p>
+
+<p>Mell thought at first that her eyes deceived
+her. She stole across the room and touched the
+key timidly with her forefinger to make sure.
+Then she lifted the lid a little way and let it fall
+again, looking over her shoulder as if fearing to
+hear a sharp voice from the stairs. Next, grown
+bolder, she opened the lid wide. There lay the
+red shawl, just as she remembered it, the coral
+beads in their lidless box, the blue paper parcels,
+and, forgetting all consequences in a rapture of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>
+curiosity, Mell sat down on the floor, lifted out
+the red shawl, tied the coral beads round her
+neck, and plunged boldly into the contents of
+the big chest.</p>
+
+<p>Such a delightful chest as it proved to be!
+Mell thought it a great deal better than any
+fairy tale, as one by one she lifted out and
+handled the things which it contained. First
+and most beautiful was a parasol. It was covered
+with faded pink silk trimmed with fringe,
+and had a long white handle ending in a curved
+hook. Mell had never seen a parasol so fine.
+She opened it, shut it, opened it again; she
+held it over her head and went to the glass to
+see the effect. It was gorgeous, it was like the
+parasols of Fairy-land, Mell thought. She laid it
+on the floor close beside her, that she might see
+it all the while she explored the chest.</p>
+
+<p>Below the parasol was a big paper box. Mell
+lifted the lid. A muff and tippet lay inside,
+made of yellow and brown fur like the back
+of a tortoise-shell cat. These were beautiful,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>
+too. Then came rolls of calico and woollen
+pieces, some of which were very pretty, and
+would make nice doll's dresses, Mell thought.</p>
+
+<p>A newspaper parcel next claimed her attention.
+It held an old-fashioned work-bag made
+of melon seeds strung on wire, and lined with
+green. Mell admired this exceedingly, and
+pinned it to her waist. Then she found a fan
+of white feathers with pink sticks. This was
+most charming of all. Mell fanned herself a
+long time. She could not bear to put it away.
+Princesses, she thought, must use fans like that.
+On the paper which wrapped the fan was something
+written in pencil. Mell spelled it out.
+"For my little Melicent" was what the writing
+said.</p>
+
+<p>Was the fan really hers? Perhaps the parasol
+was hers too, the coral beads, the muff and
+tippet! All sorts of delightful possibilities
+whirled through her brain, as she tossed and
+tumbled the parcels in the chest out on to the
+floor. More bundles of pieces, some knitting-needles,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>
+an old-fashioned pair of bellows (Mell
+did not know what these were), a book or two,
+a package of snuff, which flew up into her face
+and made her sneeze. Then an overcoat and
+some men's clothes folded smoothly. Mell did
+not care for the overcoat, but there were two
+dresses pinned in towels which delighted her.
+One was purple muslin, the other faded blue
+silk; and again she found her own name pinned
+on the towel,&mdash;"For my little Mell." A faint
+pleasant odor came from the folds of the blue
+silk dress. Mell searched the pocket, and found
+there a Tonquin bean, screwed up in a bit of
+paper. It was the Tonquin bean which had
+made the dress smell so pleasantly. Mell
+pressed the folds close to her nose. She was
+fond of perfumes, and this seemed to her the
+most delicious thing she ever smelt.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the clock downstairs struck something
+very long, and Mell, waking up as it were,
+recollected that it was a good while since she
+had heard any sounds from the children in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
+yard. She jumped up and ran to the window.
+No children were there.</p>
+
+<p>"Children, children, where are you?" she
+called; but nobody answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Tiresome little things," thought Mell.
+"They've gone round to the pump again. I
+must hurry, or they will be all sopping wet."
+She seized the parasol, which she could not bear
+to part with, and, leaving the other things on
+the floor, ran downstairs. The red shawl, which
+had been lying in her lap, trailed after her as
+far as the kitchen, and then fell, but Mell did
+not notice it.</p>
+
+<p>"What!" she cried, looking at the clock,
+"noon already! Why, where has the morning
+gone to?"</p>
+
+<p>Where had the children gone to? was another
+question. Back yard, side yard, front
+yard, cellar, shed, Mell searched. There were
+no small figures ranged about the pump, no
+voices replied to her calls. Mell ran to the gate.
+She strained her eyes down the road, this way,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>
+that way; not a sign of the little flock was visible
+in any direction.</p>
+
+<p>Now Mell <i>was</i> frightened. "What <i>will</i>
+mother say?" she thought, and began to run
+distractedly along the road, crying and sobbing
+as she went, and telling herself that it wasn't
+her fault, that she only went upstairs to make
+the beds,&mdash;but here her conscience gave a great
+prick. It was but ten o'clock when she went
+upstairs to make the beds!</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear!" she sobbed. "If only Tommy
+isn't drowned!" Drowning came into her head
+first, because her step-mother was always in an
+agony about the pond. The pond was a mile
+off at least, but Mrs. Davis never let the children
+even look that way if she could help it.</p>
+
+<p>Toward the pond poor Mell bent her way;
+for she thought as Tommy had been strictly forbidden
+to go there, it was probably the very
+road he had taken. The sun beat on her head
+and she put up the parasol, which through all
+her trouble she had grasped firmly in her hand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>
+Even under these dreadful circumstances, with
+the children lost, and the certainty of her step-mother's
+wrath before her, there was joy in
+carrying a parasol like that.</p>
+
+<p>By and by she met a farmer with a yoke
+of oxen.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, please," said Mell, "have you seen five
+children going this way,&mdash;four girls and one
+little boy?"</p>
+
+<p>The farmer hummed and hawed. "I did see
+some children," he said at last. "It was a
+good piece back, nearly an hour ago, I reckon.
+They was making for the pond?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear!" sighed Mell. She thanked the
+farmer, and ran on faster than ever.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you passed any children on this
+road?" she demanded of a boy with a wheelbarrow,
+who was the next person she met.</p>
+
+<p>"Boys or girls?"</p>
+
+<p>"One boy and four girls."</p>
+
+<p>"Do they belong to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, they're my brothers and sisters," said
+Mell. "Where did you see them?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Haven't seen 'em," replied the boy. He
+grinned as he spoke, seized his barrow, and
+wheeled rapidly away.</p>
+
+<p>Mell's tears broke forth afresh. What a
+horrid boy!</p>
+
+<p>The pond was very near now. It was a
+large pond. There were hills on one side of
+it; on the other the shore was low, and covered
+with thick bushes. In and out among these
+bushes went Mell, hunting for her lost flock.
+It was green and shady. Flowers grew here
+and there; bright berries hung on the boughs
+above her head; birds sang; a saucy squirrel
+ran to the end of a branch, and chippered to
+her as she passed. But Mell saw none of these
+things. She was too anxious and unhappy to
+enjoy what on any other day would have been
+a great pleasure; and she passed the flowers,
+the berries, and the chattering squirrel unheeded
+by.</p>
+
+<p>No signs of the children appeared, till at last,
+in a marshy place, a small shoe was seen sticking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>
+in the mud. Belinda's shoe! Mell knew
+it in a minute.</p>
+
+<p>She picked up the shoe, wiped the mud from
+it with a tuft of dried grass, and, carrying it in
+her hand, went forward. She was on the track
+now, and here and there prints of small feet in
+the earth guided her. She called "Tommy!
+Isaphine! Belinda!" but no answer came.
+They were either hidden cleverly, or else they
+had wandered a longer distance than seemed
+possible in so short a time.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Mell gave a shriek and a jump.
+There on the path before her lay a snake, or
+what looked like one. It did not move. Mell
+grew bold and went nearer. Alas! alas! it
+was not a snake. It was a pigtail of braided
+hair,&mdash;Isaphine's hair: the red color was unmistakable.
+She seized it. A smell of kerosene
+met her nose. Oh that Tommy!</p>
+
+<p>With the pigtail coiled inside of the lost
+shoe, Mell ran on. She was passing a thicket
+of sassafras bushes, when a sound of crying met<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>
+her ears. Instantly she stopped, and, parting
+the bushes with her hands, peered in. There
+they were, sitting in a little circle close together,&mdash;Arabella
+and Gabella Sarah fast asleep,
+with their heads in Belinda's lap; Isaphine
+crying; Tommy sitting a little apart, an evil
+smile on his face, in his hand a pair of scissors!</p>
+
+<p>"You naughty, naughty, naughty boy,"
+screamed Mell, flinging herself upon him.</p>
+
+<p>With a howl of terror, Tommy started up and
+prepared to flee. Mell caught and held him
+tight. Something flew from his lap and fell to
+the ground. Alas! alas! three more pigtails.
+Mell looked at the children. Each little head
+was cropped close. What <i>would</i> mother say?</p>
+
+<p>"He cut off my hair," sobbed Isaphine.</p>
+
+<p>"So did he cut mine," whined Belinda.
+"He took those nassy scissors you told him not
+to take, and he cut off all our hairs. Boo-hoo!
+boo-hoo! Tommy's a notty boy, he is."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to tell Ma when she comes home,
+see if I don't," added Isaphine.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I ain't a bad boy," cried Tommy. "Stop
+a-shaking of me, Mell Davis. We was playing
+they was sheep. I was a-shearing of em."</p>
+
+<p>"O Tommy, Tommy!" cried poor Mell, hot,
+angry, and dismayed, "how could you do such
+a thing?"</p>
+
+<p>"They was sheep," retorted Tommy sulkily.</p>
+
+<p>"Boo-hoo! boo-hoo!" blubbered Belinda.
+"I don't like my hair to be cut off. It makes
+my head feel all cold."</p>
+
+<p>"He didn't play nice a bit," sobbed Isaphine.
+"He's always notty to us."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll cut off your head," declared Tommy,
+threatening with the scissors.</p>
+
+<p>Mell seized the scissors, and captured them,
+Tommy kicking and struggling meantime.
+Then she waked up the babies, tied on Belinda's
+shoe, collected the unhappy pigtails, and
+said they must all go home. Home! The
+very idea made her sick with fright.</p>
+
+<p>I don't suppose such a deplorable little procession
+was ever seen before. Isaphine and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>
+Belinda went first; then the little ones, very
+cross after their nap; and, lastly, Mell, holding
+Tommy's arm, and driving the poor little shorn
+sheep before her with the handle of the parasol,
+which she used as a shepherdess uses her crook.
+They were all tired and hungry. The babies
+cried. The sun was very hot. The road
+seemed miles long. Every now and then Mell
+had to let them sit down to rest. It was nearly
+four o'clock when they reached home; and,
+long before that, Mell was so weary and discouraged
+that it seemed as if she should like to
+lie down and die.</p>
+
+<p>They got home at last. Mell's hand was on the
+garden gate, when suddenly a sight so terrible
+met her eyes that she stood rooted to the spot,
+unable to move an inch further. There in the
+doorway was Mrs. Davis. Her face was white
+with anger as she looked at the children. Mell
+felt the coral beads burn about her throat. She
+dropped the parasol as if her arm was broken,
+the guilty tails hung from her hand, and she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>
+wished with all her heart that the earth could
+open and swallow her up.</p>
+
+<p>It was a full moment before anybody spoke.
+Then "What does this mean?" asked Mrs.
+Davis, in an awful voice.</p>
+
+<p>Mell could not answer. But the children
+broke out in full chorus of lament.</p>
+
+<p>"Tommy was so bad to us." "He lost us in
+the woods." "He stole the scissors, and they
+were dirty scissors." "Mell went away and
+left us all alone."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," cried Mrs. Davis, her wrath rising
+with each word, "I know very well what you
+were up to, miss. All my things upset. As
+soon as I found out that I had forgotten my
+key, I knew very well&mdash;" her voice died away
+into the silence of horror. She had just caught
+sight of Belinda's cropped head.</p>
+
+<p>"Tommy did it. He cut off all our hairs,"
+blubbered Belinda.</p>
+
+<p>Mell shut her eyes tight. She was too
+frightened to move. She felt herself clutched,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>
+dragged in-doors, upstairs, and her ears boxed,
+all in a moment. Mrs. Davis pushed her violently
+forward, a door banged, a key turned.</p>
+
+<p>"There you stay for a week, and on bread and
+water," cried a voice through the keyhole;
+and Mell, opening her eyes, found herself in the
+dark and alone. She knew very well where
+she was,&mdash;in the closet under the attic stairs;
+a place she dreaded, because she had once seen
+a mouse there, and Mell was particularly afraid
+of mice.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't shut me up here! Please don't;
+please let me out, please," she shrieked. But
+Mrs. Davis had gone downstairs, and nobody
+replied.</p>
+
+<p>"They'll come and eat me up as soon as it
+grows dark," thought Mell; and this idea so terrified
+her that she began to beat on the door
+with her hands, and scream at the top of her
+voice. No one came. And after a while she
+grew so weary that she could scream no longer;
+so she curled herself up on the floor of the
+closet and went to sleep.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>When she woke the closet was darker than
+ever. Mell felt weak and ill for want of food.
+Her head ached; her bones ached from lying
+on the hard floor; she was feverish and very
+miserable.</p>
+
+<p>"It's dark; she's going to leave me here all
+night," sobbed Mell. "Oh! won't somebody
+come and let me out?" Now <i>would</i> have been
+a chance to play that she was a princess shut
+up in a dark dungeon! But Mell didn't feel
+like playing. She was a real little girl shut up
+in a closet, and it wasn't nice at all. There
+was no "make believe" left in her just then.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a fine scratching sound began in
+the wall close to her head. "The mouse, the
+mouse," thought Mell, and she gave a shriek so
+loud that it would have scared away a whole
+army of mice. The shriek sounded all over the
+house. It woke the children in their beds, and
+rang in the ears of Mrs. Davis, who was sitting
+down to supper in the kitchen with somebody
+just arrived,&mdash;a big, brown, rough-bearded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>
+somebody, who smelt of salt-water; Mell's father,
+in short, returned from sea.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" asked Captain Davis, putting
+down his cup.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Davis was frightened. In the excitement
+of her husband's sudden return she had
+quite forgotten poor Mell in her closet.</p>
+
+<p>"Some of the children," she answered, trying
+to speak carelessly. "I'll run up."</p>
+
+<p>Another terrible shriek. Captain Davis seized
+a candle, and hurried upstairs after his wife.</p>
+
+<p>He was just in time to see her unlock the
+closet door, and poor Mell tumble out, tear-stained,
+white, frightened almost out of her
+wits. She clutched her step-mother's dress with
+both hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't make me go in there again!" she
+pleaded. "I will be good. I'll never meddle
+with the things in the chest any more. There
+are mice in there, hundreds of 'em; they'll
+run all over me; they'll eat me up. Oh, <i>don't</i>
+make me go in there again!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's my little Mell!" cried the amazed
+Captain. "Shiver my timbers! what does this
+mean?" He lifted Mell into his arms and
+looked sternly at his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"She's been a <i>very</i> naughty girl," said Mrs.
+Davis, trying to speak boldly. "So naughty
+that I had to shut her up. Stop crying so, Mell.
+I forgive you now. I hope you'll never be so
+bad again."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, may I come out?" sobbed Mell, clinging
+to her father's neck. "You said I must stay a
+week, but I couldn't do that, the mice would
+kill me. Mice are so awful!" She shuddered
+with horror as she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"This ain't a pleasant welcome for a man just
+in from sea," remarked Captain Davis.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Davis explained and tried to smooth the
+matter over, but the Captain continued very
+sober all that evening. Mell thought it was
+because he was angry with her, but her step-mother
+knew very well that she also was in
+disgrace. The truth was that the Captain was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>
+thinking what to do. He was not a man of
+many words, but he felt that affairs at home
+must go very wrong when he was away, and
+that such a state of things was bad for his wife,
+and very bad for Mell.</p>
+
+<p>So in a day or two he went off to Cape Cod,
+"to see his old mother," as he said, in reality to
+consult her as to what should be done. When
+he came back, he asked Mell how she would like
+to go and live with Grandmother and be her
+little girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Will she shut me up in closets?" asked
+Mell apprehensively.</p>
+
+<p>"No, she'll be very kind to you if you are a
+good girl. Grandma's an old lady now. She
+wants a handy child about the house to help,
+and sort of pet and make much of."</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;guess&mdash;I'll&mdash;like&mdash;it," said Mell
+slowly. "It's a good way from here, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes,&mdash;a good way."</p>
+
+<p>Mell nodded her head in a satisfied manner.
+"<i>She'll</i> not often come there," she thought.
+"She" meant Mrs. Davis.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Davis was unusually pleasant for the few
+remaining days which Mell spent at home. I do
+not think she had ever meant to treat Mell unkindly,
+but she had a hot temper, and the care
+of five unruly children is a good deal for one
+woman to undertake, without counting in a
+little step-daughter with a head stuffed with
+fairy stories. She washed and ironed, mended
+and packed for Mell as kindly as possible, and
+did not say one cross word, not even when her
+husband brought the coral necklace from the
+big chest and gave it to Mell for her very own.
+"The child had a right to her mother's necklace,"
+he said. All was peaceful and serene,
+and when Mell said good-by she surprised herself
+by feeling quite sorry to go, and kissed
+Gabella Sarah's small face with tears in her
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Grandmother was just such a dear old woman
+as one reads about in books. Her cheeks were
+all criss-crossed with little wrinkles, which made
+her look as if she were always smiling. Her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>
+forehead was smooth, her eyes kind and blue.
+She was small, thin, and wiry. Her laugh was
+as fresh as a young woman's. Mell loved her
+at once, and was sure that she should be happy
+to live with her and be her little girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Bethuel, you've brought me a real
+good helper," said Grandmother, as Mell ran to
+and fro, setting the tea-table, cutting bread, and
+learning where things were kept. "I shall sit
+like a lady and do nothing but rock in my
+cheer now that I've got Mell." Mell heard
+the kind words, and sprang about more busily
+than ever. It was a new thing to be praised.</p>
+
+<p>Before Captain Davis went next day he
+walked over to Barnstable, and came back with
+a parcel in his hand. The parcel was for Mell.
+It contained the Fairy Tales,&mdash;all new and complete,
+bound in beautiful red covers.</p>
+
+<p>"You shall read them aloud to me in the
+evenings," said Grandmother.</p>
+
+<p>That night, if anybody had peeped through
+the window of Grandmother's little house he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>
+would have seen a pleasant sight. The kitchen
+was all in order; the lamp burned clear; Grandmother
+sat in her rocking-chair with a smile on
+her kind old face, while Mell, at her feet on a
+little stool, opened the Fairy Tales, and prepared
+to read. "Once upon a time there lived
+a beautiful Princess," she began;&mdash;then a sudden
+sense of the delightfulness of all this overcame
+her. She dropped the book into her lap,
+clasped her hands tight, and said, half to herself,
+half to Grandmother, "<i>Isn't</i> it nice?"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;">
+<img src="images/illus-108.png" width="350" height="277" alt="Mistress Mary" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2>MISTRESS MARY.</h2>
+
+
+<p>IT was the first of May; but May was in an
+April mood,&mdash;half cloudy, half shiny,&mdash;and
+belied her name. Sprinkles of silvery rain
+dotted the way-side dust; flashes of sun caught<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
+the drops as they fell, and turned each into a
+tiny mirror fit for fairy faces. The trees were
+raining too, showers of willow-catkins and
+cherry-bud calyxes, which fell noiselessly and
+strewed the ground. The children kicked the
+soft brown drifts aside with their feet as they
+walked along.</p>
+
+<p>The doors of the Methodist meeting-house at
+Valley Hill stood open, and crowds of men and
+women and children were going into them. It
+was not Sunday which called the people together:
+it was the annual Conference meeting;
+and all the country round was there to hear the
+reports and learn where the ministers were to
+be sent for the next two years. Methodist
+clergymen, you know, are not "called" by the
+people of the parish, as other clergymen are.
+They go where the church sends them, and
+every second year they are all changed to other
+parishes. This, it is thought, keeps the people
+and pastors fresh and interested in each other.
+But I don't know. Human beings, as well as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
+vegetables, have a trick of putting down roots;
+and even a cabbage or a potato would resent
+such transplanting, and would refuse to thrive.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes, when a parish has become attached
+to its minister, it will plead to have him
+stay longer. Now and then this request is
+granted; but, as a rule, the minister has to go.
+And it is a hard rule for his wife and children,
+who have to go too.</p>
+
+<p>The Valley Hill people "thought a heap" of
+their minister, Mr. Forcythe, and had begged
+hard that he might stay with them for another
+term. Everybody belonging to the church had
+come to the meeting feeling anxious, and yet
+pretty certain that the answer would be favorable.
+All over the building, people were whispering
+about the matter, and heads were nodding
+and bowing. The bonnets on these heads were
+curiously alike. Mrs. Perry, the village milliner,
+never had more than one pattern hat. "That is
+what is worn," she said; and nobody disputed
+the fact, which saved Mrs. Perry trouble. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>
+Valley Hill people liked it just as well, and
+didn't mind the lack of variety. This year Mrs.
+Perry had announced yellow to be the fashion,
+so nine out of ten of the hats present were
+trimmed with yellow ribbon crossed in just the
+same way over a yellow straw crown; and the
+church looked like a bed of sisterly tulips nodding
+and bowing in the wind.</p>
+
+<p>Bishop Judson was the person to read the
+announcements. He was a nice old man, kind
+at heart, though formal in manner, and anxious
+eyes were fixed on him as he got up with a
+paper in his hand. That important little paper
+held comfort or discomfort for ever so many
+people. Every one bent forward to listen. It
+was so still all over the church that you might
+have heard a pin drop. The Bishop began with
+a little speech about the virtues of patience and
+contentment, and how important it was that
+everybody should be quite satisfied whatever
+happened to them. Then he opened the paper.</p>
+
+<p>"Brother Johnson, Middlebury," he read.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>
+Middlebury was a favorite parish, so Brother
+Johnson looked pleased, and Sister Johnson was
+congratulated by the friends who sat near her.
+"Brother Woodward, Little Falls; Brother
+Ashe, Plunxet; Brother Allen, Claxton Corners."
+And so on. Some faces grew bright,
+some sad, as the reading proceeded. At last
+"Brother Forcythe, Redding; Brother Martin,
+Valley Hill," was announced. A quiver of disappointment
+went over the church, and a little
+girl sitting in the gallery began to cry.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, my dear," whispered her mother,
+much distressed at her sobs and gulps. People
+looked up from below; but Mary could not
+stop. She took her mother's handkerchief and
+held it tight over her mouth; but the sobs
+would come. Her heart was half-broken at the
+idea of leaving Valley Hill and going to that
+horrid Redding, where nobody wanted to go.</p>
+
+<p>Old Mrs. Clapp, from behind, reached over
+and gave her a bunch of fennel. But the fennel
+only made Mary cry harder. In Redding, she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>
+was sure, would be no kind Mrs. Clapp, no
+"meeting-house seed;" and her sobs grew
+thicker at the thought.</p>
+
+<p>"I observe that your little daughter seems to
+be distressed," said Bishop Judson, as Mrs. Forcythe
+led the sobbing Mary down from the
+gallery at the end of service. "Children of her
+age form strong attachments to places, I am
+aware. But it is well to break them before
+they become unduly strong. Here we have no
+continuing city, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said poor Mrs. Forcythe, with a meek
+sigh. She had been married fourteen years,
+and this was her seventh move.</p>
+
+<p>"Redding&mdash;hum&mdash;is a desirable place in
+some respects," went on the Bishop. "There
+is a great work to do there,&mdash;a great work. It
+requires a man of Brother Forcythe's energy to
+meet it. Mistress Mary here will doubtless find
+consolation in the thought that her father's
+sphere of usefulness is&mdash;h'm&mdash;enlarged."</p>
+
+<p>"But we shan't have any garden," faltered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>
+Mary, "Tilly Brooks, who was there before,
+says it isn't a bit nice. She never saw a flower
+all the time she was there, she said. I'd just
+planted my bed in the garden here. Mrs.
+Clapp gave me six pansies, and it was going to
+be so pretty. Now I've got to&mdash;leave&mdash;'em."
+Her voice died away into sobs.</p>
+
+<p>"Tut, tut!" said the Bishop. "The customs
+of a church cannot be set aside to accommodate
+a child's flower-bed. You'll find other things to
+please you in Redding, Mistress Mary. Come,
+come, dry your eyes. Your father's daughter
+should not set an example like this."</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," gulped Mary, mortified at this reproof
+from the Bishop, who was an important
+person, and much looked up to. She did her
+best to stop crying, but it was hard work.
+When they reached home, the sight of the pansies
+perking their yellow and purple faces up to
+meet her, renewed her grief. There was her
+mignonette seed not yet sprouted. If she had
+known that they were going away, she would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>
+not have planted any. There, worst of all, was
+the corner where she had planned such a nice
+surprise for her mother,&mdash;"A. F." in green
+parsley letters. A. F. stood for Anne Forcythe.
+Now, mother would never see the letters or
+know any thing about it. Oh dear, oh dear!</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Forcythe's own disappointment was
+great, for they had all made sure that they
+should stay. But, like a true mother, she put
+her share of the grief aside, and thought only of
+comforting Mary.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't feel so badly, dear," she said. "Recollect,
+you'll have Papa still, and me and Frank
+and little Peter. We'll manage to be happy
+somehow. Redding isn't half so disagreeable as
+you think."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is. Tilly said so. I was going to have
+radishes and a rose-bush," replied Mary tearfully.
+"There's a robin just building in the elm-tree
+now. There won't be any trees in Redding;
+only horrid hard cobble-stones."</p>
+
+<p>"We must hope for the best," said Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>
+Forcythe, who did not enjoy the idea of the
+cobble-stones any more than Mary did.</p>
+
+<p>"Only ten days more at Valley Hill," was
+the first thought that came into Mary's mind
+the next morning. She went downstairs cross
+and out of spirits. Her mother was laying
+sheets and table-cloths in a trunk. The books
+were gone from the little book-shelf; every thing
+had already begun to look unsettled and uncomfortable.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall depend on you to take care of little
+Peter," said Mrs. Forcythe. "We shall all have
+to work hard if we are to get off next Monday
+week."</p>
+
+<p>Mary gave an impatient shrug with her shoulders.
+She loved little Peter, but it seemed an
+injury just then to have to take care of him.
+All the time that her mother was sorting, counting,
+and arranging where things should go, she
+sat in the window sullen and unhappy, looking
+out at the pansy-bed. Peter grew tired of a
+companion who did nothing to amuse him, and
+began to sprawl and scramble upstairs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"O baby, come back!" cried Mary, and, I am
+sorry to say, gave him a shake. Peter cried,
+and that brought poor weary Mrs. Forcythe
+downstairs.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you manage to make him happy?"
+she said. Mary only pouted.</p>
+
+<p>All that day and the next and the next it was
+the same. Mrs. Forcythe was busy every moment.
+There were a thousand things to do,
+another thousand to remember. People kept
+coming in to say good-by. Peter wandered out
+on the door-steps when Mary's back was turned,
+took cold, and was threatened with croup. Mrs.
+Forcythe was half sick herself from worry and
+fatigue. And all this time Mary, instead of
+helping, was one of her mother's chief anxieties.
+She fretted and complained continually. Every
+thing went wrong. Each article put into the
+boxes cost her a flood of tears. Each friend
+who dropped in, renewed the sense of loss. She
+scarcely noticed her mother's pale face at all.
+All the brightness and busy-ness in her was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>
+changed for selfish lamentations, and still the
+burden of her complaint was, "I shan't have
+any flowers in Redding. My garden, oh, my
+garden."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what's come to her," said poor
+Mrs. Forcythe. "She's not like the same child
+at all." And old Mrs. Clapp, who had been very
+fond of Mary, declared that she never knew a
+girl so altered.</p>
+
+<p>"She's the most <i>contrary</i> piece you ever saw,"
+she said to her daughter. "I could have given
+her a right-down good slap just now for the way
+she spoke to her mother. It's all her fault that
+the baby took cold. She don't lift a hand to help,
+and I expect as sure as Fate that we'll have
+Mrs. Forcythe sick before we get through. I
+wouldn't have believed that such a likely girl as
+Mary Forcythe could act so."</p>
+
+<p>Poor "contrary" Mary! She was very unhappy.
+The fatal last morning came. All the
+boxes were packed. The drays, laden with furniture
+and beds, stood at the gate. Mrs. Clapp,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>
+and Mrs. Elder, the class-leader, were going over
+the house collecting last things and doing last
+jobs. Mary wandered out alone into the garden
+for a farewell look at her pets.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-by, pansies," she said, bending over
+them. There were only five in the bed now,
+for Mary had taken up one and packed it in
+paper to carry with her. A big tear hopped
+down her nose and splashed into the middle of
+the yellow pansy, her favorite of all. It turned
+up its bright kitten-face just the same. None
+of them minded Mary's going away. Flowers
+are sometimes so unkind to people.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-by, rose-bush," proceeded Mary, turning
+from the pansy-bed. "Good-by, honey-suckle.
+Good-by, peony. Good-by, matter-i-mony."
+This sounds funny, but Mary only meant by it
+a vine with a small purple flower which grew
+over the back-door. "Good-by, lilac," she went
+on. "Good-by, grass plot." This brought her
+to the gate. The wagon stood waiting to carry
+them to the railroad, three miles away. Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>
+Forcythe, with the baby in her arms, was just
+getting in. "Hurry, Mary," called her father.
+Slowly she opened the gate, slowly shut it.
+Her father helped her over the wheel. She sat
+down beside Frank. Mrs. Clapp waved her
+handkerchief, then put it to her eyes. Mary
+took a long look at the pretty garden just budding
+with spring, and burst into tears. Mr.
+Forcythe chirruped to the horse; they were off,&mdash;and
+that was their good-by to Valley Hill.</p>
+
+<p>Redding was certainly very different. It was
+an old-fashioned town with narrow streets, which
+smelt of fish. Most of the people were sailors,
+or had something to do with ships. There were
+several nice churches, and outside the town a
+few handsome houses, but there were a great
+many poor people in the place and not many
+rich ones.</p>
+
+<p>In the very narrowest of all the streets stood
+the parsonage; a little brick house with a paved
+yard behind, just wide enough for clothes-lines.
+When the wash was hung out there was not an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>
+inch to spare on either side. Mary gave up all
+hope as soon as she saw it. There was not
+room even for <i>one</i> pansy. The windows looked
+out on chimneys and roofs and other backyards,
+with lines of wet clothes flapping in the sun. Not
+a tree was to be seen. Any one might be excused
+for thinking it doleful; and Mary, having made
+up her mind beforehand to dislike it, found it
+easy to keep her resolution.</p>
+
+<p>There was no possibility of getting things to
+rights that night; though several people came
+in to help, and a comfortable supper was ready
+spread for the travellers on their arrival. Mrs.
+Forcythe was cheered by this kindness, but Mary
+could not be cheerful. She had to sleep upon a
+mattress laid on the floor. At another time this
+would have been fun, but now it did not seem
+funny at all; it was only part and parcel of the
+misery of coming to live in Redding. She cried
+herself to sleep, and came down in the morning
+with swollen eyelids and a disposition to make
+the very worst of things,&mdash;easy enough for any
+girl to do if she sets about it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She scarcely thanked her father when he went
+out and bought a red pot for the unlucky pansy,
+which, after its travels and its night in brown
+paper, looked as disconsolate as Mary herself.
+"I know it'll die right away," she muttered as
+she set it on the window-sill. "Oh, dear, there's
+mother calling. What <i>does</i> she want?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mary, dear," said Mrs. Forcythe when she
+went down, "where have you been? I want
+you to put away the dishes for me."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm so tired," objected Mary crossly.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think that mother must be tired
+too?" asked her father gravely.</p>
+
+<p>Mary blushed and began to place the cups
+and plates on the cupboard shelves. Her slow
+movements attracted her father's attention.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" he said. "At Valley
+Hill you were as brisk as a bee, always wanting
+to help in every thing. Here you seem
+unwilling to move. How is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;don't&mdash;like&mdash;Redding," broke out
+Mary in a burst of petulance.</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't seen it yet."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I have, Papa. I've seen it as much
+as I want to. It's horrid!"</p>
+
+<p>"I never knew her to behave so before," said
+Mr. Forcythe in a perplexed tone, as Mary,
+having unpacked the dishes, sobbed her way
+upstairs.</p>
+
+<p>"She'll brighten when we are settled," replied
+Mrs. Forcythe, indulgent as mothers are,
+and ready to hope the best of her child. "Oh,
+dear! there's the baby waked up. Would you
+call Mary to go to him?"</p>
+
+<p>So it went on all that week. Mr. and Mrs.
+Forcythe were very patient with Mary, hoping
+always that this evil mood would pass, and their
+bright, helpful little daughter come back to them
+again. She never refused to do any thing that
+was asked of her; but you know the difference
+between willing and unwilling service: Mary
+just did the tasks set her, no more, and as soon
+as they were finished fled to her own room to
+fret and cry. Her father took her out to walk
+and showed her the new church, but Mary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>
+thought the church ugly, and the outside view
+of Redding as unpleasant as the inside one.
+Dull streets, small houses everywhere; no gardens,
+except now and then a single bed, edged
+with a row of stiff cockle-shells by way of fence,
+and planted with pert sweet-williams or crown
+imperials. These Mary thought were worse
+than no flowers at all. Every thing smelt of
+fish. The very sea was made ugly by warehouses
+and shabby wharves. The people they
+met were strangers; and, altogether, the effect
+of Mary's walk was to send her back more
+homesick than ever for Valley Hill.</p>
+
+<p>By Friday night the little parsonage was in
+order. Mrs. Forcythe was a capital manager.
+She planned and contrived, turned and twisted
+and made things comfortable in a surprising
+way. But she overtired herself greatly in doing
+this, and on Saturday morning Mary was
+waked by her father calling from below that
+mother was very ill, and she must come down
+at once and stay with her while he went for a
+doctor.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear!" sighed Mary, as she hurried on
+her clothes. "Now mother is sick. It's all
+this hateful Redding. She never was sick when
+we lived in the country."</p>
+
+<p>But the hard mood melted the moment she
+saw her mother's pale face and feeble smile.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope I'm not going to be very ill," said
+Mrs. Forcythe; "probably it's only that I have
+tired myself out. You'll have to be 'Mamma'
+for a day or two, Mary dear. Make Papa as
+comfortable as you can. See that Frank has his
+lunch put up for school, and don't let Peter take
+cold. Oh, dear!&mdash;my head aches so hard that
+I can't talk. I know you'll do your best Mary,
+won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>Guess how Mary felt at this appeal! All her
+better nature came back in a moment. She
+saw how wrong she had been in nursing her
+selfish griefs, and letting this dear mother over-work
+herself. "O mother, I will, indeed I
+will!" she cried, kissing the pale face; and, only
+waiting to draw the blind so that the sun should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>
+not shine in, she flew downstairs, eager to do all
+she could to make up for past ill-conduct.</p>
+
+<p>The Doctor came. He said Mrs. Forcythe
+was threatened with fever, and must be kept
+very quiet for several days. Mary had never
+in her life worked so hard as she did that Saturday.
+There was breakfast, dinner, supper to
+get, dishes to wash, water to heat, the fire to
+tend, rooms to dust, beds to make, the baby
+to keep out of mischief. She was very tired by
+night, but her heart felt lighter than it had for
+many days past. Do you wonder at this? I
+can tell you the reason. Mary's troubles were
+selfish troubles, and the moment she forgot herself
+in thinking of somebody else, they became
+small and began to creep away.</p>
+
+<p>"Pitty, pitty!" said little Peter, as he heard
+her singing over her dish-washing. Mary caught
+him up and gave him a hearty kiss,&mdash;a real
+Valley Hill kiss, such as she had given no one
+since they came to Redding.</p>
+
+<p>"Mary is doing famously," Mr. Forcythe told<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>
+his wife that night. "She has a first-rate head
+on her shoulders for a girl of her age." Mary
+heard him, and was pleased. She liked&mdash;we
+all like&mdash;to be counted useful and valuable.
+The bit of praise sent her back to her work
+with redoubled zeal.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning Mrs. Forcythe was a little better.
+Her head ached less; she sat up on her pillows
+and drank a cup of tea. Mary was smoothing
+her mother's hair with soft pats of the brush,
+when suddenly the church bells began to ring.
+She had never heard such sounds before. The
+bell at Valley Hill was cracked, and went tang&mdash;tang&mdash;tang,
+as if the meeting-house were
+an old cow walking slowly about. These bells
+had a dozen different voices,&mdash;some deep and
+solemn, others bright and clear, but all beautiful;
+and across their pealing a soft, delicious
+chime from the tower of the Episcopal church
+went to and fro, and wove itself in and out like
+a thread of silver embroidery. Mary dropped
+the brush, and clasped her hands tight. It was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>
+like listening to a song of which she could not
+hear enough. When the last tinkle of the
+chime died away, she unclasped her hands, and,
+turning from the window, cried, "O mother!
+wasn't that lovely? There is <i>one</i> pleasant
+thing in Redding, after all!"</p>
+
+<p>I do not think matters ever seemed so hard
+again after that morning when Mary made
+friends with the church bells. It was the beginning
+of a better understanding between her
+and her new home; and there is a great deal in
+beginnings, even though they may work slowly
+toward their ends.</p>
+
+<p>By the close of the week Mrs. Forcythe was
+downstairs again, weak and pale, but able to
+sit in her chair and direct things, which Mary
+felt to be a great comfort. The parishioners
+began to call. There were no rich people
+among them; but it was a hard-working, active
+parish, and did a great deal for its means. The
+Sunday-school was large and flourishing; there
+was a missionary association, a home missionary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>
+association, a mite society, and a sewing
+circle, which met every week to make clothes
+for the poor and partake of tea, soda biscuit,
+and six sorts of cake. Beside these, a new
+project had just been started, "The Seamen's
+Daughters' Industrial Society;" or, in other
+words, a sewing-school for little girls whose
+fathers were sailors. There were plenty of
+such little girls in Redding.</p>
+
+<p>"Your daughter will join, of course," said
+Mrs. Wallis, when she came to call on her
+minister's wife. "It's important that the pastor's
+family should take a part in every good
+work." Mrs. Wallis was the most energetic
+woman of the congregation,&mdash;at the head of
+every thing.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid Mary's sewing is not good
+enough," replied Mrs. Forcythe. "She isn't
+very skilful with her needle yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! she knows enough to teach those
+ignorant little creatures. Half of them are
+foreigners, and never touch a needle in their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>
+homes. It's every thing to give them some
+ideas beyond their own shiftless ways."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like to try, Mary?" asked her
+mother.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;don't&mdash;know," replied Mary, afraid to
+refuse, because Mrs. Wallis looked so sharp and
+decided.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, then I'll call for you on Saturday,
+at half-past ten," went on Mrs. Wallis,
+quite regardless of Mary's hesitating tone.
+"I'm glad you'll come. It would never do not
+to have some of the minister's family. Saturday
+morning, at half-past ten! Good-by, Mrs.
+Forcythe. Don't get up; you look peaked
+still. To-morrow is baking day, and I shall
+send you a green-currant pie. Perhaps <i>that'll</i>
+do you good." With these words she departed.</p>
+
+<p>"Must I really teach in that school?" asked
+Mary dolefully.</p>
+
+<p>"I think you'd better. The people expect
+it, and it will be a good thing for you to practise
+sewing a little," replied her mother. "I
+daresay it will be pleasanter than you think."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It seems so funny that I should be set to
+teach any one to sew," said Mary, bursting into
+a laugh. "Don't you recollect how Mrs. Clapp
+used to scold me, and say I 'gobbled' my
+darns?"</p>
+
+<p>"You mustn't 'gobble' before the seamen's
+daughters," said Mrs. Forcythe, smiling. "It
+will be a capital lesson for you to try to teach
+what you haven't quite learned yourself."</p>
+
+<p>Punctual as the clock Mrs. Wallis appeared
+on Saturday, and bore the unwilling Mary away
+to the sewing-school. Mrs. Forcythe watched
+them from the window. She couldn't help
+laughing, their movements were so comically
+different,&mdash;Mrs. Wallis was so brisk and decided,
+while Mary lagged behind, dragging one
+slow foot after the other as if each moment she
+longed to stop and dared not. Very different
+was her movement, however, two hours later,
+when she returned. She came with a kind of
+burst, her eyes bright with excitement, and her
+cheeks pinker than they had been since she left
+Valley Hill.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"O mother, it is <i>so</i> nice! Ever so many
+children were there,&mdash;thirty at least; and Mrs.
+Wallis said I might choose any five I liked to
+be my class. First, I chose the dearest little
+Irish girl. Her name is Norah, and she's just
+as pretty as she can be, only her face was
+dreadfully dirty, and her clothes all rags. Then
+her little sister Kathleen cried to come; so I
+took her too. Then I chose a cunning little
+German tot named Gretchen. She has yellow
+hair, braided in tight little tails down her back,
+and is a good deal cleaner than the rest, but not
+very clean, you know; and she hadn't any shoes
+at all. Then Mrs. Wallis brought up the funniest
+little French girl, with a name I can't pronounce.
+I'm going to call her Amy. And the
+last of all is an American, real pretty. Her
+name is Rachel Gray. Her father is gone on a
+whaling voyage, and won't be back for three
+years. Don't they sound nice, mother? I
+think I shall like teaching them so much!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do they know any thing about sewing?"
+asked Mrs. Forcythe.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Not a thing. They made dreadful stitches.
+Kathleen cried because the needle pricked her,
+and Rachel wanted to wear the thimble on the
+wrong finger. Amy did the best. When they
+went away they all wanted to kiss me, and
+Norah said she guessed I was the best teacher
+in the school. Wasn't that cunning? Mrs.
+Wallis is real kind. She brought ever so much
+gingerbread, and gave each of the children a
+piece."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad it begins so well&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. There's just one thing, though. The
+children's faces! You can't think how dirty
+they are. I should like to give them a good
+scrub all round."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, why don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"How can I? There isn't any wash-bowl
+down at the school-room."</p>
+
+<p>"If you liked you might have them all come
+here at ten o'clock, and walk down with you.
+Then you could take them up to your room,
+wash their faces and hands, and brush their hair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>
+smooth before you start. I really think you
+would enjoy your teaching more if the scholars
+were clean."</p>
+
+<p>"May I really do that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I'll buy you a fresh cake of soap and
+a brush, and you can take two clean towels from
+the drawer every Saturday morning. Make it
+a rule, but be very gentle and pleasant about it
+or the children may refuse."</p>
+
+<p>"O mother, what a good plan! Thank you
+so much," said Mary with sparkling eyes. "Now
+I shall have real comfort with them."</p>
+
+<p>There was great excitement in the sewing-class
+when they were told that in future they
+were to go to "Teacher's" house every Saturday,
+and walk down to school with her. They
+were a droll little procession enough when they
+appeared the next week at the appointed time.
+Norah's toes were out of her shoes. Her tangled
+curls were as rough as a bird's-nest, and the
+hat on top of them looked as if it had sailed
+across every mud-puddle in town. Little Kathleen's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>
+scanty garments were rather rags than
+clothes. And Gretchen, tidiest of all, had
+smears of sausage on her rosy face, and did not
+seem to have been brought into contact with
+soap and water for weeks.</p>
+
+<p>Mary led them up into her own room, which,
+plain as it was, looked like a palace to the little
+ones after the dirt and discomfort of their
+crowded homes. There were the nice clean
+towels, the new hair-brush, and the big cake of
+honey-soap, mother's contributions to the undertaking.
+The washing was quite a frolic. Norah
+cried a little at having her hair pulled, but
+Mary was gentle and pleasant, and made the
+affair so amusing that the children thought it
+pleasant to be clean, instead of disliking it.
+She rewarded their patience by a kiss all round.
+Kathleen threw her arms about Mary's neck
+and gave her a great hug. "You're iver so
+nice," she said, and Mary kissed her again.</p>
+
+<p>So every Saturday from that time forward,
+Mary went to school followed by a crowd of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>
+clean little faces, which looked all the brighter
+and happier for their cleanliness. She was
+proud of her class, but their ragged clothes distressed
+her greatly.</p>
+
+<p>"It is such a pity," she told her mother.
+"They are so pretty, and they look like beggars."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Forcythe had only been waiting for this.
+She was not a woman to give much advice, even
+to her own child. "Drop in a seed and let it
+grow," was her motto.</p>
+
+<p>"There's that old gingham of yours," she
+suggested. "You could spare that for one of
+them, if there were anybody to make it over."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I'll</i> make it!" cried Mary, "only&mdash;" her,
+face falling, "I don't know how to cut dresses."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll cut it for you if you like," said Mrs.
+Forcythe quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you, mother dear? How splendid.
+I'll make it for Norah. She's the raggedest of
+all."</p>
+
+<p>The gingham was measured, and proved<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>
+enough to make frocks for Norah and Kathleen
+too. Mary had double work to undertake, but
+her heart was in her fingers, and they flew fast.
+It took every spare moment for a fortnight to
+make the frocks, but when they were done and
+tried on to the delighted children, they looked
+so nicely that Mary was rewarded for her trouble
+and for the many needle-pricks in her forefinger.</p>
+
+<p>"Only it's such a pity about the others," she
+told her mother. "They'll think I'm partial,
+and I'm not, though I <i>do</i> love Norah a little bit
+the best, she's so affectionate. I wish we were
+rich. Then I could buy frocks for them all."</p>
+
+<p>"If you were rich, perhaps you wouldn't
+care about it," said her mother. "A little here
+and a little there, a stitch, a kind word, a small
+self-denial, these are in the power of all of us,
+and in course of time they mount up and make
+a great deal. And, Mary dear, I've always found
+if you once start in a path and are determined
+to keep on, somebody's sure to come along and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>
+lend a helping hand, when you think you have
+got to the end of every thing, and must stop or
+turn back."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I've got to the end of every thing
+now," said Mary. "There aren't any more
+old frocks to make over, and we can't afford to
+buy new ones."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be discouraged," said her mother.
+"The way is sure to open somehow."</p>
+
+<p>"How wise mother is," thought Mary, when
+the very next week on their way back from
+school Mrs. Wallis said, "I noticed that two of
+your scholars had respectable frocks on to-day.
+I wonder if their mothers made them? If they
+did, I've an old chintz dress which I could spare,
+and perhaps Gretchen's mother and Amadine's
+could take it and fit them out too."</p>
+
+<p>"I made the dresses," cried Mary joyfully.
+"And if you'll let me have the old chintz, I'll
+make some more for the others, Mrs. Wallis.
+Oh, I'm so glad."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you make them," said Mrs. Wallis in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>
+pleased tone. "Well, that's first-rate. I'll send
+the chintz round to-night; and any other old
+things I can find to help along."</p>
+
+<p>So that night came a great bundle, which, on
+opening, revealed not only the chintz, but a nice
+calico, some plaid ribbon, a large black alpaca
+apron, and an old shirt of Mr. Wallis's. Such a
+busy time as Mary had in planning how to make
+the most of these gifts. The chintz was long
+and full. It had a cape, and made two beautiful
+frocks. The calico made another frock and
+two nice pinafores, the black alpaca some small
+aprons. Mary trimmed the two worst hats with
+the ribbon. Last of all, she cut and stitched five
+narrow bands of the linen, which mother washed
+and starched, and behold, the class had collars!
+I don't know which was most pleased at this
+last decoration, Mary or the children.</p>
+
+<p>"They are just as good as dolls to you, aren't
+they," said her father.</p>
+
+<p>"O Papa! much better than <i>that</i>. Dolls can't
+laugh and talk, and they don't really care any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>
+thing about you, you only just make believe
+that they do. It's horrid to fit a doll's clothes;
+she sticks her arm out stiff and won't bend it a
+bit. I'd rather have my class than all the dolls
+in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"Teaching those children is having a capital
+effect on Mary herself," said Mrs. Forcythe to
+her husband after Mary had gone away. "She
+gains all the time in patience and industry, and
+is twice as careful of her things as she used to
+be. I found her crying the other day because
+she had torn her oldest frock, and the darn
+was sure to come in a bad place when the frock
+was made over for Gretchen! Think of Mary's
+crying because of having torn any thing!"</p>
+
+<p>Time flies rapidly when people are busy and
+happy. Days crept into weeks, weeks into
+months; before any one knew it two years
+were passed and another Conference day was
+at hand. It met this time at Redding.</p>
+
+<p>Mary, a tall girl of fifteen now, went with
+her mother to hear the appointments read.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>
+The Redding people had applied to keep Mr.
+Forcythe for another term, but the request was
+denied; and, when his name was reached on the
+list, it appeared that he was to go back to Valley
+Hill.</p>
+
+<p>"There's one person I know will be pleased,"
+said the Bishop, pausing on his way out of
+church to speak to Mrs. Forcythe. "Mistress
+Mary here! She'll be glad to go back to Valley
+Hill again. But, hey-day! she doesn't look
+glad. What! tears in her eyes. How is this?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;don't&mdash;know&mdash;" sighed Mary. "I
+thought&mdash;I thought we should stay here. Of
+course I feel sorry just at first."</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry! Not want to leave Redding! Why,
+what a contrary little maid you are! Don't you
+recollect how you cried, and said Redding was
+horrid."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mary, on the verge of a sob.
+"But I like it now, Bishop. I don't mind the
+fish a bit, and the funny old streets and the posy-beds
+with cockle-shell edges are so nice, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>
+the bells sound so sweet on Sunday morning!&mdash;I
+like Redding ever so much."</p>
+
+<p>"But your garden,&mdash;I remember how badly
+you felt to leave that. You can't have a garden
+in Redding."</p>
+
+<p>"No, but I have my little girls. I'd rather
+have them than a garden, a great deal!"</p>
+
+<p>"What does she mean?" asked the Bishop,
+turning to Mrs. Forcythe.</p>
+
+<p>"Her sewing-class," replied Mrs. Forcythe,
+smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"There they are!" cried Mary eagerly.
+"They're waiting for me. Do look at them,
+Bishop; it's those five little girls in a row behind
+the second pillar from the door. That big
+one is Norah, and the one in blue is Rachel,
+and the littlest is named Kathleen. Isn't she
+pretty? They're the sweetest little things, oh,
+I shall miss them so. I shan't ever have such
+good times again as I've had with them." Her
+voice faltered; a lump came in her throat. To<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>
+hide it she slipped away, and went across the
+church to where the little ones sat.</p>
+
+<p>"That's a dear child of yours," said the good
+Bishop, looking after her. "I guess she'll <i>do</i>
+wherever she goes."</p>
+
+<p>And I think Mary will.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;">
+<img src="images/illus-144.png" width="350" height="394" alt="Lady Bird" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2>LADY BIRD.</h2>
+
+
+<p>"NOW, Pocahontas Maria, sit still and don't disturb
+the little ones. Imogene, that lesson must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>
+be learned before I come back, you know. Now,
+dear, that was very, very naughty. When
+Mamma tells you to do things you mustn't pout
+and poke Stella with your foot in that way.
+It isn't nice at all. Stella is younger than you,
+and you ought to set her samples, as Nursey
+says. Look at Ning Po Ganges, how good she
+is, and how she minds all I say, and yet she's
+the littlest child I've got."</p>
+
+<p>If anybody had been walking in Madam
+Bird's old-fashioned garden that morning, and
+had heard these wise words coming from the
+other side of the rose thicket, he would certainly
+have supposed that some old dame with
+a school was hidden away there, or at the least an
+anxious Mamma with a family of unruly children.
+But if this somebody had gone into the thicket,
+bobbing his head to avoid the prickly, wreath-like
+branches, he would have found on the other
+side only one person, little Lota Bird, playing
+all alone with her dolls. "Lady Bird" Nursey
+called Lota, because when, six years before,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>
+Papa fetched her home from China, she wore
+a speckled frock of orange-red and black, very
+much the color of those other tiny frocks in
+which the real lady-birds fly about in summer-time.
+The speckled frock was outgrown long
+ago, but the name still clung to Lota, and every
+one called her by it except Grandmamma, who
+said "Charlotte," sighing as she spoke, and
+Papa, whose letters always began, "My darling
+little Lota." Papa had been away so long now
+that Lota would quite have forgotten him had it
+not been for these letters which came regularly
+every month. The paper on which they were
+written had an odd, pleasant smell. Nurse said
+it was the smell of sandal-wood. Sometimes
+there were things inside for Lota, bird's feathers
+of gay colors, Chinese puzzles of carved ivory,
+or small pictures painted on rice paper. Lota
+liked these things very much. It was like playing
+at a Papa rather than really having one, but
+she enjoyed the play; and when they told her
+that Papa was soon coming home to stay always,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>
+she was only half glad, and said: "Won't there
+be any more letters then? I shan't like that."
+Poor little girlie: we, who know how nice it
+is to have real Papas, can feel sorry for her;
+can't we?</p>
+
+<p>But Lota did not pity herself in the least.
+Grandmamma's house was stiff and gloomy,
+shaded by high trees and thick vines which jealously
+shut out the sun whenever he tried to shine
+in at the window panes. Grandmamma's servants
+were old too, like the house. Most of them had
+gray hair. Nursey wore spectacles; the coachman
+indulged in rheumatism. Grandmamma
+herself was old and feeble. She rarely laughed
+or seemed to enjoy any thing, but sat in an easy
+chair all the year round, and read solemn books
+bound in black leather, which made her cry.
+Jennings her maid waited on her, fetched footstools
+and cushions, pushed the blinds down as
+soon as the cheerful noon got round to that side
+of the house. "Missus is uncommon poorly to-day,"
+she announced every morning. "Miss, you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>
+must be very quiet." Lota was quiet. She was
+the only young thing in the sad old house, but
+the shadows of age and sorrow fell lightly upon
+her, and in spite of them she was as happy a
+child as you will find in a summer's day. The
+garden was her kingdom and her Paradise. It
+was a wide, fragrant, shaded place, full of the
+shrubs and flowers of former days. Huge pink
+and white oleanders, planted in tubs, stood on
+either side the walks. Thick spikes of purple
+lavender edged the beds; the summer-house was
+a tangle of honey-suckle, rosemary, and eglantine.
+Roses of all colors abounded. They towered
+high above Lota's head as she walked,&mdash;twined
+and clasped, shut her in with perfumed shadows,
+rained showers of many-colored petals on the
+grass. An old-fashioned fairy would have delighted
+to dwell in that garden, and perhaps one
+did dwell there, else why should little lonely
+Lota have been always so very, very happy left
+alone among the trees and flowers? Can any
+one tell me that?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Far up in the curved angle made by the rose-hedge
+was the little house where she and her
+dollies lived. Jacob the gardener built this house,
+of roots and willow-osiers curiously twisted. It
+was just big enough for Lady Bird and her
+family. The walls were pasted over with gay
+prints cut from the "Illustrated News" and other
+papers. There was a real window. The moss
+floor had a blue cotton rug laid over it. A
+small table and chair for Lota and one apiece
+for the dolls made up the furniture, beside a
+shelf on which the baby-house tea-set was displayed.
+The roof kept out the weather pretty
+well, except when it rained hard; then things
+got wet. Here Lota sat all the morning, after
+she had finished her lessons with Nursey,&mdash;short
+lessons always, and easy ones, by Papa's particular
+request, for the doctors had said that Lota
+must not study much till she was really big and
+strong. Pocahontas Maria and the other children
+had to work much harder than their Mamma,
+I assure you. Lota was very strict with them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>
+When they were idle she put them into the corner,
+and made them sit with their faces to the
+wall by way of punishment. Once Lota had the
+measles, and for two whole weeks was kept
+away entirely from the garden-house. When
+she came back, she found that during all this
+time poor little Ning-Po Ganges had been sitting
+in this ignominious position with her face
+hidden. Lota cried with remorse at this, and
+promised Ning-Po that never, so long as she
+lived, should she be put into the corner again;
+so after that, for convenience' sake, Ning-Po was
+always called the best child in the family. Now
+and then, when Lota felt hospitable, she would
+give a tea-party, and ask Lady Green and her
+children from under the snow-ball bush next
+door. Nobody but Lota and the dolls could see
+the Greens, even when they sat about the table
+talking and being talked to, but that was no
+matter; and when Nursey said, "Law, Miss
+Lady Bird, how can you; there's never any
+such people, you know," Lota would point<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>
+triumphantly to a card tacked on to the snow-ball
+bush, which had "Lady Green" printed on
+it, and would say, "Naughty Nursey! can't you
+read? There's her door-plate!"</p>
+
+<p>As this story is all about Lota, I think I
+would better tell you just how she spent one
+week of her life, she and the dolls.</p>
+
+<p>The week began with Sunday, which was
+always a dull day, because Lota was forbidden
+to go into the garden.</p>
+
+<p>In the morning she went to church with
+Grandmamma, drawn thither by two fat old black
+horses, who seemed to think it almost too much
+trouble to switch the flies off with their tails.
+Church was warm and the sermon was drowsy,
+so poor Lady Bird fell asleep, and tumbled over
+suddenly on to Grandmamma's lap. This distressed
+the old lady a good deal, for she was
+very particular about behavior in church. By
+way of punishment, Lota had to learn four verses
+of a hymn after dinner. It was the hymn which
+begins,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+"Awake, my soul, and with the sun<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Thy daily course of duty run,"</span><br />
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class='unindent'>and learning it took all the time from dinner
+till four o'clock.</div>
+
+<p>The hymn learned and repeated, Lota read
+for awhile in one of her Sunday books. She was
+ashamed of her sleepiness in the morning, and
+had every intention of being very good till bedtime;
+but unluckily she looked across to where
+the dolls were sitting, and, as she explained to
+Nursey afterward, Pocahontas Maria was whispering
+to Imogene, and both of them were
+laughing so hard and looking so mischievous
+that she <i>had</i> to see what was the matter. Result;&mdash;at
+five, Jennings, coming to call Lota,
+found her with all the dolls in a row before
+her teaching them hymns. And, though this
+seems most proper, Jennings, who was a strict
+Methodist, did not think so; so Lota had another
+lecture from Grandmamma, and went to
+bed under a sense of disgrace. So much for
+Sunday.</p>
+
+<p>Monday opened with bright sunshine. It
+had rained all night; but by eleven o'clock the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>
+dear old garden was quite dry, and how sweet
+it did look! The pink roses twinkled and
+winked their whisker-like calyxes as she went
+by; the white ones shook their serene leaves,
+and sent out delicious smells. Every green
+thing looked greener than it had done before
+the rain. The blue sky, swept clear of clouds,
+seemed to have been rubbed and made brilliant.
+It was a day for gardens; and Lady Bird and
+her family celebrated it by a picnic, to which
+they invited all the Greens.</p>
+
+<p>"Lady Green hasn't treated me quite properly,"
+remarked Lota to her oldest child, Pocahontas.
+"She didn't leave her card at this
+house I don't know when. But we won't mind
+about that, because it's such a nice day, and
+we want the picnic. And we can't have the
+picnic without the Greens, you know, dear,
+because there aren't any other people to invite."</p>
+
+<p>So they had the picnic,&mdash;a delightful one.
+The young Greens behaved badly. They almost
+always did behave badly when they came to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>
+see Lady Bird; but it was rather a good thing,
+because she could warn her own children that,
+if they did the same, they would be severely
+punished. "Lady Green is too indulgent,"
+she would say. "I want <i>my</i> children to be
+much gooder than hers. Mind that, Imogene."
+So, on this occasion, when Clarissa Green
+snatched at the rose-cakes which formed the
+staple of the feast, Lota looked very sharply at
+Stella, and said, "Don't let me ever see you do
+so, Stella, or I shall have to slap your little
+hands." Stella heeded the warning, and sat
+upright as a poker and perfectly still.</p>
+
+<p>Clarissa was perhaps not so much to blame,
+for the rose-cakes were delicious. Would you
+like Lady Bird's recipe? Any little girl can
+make them. Take a good many rose-leaves;
+put some sugar with them,&mdash;as much sugar
+as you can get; tie them up in paper, or in
+a good thick grape-leaf; lay them on a bench,
+and <i>sit down on them hard several times</i>:
+then they are done. Some epicures pretend<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>
+that they must be buried in the ground, and
+left there for a week; but this takes time, and
+reasonable children will find them quite good
+enough without. These particular rose-cakes
+were the best Lota had ever made. The whole
+party, Greens and all, agreed to that. For the
+rest of the feast there was a motto-paper, which
+had ornamented several picnics before. It could
+not be eaten, but it looked well sitting in the
+middle of the table. At the close of the banquet
+all the party sang a song. Lady Green's
+voice was not very good, but Lota explained
+to the children afterward that it isn't polite
+to laugh at company even when they do make
+funny squeaks with their high notes. Pocahontas
+had to sit in the corner awhile for having
+done so. She was sorry, and promised never
+to offend again; as a reward for which, her
+Mamma gave her a small blank book made of
+writing-paper and a pin, which she told her was
+for her very own.</p>
+
+<p>"You are such a big girl now," said Mamma<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>
+Lota, "that it is time you began to keep a
+Diary like I do. I shall read it over every day,
+and see how you spell."</p>
+
+<p>Here is Pocahontas Maria's journal as it stood
+on Tuesday afternoon, after the children had
+done their lessons and had their dinners:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Tuseday. I am going to keep a Diry like
+Mamma's. Studded as usel. Mamma said I
+was cairless, and didn't get my jography lesson
+propperly. Stella had hers better than me. I
+hurt my ellbow against the table. It won't
+bend any more. Mamma is going to get Doctor
+Jacob to put in a woulden pin. I hope it won't
+hurt."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Pocahontas! Pocahontas!" cried the
+scandalized Lady Bird as she read this effusion.
+"After all the pains I have taken, to think you
+should spell so horridly as this." Then she sat
+down and corrected all the words. "I don't wonder
+your cheeks are so red," she said severely.
+Pocahontas sat up straight and blushed, but
+made no excuses. It is not strange that Lota,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>
+who really spelt very nicely for a little girl of
+her age, should have been shocked.</p>
+
+<p>On Tuesday night it rained again, and the
+sun got up in a cloud next morning, and seemed
+uncertain whether or not to shine. Grandmamma
+was going to drive out to make a call, and Jennings
+came early to the nursery to tell Nurse to
+dress Lady Bird nicely, so that she might go too.
+Accordingly Nursey put on Lota's freshest white
+cambric and her best blue sash, and laid a pair
+of white gloves and a little hat trimmed with
+blue ribbons and forget-me-nots on the bed, so
+that they might be ready when the carriage
+came to the door. "Now, Miss Lady Bird, you
+must sit still and keep yourself very nice," she
+said. This was hard, for the children had all
+been left in the garden-house the night before,
+and Lota wanted very much to see them. She
+stood at the window looking wistfully out. By
+and by the sun flashed gloriously from the clouds,
+and sent a bright ray right into her eyes. It
+touched the rain-drops which hung over the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>
+bushes, and instantly each became a tiny mimic
+sun, sending out separate rays of its own. Lota
+forgot all about Nursey's injunctions. "I'll just
+run out one minute and fetch little Ning-Po in,"
+she thought. "That child's too delicate to be
+left out in the damp. She catches cold so
+easily; really it quite troubles me sometimes
+the way she coughs."</p>
+
+<p>So down the garden walk she sped. The
+shrubs, shaken by her swift passage, scattered
+showers of bright drops upon the white frock
+and the pretty sash. But Lota didn't mind or
+notice. The air and sun, the clear, fresh feeling,
+the birds' songs, filled her with a kind of
+intoxication. Her head spun, her feet danced
+as she ran along. Suddenly a cold feeling at
+the toes of her bronze boots startled her. She
+looked down. Behold, she was in a pool of
+water, left by the rain in a hollow of the gravel-walk.
+Was she frightened? Not at all. The
+water felt delightfully fresh, her spirits flashed
+out like the sun himself, and in the joy of her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>
+heart she began to waltz, scattering and splashing
+the water about her. The crisp ruffles of
+the cambric lost all their starch, the pretty boots
+were quite spoiled, but Lota waltzed on, and in
+this plight Nursey, flying indignantly out from
+the kitchen door, found her naughty pet.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Miss Charlotte, I <i>am</i> discouraged," she
+said, as she pulled off the wet things. "Waltzing
+in a mud-puddle! That's nice work for a
+young lady! I am discouraged, Miss Charlotte."</p>
+
+<p>Nursey never said "Miss Charlotte" except
+on the most solemn occasions, so Lota knew
+that she was very vexed. She should have
+been cast down by this, but somehow she was
+not.</p>
+
+<p>"But <i>I'm</i> not discouraged," she replied.
+"I'm not discouraged a bit! And the birds
+aren't discouraged! They sang all the while
+I was waltzing in the mud-puddle, Nursey; I
+heard 'em!"</p>
+
+<p>Nursey gave it up. She loved Lady Bird
+dearly, and could not hear to scold her or to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>
+have any one else do so. So she made haste to
+change the unlucky frock and shoes, so that she
+should be neat and trim whenever Grandmamma
+sent for her. I suppose this forbearance touched
+Lota's heart, for at the last moment she turned,
+ran back, threw her arms round Nursey's neck,
+and whispered, "I'm sorry, and I'll never waltz
+in mud-puddles again." Nursey squeezed her
+hard by way of answer. "Precious lamb!" she
+said, and Lota ran downstairs quite happy.</p>
+
+<p>The lady whom Grandmamma drove out to
+see, had a little granddaughter visiting her.
+Isabel Bernard was her name. She came from
+the city, and was so beautifully dressed and so
+well-mannered, that Grandmamma took quite a
+fancy to her, and invited her to spend a day
+with Lota.</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte will enjoy a young companion,"
+said Grandmamma. So the next day was fixed
+upon.</p>
+
+<p>This was a very exciting event for the Bird
+family, who rarely had any visitors except Lady<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>
+Green, who did not count, being such a near
+neighbor. Pocahontas wrote in her journal,
+"A grand lady is coming to see Mamma. Me
+and all of us are going to have on our best
+frocks. I hope she'll think us pretty;" and
+though Lota told her that little girls ought not
+to mind about being pretty if only they obey
+their mammas and are good, the sentiment was
+so natural that she really hadn't the heart to
+scold the child much. The baby-house was
+swept and garnished for the occasion, a fresh
+batch of rose-cakes was made, and a general air
+of festivity pervaded the premises.</p>
+
+<p>Lota hoped that Isabel would come early,
+soon after breakfast, so as to have a longer day;
+but it was quite twelve o'clock before she made
+her appearance, all alone by herself in a huge
+barouche, which made her seem scarcely larger
+than a doll. She wore a fine frilled muslin
+frock over blue silk, a white hat, and dainty
+lemon-colored boots. When Lota, feeling shy
+at the spectacle of this magnificence, proposed
+going into the garden, she hung back.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Are you quite sure that it isn't damp?" she
+said, "because&mdash;you see&mdash;this is my best
+frock."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, quite sure," pleaded Lota. "The grass
+was cut only day before yesterday, and Jacob
+rolled the gravel last night. Do come! The
+children want to see you so much."</p>
+
+<p>"The children!" said Isabel, surprised. But
+when she saw the doll-family sitting in a row
+with their best clothes on, and their four pairs
+of fixed blue eyes looking straight before them,
+she laughed scornfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you play with dolls?" she asked. "I
+gave them up long ago."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Bird's eyes grew large with distress.
+"Oh, don't call them <i>that</i>," she cried. "I never
+do. It hurts their feelings so. You can't think."</p>
+
+<p>Isabel laughed again. She wasn't at all a
+nice girl to play with. The rose-cakes she pronounced
+"nasty." When Lota explained about
+Lady Green, she stared and said it was ridiculous,
+and that there was no such person. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>
+turned up her nose at Pocahontas's journal, and
+declared that Lota wrote it herself! "Did you
+ever hear of such a thing?" asked Lady Bird
+afterward of Lady Green. "As if my child
+could not write!" It was just so all day. The
+only thing Isabel seemed to enjoy was dining in
+state with Grandmamma, and answering all her
+questions with the air of a little grown-up
+woman. Grandmamma said she was a very well-behaved
+child, and she wished Charlotte would
+take pattern by her. But Lota didn't agree
+with Grandmamma. She hoped with all her heart
+that Isabel would never come to visit her again.</p>
+
+<p>Pocahontas Maria wrote in her journal next
+day:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"The lady who came to see Mamma wasn't
+very nice, I think. She didn't even speak to
+us children, and she made fun at my diry. We
+didn't like her a bit. Stella says she's horrid,
+and Ning-Po hopes Mamma won't ever ask her
+any more." Lady Bird reproved Pocahontas
+very gravely for these sentiments, and reminded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>
+her again that "diry" is not the way to spell
+diary; but she said to Lady Green, who dropped
+in for a call, "Poor little thing, I don't wonder!
+children always find out when people isn't nice;
+and Isabel, she <i>was</i> very disagreeable, you know,
+calling them 'dolls' and things like that! It's
+not surprising that they didn't like her, I'm
+sure."</p>
+
+<p>Saturday was an eventful day. There were
+no lessons to do for one thing, because Nursey's
+daughter had come to see her, and Grandmamma
+said Lady Bird might be excused for once.
+This gave her the whole morning to attend to
+domestic matters, which was nice, or would have
+been, only unluckily little Stella took this opportunity
+to break out with measles. Of course
+Lady Bird was much distressed. She put Stella
+to bed at once, and sent the others to the farthest
+side of the room lest they should catch the
+disease also, "though," as she told Pocahontas,
+"You'll be sure to have it. It always runs
+straight through families; the doctor said so <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'wh  '">when</ins><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>
+I had it; and whatever I shall do with all of you
+on my hands at once, I can't imagine." There is
+always a great deal to do in times of sickness, so
+this was a very busy day. Lota had to make
+broth for Stella, to concoct medicine out of
+water and syringa-stems, to prepare dinner for
+the other children, and hear all their lessons, for
+of course education must not be neglected let
+who will have measles! Pocahontas was unusually
+troublesome. Imogene cried over the spelling
+lesson; and altogether Lady Bird had her
+hands full that morning.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall certainly send you all away to boarding-school
+if you don't learn to behave better,"
+she cried in despair, at which awful threat the
+children wept aloud and promised to be good.
+Then came dinner,&mdash;real dinner, I mean,&mdash;which
+Lady Bird could scarcely eat, so anxious
+was she about her sick child in the garden. The
+moment it was over back she flew, oblivious of
+the charms of raisins and almonds. Stella was
+asleep, but she evidently had fever, for her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>
+cheeks were bright pink, and her lips as red as
+sealing-wax.</p>
+
+<p>"I must have a doctor for her," cried poor
+Lady Bird.</p>
+
+<p>She tried to think what article would be
+best to choose for the doctor, and fixed on an
+old black muff of Nursey's which lived on the
+shelf of the nursery closet. To get it, however,
+it was needful to leave the children again.</p>
+
+<p>"You must all be good," she said, fussing
+about and tidying the room, "very good and
+very quiet, so as not to wake up Stella. Dear
+me, what a queer smell there is here! Let me
+think. What did Nursey do when I had measles?
+She burned some sort of paper and made it smell
+nice again. I must burn some paper too, else
+Stella'll suffocate, won't you, dear?"</p>
+
+<p>No sooner thought than done. Jacob had
+left his coat hanging near the tool-house while
+he went to dinner, and he always carried matches
+in his pipe-pocket. Lady Bird knew that. She
+put her hand in and drew one out, feeling guilty,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>
+for one of Nursey's chief maxims was, "Never
+touch matches, Lady Bird; remember what I
+say, never!"</p>
+
+<p>"If Nursey knew about Stella's having the
+measles she'd say different," she soliloquized.</p>
+
+<p>There was a good-sized bit of brown paper in
+the garden-house. Lota rolled it up, laid it
+near the bedside, lit the edge, and carefully blew
+out the match. The paper did not flame, but
+smouldered slowly, sending up a curl of smoke.
+Lady Bird gazed at it with much satisfaction,
+then, with a last kiss to Stella, she went away to
+fetch the doctor, stopping at Lady Green's door
+as she passed, to tell her that she had better not
+let any of her children come over, because they
+might catch the measles and be sick too.</p>
+
+<p>It took some time to rummage out the muff,
+for Nursey had tucked it far back on the shelf
+behind other things. There was nobody in the
+nursery. Something unusual seemed to be
+going on downstairs, for doors were opening
+and shutting, and persons were talking and exclaiming.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>
+Lota paid no attention to this; her
+head was full of her own affairs, and she had no
+time to spend on other people's. Muff in hand,
+she hastened down the garden walk. As she
+drew near she smelt smoke, and smiled with
+satisfaction. But the smell grew stronger, and
+the air was blue and thick. She became alarmed,
+and began to run. Another moment, and the
+house was in sight. Smoke was pouring from
+the door, from the window, and&mdash;what was that
+red thing which darted out from the smoke like
+a long tongue? Oh, Lady Bird! Lady Bird! fly,
+hasten, your house is on fire, and there are the
+children inside with none but you to aid them!</p>
+
+<p>Did ever mother hesitate when her little ones
+were in danger? Lady Bird did not. With
+a shriek of affright she plunged boldly into the
+midst of the smoke. An awful sight met her eyes
+through the open door. The wall-paper was on
+fire, the cotton rug, the table-cover! Little red
+flames were creeping up the valance of the crib
+in which poor sick Stella lay! The other children<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>
+were sitting in a row opposite, very calm
+and still, but blisters had begun to form on
+Imogene's waxen cheeks, and a cinder, lodged
+on Ning-Po's flaxen wig, was scorching and
+singeing. What a spectacle to meet a mother's
+eyes! Oh, Lady Bird, haste to the rescue!</p>
+
+<p>She did not falter. In the twinkling of an
+eye she had dashed into the burning room, had
+caught Stella from her bed, the others from their
+chairs, and with all four hugged tight to her
+heart was making for the door. Ah! a spark
+fell on the white apron, on the holland frock!
+Her rapid movement fanned it. It flickered,
+blazed, the red flame rushed upward. What
+would have happened I dare not think, if just
+at that moment a gentleman, who was hastening
+down the garden walk, had not caught sight of
+the little figure, and, with a horrified exclamation,
+seized, held it fast, wrapped round it a great
+woollen shawl from his own shoulders, and in
+one moment put out the deadly fire which was
+snatching at the sweet young life. Who was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>
+this gentleman, do you think, thus arrived at
+the very nick of time? Why, no other than
+Lady Bird's own Papa, come home from China
+a few weeks before any one expected him!</p>
+
+<p>I cannot pretend to describe all that followed
+on that bewildering day, the dismay of Grandmamma
+and Nursey, the wrath of Jennings
+over the match, the joy of everybody at Lady
+Bird's escape, or her own confusion of mind at
+the fire and the excitement and the new Papa,
+who was and was not the Papa of the letters.
+At first she hugged the rescued dolls and said
+nothing. But Papa gave her time to get used
+to him, and she soon did so. He was very
+kind and nice, and did not laugh at the children
+and call them names as Isabel had done, but
+felt Stella's pulse, recommended pomatum for
+the scorch on Imogene's forehead, and even
+produced a little out of his own dressing-case.
+Best of all, he led Lady Bird upstairs, unlocked
+a box and showed her a beautiful little Chinese
+lady in purple silk and lovely striped muslin
+trowsers, which he had brought for her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Another child for you to take care of," said
+Papa.</p>
+
+<p>Pocahontas Maria wrote in her Diary the
+next day:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"My Grandpapa has come home from China.
+He is <i>very</i> nice. He brought me a little Chinese
+sister. Her name is Loo Choo, he says,
+but Mamma calls her Loo Loo, because it sounds
+prettier. Grandpapa treats us very kindly, and
+never says 'dolls,' as Isabel Berners did; and he
+went to call on Lady Green with Mamma. I'm
+so glad he is come."</p>
+
+<p>When Lady Bird read this she kissed Pocahontas
+and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"That's right, dear; so am I!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;">
+<img src="images/illus-172.png" width="350" height="384" alt="One, Two" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2>ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE.</h2>
+
+
+<p>THE old clock on the stairs was drowsy. Its
+ticks, now lower, now louder, sounded like the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>
+breathings of one asleep. Now and then came
+a distincter tick, which might pass for a little
+machine-made snore. As striking-time drew
+near, it roused itself with a quiver and shake.
+"One, two, three, four, five," it rang in noisy
+tones, as who should say, "Behold, I am wide
+awake, and have never closed an eye all night."
+The sounds sped far. Marianne the cook heard
+them, rubbed her eyes, and put one foot out of
+bed. The nurse, Louisa, turned over and began
+to dream that she was at a wedding. Perhaps
+the sun heard too, for he stood up on tip-toe on
+the edge of the horizon, looked about him, then
+launched a long yellow ray directly at the crack
+in the nursery shutter. The ray was sharp: it
+smote full on Archie's eyelids, as he lay asleep,
+surrounded by "Robinson Crusoe," two red apples,
+a piece of gingerbread, and a spade, all of
+which he had taken to bed with him. When he
+felt the prick of the sun-ray he opened his eyes
+wide. "Why, morning's come!" he said, and
+without more ado raised himself and sat up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What'll I do to-day?" he thought. "I
+know. I'll go into the wood and build a house,
+a nice little house, just like Wobinson Cwusoe's,
+all made of sticks, Nobody'll know where my
+house is; I'll not tell, not even Mamma, where
+it is. Then when I don't want to study or any
+thing, I can run away and hide, and they won't
+know where to find me. That'll be nice! I
+guess I'll go and begin it now, 'cause the days
+are getting short. Papa said so once. I wonder
+what makes 'em get short? Pr'aps sometime
+they'll be so short that there won't be any days
+at all, only nights. That wouldn't be pleasant,
+I think. Mamma'd have to buy lots of candles
+then, or else we couldn't see."</p>
+
+<p>With this he jumped out of bed.</p>
+
+<p>"I must be very quiet," he thought, "else
+Loo&mdash;isa'll hear, and then she won't let me go
+till I've had my bekfast. Loo&mdash;isa's real cross
+sometimes; only sometimes she's kind when
+she makes my kite fly."</p>
+
+<p>His clothes were folded on a chair by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>
+bedside. Archie had never dressed himself
+before, but he managed pretty well, except that
+he turned the small ruffled shirt wrong-side out.
+The other things went on successfully. There
+were certain buttons which he could not reach,
+but that did not matter. The small stocking
+toes were folded neatly in, all ready to slip on to
+the feet. But the shoes <i>were</i> a difficulty; they
+fastened with morocco bands and buckles, and
+Archie couldn't manage them at all.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear!" he said to himself, "I wish
+Loo&mdash;isa would come and buckle my shoes for
+me. No, I don't, though, 'cause p'raps she'd
+say, 'Go back to bed, naughty boy; it isn't
+time to get up.' I wouldn't like that. Sometimes
+Loo&mdash;isa does say things to me."</p>
+
+<p>So he put on the shoes without buckling
+them, and, not stopping to brush his hair or
+wash his face, he clapped on his broad-brimmed
+straw hat, took "Robinson Crusoe" and the
+spade, dropped the red apples and the gingerbread
+into his pocket, and stole softly downstairs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>
+The little feet made no noise as they
+passed over the thick carpets. Marianne, who
+was lighting the kitchen fire and clattering the
+tongs, heard nothing. He reached the front
+door, and, stretching up, pulled hard at the bolt.
+It was stiff, and would not move.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear!" sighed Archie, "I wish somebody
+<i>would</i> come and open this door for me."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at the bolt a minute. Then an
+idea struck him, and, laying "Robinson Crusoe"
+and the little spade down on the floor, he went
+into the dining-room pantry, where was a
+drawer with tools in it.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll get Papa's hammer," he thought to himself,
+"and I'll pound that old bolt to pieces."</p>
+
+<p>While he was gone, Marianne, who had
+lighted her fire, came from the kitchen with a
+broom in her hand. She opened the door,
+shook the mat, and began to sweep the steps.
+A sharp tinkle, tinkle met her ear from the
+back gate. It was the milkman ringing for
+some one to come and take in the milk. Marianne<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>
+set her broom against the side of the door,
+and hurried back to the kitchen. Her foot
+struck against "Robinson Crusoe" as she went.
+She picked it up and laid it on the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, the door's open!" exclaimed Archie,
+who at that moment came from the dining-room,
+hammer in hand.</p>
+
+<p>He did not trouble himself to speculate as
+to how the door happened to be open, but,
+picking up the spade, wandered forth into the
+garden. The gate gave no trouble. He walked
+fast, and long before Marianne came back to
+her sweeping he had gained the woods, which
+were near, and enclosed the house on two sides
+in a shady half-circle. They were pretty woods,
+full of flowers and squirrels and winding, puzzling
+paths. Archie had never been allowed to
+go into them alone before.</p>
+
+<p>The morning was delicious, so full of snap
+and sunshine that it set him to dancing and
+skipping as he went along. All the wood-flowers
+were as wide awake as he. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>
+nodded at Archie, as if saying "Good-morning,"
+and sent out fresh smells into the air. Busy
+birds flapped and flew, doing their marketing,
+and fetching breakfast to hungry nestlings,
+chirping and whistling to each other, as they
+did so, that the sun was up and it was a fine
+day. A pair of striped squirrels frisked and
+laughed and called out something saucy as
+Archie trotted by. None of these wild things
+feared the child: he was too small and too
+quick in his movements to be fearful. They
+accepted him as one of themselves,&mdash;a featherless
+bird, or a squirrel of larger growth; while
+he, on his part, smiled vaguely at them and
+hurried past, intent on his projects for a house
+and careless of every thing else.</p>
+
+<p>The sun rose higher and higher. But the
+thick branching trees kept off the heat, and the
+wood remained shady and cool. The paths
+twisted in and out, and looped into each other
+like a tangled riband. No grown person could
+have kept a straight course in their mazes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>
+Archie did not even try, but turned to right
+or to left just as it happened, taking always
+the path which looked prettiest, or which led
+into deepest shade. If he saw anywhere a
+particularly red checkerberry, he went that
+way; otherwise it was all one to him where he
+went. So it came to pass that, by the end of
+an hour, he was as delightfully and completely
+lost as ever little boy has succeeded in being
+since woods grew or the world was made.</p>
+
+<p>"I dess this is a nice place for my house,"
+he said suddenly, as the path he had been following
+led into a small open space, across which
+lay a fallen tree, with gray moss, which looked
+like hair, hanging to its trunk. It <i>was</i> a nice
+place; also, Archie's feet were tired, and he
+was growing hungry, which aided in the decision.
+The ground about the fallen tree was
+carpeted with thick mosses. Some were bright
+green, with stems and little branches like tiny,
+tiny pine-trees. Others had horn-shaped cups
+of yellow and fiery red. Others still were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>
+bright beautiful brown, while here and there
+stood round cushion-shaped masses which looked
+as soft as down.</p>
+
+<p>Into the very middle of one of these pretty
+green cushions plumped Archie. He rested
+his back against a tree trunk, and gave a sigh
+of comfort. It was like an easy chair, except
+that it had no arms; but what does a little boy
+want of arms to chairs? He put his hand into
+his pocket and pulled out, first the red apples,
+and then the gingerbread. The gingerbread
+was rather mashed; but it tasted most delicious,
+only there was too little of it.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I'd brought a hundred more pieces,"
+soliloquized Archie, as he nibbled the last
+crumb. "One isn't half enough bekfast."</p>
+
+<p>The red apples, however, proved a consolation;
+and, quite rested and refreshed now, he
+jumped from the moss cushion and prepared to
+begin his house-building.</p>
+
+<p>"First, I must pick up some sticks," he
+thought,&mdash;"a great many, many sticks, heaps<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>
+of 'em. Then I'll hammer and make a house.
+Only&mdash;I haven't got any nails," he added with
+an after-thought.</p>
+
+<p>There were plenty of sticks to be had in that
+part of the wood; twigs and branches from the
+dead tree, fragments of bark, odds and ends of
+dry brush. Close by stood a white birch. The
+thin, paper-like covering hung loose on its stem,
+like grey-white curls. Archie could pull off
+large pieces, and he enjoyed this so much that he
+pulled till the birch trunk, as far up as he could
+reach, was perfectly bare. Some of the boughs
+were crooked. Archie tried to lay them straight
+with the others, but they wouldn't fit in nicely,
+and stuck their stiff angles out in all directions.</p>
+
+<p>"Those are naughty sticks," said Archie,
+giving the crookedest a shove. "They shan't
+go into my house at all."</p>
+
+<p>The want of nails became serious as the heap
+of wood grew large and Archie was ready to
+build. What was the use of a hammer without
+nails? He tried various ways. At last he laid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>
+the longest boughs in a row against the side of
+the fallen tree. This left a little place beneath
+their slope into which it was possible to creep.
+Archie smiled with satisfaction, and proceeded
+to thatch the sloping roof with moss and bits of
+bark. Then he grubbed up the green cushion
+and transferred it bodily to his house.</p>
+
+<p>"This'll be my chair," he said to himself.
+"I dess I don't want any more furnture except
+just a chair. Loo&mdash;isa, she said, 'so many
+things to dust is a bodder.'"</p>
+
+<p>At that moment came a rustling sound in
+the underbrush. "P'raps it's savages," thought
+Archie, and, half pleased, half frightened at the
+idea, he gave a loud whoop. Out flew a fat
+motherly hen, cackling and screaming. What
+she was doing there in the woods I cannot
+imagine. Perhaps she had lost her way. Perhaps
+she had private business there which only
+hens can understand. Or it may be that she,
+too, had built a little house and hidden it away
+so that no one should know where it was.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Archie was enchanted. "A hen, a hen," he
+cried. "I'll catch her and keep her for my
+own. Then I'll have eggs, and I'll give 'em to
+Mamma, and I'll make custards. Custards <i>is</i>
+made of eggs. Loo&mdash;isa said so."</p>
+
+<p>"Chicky, chicky, chicky," he warbled in a
+winning voice, waving his fingers as if he were
+sprinkling corn on the ground for the hen to
+eat. But the hen was not to be enticed in that
+manner, and, screaming louder than ever, ran
+into the bushes again. Then Archie began to
+run too. Twice he almost seized her brown
+wings, but she slipped through his hands. Had
+the hen been silent she would easily have
+escaped him, but she cackled as she flew, and
+that guided him along. His shoe came off,
+next the hammer flew out of his hand, but he
+did not stop for either. Running, plunging,
+diving, on he went, the frightened hen just
+before, till at last a root tripped him up and
+he fell forward on his face. The hen vanished
+into the thicket. Her voice died away<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>
+in distance. By the time Archie had picked
+himself up there was not even the rustling of a
+leaf to show which way she had gone.</p>
+
+<p>He rose from the ground disconsolate. His
+nose bled from the fall, and there was a bump
+on his forehead, which ached painfully. A
+strong desire to cry came over him. But, like
+a brave fellow, he would not give way to it, and
+sat down under a tree to rest and decide what
+was to be done next.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go back again to my house," was his
+decision. But where <i>was</i> the house? He ran
+this way, that way; the paths all looked alike.
+The house had vanished like the hen. Archie
+had not the least idea which way he ought to
+turn to find it.</p>
+
+<p>One big tear did force its way to his eyes
+when this fact became evident. House and
+hen, it was hard to lose both at once. The
+hammer, too, was gone. Only the spade remained,
+and, armed with this, Archie, like a
+true hero, started to find a good place and build<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>
+another house. Surely nowhere, save in the
+histories of the great Boston and Chicago fires,
+is record to be found of parallel pluck and determination!</p>
+
+<p>House-building was not half so easy in this
+part of the wood where he then was, for the
+bushes were thick and stood closely together.
+Their branches hung so low, that, small as
+Archie was, he had to bend forward and walk
+almost double to avoid having his eyes scratched
+by them. At last, in the middle of a circle of
+junipers, he found a tolerably free space which
+he thought would do. The ground, however,
+was set thick with sharp uncomfortable stones,
+and the first thing needed was to get rid of
+them.</p>
+
+<p>So for an hour, with fingers and spade, Archie
+dug and delved among the stones. It was hard
+work enough, but at last he cleared a place
+somewhat larger than his small body, which he
+carpeted with soft mosses brought from another
+part of the wood. This done, he lay down flat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>
+on his back, and looked dreamily up at the
+pretty green roof made by the juniper boughs
+overhead. "I dess I'll take a nappy now," he
+murmured, and in five minutes was sleeping as
+soundly as a dormouse. Two striped squirrels,
+which may or may not have been the same
+which he had seen in the early morning, came
+out on a bough not a yard from his head, chattered,
+winked, put their paws to their noses
+and made disrespectful remarks to each other
+about the motionless figure. Birds flew and
+sang, bees hummed, the wind went to and fro
+in the branches like the notes of a low song.
+But Archie heard none of these things. The
+hen herself might have come back, cackled her
+best, and flapped her wings in his very face
+without arousing him, so deep was his slumber.</p>
+
+<p>Meantime at home, two miles away, there
+was great commotion over the disappearance
+of Master Archie. Marianne had lingered quite
+a long time at the back gate. The milkman
+was a widower, looking out for a wife, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>
+Marianne, as she said, could skim cream with
+anybody; so it was only natural that they
+should have a great deal to say to each other,
+and that measuring the milk at that particular
+gate should be a slow business. This morning
+their talk was so interesting that twenty minutes
+at least went by before Marianne, with
+very rosy cheeks and very bright eyes, came
+back, pail in hand, along the garden walk. As
+she took up the broom to finish her sweeping,
+she heard a great commotion overhead, steps
+running about, voices exclaiming; but her mind
+was full of the milkman, and she paid no attention,
+till Louisa came flying downstairs, half-dressed,
+and crying,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Sake's alive, Marianne, where's Master Archie?"</p>
+
+<p>"How should I know? Not down here, anyway,"
+was Marianne's reply.</p>
+
+<p>"But he <i>must</i> be down here," persisted
+Louisa. "He's gone out of the nursery, and so
+are his clothes. Whatever's taken him I can't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>
+imagine. I've searched the closets, and looked
+under the beds, and up in the attic, and I took
+Mr. Gray his hot water, and he isn't there.
+His spade's gone too, and his ap&mdash; Oh, mercy!
+there's his story-book now," and she pounced on
+"Robinson Crusoe," where it lay on the table.
+"He's been down here certain sure, for that book
+was on his bed when he went to sleep last night.
+Don't stand there, Marianne, but come and help
+me find him."</p>
+
+<p>Into the parlor, the dining-room, the pantry,
+ran the maids, calling "Archie! Archie!" at
+the tops of their voices. But Archie, who as we
+know was a good mile away by that time, did
+not hear them. They searched the kitchen, the
+cellar, the wood-shed, the store-closet. Marianne
+even lifted the lid of the great copper boiler and
+peeped in to make sure that he was not there!
+Louisa ran wildly about the garden, looking behind
+currant bushes and raspberry vines, and
+parting the tall feathers of the asparagus lest
+Archie should have chosen to hide among them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>
+She tapped the great green watermelons with
+her fingers as she passed,&mdash;perhaps she fancied
+that Archie might be stowed away inside of
+one. All was in vain. Archie was not behind
+the currant bushes, not even in the melon patch.
+Louisa began to sob and cry, Marianne, never
+backward, joined her with a true Irish howl;
+and it was in this condition that Archie's Papa
+found things when he came downstairs to breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>Then ensued a fresh confusion.</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you say the book was lying,
+Louisa?" said Mr. Gray, trying to make out
+the meaning of her sobbing explanation.</p>
+
+<p>"Just here, sir, on the hall table. Oh, the
+darling child, whatever has come to him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, wurra! wurra!" chimed in Marianne.
+"He been and got took away by wicked people,
+perhaps. Well niver get him back, niver!"</p>
+
+<p>"The hall table? Then he must have passed
+out this way. Surely you must have seen him
+or heard him open the door, Marianne?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Is it I see him, sir? I'd niver forget it if I
+had. Oh, the pretty face of him! Wurra!
+wurra!"</p>
+
+<p>"But, now I think of it, the child couldn't
+have opened the door for himself," went on
+Papa, growing impatient. "Did you leave it
+standing open at all, Marianne?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only for a wee moment while I fetched in
+the milk," faltered Marianne, growing rosy-red
+as she reflected on the length of the "moment"
+which she had passed at the gate with the milkman.</p>
+
+<p>"That must have been the time, then," said
+Mr. Gray. "Probably the little fellow has set
+off by himself for a walk. I'll go after and look
+for him. Don't frighten Mrs. Gray when she
+comes down, Louisa, but just say that Archie
+and I are both gone out. Try to look as you
+usually do."</p>
+
+<p>This, however, was beyond Louisa's powers.
+Her eyes were as red as a ferret's, and her cheeks
+the color of purple cherries from crying and excitement<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>
+of mind. Mrs. Gray saw at once that
+something was wrong. She began to question,
+Louisa to cry, and the secret came out in a burst
+of sobs and tears. "Master Archie&mdash;bless his
+little heart!&mdash;has got out of bed and ran away
+into the woods. The master was gone after
+him, but he'd niver find him at all at all"&mdash;(this
+was Marianne's addition). "The tramps
+had him fast by this time, no doubt. They'd
+niver let him go."</p>
+
+<p>"How could he get away all by himself?"
+asked poor frightened Mrs. Gray.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, who knows? Like as not the thaves
+came into the room and lifted him out of his
+very bed. They're iverywhere, thim tramps!
+There's no providing against thim. Oh, howly
+St. Patrick! who'd have thought it?"</p>
+
+<p>This happy idea of tramps having lodged
+itself in Marianne's mind, the story grew rapidly.
+The butcher was informed of it when he came,
+the fishmonger, and the grocer's boy. By noon
+all the village had heard the tale, and farmers'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>
+wives for ten miles round were shuddering over
+these horrible facts, that three men in black
+masks, with knives as long as your arm, had
+broken into Mr. Gray's house at midnight, gagged
+the family, stowed the silver and money in
+pillow-cases, token the little boy from his bed,&mdash;that
+pretty little boy with curly hair, you know,
+my dear,&mdash;and, paying no attention to his
+screams and cries, had carried him off nobody
+knew where. Poor Mrs. Gray was half dead
+with grief, of course, and Mr. Gray had gone in
+pursuit; but law! my dear, he'll never catch
+'em, and if he did, what could he do against
+three men?</p>
+
+<p>"He'd a ought to have taken the constable
+with him," said old Mrs. Fidgit, "then perhaps
+he'd have got him back. I guess the thieves
+won't keep the boy long though, he's too troublesome!
+His ma sent him over once on an
+errand, and I'd as lieve have a wild-cat in the
+house any day. Mark my word, they'll let him
+drop pretty soon!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>As the day went on, Louisa began to disbelieve
+this theory about robbers. It was Marianne's
+theory for one thing; for another, she recollected
+that Archie must have taken his apples and
+gingerbread with him, and his spade. "Is it
+likely that thieves would stop to pack up things
+like that?" she asked Marianne, who was highly
+indignant at the question. The afternoon came,
+still Mr. Gray had not returned, and there were
+no tidings of Archie. Mrs. Gray, half ill with
+anxiety and headache, went to her room to lie
+down. Marianne was describing the exact appearance
+of the imaginary robbers to a crony,
+who stood outside the kitchen window. "Six
+foot high, ivery bit, and a face as black as chimney
+sut," Louisa heard her say. "Pshaw," she
+called out; but sitting still became unbearable;
+and the motion of her needle in and out of the
+work made her feel half crazy. She flung down
+the work,&mdash;it was a jacket for Archie,&mdash;and,
+tying on her bonnet, set off by herself in the
+direction of the woods. Where she was going<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>
+she did not know,&mdash;somewhere, anywhere, to
+search for her lost boy!</p>
+
+<p>The blind wood paths puzzled Louisa more
+than they had puzzled Archie in the morning;
+for she wanted to keep her way, which he did
+not. She lost it, however, continually. Her
+eyes were scratched by boughs and brambles,
+the tree roots tripped her up, her dress caught
+in a briar and was torn. "Archie! Archie!"
+she cried, as she went along. Her voice came
+back from the forest in strange echoing tones
+which made her start. At last, after winding
+and turning for a long time, she found herself
+again upon the main path, not far from the
+place where she had entered the wood. She
+was hot, tired, and breathless; her voice was
+hoarse with crying and calling. "I'll wait here
+awhile," she thought. "Perhaps the blessed
+little dear'll come this way; but, whether he
+does or not, I'm too tired to move another step
+till I've had some rest." She found a smooth
+place under an oak, sat down, and leaned her
+back against the stem.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Cheep, cheep, chickeree," sang one bird
+to another. "What a stupid girl that is! I
+could tell her which way to go. Why, there's
+the mark of his big foot on the moss close by.
+Why doesn't she see it and follow? Cheep,
+cheep."</p>
+
+<p>"Cluck, cluck, whirr, whillahu," sang the
+other bird. "Human beings are <i>too</i> stupid."</p>
+
+<p>Poor stupid Louisa, her eyes blurred with
+tears, did not heed the birds' songs or understand
+those plain directions for finding Archie
+which they were so ready to give. The tree
+trunk felt comfortable against her back. The
+air came cool and spicy from the wood depths
+to steal the smart from her hot face. The
+rustle of the leaves was pleasant in her ear.
+So the faithful maid waited.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gray meantime had tracked Archie for a
+little way by the traces of his small feet on the
+dewy grass. Then the marks became too confused
+to help him longer; he lost the track,
+and, after a long and weary walk, found himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>
+on the far side of the wood, near a little village.
+There he hired a wagon, and drove home; resolving
+to rouse the neighbors, and give the
+wood a thorough search, even should it keep
+them out all night.</p>
+
+<p>While he was bargaining for his wagon in the
+distant village, Archie, in the midst of his nest
+of moss, was waking up. He had slept three
+hours, and so soundly that, at first arousing, he
+could not in the least remember where he was.
+He rubbed his eyes, and stared about him wonderingly.
+"Why, I'm out in the woods!" he
+said in a surprised voice. Gradually he recollected
+how he had built the house, chased a
+hen, and lost his hammer. This last accident
+troubled him a little. "Papa said I mustn't
+touch that big hammer ever," he thought to
+himself, "'cause I'd be sure to spoil it. But I'll
+tell him it isn't spoiled, and he can pick it up
+and put it back into the drawer; then he won't
+mind."</p>
+
+<p>One of the striped squirrels came down from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>
+a bough overhead, and stopped just in front of
+the place where Archie sat. Archie looked at
+him; he looked at Archie. The squirrel put
+its paws together and rubbed its nose. It
+chippered a minute, twinkled its bead-like eyes,
+then, with a final flick of its tail, it was off,
+and up the tree again like a flash. Archie
+looked after it delighted.</p>
+
+<p>"What a pretty bunny!" he said out loud.</p>
+
+<p>"Now I'll go home," was his next remark,
+getting suddenly up from the ground.</p>
+
+<p>The cause of this resolution was a little gnawing
+sensation which had begun within him and
+was getting stronger every moment. In other
+words, he was hungry. Gingerbread and apples
+do not satisfy little boys as roast beef does.
+Archie's stomach was quite empty, and began
+to cry with an unmistakable voice, "I want my
+dinner, I want my dinner. Give me my dinner
+quick, or I shall do something desperate."
+Everybody in the world has to listen when
+voices like these begin to sound inside of them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>
+All at once home seemed the most attractive
+spot in the world to Archie. Visions of Mamma
+and bread and milk and a great plate full of
+something hot arose before his eyes, and an
+immense longing for these delights took possession
+of him. So he shouldered his spade and
+set forth, not having the least notion&mdash;poor
+little soul!&mdash;as to which side home lay, but
+believing, with the confidence of childhood, that
+now he wanted to go that way, the way was
+sure to be easily found. Refreshed by his long
+sleep, he marched sturdily on, taking any path
+which struck his eye first.</p>
+
+<p>There is a pretty picture&mdash;I wonder if any
+of you have ever seen it?&mdash;in which a little
+child is seen walking across a narrow plank
+which bridges a deep chasm, while behind flies
+a tall, beautiful angel, with a hand on either
+side the child, guiding it along. The child does
+not see the angel, and walks fearlessly; but the
+heavenly hands are there, and the little one is
+safe. It may be that just such a good angel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>
+flew behind our little Archie that afternoon to
+guide him through the mazes of the wood.
+Certain it is that, without knowing it, he turned,
+or something turned him, in the direction of
+home. It was far for such small feet to go, and
+he made the distance farther by straying, now
+to left and now to right; but, after each of
+these strayings, the unseen hands brought him
+back again to the right path and led him on.
+He did not stop to play now, for the hungry
+voices grew louder each minute, and he was in
+a hurry to get home. Speculations as to whether
+dinner would be all eaten up crossed his mind.
+"But I dess not," he said confidently, "'cause
+it isn't very long since morning." It was really
+four in the afternoon, but Archie's long nap
+had cheated the time, and he had no idea that
+it was so late.</p>
+
+<p>The path grew wider, and was hedged with
+barberries and wild roses. The lovely pink of
+the roses pleased Archie's eye. He stopped
+and tugged at a great branch till it broke, then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>
+he laid it across his shoulder to carry to Mamma.
+Suddenly, as he tramped along, a gasp and
+exclamation was heard, and a tall figure rose up
+from under a tree and caught him in its arms.
+It was Louisa, who had fallen half asleep at her
+post, and had been roused by the sound of the
+well-known little feet as they went by.</p>
+
+<p>"Master Archie, dear," she cried, sobbing,
+"how could you run away and scare us so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's Loo&mdash;isa," said Archie wonderingly.
+"Did you come out here to build a
+house too, Loo&mdash;isa?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where <i>have</i> you been?" clamored Louisa,
+holding him tight in her arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, out there," explained Archie, waving
+his hand toward the woods generally.</p>
+
+<p>"How could you slip away and frighten
+Nursey so, and poor Mamma and Papa? Papa's
+been all the day hunting you. And where are
+you going now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Home! Stop a squeezing of me, Loo&mdash;isa.
+I don't like to be squeezed. Has the dinner-bell
+runged yet? I want my dinner."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Dinner! Why it's most evening, Master
+Archie. And nobody could eat, because we
+was so frightened at your being lost."</p>
+
+<p>"I wasn't lost!" cried Archie indignantly.
+"I was building a house. Come along, Loo&mdash;isa,
+I'll show you the way."</p>
+
+<p>So Archie took Louisa's hand and led her
+along. Neither of them knew the path, but
+they were in the right direction, and by and
+by the trees grew thinner, and they could see
+where they were, on the edge of Mr. Plimpton's
+garden, not far from home.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. and Mrs. Gray were consulting together
+on the piazza, when the click of the gate made
+them look up, and behold! the joyful Louisa,
+displaying Archie, who walked by her side.</p>
+
+<p>"Here he is, ma'am," she cried. "I found
+him way off in the wood. He'd run away."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't," said Archie, squirming out of his
+mother's arms. "I was building houses. And
+you didn't find me a bit, Loo&mdash;isa. I found
+you, and I showed you the way home!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Never mind who found who, so long as we
+have our little runaway back," said Mr. Gray,
+stooping to kiss Archie. "Another time we
+must have a talk about boys who go to build
+houses without leave from their Mamma's and
+Papa's, and make everybody anxious. Meantime,
+I fancy somebody I know about is half-starved.
+Tell Marianne to send some dinner in
+at once, Louisa."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, I will." And Louisa hastened off
+to triumph over her friend Marianne.</p>
+
+<p>"Archie, darling, how could you go away and
+frighten us so?" asked Mrs. Gray, taking him
+in her lap.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mamma, were you frightened?" replied
+Archie wonderingly. "I was building a
+house. It's a <i>beau</i>-tiful house. I'll let you
+come and sit in it if you want to. And I've
+got a hen, and I'll give you all the eggs she
+lays, to cook, you know. Only the hen's runned
+away, and I couldn't find my house any more,
+and the hammer tumbled down, and I lost my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>
+shoe. I know where the hammer is, I dess, and
+to-morrow I'll go back and get it."&mdash;Here the
+expression of Archie's face changed. Louisa
+had appeared at the door with a plate of something
+which smelt excessively nice, and sent a
+little curl of steam into the air. She beckoned.
+He jumped down from Mamma's lap, ran to the
+door, and both disappeared. Nothing more was
+heard of him except his feet on the stairs, and
+by and by the sound of Louisa's rocking-chair,
+as she sat beside his bed singing Archie to sleep.
+Mamma and Papa went in together a little later
+and stood over their boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the comfort of seeing him safe in his
+little bed to-night!" said Mrs. Gray.</p>
+
+<p>Roused by her voice, Archie stirred. "I <i>dess</i>
+I know where the hammer is," he said drowsily.
+Then his half-opened eyes closed, and he was
+sound asleep.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;">
+<img src="images/illus-204.png" width="350" height="393" alt="Ride a Cock-horse" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2>RIDE A COCK-HORSE.</h2>
+
+
+<p>IT was a drizzly day in the old market-town of
+Banbury. The clouds hung low: all the world<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>
+was wrapped in sulky mist. When the sun
+tried to shine out, as once or twice he did, his
+face looked like a dull yellow spot against the
+sky, and the clouds hurried up at once and extinguished
+him. Children tapped on window
+panes, repeating&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+"Rain, rain, go away,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Come again some other day."</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<div class='unindent'>But the rain would not take the hint, and after
+awhile the sun gave up his attempts, hid his
+head, and went away disgusted, to shine somewhere
+else.</div>
+
+<p>"It's too bad, it's <i>too</i> bad!" cried Alice Flower,
+the Mayor's little daughter, looking as much out
+of sorts as the weather itself.</p>
+
+<p>"You mustn't say too bad. It is God who
+makes it rain or shine, and He is always right,"
+remarked her Aunt.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;I know," replied Alice in a timid
+voice. "But, Aunty, I did want to go to the
+picnic very much."</p>
+
+<p>"So did I. We are both disappointed," said
+Aunty, smiling.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But I'm the <i>most</i> disappointed," persisted
+Alice, "because you're grown up, you know, and
+I haven't any thing pleasant to do. All my
+doll's spring clothes are made, and I've read my
+story-books till I'm tired of 'em, and I learned
+my lessons for to-morrow with Miss Boyd yesterday,
+because we were going to the picnic. Oh,
+dear, what a long morning this has been! It
+feels like a week."</p>
+
+<p>Just then, Toot! toot! toot! sounded from
+the street below. Alice hurried back to the
+window. She pressed her nose close to the
+glass, but at first could see nothing; then, as
+the sound grew nearer, a man on horseback
+rode into view. He was gorgeously dressed in
+black velveteen, with orange sleeves and an
+orange lining to his cloak. He carried a brass
+trumpet, which every now and then he lifted to
+his lips, blowing a long blast. This was the
+sound which Alice had heard.</p>
+
+<p>Following the man came a magnificent scarlet
+chariot, drawn by ten black horses with scarlet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>
+trappings and scarlet feathers in their heads.
+Each horse was ridden by a little page in a
+costume of emerald green. The chariot was
+full of musicians in red uniforms. They held
+umbrellas over their instruments, and looked
+sulky because of the rain, which was no wonder.
+Still, the effect of the whole was gay and dazzling.
+Behind the chariot came a long procession of
+horses, black, gray, sorrel, chestnut, or marked
+in odd patches of brown and white. These
+horses were ridden by ladies in wonderful blue
+and silver and pink and gold habits, and by
+knights in armor, all of whom carried umbrellas
+also. Pages walked beside the horses, waving
+banners and shields with "Visit Currie's World-Renowned
+Circus" painted on them. A droll
+little clown, mounted on an enormous bay horse,
+made fun of the pages, imitated their gestures,
+and rapped them on the back with his riding-stick
+in a droll way. A long line of blue and
+red wagons closed the cavalcade.</p>
+
+<p>But prettiest of all was a little girl about ten<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>
+years old, who rode in the middle of the procession
+upon a lovely horse as white as milk. The
+horse had not a single spot of dark color about
+him, and his trappings of pale blue were so
+slight that they seemed like ribbons hung on
+his graceful limbs. The little girl had hair of
+bright, pale yellow, which fell to her waist in
+loose shining waves. She was small and slender,
+but her color was like roses, and her blue eyes
+and sweet pink mouth smiled every moment as
+she bent and swayed to the motion of the horse,
+which she managed beautifully, though her bits
+of hands seemed almost too small to grasp the
+reins. Her riding-dress of blue was belted and
+buttoned with silver; a tiny blue cap with long
+blue plumes was on her head; and altogether
+she seemed to Alice like a fairy princess, or one
+of those girls in story-books who turn out to be
+kings' daughters or something else remarkable.</p>
+
+<p>"O Aunty! come here do come," cried Alice.</p>
+
+<p>Just then the procession halted directly beneath
+the window. The trumpeter took off his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>
+hat and made a low bow to Alice and her Aunt.
+Then he blew a final blast, rose in his stirrups
+and began to speak. Miss Flower opened the
+window that they might hear more distinctly.
+This seemed to bring the pretty little girl on
+the horse nearer. She looked up at Alice and
+smiled, and Alice smiled back at her.</p>
+
+<p>This is what the trumpeter said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Ladies and gentlemen,&mdash;I have the honor
+to announce to you the arrival in Banbury of
+Signor James Currie's World-Renowned Circus
+and Grand Unrivalled Troupe of Equestrian
+Performers, whose feats of equitation and horsemanship
+have given unfeigned delight to all
+the courts of Europe, her Majesty the Queen,
+and the nobility and gentry of this and other
+countries. Among the principal attractions of
+this unrivalled troupe are Mr. Vernon Twomley,
+with his famous trained steed Bucephalus;
+Madame Orley, with her horse Chimborazo, who
+lacks only the gift of speech to take a first class
+at the University of Oxford; M. Aristide, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>
+admired trapezeist; Goo-Goo, the unparalleled
+and side-splitting clown; and last, but not least,
+Mademoiselle Mignon, the child equestrienne,
+whose feats of agility are the wonder of the
+age! On account of Mr. Currie's unprecedented
+press of engagements, his appearance
+in Banbury is limited to a single performance,
+which will take place this evening under the
+Company's magnificent tent, in the Market Place,
+behind the old cross. Come one, come all!
+Performances to begin at eight precisely. Admission,
+one-and-sixpence. Children under ten
+years of age, half price. God save the Queen."</p>
+
+<p>Having finished this oration, the trumpeter
+bowed once more to the window, blew another
+blast, and rode on, followed by all the procession;
+the little girl on the white horse giving
+Alice a second smile as she moved away. For
+awhile the toot, toot, toot of the trumpet could
+be heard from down the street. Then the
+sounds grew fainter. At last they died in distance,
+and all was quiet as it had been before.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Alice was sorry to have them go. But the
+interruption had done her good by taking her
+thoughts away from the rain and the lost picnic.
+She could think and talk of nothing now except
+the gay riders, and especially the pretty little
+girl on the white horse.</p>
+
+<p>"Wasn't she sweet?" she asked her Aunt.
+"And didn't she ride <i>beau</i>tifully. I wish I
+could ride like that. And what a pretty name,
+Mademoiselle Mignon! It must be very nice to
+belong to a circus, I think."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid that Mademoiselle Mignon does
+not always find it so nice," remarked Miss
+Flower.</p>
+
+<p>"O Aunty, what makes you say so? She
+looks as if she were perfectly happy! Didn't
+you see her laugh when the clown stole the
+other man's cap from his head? And such a
+dear horse as she was riding! I never saw such
+a dear horse in all my life. I wish I had one
+just like him."</p>
+
+<p>"It <i>was</i> a beauty. So perfectly white."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Wasn't it! O Aunty, don't you wish
+Papa would take you and me to the performance?
+There will only be one, you know,
+because Mr. Currie has such un&mdash;un&mdash;unpresidential
+engagements. I mean to ask Papa
+if he won't. There he is now! I hear his key
+in the door. May I run down and ask him,
+Aunty?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Downstairs ran Alice.</p>
+
+<p>"O Papa!" she cried, "<i>did</i> you meet the
+Circus? It was the most wonderful Circus, Papa.
+Just like a story-book. And such a dear little
+girl on a white horse! Won't you please take
+me to see it, Papa&mdash;and Aunty too? We both
+want to go very much. It's only here for one
+night, the man said."</p>
+
+<p>"We'll see," said the Mayor, taking off his
+coat. Alice danced with pleasure when she
+heard this "we'll see," for with Papa "we'll
+see" meant almost always the same thing as
+"yes." Alice was an only child, and a petted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>
+one, and Papa rarely refused any request on
+which his motherless little girl had set her heart.</p>
+
+<p>She skipped upstairs beside him, full of satisfaction,
+and had just settled herself on his knee
+for the half hour of frolic and talk which was
+her daily delight and his, when a knock came
+to the door below, and Phebe the maid appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"Two persons to see you, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Show them in here," said the Mayor. Alice
+lingered and was rewarded, for the "persons"
+were no other than Signor Currie himself and
+his ring-master. Alice recognized them at once.
+Both were gorgeously dressed in black and
+orange and velvet-slashed sleeves, and came in
+holding their plumed hats in their hands. The
+object of the call was to solicit the honor of the
+Mayor's patronage for the evening's entertainment.
+How pleased Alice was when Papa engaged
+a box and paid for it!</p>
+
+<p>"I shall bring my little daughter here," he
+told Signor Currie. "She is much taken by a
+child whom she saw to-day among your performers."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Mademoiselle Mignon, no doubt," replied
+the Signor solemnly. "She is, indeed, a prodigy
+of talent,&mdash;one of the wonders of the age,
+I assure your worship!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said his worship, smiling, "we shall
+see to-night. Good-day to you."</p>
+
+<p>"O Papa, that is delightful!" cried Alice, the
+moment the men were gone. "How I wish it
+were evening already! I can scarcely wait."</p>
+
+<p>Evenings come at last, even when waited
+for. Alice had not time, after all, to get
+<i>very</i> impatient before the carriage was at the
+door, and she and Papa and Aunty were in it,
+rolling away toward the market-place. Crowds
+of people were going in the same direction.
+Half the Papas and Mammas in Banbury had
+taken their boys and girls to see the show.
+There, behind the market cross, rose the great
+tent, a flapping red flag on top. Bright lights
+streamed from within. How exciting it was!
+The tent was so big inside that there was plenty
+of room for all the people who wished to come,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>
+and more. Ranges of benches ran up till they
+met the canvas roof. Below were the boxes,
+hung with red and white cloth and banners.
+Dazzling lights were everywhere, the band was
+playing, from behind the green curtain came
+sounds of voices and horses whinnying to each
+other. Alice had never been to a circus before.
+It seemed to her the most beautiful and bewildering
+place which she had ever imagined.</p>
+
+<p>By and by the performance began. How
+the Banbury children did enjoy it! The clown's
+little jokes had done duty in hundreds of places
+before. Some of them had even appeared in
+the almanac! But in Banbury they were all
+new, and so funny that everybody laughed till
+their sides ached. And the wonderful horses!
+Madame Orley's educated steed, which picked
+out letters from a card alphabet and spelled
+words with them, went through the military
+drill with the precision of a trooper, and waltzed
+about the arena with his mistress on his back!&mdash;well,
+he was not a horse; he was a wizard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>
+steed, like the one described in the "Arabian
+Nights Tales." Alice almost thought she detected
+the little peg behind his ear!</p>
+
+<p>She shuddered over the feats of the sky-blue
+trapezeist, who seemed to do every thing but
+fly. The knights in imitation armor were real
+knights to Alice; the pink and gold ladies were
+veritable damsels of romance, undergoing adventures.
+But, delightful as all this was, she
+was conscious that the best remained behind,
+and eagerly watched the door of entrance, in
+hopes of the appearance of the white steed and
+the little rider who had so fascinated her imagination
+in the morning. Papa noticed it, and
+laughed at her; but, for all that, she watched.</p>
+
+<p>At last they came, and Alice was satisfied.
+Mignon looked prettier and daintier than ever
+in her light fantastic robe of white and spangles,
+with silver bracelets on her wrists and little
+anklets hung with bells about her slender ankles.
+Round and round and round galloped
+the white horse, the fairy figure on his back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>
+now standing, now lying, now on her knees,
+now poised on one small foot, or, again, dancing
+to the music on top of the broad saddle, keeping
+exact time, every movement graceful and light
+as that of a happy elf. Hoops, wreathed with
+roses and covered with silver paper, were raised
+across her path. She bounded through them
+easily, smiling as she sprang. The white horse
+seemed to love her, and to obey her every
+gesture; and Mignon evidently loved the horse,
+for more than once in the pauses Alice saw
+her pat and caress the pretty creature. At
+length the final bound was taken, the last
+rose-wreathed hoop was carried away, Mignon
+kissed her hand to the audience and disappeared
+at full gallop, the curtain fell, and the ring-master
+announced that Part First was ended,
+and that there would be an intermission of
+fifteen minutes.</p>
+
+<p>By this time Alice was in a state of tumultuous
+admiration which knew no bounds.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, if I could only speak to her and kiss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>
+her, just once!" she cried. "Isn't she the darlingest
+little thing you ever saw? I wish I
+could. Don't you think they'd let me, Papa?"</p>
+
+<p>"Would there be any harm in it, do you
+think?" asked the Mayor of his sister. "She's
+a pretty, innocent-looking little creature."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't quite like having Alice associate
+with such people," objected Miss Flower. Then,
+softened by the wistful eagerness of Alice's
+face, she added, "Still, in this case, the child is
+so young that I really think there would be no
+harm, except that the manager might object
+to having the little girl disturbed between the
+acts."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll inquire," said Papa.</p>
+
+<p>The manager was most obliging. Managers
+generally are, I fancy, when Mayors
+express wishes. "Mademoiselle Mignon," he
+said, "would be very pleased and proud to
+receive Miss Flower, if she would take the
+trouble to come behind the scenes." So Alice,
+trembling with excitement, went with Papa<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>
+behind the big green curtain. She had fancied
+it a sort of fairy world; but instead she found
+a great bare, disorderly place. Sawdust was
+scattered on the ground; huge boxes were
+standing about, some empty, some half unpacked.
+From farther away came sounds of
+loud voices talking and disputing, and the stamping
+of horses' feet. It was neither a pretty or
+a pleasant place; and Alice, feeling shy and half
+frightened, held Papa's hand tight, and squeezed
+it very hard as they waited.</p>
+
+<p>Pretty soon the manager came to them with
+Mignon beside him. She looked smaller and
+more childish than she had done on horseback.
+A little plaid shawl was pinned over her gauzy
+dress to keep her warm. Alice lost her fears
+at once. She realized that here was no fairy
+princess, but a little girl like herself. Mignon's
+face was no less sweet when seen so near. Her
+cheeks were the loveliest pink imaginable.
+Her blue eyes looked up frankly and trustfully.
+When the Mayor spoke to her she blushed and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>
+made a pretty courtesy, clasping Alice's hand
+very tight in hers, but saying nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"The performances will recommence in ten
+minutes," said Signor Currie, consulting his
+watch. Then he and the Mayor moved a little
+aside and began talking together, leaving the
+little girls to make acquaintance.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw you this morning," said Alice.</p>
+
+<p>Mignon nodded and smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, did you see me? I thought you did,
+but I wasn't sure, because we were up so high.
+Aunty and I thought the procession was beautiful.
+But I liked your horse best of all. Is he
+gentle?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pluto? oh, he's very gentle," replied Mignon.
+"Only now and then he gets a little wild
+when the people hurrah and clap very loud.
+But he always knows me."</p>
+
+<p>"How beautifully you do ride," went on
+Alice. "It looks just like flying when you
+jump through the hoops. I wish I knew how.
+Is it very hard to do?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;except when I get tired. Then I
+don't do it well. But as long as the music
+plays I don't feel tired. Sometimes before I
+come out I am frightened, and think I can't do
+it at all, but then I hear the band begin, and I
+know I can. Oh! don't you love music?"</p>
+
+<p>"Y&mdash;es," said Alice wonderingly, for Mignon's
+eyes sparkled and her face flushed as she
+asked this question. "I like music when it's
+pretty."</p>
+
+<p>"I love it so <i>so</i> much," went on Mignon confidentially.
+"It's like flowers&mdash;and colors&mdash;all
+sorts of things&mdash;sunsets too. Our band
+plays beautifully, don't you think so? It makes
+me feel as if I could do any thing in the world,
+fly or dance on the air,&mdash;any thing! It's quite
+different when they stop. Then I don't want
+to jump or spring, but just to sit still. If they
+would keep on playing always, I don't believe I
+should ever get tired."</p>
+
+<p>"How funny!" said the practical Alice. "I
+never feel that way at all. Aunty says I haven't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>
+got a bit of ear for music. Did you see Aunty
+at the window this morning when you looked
+up?"</p>
+
+<p>"Was that your Aunty? I thought it was
+your Mamma."</p>
+
+<p>"No; I haven't got any Mamma. She died
+when I was a little baby. I don't remember
+her a bit."</p>
+
+<p>"Neither do I mine," said Mignon wistfully.
+"Mr. Currie says he guesses I never had any.
+Do you think I could? Little girls always have
+Mammas, don't they?"</p>
+
+<p>"But haven't you an Aunty or any thing?"
+cried Alice.</p>
+
+<p>Mignon shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she said. "No Aunty."</p>
+
+<p>"Why! Who takes care of you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, they all take care of me," replied Mignon
+smiling. "Madame Orley,&mdash;that's Mrs.
+Currie, you know,&mdash;she's very kind. She curls
+my hair and fastens my frock in the morning,
+and she always dresses me for the performance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>
+herself. Mr. Currie,&mdash;he's kind too. He gave
+me these anklets and my silver bracelets and
+two rings&mdash;see&mdash;one with a blue stone and
+one with a red stone. Aren't they pretty? Goo-Goo
+is nice too. He taught me to write last
+year. And old Jerry,&mdash;that's the head groom,
+you know,&mdash;he's the kindest of all. He says
+I'm like his little granddaughter that died, and
+wherever we go he almost always buys me a
+present. Look what he gave me this morning,"
+putting her hand into the bosom of her frock
+and pulling out an ivory needle-case. "I keep
+it here for fear it'll get lost. There's always
+such a confusion when we only stop one night
+in a place."</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it pretty," said Alice admiringly. "I'm
+glad Jerry gave it to you. But I wish you had
+an Aunty, because mine is so nice."</p>
+
+<p>"Or a Mamma," said Mignon thoughtfully.
+"If I only had a Mamma of my own, and music
+which would play <i>all the time</i> and never stop,
+I should be just happy. I wouldn't mind the
+Enchanted Steed then,&mdash;or any thing."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What's the Enchanted Steed?" asked Alice.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh,&mdash;one of the things I do. It's harder
+than the rest, so I don't like it quite so well.
+You'll see&mdash;it's the grand <i>finale</i> to-night."</p>
+
+<p>A sharp little bell tinkled.</p>
+
+<p>"That's to ring up the curtain," said Mignon.
+"I must go. Thank you so much for coming to
+see me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, wait one minute!" cried Alice, diving
+into her pocket. "Yes, I thought so. Here's
+my silver thimble. Won't you take it for a
+keepsake, dear, to go with your needle-book,
+you know? And don't forget me, because I
+never, never shall forget you. My name's
+Alice,&mdash;Alice Flower."</p>
+
+<p>"How pretty!" cried Mignon, looking admiringly
+at the thimble. "How kind you are!
+Good-by."</p>
+
+<p>"Kiss your hand to me from the back of the
+horse, won't you, please?" said Alice. "That
+will be splendid! Good-by, dear, good-by."</p>
+
+<p>The two children kissed each other; then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>
+Mignon ran away, tucking the thimble into her
+bosom as she went.</p>
+
+<p>"O Aunty! you never saw such a darling
+little thing as she is!" cried Alice, when they
+had got back to the box. "So sweet, and so
+pretty, prettier than any of the little girls we
+know, Aunty. I'm sure you'd think so if you
+saw her near. She hasn't any Mamma either,
+and no Aunty or any thing. She wishes so
+much she had. But she says all the circus
+people are real kind to her. You can't think
+how much she loves music. If the band would
+play all the time, she could fly, she says, or do
+any thing else that was hard. It was so queer
+to hear her talk about it. I never saw any little
+girl that I liked so much. I wish she was my
+sister, my own true sister; really I do, Aunty."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Alice, I never knew you so excited
+about anybody before," remarked Miss Flower.</p>
+
+<p>"O Aunty! she isn't <i>anybody</i>; she's quite
+different from common people. How I wish
+she'd hurry and come out again. She promised<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>
+to kiss her hand to me from the horse's back,
+Papa. Won't that be splendid?"</p>
+
+<p>The whole performance was more interesting
+to Alice since her conversation with Mignon.
+Madame Orley and her trained steed were quite
+new and different now that she knew that
+Madame Orley's real name was Currie, and that
+she curled Mignon's hair every morning. Goo-Goo
+seemed like an intimate friend, because of
+the writing-lessons. Alice was even sure that
+she could make out old Jerry of the needle-book
+among the attendants. Round and round and
+round sped the horses. Goo-Goo cracked his
+whip. The trapezeist swung high in air like
+a glittering blue spider suspended by silver
+threads. Mr. Vernon Twomley's Bucephalus
+did every thing but talk. Somebody else on
+another horse played the violin and stood on his
+head meanwhile, all at full gallop! It was delightful.
+But the best of all was when Mignon
+came out again. Her cheeks were rosier, her
+eyes brighter than ever, and&mdash;yes&mdash;she recollected<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>
+her promise, for during the very first
+round she turned to Alice, poised on one foot
+like a true fairy, smiled charmingly, and kissed
+her hand twice. How delightful that was! Not
+Alice only, but all the children present were
+bewitched by Mignon that evening. Twenty
+little girls at least said to their mothers, "Oh,
+how I would like to ride like that!" and many
+who did not speak wished privately that they
+could change places and <i>be</i> Mignon. Alice did
+not wish this any longer. The noise and confusion
+behind the scenes, the stamping horses
+and swearing men, had given her a new idea of
+the life which poor Mignon had to lead among
+these sights and sounds, the only child among
+many grown people, dependant upon the chance
+kindness of clowns and head grooms for her
+few pleasures, her little education. She no
+longer desired to change places. What she
+now wanted was to carry Mignon away for
+a companion and friend, sharing lessons with
+her and Aunty and all the other good things<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span>
+which she had forgotten, when in the morning
+she wished herself a part of the gay circus
+troupe.</p>
+
+<p>And now the performances were almost over.
+One last feat remained, the <i>Finale</i>, of which
+Mignon had spoken. It stood on the bills
+thus:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="center">"GRAND FINALE!!<br />
+
+IN CONCLUSION<br />
+
+WILL BE GIVEN THE STUPEFYING FEAT<br />
+
+OF<br />
+
+THE ENCHANTED STEED,<br />
+
+AND<br />
+
+THE FLIGHT THROUGH THE AIR!<br />
+
+<i>Performers:</i><br />
+
+MADEMOISELLE MIGNON; HER HORSE PLUTO; M. ARISTIDE;
+AND M. JOACHIN."<br /></div>
+
+<p>Alice watched with much interest the arrangements
+making for this feat. Fresh sawdust was
+sprinkled over the arena, the ropes of the trapezes
+were lowered and tested: evidently the
+feat was a difficult one, and needed careful
+preparation. M. Aristide and M. Joachin took
+their places on the suspended bars, the ring-master<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>
+cleared the circle, and Mignon rode in at
+a gallop. Three times she went round the arena
+at full speed, then she was snatched from the
+horse's back by the long arm of M. Aristide extended
+from the trapeze above. Pluto galloped
+steadily on. One second only M. Aristide held
+Mignon poised in air, then he flung her lightly
+across the space to M. Joachin, who as lightly
+caught her, waited a second, and, as Pluto passed
+beneath, dropped her upon his back. It looked
+fearfully dangerous; all depended upon the
+exact time at which each movement was executed.
+The whole audience caught its breath,
+but Mignon did not seem to be frightened. Her
+little face was quite unruffled as the strong men
+tossed her to and fro, her limbs and dress fell
+into graceful lines as she went through the air;
+it was really like a bird's flight. Alice's hands
+were squeezed tightly together, she could hardly
+breathe. Ah!&mdash;Pluto was an instant too late,
+or M. Joachin a second too soon,&mdash;which was
+it? Mignon missed the saddle,&mdash;grazed it with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>
+her foot, fell,&mdash;striking one of the wooden supports
+of the tent with her head as she touched
+the ground. There was a universal thrill and
+shudder. Mr. Currie hurried up, Pluto faltered
+in his pace, whinnied and ran back to where his
+little mistress lay. But in one moment Mignon
+was on her feet again, making her graceful
+courtesy and kissing her hand, though she
+looked very pale. The curtain fell rapidly.
+Alice, looking anxiously that way, had a vague
+idea that she saw Mignon drop down again, but
+Aunty said, "How fortunate that that sweet
+little thing was not hurt;" and Alice, being
+used to finding Aunty always in the right, felt
+her heart lightened. They went out, following
+the audience, who were all praising Mignon, and
+saying that it might have been a terrible accident;
+and, for their part, it didn't seem right to
+let children run such risks, and they were thankful
+that the little dear was not injured. Many a
+child envied Mignon that night; many dreamed
+of silver spangles, galloping steeds, roses, applause,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>
+and waked up thinking how charming it
+must be to live on a horse's back with music
+always playing, and exciting things going on,
+and people praising you!</p>
+
+<p>Oh, dear! I wish I could stop here. Why
+should there be painful things in the world
+which must be written about? That pretty
+courtesy, that spring from the earth were poor
+Mignon's last. She had risen and bowed with
+the instinct which all players feel to act out
+their parts to the end, but as the curtain fell
+down she dropped again, this time heavily.
+Mr. Currie, much frightened, lifted and carried
+her to his wife's tent. The band, who were
+playing out the audience, stopped with a dismayed
+suddenness. Goo-Goo untied his mask
+and hurried in. Madame Orley, who was feeding
+Chimborazo with sugar, dropped the sugar
+on the floor and ran too. Jerry flew for a
+doctor. Mignon was laid on a bed. They
+fanned her, rubbed her feet, put brandy into
+her pale lips. But it was all of no use. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>
+little hands were cold, the blue-veined eyelids
+would not unclose. Madame Orley and the
+other women riders who were clustered beside
+the bed began to sob bitterly. They all loved
+Mignon; she was the pet and baby of the whole
+circus troupe.</p>
+
+<p>It was not long before the doctor came. He
+felt Mignon's pulse, and tried various things,
+but his face was very grave.</p>
+
+<p>"She's a frail little creature," he said. "No
+stamina to carry her through."</p>
+
+<p>"She's opening her eyes," cried Madame
+Orley. "She's coming to herself."</p>
+
+<p>Slowly the blue eyes opened. At first she
+seemed not to see the anxious countenances
+bent over her. Then a look of recognition crept
+into her face, and a wan little smile parted the
+lips. She lifted one hand and began to fumble
+feebly in the bosom of her frock.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, Mignon, dear?" said one of the
+women. It was Alice's silver thimble that Mignon
+was seeking after. When it was given her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>
+she seemed content, and lay clasping it in her
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>Just then a strange noise came from outside.
+Pluto, suspecting that something had gone
+wrong, had slipped his halter. A groom tried
+to catch him. He snorted back and cantered
+away. At the door of Madame Orley's tent he
+paused, put in his head and gave a long whinny.</p>
+
+<p>Mignon started. The bells on her ankles
+tinkled a little as she moved.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Pluto"&mdash;she whispered faintly,&mdash;"steady,
+dear Pluto. Ah, there's the music at
+last! I thought it would never begin. How
+sweet,&mdash;oh, how sweet! They never made such
+sweet music before. I can do it now." A smile
+brightened her face.</p>
+
+<p>"Has she a mother?" asked the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>The words caught Mignon's ear. She looked
+up. "Mamma," she said&mdash;"Mamma! Did <i>you</i>
+make the music?" Her head fell back, she
+closed her eyes.&mdash;That was all.</p>
+
+<p>"She loved music so dearly," said one of the
+women weeping.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"She has it now," replied the good old doctor,
+laying down the little hand from which the pulse
+had ebbed away. "Don't cry so over her, my
+good girl. She was a tender flower for such a
+life as this. Depend upon it, it is better as it is.
+Heaven is a home-like place for such little ones
+as she, and the angels' singing will be sweeter to
+her ears than the music of your brass band."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;">
+<img src="images/illus-235.png" width="350" height="446" alt="Lady Queen" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2>LADY QUEEN ANNE.</h2>
+
+
+<p>"WHERE is Annie?" demanded old Mrs. Pickens.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I don't know. Not far away, for
+I heard her voice just now singing in the woods
+near the house."</p>
+
+<p>"That child is always singing, always," went
+on Mrs. Pickens in a melancholy voice. "What
+she finds to sing about in this miserable place I
+cannot imagine. It's really unnatural!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no! mother,&mdash;not unnatural. Remember
+what a child she is. She hardly
+remembers the old life, or misses it. The sun
+shines, and she sings,&mdash;she can't help it. We
+ought to be glad instead of sorry that she
+doesn't feel the changes as we do."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I <i>am</i> glad," responded the old lady.
+"You needn't take me up so sharply, Susan.
+All I say is that it seems to me <i>unreasonable</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Pickens glanced about the room, and
+suppressed a sigh. It was, indeed, a miserable
+dwelling, scarcely better than a hut. Very few
+of you who read this have ever seen a place so
+comfortless or so poor. The roof let in rain.
+Through the cracked, uneven floor the ground<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>
+could be distinctly seen. A broken window-pane
+was stopped by an old hat thrust into the
+hole. For furniture was only a rusty stove, a
+table, three chairs, a few battered utensils for
+cooking, and a bed laid on the floor of the inner
+room,&mdash;that was all. And the dwellers in this
+wretched home, for which they were indebted to
+the charity of friends scarcely richer than themselves,
+were ladies born and bred, accustomed
+to all the comforts and enjoyments of life.</p>
+
+<p>It was the old story,&mdash;alas! too common in
+these times,&mdash;the story of a Southern family
+reduced to poverty by the ravages of war.
+Six years before, all had been different. Then
+the fighting was not begun, and the Southern
+Confederacy was a thing to boast over and
+make speeches about. The gray uniforms were
+smart and new then; the volunteers eager
+and full of zeal. All things went smoothly in
+the stately old house known to Charleston
+people as the "Pickens Mansion." The cotton
+was regularly harvested on the Sea Islands, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>
+on the Beaufort plantation, which belonged to
+Annie; for little Annie, too, was an heiress,
+with acres and negroes of her own. War
+seemed an easy thing in those days, and a glorious
+one. There was no lack felt anywhere;
+only a set of fresh and exciting interests in
+lives which had always been interesting enough.
+Mrs. Pickens and the other Charleston ladies
+scraped lint and rolled bandages with busy
+fingers; but they smiled at each other as they
+did so, and said that these would never be
+needed, there would never be any real fighting!
+They stood on their balconies to cheer and
+applaud the incoming regiments,&mdash;regiments
+of gallant young men, their own sons and the
+sons of neighbors: and it was like the opening
+chapter of a story. Ah! the story had run
+through many chapters since then, and what
+different ones! The smart uniforms had lost
+all their gloss, blood was upon the flags, the
+glory had changed to ashes; every family wore
+mourning for somebody. The pleasant Charleston<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>
+home, where Mrs. Pickens had stood on the
+balcony to watch the gray-coated troops pass
+by, and little Annie had fluttered her mite of a
+handkerchief, and laughed as the gay banners
+danced in air, where was it? Burned to the
+ground; only a sorry heap of ruin marked
+where once it stood. No more cotton bales
+came from the Sea Islands. First one army,
+then the other, had swept over the Beaufort
+plantation, trampling its fields into mire. It
+had been seized, confiscated, retaken, re-confiscated,
+sold to this person and that. Nobody
+knew exactly to whom it belonged nowadays;
+but it was not to little Annie, rightful heiress
+of all. Stripped of every thing, reduced to
+utter want, Mrs. Pickens and her daughter took
+refuge in a lonely village, far up among the
+Carolina hills, where some former friends, also
+ruined by the war, offered them the wretched
+home where now we find them. Little Annie,
+sole blossom left upon the blasted tree, went
+with them. It was a miserable life which they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>
+led. The pinch of poverty is never so keenly
+felt as when the recollection of better days
+mixes with it like a perpetual sting. All the
+bright hopes of six years before were over, and
+the poor ladies could have said, "Behold, was
+ever sorrow like unto my sorrow!" They
+grieved for themselves; they grieved most of
+all for their beautiful little Annie, but Annie
+did not grieve,&mdash;not she!</p>
+
+<p>Never was a happier little maiden,&mdash;as
+blithe and merry in her coarse cotton frock and
+bare feet as though the cotton were choicest
+satin. She was as pretty too. No frock could
+spoil that charming little face framed in thick
+chestnut curls, or hide the graceful movements
+which would have made her remarkable anywhere.
+Her eyes, which were brown like her
+curls, danced continually. Her mouth was
+always smiling. The dimples came and went
+with every word she spoke. And, however
+shabby might be her dress, she was a little lady
+always. No one could mistake it, who listened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>
+to her sweet voice and prettily chosen words.
+The pitiful sadness of her Grandmother, the
+rigid melancholy of her Aunt, passed over her
+as a cloud drifts over a blue sky on a summer's
+day, leaving the blue undimmed. She
+loved them, and was sorry when they were
+sorry; but God had given her such a happy
+nature, that happy she must be in spite of
+all. Just to be alive was pleasant enough, but
+there were many other pleasant things beside.
+The woods were full of flowers, and Annie
+loved flowers dearly. Then there were the
+beautiful pine forests themselves, with their
+cool shades and fragrant smell. There was sunshine
+too, and now and then a story, when
+Aunty felt brighter than usual. The negroes
+in the neighborhood were all fond of little
+"Missy Annie." They would catch squirrels for
+her, or climb for birds' eggs; and old Sambo
+scarcely ever passed the hut without bringing
+some little gift of flowers or nuts. There was
+Beppo, also, a large and handsome hound belonging<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>
+to a distant plantation, who came now
+and then to make Annie visits. It was a case
+of pure affection on his part, for she was not
+allowed to give him any thing to eat, not even
+a piece of corn bread, for food was too precious
+with the stricken family to be shared with dogs.
+But Beppo came all the same, and seemed to
+like to race and romp with Annie just as well as
+though the entertainment had wound up with
+something more substantial. Oh! there were
+many pleasant things to do, Annie thought.</p>
+
+<p>When Aunty went out to call her that day,
+she was sitting under a tree with a lap full of
+yellow jessamines, which she was tying into a
+bunch. As she worked she sang.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are those for, Annie?" asked Miss
+Pickens.</p>
+
+<p>"I was going to give them to Mrs. Randolph,
+Aunty. She came yesterday to the camp, Juba
+says. I thought she'd like them."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Pickens looked rigid, but she made
+no reply. "The Camp" was a dep&ocirc;t of United<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span>
+States supplies, established for the relief of the
+poor blacks and whites of the region, and Major
+Randolph was the officer in charge of it. In her
+great poverty, Miss Pickens had been forced to
+apply with the rest of her neighbors for this aid,
+going every week with a basket on her arm,
+and receiving the same rations of bacon and
+corn-meal which the poorest negroes received.
+It was bitter bread; but what can one do when
+one is starving? Major Randolph was sorry
+for the poor lady, and kind and courteous
+always, but Miss Pickens could not be grateful;
+he was one of the Northern invaders who had
+helped to crush her hopes and that of her State,
+and to bring them to this extremity; and though
+she took the corn-meal, she had no thanks in
+her heart.</p>
+
+<p>"We are going to the village this afternoon,
+aren't we, Aunty?" went on Annie.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we must," replied her Aunt. "I came
+to tell you to get ready. And, Annie, don't sing
+so loud when you are near the house. Grandmamma
+doesn't like to hear it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Doesn't she?" said Annie wondering. "I'll
+try to remember, Aunty. But sometimes I
+don't know when I am singing. It just sings of
+itself."</p>
+
+<p>"Getting ready" consisted of tying on two
+faded, flapping sun-bonnets, to which Miss Pickens
+added an old ragged India shawl, relic of
+past grandeur. Annie's feet were bare, her
+Aunt wore army shoes made of cow-skin, part
+of the Bureau supply. She was a tall, thin
+woman, and, with the habit of former days, carried
+her head high in air as she walked along.
+Little fairy Annie danced by her side, now stopping
+to gather a flower, now to listen to a bird,
+chatting and laughing all the way, as though
+she were a bird herself, and never heeding
+Aunty's melancholy looks or short answers.</p>
+
+<p>"Who <i>are</i> those people?" asked Mrs. Randolph
+of her husband, as she watched the odd-looking
+pair come along the road. "Do look,
+Harry. Such a strange woman, and&mdash;I do
+declare, the prettiest child I ever saw in my
+life. Tell me who they are?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's my little pet, Annie Pickens,"
+replied the Major. Then he hastily told his
+wife the story.</p>
+
+<p>"The poor ladies suffer dreadfully both in
+pride and in pocket, I fear," he added. "But
+Annie, bless her! she doesn't know what suffering
+means, any more than if she were a bird or
+a squirrel. I thought you'd take a fancy to her,
+Blanche; and perhaps you can think of some
+way to help them. Women know how to set
+about such things. I'm such a clumsy fellow
+that all I dared attempt was to deal out as much
+meal and bacon as the Aunt could carry."</p>
+
+<p>Blanche Randolph found it easy to "take a
+fancy" to the sweet little creature who lifted to
+her such beaming eyes as she made her offering
+of the yellow jessamines. "Oh, dear!" she said
+to herself, "how I wish she belonged to me."
+She kissed and fondled her, and while Miss
+Pickens transacted her business, Annie sat on
+Mrs. Randolph's lap and talked to her, quite as
+though they were old acquaintances.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What do you do all day, dear? Have you
+any one to play with?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, I have Beppo. That's Mr. Ashley's
+dog, you know. He runs over to see me
+almost every week, and we have such nice
+times."</p>
+
+<p>"And don't you study any lessons?" asked
+Mrs. Randolph.</p>
+
+<p>"No, not now. I used to, but Aunty is so
+busy now that she says she hasn't time to teach
+me. Beside, all my books were burned up."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Annie, it is time to go," said Miss
+Pickens, moving away, with a curt bow to
+Mrs. Randolph.</p>
+
+<p>Annie lingered to kiss her new friend.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall pick you some fresh flowers next
+time we come," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you what, Harry," said Mrs. Randolph,
+"that is the most <i>pathetically</i> sweet little
+darling I ever saw."</p>
+
+<p>"Pathetic? Why she's as happy as the day
+is long."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Ah, you don't understand! That's the very
+reason. 'I feel to cry' over her, as old Mauma
+Sally would say."</p>
+
+<p>Medville was a quiet, lonely place. All the
+people, black and white alike, were very poor.
+Nobody called to see Mrs. Randolph; there were
+no parties to go to; and after a while she learned
+to look forward to little Annie's visit as the
+pleasantest thing in the whole week. Annie
+looked forward to it also. Her new friend was
+both kind and gay. Always some little treat
+was prepared for her coming,&mdash;a book, a parcel
+of cakes, or a picture-paper with gay colored
+illustrations. Mrs. Randolph chose these gifts
+carefully, because she was afraid of offending
+Miss Pickens, but Miss Pickens was not offended;
+she loved Annie too dearly for that, and became
+almost gracious as she thanked Mrs. Randolph
+for her kindness. After some time Mrs. Randolph
+ventured to walk out to the cottage.
+What she saw there horrified her, but I can
+best tell what that was by quoting a letter which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>
+she wrote about that time to her sister, Mrs.
+Boyd, who was spending the summer in England:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Fancy, dear Mary, a miserable log hut not
+one bit better than those in which the negroes
+dwell. In fact, it used to be a negro hut, some
+say a pig-pen; but that is too bad, I cannot
+believe it. The roof lets in water, the floor is
+broken away, the windows are stuffed with rags
+and an old hat. Every thing is perfectly clean
+inside, swept and scrubbed continually by the
+poor ladies, and they are real ladies, Mary. It
+was pitiful to see old Mrs. Pickens sitting in her
+wooden chair in a dress which her former cook
+would have disdained, and yet with all the dignity
+and sad politeness of a duchess in difficulties.
+They make no secret of their extreme
+poverty; they cannot, in fact, for it stares you
+in the face; but they ask for nothing, and you
+would scarcely dare to offer aid. I was so
+shocked that I could not restrain my tears. Miss
+Pickens brought me a tin cupful of water, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>
+I think my sympathy touched her, for she has
+thawed a little since, and has permitted Annie
+to accept a gingham frock which I made for
+her, and some stockings and shoes. Such dainty
+little feet as hers are, and such a lovely child!
+I have scarcely ever seen one so beautiful, and
+it is not common beauty, but of the rarest sort,
+with elegance and refinement in every feature
+and movement. It is a thousand pities that she
+should be left here to grow up in poverty without
+education, or any of the things she was born
+to, for, as I told you in my last, the family was
+once wealthy, and Annie herself would be a
+great heiress had not the war ruined them
+all."</p>
+
+<p>When Mrs. Boyd received this letter, she was
+making a visit to some friends who lived in a
+villa on the banks of the Thames. Mr. and Mrs.
+Grant were the names of these friends. They
+were all sitting on the lawn when the post came
+in. The sunset cast a pink glow on the curves
+of the beautiful river; the roses were in perfect<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>
+bloom; overhead and underfoot the grass and
+trees were of that rich and tender green which
+is peculiar to England. The letter interested
+Mrs. Boyd so much that she read it aloud to
+her friends, who were rich and kind-hearted
+people, with one little boy of their own.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant almost cried over the letter. It
+was the saddest thing that she had ever heard
+of, and all that evening she and her husband
+could talk of nothing else. Little Annie, sound
+asleep in her Carolina cabin, did not dream that,
+three thousand miles away, two people, whom
+she had never heard of, were spending half the
+night in the discussion of her fate and fortunes!
+Long after their guest had gone to bed, the
+Grants sat up together conversing about Annie;
+and in the morning they came down with a
+proposal so astonishing, that Mrs. Boyd could
+hardly believe her ears when she heard it.</p>
+
+<p>"We have been talking in a vague way for
+years past of adopting a little girl," said Mr. Grant.
+"We always wished for a daughter, and felt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>
+sure that to have a sister would be the best thing
+in the world for Rupert, who is an affectionate
+little fellow, and would enjoy such a playmate of
+all things. But you can easily guess that there
+have been difficulties in the way of these plans,
+especially as to finding the right child, so we
+have done nothing about it. Now it strikes my
+wife, and it strikes me also, that this story of
+your sister's is a clear leading of Providence.
+Here is a child who wants a home, and here are
+we who want a child. So we have made up our
+minds to send to America for Annie, and, if her
+relatives will consent, to adopt her as our own.
+Will you give me Mrs. Randolph's exact address?"</p>
+
+<p>"But it is so sudden. Are you sure you won't
+repent?" asked Mrs. Boyd.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think we shall. And it seems less
+sudden to us than to you, because, as I have explained,
+this idea has been in our minds for a
+a long time."</p>
+
+<p>You can fancy the excitement of Major<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>
+and Mrs. Randolph when Mr. Grant's letter
+reached Medville. He offered to adopt Annie,
+and treat her in every respect as though she
+were his own daughter, provided her Grandmother
+and Aunt would give her up entirely,
+and promise never again to claim her as theirs.</p>
+
+<p>"If they will consent to this," wrote Mr. Grant,
+"I will settle a hundred pounds a year on them
+for the rest of their lives. I will also employ a
+lawyer to see if any thing can be done towards
+getting back a part of the confiscated property.
+But all this is only on condition that the child
+is absolutely made over to me. I am not
+willing to take her with any loop-hole left open
+by which she may, by and by, be claimed back
+again just as we have learned to consider her
+our own. I beg that Major Randolph will have
+this point most clearly understood, and will
+attend to the drawing up of a legal paper which
+shall put it beyond the possibility of dispute."</p>
+
+<p>The day after this letter came, Mrs. Randolph
+put it in her pocket and walked out to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>
+mountain hut. She felt very nervous as she
+tapped at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"It was a terrible thing to do," she wrote
+afterwards to her sister. "There were the two
+poor ladies as stately as ever, and little Annie so
+bright and winning. It was like asking for the
+only happy thing left in their lives. I explained
+first about my letter to you, and how you happened
+to be staying with the Grants when you
+received it, and then I gave Miss Pickens Mr.
+Grant's letter. Her face was like iron as she
+read it, and she swallowed hard several times,
+but she never uttered one word. When she
+had done, she thought for several minutes;
+then she said, in a choked voice, 'If you will
+leave this with us, Madam, you shall have an
+answer to-morrow.' I came away. Dear little
+Annie walked half way down the hill with me.
+I hope, oh, so much, that they will let her go.
+The life they lead is too sad for such a child,
+and in every way it is better for them all; but
+oh, dear! I am so sorry for them that I don't
+know what to do."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Next day Miss Pickens walked down alone
+to the Relief Station.</p>
+
+<p>"My mother and I have talked it over,"
+she said briefly, "and we have decided. Annie
+must go."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad," said Mrs. Randolph. "Glad for
+her, but very sorry for you."</p>
+
+<p>"It is like cutting out my heart," said the
+poor Aunt. "But what can we do? I am not
+able to give the child proper food even, or
+decent clothes. If we keep her she must grow
+up in ignorance. These English strangers offer
+every thing; we have nothing to offer. If we
+could count on the bare necessaries of life,&mdash;no
+more than those,&mdash;I would never, never
+give up Annie. As it is, it would be sinning
+against her to refuse."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Grant's assistance will do much to make
+your own lives more comfortable," suggested
+Mrs. Randolph.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care about that. We could go on
+suffering and not say a word, if only we might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span>
+keep Annie. But she would suffer too, and
+more and more as she grows older. No, Annie
+must go."</p>
+
+<p>"The Grants are thoroughly good people,
+and will be kindness itself, I am sure. The only
+danger is that they may spoil your dear little
+girl with over-indulgence."</p>
+
+<p>"She can stand a good deal, having had none
+for so long a time," replied Miss Pickens with
+a sad smile. "But Annie is not that sort of
+child; nothing could spoil her. When must she
+go, Mrs. Randolph?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Grant spoke of the 'Cuba,' on which
+some friends of his are to sail. She leaves on
+the 24th."</p>
+
+<p>"The 24th. That is week after next."</p>
+
+<p>"If it seems to you too soon&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No. The sooner it is over the better for us
+all."</p>
+
+<p>"I half feel as if I had done you a wrong,"
+said Mrs. Randolph, with tears in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"No, you have done us no wrong. It is in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span>
+our own hands, you see. We could say no,
+even now. Oh, if I dared say it! But I dare
+not,&mdash;that is worst of all,&mdash;I dare not." She
+gave a dry sort of sob and walked away rapidly.
+Mrs. Randolph, left behind, broke down and indulged
+in a good fit of crying.</p>
+
+<p>Dear little Annie! she was partly puzzled,
+partly pleased, partly pained by the news of
+what was going to befall her. She clung to
+her Aunty, and declared that she could not go.
+Then Mrs. Randolph talked with her and explained
+that Aunty would be better off, and
+Grandmamma have a more comfortable house
+to live in&mdash;making pictures of the sweet
+English home, the kind people, the dear little
+brother waiting for her on the other side of the
+sea, till Annie felt as if it would be pleasant to
+go. There was not much time for discussion;
+every thing was done in a hurry. Mrs. Randolph
+sewed all day long on her machine, making
+little underclothes and a pretty blue travelling
+dress. Miss Pickens patched up one of her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>
+faded silks, for she was to accompany Annie to
+New York and see her sail, Mr. Grant paying
+all the expenses of the journey for both of them.
+Grandmamma cried all night, but in the daytime
+her face looked set and hard. There were
+papers to sign and boxes to pack. Beppo
+seemed to smell in the air that something was
+about to happen. All day long he hung around
+the hut, whining and sniffing. Now and then he
+would throw back his head and give a long,
+sorrowful bay, which echoed from some distant
+point in the pine wood. The last day came,&mdash;the
+last kisses. It was like a rapid whirling
+dream, the journey, the steam cars, the arrival
+in New York, and Annie only seemed to wake
+up when she stood on the steamer's deck and
+felt the vessel throb and move away. On the
+wharf, among the throng of people who had
+come down to say good-by, stood Aunty's tall
+figure in her faded silk and ragged shawl, looking
+so different from any one else there. She
+did not wave her handkerchief or make any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>
+sign, but fixed her eyes on Annie as if she
+could never look away, and there was something
+in the expression of her face which made
+Annie suddenly burst into tears. She wiped
+them fast, but before she could see clearly, the
+wharf was far distant, and Aunty's face was
+only a white spot among other white spots,
+which were partly faces and partly fluttering
+handkerchiefs. A few minutes more and the
+spots grew dim, the wharf could no longer be
+seen, the vessel began to rock and plunge in
+the waves, and the great steamer was fairly at
+sea.</p>
+
+<p>Do you suppose that Annie cried all the
+voyage? Bless you, no! It was not in her
+to be sorrowful long. In a very little while
+her tears dried, smiles came back, and the trustful
+brown eyes were as bright as ever. Everybody
+on board noticed the dear little girl and
+was kind. The Captain, who had little girls of
+his own at home, would walk with her on the
+deck for an hour at a time, telling her stories<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>
+which he called "yarns," and which were very
+interesting. The old sailors would coax the
+little maiden amidships and tell her "yarns"
+also, about sharks and whales and albatrosses.
+One of them was such a nice old fellow. His
+name was "Jack," and he won Annie's affections
+completely, by catching a flying-fish in a
+bucket and making her a present of it. Did
+you ever see a flying-fish? Annie's did not
+seem at all happy in the bucket, so she threw
+him into the sea again, but none the less was
+she pleased that Jack gave him to her. She
+liked to watch the porpoises turn and wheel in
+the water, and the gulls skim and dive; but
+most of all she delighted in the Mother Carey's
+chickens, which on stormy days fluttered in and
+out, rocking on the waves, and never seeming
+afraid, however hard the wind might blow.
+Going to sea was to Annie as pleasant as all
+the other pleasant things in her life. She
+would have laughed hard enough had anybody
+asked whether unpleasant things had never happened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>
+to her, and would have said "No!" in a
+minute.</p>
+
+<p>The voyage ended at Liverpool. Annie felt
+sorry and homesick at leaving the vessel, as
+travellers are apt to do. But pretty soon a
+gentleman came on board, and a pretty little
+boy. It was Mr. Grant and Rupert, come down
+to meet her, and they were so pleasant and so
+glad to see Annie that she forgot all her home-sickness
+at once.</p>
+
+<p>"What a funny carriage," she exclaimed,
+when, after they had all landed, Mr. Grant
+helped her into a cab.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a Hansom," explained Rupert. "Papa
+engaged one because I asked him. It's such
+fun to ride in 'em, I think. Don't they have
+any in America where you live?"</p>
+
+<p>"No,&mdash;not any carriages at all where I live,"
+replied Annie, nestling down among the cushions,&mdash;"only
+mule carts and&mdash;wheelbarrows&mdash;and&mdash;oh,
+yes&mdash;Major Randolph had an ambulance.
+There were <i>beau</i>-tiful carriages in New York
+though, but I didn't see any like this."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Don't you like it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes,&mdash;very much," replied Annie, cuddling
+cosily between her new Papa and Brother.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't she pretty?" whispered Rupert to his
+father. "None of the other fellows at our
+school have got such a pretty sister as she is.
+And she's a jolly little thing, too," he added
+confidentially.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant had grown a little anxious about
+the first meeting. "If we <i>should</i> be disappointed!"
+she thought. But when the carriage
+drove up and her husband lifted Annie out, a
+glance made her easy. "I can love that child,"
+she said to herself, and her embrace was so warm
+that Annie rested in her arms with the feeling
+that here was real home and a real Mamma,
+and that England was just as nice as America.</p>
+
+<p>You can guess how she enjoyed the lawn
+with its roses, and the beautiful river. Fresh
+from the poor little cabin on the hill-top, she
+nevertheless fell with the greatest ease into the
+ways and habits of her new life. It did not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span>
+puzzle or disturb her in the least to live in large
+rooms, be waited on by servants, or have nice
+things about her; she took to all these naturally.
+For a few days Mr. and Mrs. Grant watched
+with some anxiety, fearing to discover a flaw
+in their treasure, but no flaw appeared. Not
+that Annie was faultless, but hers were honest
+little faults; there was nothing hidden or concealed
+in her character, and in a short time her
+new friends had learned to trust her and to love
+her entirely.</p>
+
+<p>So here was our little girl fairly settled in
+England, with dainty dresses to wear, a governess
+coming every day to give her lessons, masters
+in French and music, a carriage to ride in,
+and half a dozen people at least ready to pet and
+make much of her all the time. Do you think
+she was happier than she had been before?
+How could she be? One cannot be more than
+happy. She was happy then, she was happy
+now,&mdash;no more, no less.</p>
+
+<p>Rupert used to talk to her sometimes about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>
+that old life, which seemed to him so strange
+and dismal.</p>
+
+<p>"How you must have hated it!" he said
+once. "I can't bear to have you tell me any
+more. What's corn-meal? It sounds very
+nasty! And didn't you have anybody to play
+with, not anybody at all, or any fun, ever?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fun!" cried Annie; "I should think so!
+Why, Rupert, our woods were full of squirrels.
+Such dear little things!&mdash;you never saw such
+pretty squirrels. One of them got so tamed
+that he used to eat out of my hand. His name
+was Torpedo. I named him myself. Then
+there was Beppo, the dearest dog! I wish you
+knew him. We used to run races and have the
+greatest fun. And Aunty and I had nice times
+going down to the camp."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" sighed Rupert. He
+could not see the fun at all.</p>
+
+<p>When Annie had been three years with the
+Grants, Major and Mrs. Randolph came to London,
+and drove down to the villa to see her. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span>
+was a great pleasure to them all. Annie had a
+thousand questions to ask about Grandmamma
+and Aunty, who no longer lived in the hut, but
+in Medville, where Mr. Grant had hired a small
+house for them.</p>
+
+<p>"They are quite comfortable now," said Mrs.
+Randolph. "Aunty has gained a little flesh, and
+Grandmamma is stronger, and able to walk out
+sometimes. Old Sambo came down the very
+night before we left with a box of birds' eggs,
+which he wished to send to 'Missy Annie.' They
+are in the carriage; you shall have them presently.
+And here is a long letter from Aunty."</p>
+
+<p>"Annie, you look just the same," remarked
+the Major; "only you are grown, and the sunburn
+has worn off and left you as fair as a lily.
+You used to be brown as a bun when I knew
+you first. I needn't ask if you are happy here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! very, very happy," said Annie warmly.</p>
+
+<p>"A great deal happier than you were when
+you lived with Grandmamma and Aunty?"
+inquired Mrs. Randolph.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Why, no!" cried Annie wonderingly; "not
+any happier than <i>that</i>. I used to have lovely
+times then; but I have lovely times here too."</p>
+
+<p>"That child will never lack for happiness,"
+said the Major, as they drove back to London.
+"She's the brightest little being I ever saw."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," replied his wife; "rain or shine, it's
+all one with Annie. Her cheer comes from
+within, and is so warm and radiant that, whatever
+sky is overhead, she always rejoices. Let
+the clouds do what they may, it makes no difference:
+Annie will always sit in the sun,&mdash;the
+sunshine of her own sweet, happy little heart."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;">
+<img src="images/illus-266.png" width="350" height="354" alt="Up, Up, Up" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2>UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN,<br />
+DOWN-Y.</h2>
+
+
+<p>"<span class='smcap'>Now</span>, Dinah, it's time to try the jelly."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a minute, Miss May; it can't be stiff
+yet."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes! Dinah, it is; I think it is. I'll
+only just breathe on it, Dinah; I'll not disturb
+it a bit."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me breathe on it too."</p>
+
+<p>"And me."</p>
+
+<p>Dinah chuckled silently to herself in a way
+she had. She opened the kitchen window, and
+in one second three little girls had climbed on
+three chairs, and three curly heads had met over
+the saucer of currant juice which stood on the
+sill.</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>think</i> it's going to jelly," said May.</p>
+
+<p>Lulu touched it delicately with the point of
+her small forefinger.</p>
+
+<p>"There!" she cried triumphantly. "It <i>crinkled</i>;
+it did, Dinah! The jelly's come."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how good!" added Bertha, applying
+her finger, not so gently, to the hot surface,
+and then putting it into her mouth to cool it!
+"It's the bestest jelly we ever made, Dinah."</p>
+
+<p>Dinah chuckled again at this "we." But,
+after all, why not? Had not the children<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span>
+watched her scald and squeeze the currants, and
+stir and skim? Had not May wielded the big
+wooden spoon for at least three minutes? Had
+not Lulu eaten a mouthful of skimmings on the
+sly? Were they not testing the product now?
+The little ones had surely a right to say "we,"
+and Dinah accepted the partnership willingly.
+She lifted the preserving kettle on to the table;
+and the junior (not silent!) members of the
+firm mounted on their chairs, watched with
+intense interest as she dipped the glasses in hot
+water, and filled each in turn with the clear red
+liquid.</p>
+
+<p>"It's first-rate jell," she remarked. "Be
+hard in no time."</p>
+
+<p>"Put a tiny, tiny bit in my doll's tumbler,"
+said Bertha, producing a minute vessel. "She
+likes jelly very much, my dolly does."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, isn't it nice to cook!" exclaimed Lulu,
+jumping up and down in her chair! "Such fun!
+I wish Mamma'd always let us do it."</p>
+
+<p>"What shall we make next?" asked May.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Jumbles," responded the senior partner
+briefly.</p>
+
+<p>"I like to make jumbles," cried May. "I
+may cut out all the diamond-shaped ones,
+mayn't I, Di?"</p>
+
+<p>"And I, all the round ones?"</p>
+
+<p>"And I, the hearts?"</p>
+
+<p>Dinah nodded. The children got down from
+their chairs, and ran to the closet. They came
+back each with a tin cookie-pattern in her
+hand. Dinah sifted flour and jumbled egg and
+sugar rapidly together, with that precise carelessness
+which experience teaches. In a few
+minutes the smooth sheet of dough lay glistening
+on the board, and the children began cutting
+out the cakes; first a diamond, then a heart,
+then a round, each in turn. As fast as the shapes
+were cut, Dinah laid them in baking-tins, and carried
+them away to the oven. The work went
+busily on. It was great fun. But, alas! in the
+very midst of it, interruption came. The door
+opened, and a lady walked in,&mdash;a pretty lady in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>
+a beautiful silk gown of many flounces. When
+she saw what the children were doing, she
+frowned, and did not seem pleased.</p>
+
+<p>"My dears," she said, "I was wondering
+where you were. It is quite time that you
+should be dressed for the afternoon. Come
+upstairs at once."</p>
+
+<p>"O Mamma!&mdash;we're helping Dinah. Mayn't
+we stay and finish?"</p>
+
+<p>"Helping? Nonsense! Hindering, you mean.
+Dinah will be glad to get rid of you. Come at
+once."</p>
+
+<p>May got down from her chair. But Lulu and
+Bertha pouted.</p>
+
+<p>"We've hung all our dolls' things out on
+the line," they said. "It's washing-day in the
+baby-house, Mamma. Mayn't we stay just a
+little while to clap and fold up?"</p>
+
+<p>"Clap and fold," exclaimed Mrs. Frisbie.
+"Where do you pick up such words, I wonder.
+Of course you can't stay, you must come and
+be made decent. Susan shall finish your dolls'
+wash."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no! please Mamma, it's so much nicer
+to do 'em ourselves," pleaded Lulu. "Don't let
+Susan touch them. We love so to wash. Dinah
+says we're worth our wages, we do it so
+well."</p>
+
+<p>"Dinah should not say such things," said
+Mrs. Frisbie, severely, leading the unwilling
+flock upstairs. "Now, Lulu, do look pleasant.
+I really cannot have all this fuss made each
+time that I tell you to come and sit with me
+and behave like little ladies. This passion for
+house-work is vulgar; I don't like it at all.
+With plenty of servants in the house, and your
+Pa's money, and all, there's no need that you
+should know any thing about such common
+doings. Now, go upstairs and tell Justine to
+put on your French cambrics and your sashes,
+and when you're ready come straight down. I
+want you."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Frisbie went into the drawing-room as
+she spoke, and shut the door behind her with a
+little bang. She was a good-natured woman in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span>
+the main, but at that moment she was really
+put out. Why should <i>her</i> children have this
+outlandish taste for cooking and washing? <i>She</i>
+liked to be beautifully dressed, and sit on a sofa
+doing nothing. Why shouldn't they like to do
+the same? It was really too bad, she thought.
+The children were not a bit like her. They
+were "clear Frisbie straight through," and it
+was really a trial. She felt quite unhappy, and,
+as I said, gave the door a bang to relieve her
+feelings.</p>
+
+<p>While the children are putting on their French
+cambrics, I will tell you a Fairy story.</p>
+
+<p>Once upon a time, in a wonderful country
+where all the inhabitants are Kings and Queens,
+a little Prince was born. His father's kingdom
+was not big, being only a farm-house, two clover
+fields, and a potato patch, but none the less was
+it a kingdom, because no one else had right to
+it or could dispute it. The Prince was born on a
+Sunday, and the Fairy who has charge of Sunday
+children came and stood by his cradle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You shall be lucky always," she said, touching
+the baby's soft cheek with the point of her
+finger. "I give you four gifts, Sunday Prince.
+The first is a strong and handsome body,"&mdash;and
+the Fairy, as she spoke, stroked the small limbs
+with her wand. "The next is a sweet temper.
+The third is a brave heart&mdash;you'll need it, little
+Prince,&mdash;all people do in this world. Lastly,"&mdash;and
+the Fairy touched the sleeping eyelids
+lightly,&mdash;"I give you a pair of clear, keen eyes,
+which shall tell you the difference between hawks
+and hernshaws from the very beginning. This
+gift is worth something, as you'll soon find out.
+Now, good-by, my baby. Sleep well, and grow
+fast. Here's a pretty plaything for you,"&mdash;taking
+from her pocket a big, beautiful bubble,
+and tossing it in the air. "Run fast," she said,
+"blow hard, follow the bubble, catch it if you
+can; but, above all things, keep it flying. Its
+name is Fortune,&mdash;a pretty name. All the little
+boys like to run after my bubbles. As long as it
+keeps up, up, all will go brightly; but if you fail<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>
+to blow, or blow unwisely, and it goes down,
+down&mdash;well&mdash;you'll be lucky either way, my
+Sunday Prince; 'tis I who say so." Thereupon
+the Fairy kissed the sleeping child and vanished.</p>
+
+<p>Only the clear eyes of the little Prince could
+see the rainbow bubble which hung in air above
+his head, and flew before, wherever he went.
+He began to see it when still very young, and
+as he grew bigger he saw it more clearly still.
+And he blew, blew, and the gay bubble went up,
+up, and all things prospered. Before long, the
+baby Prince was a man, and took possession of
+his kingdom; for in this wonderful country
+plenty of kingdoms are to be had, and Princes are
+not forced to wait until their fathers die before
+taking possession of their crowns. So, being a
+grown Prince, he began to look about for a
+Princess to share his throne with him. And he
+found a very nice little one; who, when he asked
+her, made a courtesy and said, "Yes, thank you,"
+in the prettiest way possible. Then the Prince
+was pleased, and sent for a priest. The priest's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span>
+name was Slack. He belonged to the Methodist
+persuasion, Otsego Conference, but he married
+the Prince and the Princess just as well as
+though he had been an archbishop. They went
+to live in a small palace of their own, and
+after awhile some little princelings came to live
+with them, and they were all very happy
+together. And the lucky Prince, being fairy-blessed,
+kept on being lucky. The rainbow
+bubble flew before; he blew strongly, wisely; it
+soared high, high, and all things prospered.
+His kingdom increased, his treasure-bags were
+filled with gold. By and by the little palace
+grew too small for them, or they fancied it so,
+and another was built, a real palace this time,
+with lawns, and fish-ponds, and graperies, and
+gardens. The only trouble was&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>But here come the children downstairs, so I
+must drop into plain prose, and tell you what
+already you have guessed, that the Prince I
+mean is their father, John Frisbie,&mdash;Prince John,
+if you like,&mdash;and the Princess's name was Mary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>
+Jones before she was married, but now, of course,
+it is Mary Frisbie. There were five of the
+princelings,&mdash;Jack and May and Arthur and
+Lulu and Bertha. The new palace was a beautiful
+house, with wide, lovely grounds. But since
+they came to live in it, Mrs. Frisbie had taken
+it into her head that so fine a house required
+manners to match, and that the things the
+children liked best, and had been allowed to
+do in the small house, were vulgar, and might
+not be permitted now. This was a real trouble
+to the little ones, for, as their mother said, they
+were "clear Frisbie all through;" and the thrift,
+energy, cleverness, and other qualities by which
+their father had made his fortune, were strong
+in them. Perhaps the Fairy had visited their
+cradles also. Who knows?</p>
+
+<p>The girls came down crisp and fresh in their
+ruffled frocks, with curls smoothed, sashes tied,
+and their company dolls in their hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Now sit down and be comfortable," said
+Mrs. Frisbie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Dear me, what a number of meanings there
+are to that word "comfortable"! Mrs. Frisbie
+thought it meant pretty clothes, pretty rooms,
+and nothing to do. To the boys it took the
+form of hard, hearty work of some sort. Papa
+understood it as a cool day in his office, business
+brisk, but not too brisk, and an occasional cigar.
+May, Lulu, and Bertha would have translated
+it thus: "our old ginghams and our own
+way;" while Dinah, if asked, would have defined
+"comfort" as having the kitchen "clar'd
+up" after a successful bake, and being free to
+sit down, darn stockings, and read the "Illustrated
+Pirate's Manual," a newspaper she much
+affected on account of the blood-thirstiness of
+its pictures. None of these various explanations
+of the word mean the same thing, you see.
+And the drollest part is that no one can ever be
+made "comfortable" in any way but his own:
+that is impossible.</p>
+
+<p>The company dolls were very fine ladies indeed;
+they came from Paris, and had trunks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>
+full of splendid dresses. The children did not
+care much for them, and liked better certain
+decrepit babies of rag and composition, which
+were thought too shabby to be allowed in the
+parlor.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are the boys?" asked Mrs. Frisbie,
+when the small sisters had settled themselves.</p>
+
+<p>"Jack was going to have his sale this afternoon,"
+replied Mary. "And Arthur is auctioneer."</p>
+
+<p>"His sale! What on earth is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mamma&mdash;don't you know? Jack's
+chickens, of course. Croppy had eleven and
+Top-knot nine. There's a 'corner' in chickens
+just now, Arthur says, because most of the other
+boys have lost theirs. Alfred's were sick and
+died, and the rats ate all of Charley Ross's, and
+a hawk carried off five of Howard's. Jack expects
+to make a lot of money, because Croppy
+is a Bramahpootra hen, you know, and her
+chicks are very valuable."</p>
+
+<p>"Corner! Lot of money! Oh, dear!" sighed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span>
+poor Mrs. Frisbie, "what words the boys do
+teach you. Where they learn them I can't
+imagine. Not from me."</p>
+
+<p>"From Papa, I guess," explained Lulu innocently.
+"He used to have hens when he was
+little, and sell 'em. It was splendid fun, he
+says. Grandmamma thinks that Jack is just
+Papa over again."</p>
+
+<p>"All of you are," said Mrs. Frisbie. "Not
+one of you is a bit like me. Can't you sit still,
+Bertha? What <i>are</i> you doing there with your
+handkerchief?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only dusting the table leg, Mamma; it
+wasn't quite clean."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear, dear! and in your nice frock. Do let
+the furniture alone, child. Ring for Bridget, if
+any thing wants cleaning. You're a real Meddlesome
+Matty, Bertha."</p>
+
+<p>"O Mamma!" cried Bertha, aggrieved.
+"Grandmamma taught me to dust when we
+lived in the other house, you know. Grandmamma
+said it was a good thing for little girls<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span>
+to be useful. And I didn't meddle with any
+thing on the table; really I didn't, Mamma."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind, dear," said Mrs. Frisbie. "It's
+no great matter, only I don't like to have you do
+such things. Now sit still and play with your
+doll." She opened a book and began to read.
+The children crept nearer to each other and
+talked in low whispers.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's play that Eugenie and Victoria are
+little girls come to make each other a visit, and
+Isabella is their Mamma."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't! Little girls never have trains
+to their dresses or necklaces."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I wish Nippy Scatch-Face and old Maria
+were down here," sighed Lulu.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you," put in May. "We'll play they
+are three stiff old ladies, who always wear best
+clothes, you know, and sit so in chairs; and that
+Nippy and Maria are coming to make them a
+visit. They needn't really come, you know.
+Mrs. Eugenie, sit up straight. Now listen to the
+hateful old thing! She's talking to Victoria."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Sister, when are those children coming?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, sister," squeaked back Lulu
+in the character of Victoria. "I wish they
+wouldn't come at all. Children are the bane
+of my existence."</p>
+
+<p>"You horrid doll, talking that way about <i>my</i>
+baby," cried Bertha, giving Victoria a shove.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't, Beppie; you'll push her down," said
+May. Then changing her voice again, "Your
+manners is most awful, I'm sure," she squeaked,
+in the person of the irate Victoria.</p>
+
+<p>All the children giggled, and Mrs. Frisbie
+looked up from her book.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment in ran the two boys, hot,
+dusty, and excited,&mdash;Arthur with a handful of
+"fractional currency," and Jack waving a two-dollar
+bill.</p>
+
+<p>"See!" they cried. "Four dollars and sixty-five
+cents. Isn't that splendid? Mr. Ashurst
+bought all the Croppys, and gave twenty-five
+cents a piece for them."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us see, let us see!" cried the little girls,
+precipitating themselves on the money.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Look here, now, Mary Frisbie&mdash;no snatching!"
+protested Jack,&mdash;"I haven't told you
+the best yet. Mr. Ashurst says we're such good
+farmers, that he'll give us work whenever we
+like to take it. He says I could earn three
+dollars a week <i>now</i>! Think of that."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how much!" cried Lulu, awe-struck.
+"What could you do with so much, Jacky?"</p>
+
+<p>"Now boys,&mdash;listen to me," said their mother.
+"Go upstairs right away and get ready for tea.
+You look like real farmers' boys at this moment,
+I declare, so hot and dusty. I don't wonder
+Mr. Ashurst offered you work,&mdash;though I think
+it was very impertinent of him to do so. I hope
+you said that your father's sons didn't need to
+earn money in any such way."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mamma, of course I didn't. Arthur
+and me like to work, and we are going to somehow
+just as soon as we're big enough. It's lots
+better fun than going to school. Besides, Papa
+says we may. He told us all American boys
+ought to work, whether their fathers are rich or
+poor."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Papa likes to talk nonsense with you," said
+Mrs. Frisbie, biting her lips. "Go up now and
+dress."</p>
+
+<p>There was a howl from both boys.</p>
+
+<p>"O Mamma! not yet. It's too early for
+that horrid dressing, oh, a great deal too early,
+Mamma. We've got a lot to do in our chicken
+house. Mayn't we go out again for a little
+while, just for half an hour, Mamma?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;for half an hour you may," said
+Mrs. Frisbie reluctantly, consulting her watch.
+Away clattered the boys,&mdash;the girls looking
+after them with envious eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Lulu slipped out and was gone a
+few minutes. She came back sparkling, with
+her cheeks very rosy.</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma," she cried, "what <i>do</i> you think?
+David says if you haven't any objections, we
+may each of us have a little garden down there
+behind the asparagus beds. He'll make them
+for us, Mamma, he says, and we can plant just
+what we like in them. O Mamma! don't have
+any objections&mdash;please."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Will he really?" cried May. "I'll put peppergrass
+in mine,&mdash;and parsley. Dinah says
+she never has as much parsley as she wants."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and little green cucumbers," added
+Bertha,&mdash;"little teeny-weeny ones, for pickles,
+you know. Dinah is always wishing she could
+get them, but David never sends in any but
+big ones. O Mamma! do say yes. It'll be so
+nice."</p>
+
+<p>"Cucumbers! peppergrass! Well, you are
+the strangest children! Why don't you have
+pinks and pansies and pretty things?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, we will, and make bouquets for you,
+Mamma; only we thought of the useful things
+first."</p>
+
+<p>"Somehow you always do think of useful
+things first," murmured Mrs. Frisbie. "However,
+have the gardens if you like. I'm sure I
+don't care."</p>
+
+<p>The children's thanks were cut short by the
+click of a latch-key in the hall-door.</p>
+
+<p>"There's Papa!" cried Bertha; and, like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span>
+three arrows dismissed from the string, the children
+were off to greet him. It was always a
+joy to have Papa come home.</p>
+
+<p>He was looking grave as he opened the door,
+but his face lit up at once at the sight of his
+little girls. Papa's face without a smile upon it
+would have seemed a strange sight indeed to
+that household. It did cross May's mind that
+evening that the smiles were not so merry as
+usual, and that Papa seemed tired; but no one
+else noticed it, either then or on the days that
+followed.</p>
+
+<p>Bubbles are pretty things, but the keeping
+them in air grows wearisome after a while.
+About this time the rainbow bubble set afloat
+by the kind Fairy for the sleeping Prince began
+to misbehave itself. Contrary winds seized it;
+it flew wildly, now here, now there; and, instead
+of sailing steadily, it was first up, then
+down, then up again, but more down than up.
+Prince John blew his hardest and did his best
+to keep it from sinking; for he knew, as we all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span>
+do, that once let a bubble touch the earth, and
+all is over,&mdash;its glittering wings collapse,&mdash;they
+fly no more.</p>
+
+<p>So the weeks went on. Unconscious of
+trouble, the children dug and planted in their
+little gardens. Each new leaf and shoot was a
+wonder and a delight to them. Bertha's plants
+flourished less than the others, because of a
+habit she had of digging them all up daily to
+see how the roots were coming on; but, except
+for that, all went well, and the bluest of skies
+stretched itself over the heads of the small
+gardeners. In the City, where Papa's office
+was, the sky was not blue at all. High winds
+were blowing, stormy black clouds shut out the
+sun. Bubbles were sinking and bursting on
+every side, and men's hearts were heavy and
+anxious. Prince John did his best. He watched
+his bubble anxiously, and followed it far. It
+was fairy-blessed, as I said, and its wings were
+stronger than bubble's wings usually are; but
+at last the day came when it could soar no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span>
+longer. The pretty shining sphere hovered,
+sank, touched a rock, and in a minute&mdash;hey!
+presto!&mdash;there was no bubble there; it had
+utterly disappeared, and Prince Frisbie, with a
+very sober face, walked home to tell his wife
+that he had lost every thing they had in the
+world. This was not a pleasant or an easy
+thing to do, as you can readily imagine.</p>
+
+<p>The children never forgot this evening. They
+used to vaguely refer to it among themselves
+as "That time, you know." Papa came in
+very quiet and pale, and shut himself up with
+Mamma. She&mdash;poor soul!&mdash;was much distressed,
+and sobbed and cried. They heard her
+as they came downstairs dressed for the evening,
+and it frightened them. Papa, coming out
+after a while, found them huddled together in
+a dismayed little group in the corner of the
+entry.</p>
+
+<p>"O Papa! is it any thing dreadful?" asked
+May. "Is Mamma sick?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not sick, darling, but very much troubled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span>
+about something. Come with me and I will
+explain it to you." Then Papa led them into
+the dining-room; and, with Bertha on his knee
+and the others close to him, he told them that
+he had lost a great deal of money (almost all
+he had), and they would have to sell the place,
+and go and live in a little house somewhere,&mdash;he
+didn't yet know exactly where.</p>
+
+<p>The children had looked downcast enough
+when Papa commenced, but at this point their
+faces brightened.</p>
+
+<p>"A really little house?" exclaimed May.
+"O Papa! do you know, I'm glad. Little
+houses are so pretty and cunning, I always
+wanted to live in one. Susie Brown's Papa
+does, and Susie can go into the kitchen whenever
+she likes, and she toasts the bread for tea,
+and does all sorts of things. Do you suppose
+that I may toast the bread when we go to live
+in our little house, Papa?"</p>
+
+<p>"I daresay Mamma will be glad of your help
+in a great many ways," replied Papa.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Shall we be poor, very poor indeed?" demanded
+Bertha anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty poor for the present, I am afraid,"
+replied her Father.</p>
+
+<p>"Goody! goody!" cried May, hopping up
+and down on her toes. "I always wanted to be
+poor, it's so nice! We'll have the <i>best</i> times,
+Papa; see if we don't!"</p>
+
+<p>Papa actually laughed, May's happy, eager
+face amused him so much.</p>
+
+<p>"I know what we'll do," said Jack, who had
+been considering the matter in silence. "We'll
+raise lots of chickens, and give you all the
+money, Papa."</p>
+
+<p>"My boy, I am afraid you must give up your
+chickens. There will be no place for them in
+the new home."</p>
+
+<p>"Must we?" Jack gave a little gulp, but
+went on manfully, "Well, never mind, we'll
+find something else that we can do."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Ashurst says Jack is the 'handiest' boy
+he ever saw, Papa," put in Arthur eagerly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well, handiness is a capital stock-in-trade.
+Now, dears, one thing,&mdash;be as good and gentle
+as possible with Mamma, and don't trouble her
+a bit more than you can help."</p>
+
+<p>"We will, we will," promised the little flock.
+Mrs. Frisbie was quite right in saying that the
+children took after their father. Their brave,
+bright natures were as unlike hers as possible.</p>
+
+<p>It is sad to see what short time it requires to
+pull down and destroy a home which has taken
+years to build. The Frisbies' handsome, luxurious
+house seemed to change and empty all in
+a moment. Carriages were sold, servants dismissed.
+Furniture was packed and carried
+away. In a few days nothing remained but a
+fine empty shell, with a staring advertisement
+of "For Sale" pasted on it. The familiar look
+was all gone, and everybody was glad to get
+away from the place. It took some time to
+find the "little house," and some time longer
+to put it to rights. Papa attended to all that,
+the children remaining meanwhile with Grandmamma.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span>
+Mamma had taken to her bed with a
+nervous attack, and cried day and night. Everybody
+was sorry; they all waited on her, and did
+their best to raise her spirits.</p>
+
+<p>At last the new home was ready. It was
+evening when the carriage set them down at
+the gate, and they could only see that there
+were trees and shrubs in the tiny front yard,
+and a cheerful light streaming from the door,
+where Dinah stood to welcome them,&mdash;dear
+old Di, who had insisted on following their
+fortunes as maid of all work. As they drew
+nearer, they perceived that she stood in a small,
+carpeted entry, with a room on either side.
+The room on the right was a sitting-room; the
+room on the left, a kitchen. There were three
+bedrooms upstairs, and a small coop in the attic
+for Dinah. That was all; for it was indeed a
+"really little house," as Papa had said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how pretty!" cried Lulu, as she caught
+sight of the freshly papered parlor, with its
+cheerful carpet, and table laid for tea, and on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span>
+the other hand of the glowing kitchen stove
+and steaming kettle. "Such a nice parlor, and
+the dearest kitchen. Why, it's smaller than
+Susie Brown's house, which we used to wish
+we lived in. Don't you like it, Mamma? I
+think it's <i>sweet</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Frisbie only sighed by way of reply.
+But the children's pleasure was a comfort to
+Papa. He and Dinah had worked hard to
+make the little home look attractive. They
+had papered the walls themselves, put up
+shelves and hooks, arranged the furniture, and
+even set a few late flowers in the beds, that the
+garden might not seem bare and neglected.</p>
+
+<p>The next day was a very busy one, for there
+were all the trunks to unpack, and the bureau
+drawers to fill, and places to be settled for this
+thing and that. By night they were in pretty
+good order, and began to feel at home, as people
+always do when their belongings are comfortably
+arranged about them.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Frisbie was growing less doleful. Her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span>
+husband, who was very tired, lay back in a big
+arm-chair. The evening was chilly, so Dinah
+had lighted a small fire of chips, which flickered
+and made the room bright. The glow danced
+on Bertha's glossy curls as she sat at Mamma's
+knee, and on the rosy faces of the two boys.
+All looked cheerful and cosy; a smell of toast
+came across the entry from the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>"Bertha, your hair is very nicely curled to-night,"
+said Mrs. Frisbie. "I don't know how
+Dinah found time to do it."</p>
+
+<p>"Dinah didn't do it, Mamma. May did it.
+She did Lulu's too, and Lulu did hers. We're
+always going to dress each other now."</p>
+
+<p>Just then May came in with a plate of hot
+toast in her hand. Lulu followed with the
+teapot.</p>
+
+<p>"It's so nice having the kitchen close by,"
+said May, "instead of way off as it was in the
+other house. This toast is as warm as&mdash;toast"&mdash;she
+concluded, not knowing exactly how to
+end her simile.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Your face looks as warm as toast, too,"
+remarked her Father.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Papa, that's because I toasted to-night.
+Dinah was bringing the clothes from the lines,
+so she let me."</p>
+
+<p>"I stamped the butter, Papa," added Lulu.
+"Look, isn't it a pretty little pat?"</p>
+
+<p>"And I sifted the sugar for the blackberries,"
+put in Bertha from her place at Mamma's knee.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mind, do you Mamma?" observed
+Mary anxiously. "Di pinned a big
+apron over my frock. See, it hasn't got a spot
+on it."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad she did," said Mrs. Frisbie, surprised.
+"But it doesn't matter so much how
+you dress here, you know. It was in the other
+house I was so particular."</p>
+
+<p>"But I like to please you, Mamma, and you
+always want us to look nice, you know. We
+mean to be very careful now, because if we
+don't we shall worry you all the time."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Frisbie put her arm round Mary and
+kissed her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I declare," she said, half-laughing, half-crying.
+"This house <i>is</i> pleasant. It seems
+snugger somehow, as if we were closer together
+than we ever were before. I guess I shall like
+it after all."</p>
+
+<p>"Hurrah!" cried Prince John, rousing from
+his fatigue at these comfortable words. "That's
+right, Molly, dear! You don't know what good
+it does me to hear you say so. If only you can
+look bright and the chicks keep well and happy,
+I shall go to work with a will, and the world will
+come right yet." He smiled with a look of conscious
+power as he spoke; his eyes were keen
+and eager.</p>
+
+<p>I think that just then, as the children gathered
+round the table, as Mrs. Frisbie took up the teapot
+and began to pour the tea, and her husband
+pushed back his chair,&mdash;that just then, at that
+very moment, the Fairy entered the room.
+Nobody saw her, but there she was! She
+smiled on the group; then she took from her
+pocket another bubble, more splendid than the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span>
+one she had brought before, and tossed it into
+the air above Prince John's head. "There,"
+she said, "catch that. You'll have it this time,
+and it won't break and go to pieces as the first
+one did. Look at it sailing up, up, up,&mdash;this
+bubble has wings, but it sails toward and not
+away from you. Catch it, as I say, and make it
+yours. But even when it <i>is</i> yours, when you
+hold it in your hand and are sure of it, you'll
+be no luckier and no happier, my lucky Prince,
+than you are at this moment, in this small house,
+with love about you, hope in your heart, and all
+these precious little people to work for, and to
+reward you when work is done."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+
+
+
+
+<h1>THE STORY OF JULIETTE.</h1>
+
+<div class='hang1'>A Child's Romance. By <span class="smcap">Beatrice Washington</span>. With 45 illustrations
+by J. F. Goodridge.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Small 4to.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Cloth.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Price, $1.00.</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 294px;">
+<img src="images/illus-305ad.png" width="294" height="400" alt="&quot;SHE WAS CARRIED IN HER TRUE KNIGHT&#39;S ARMS.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;SHE WAS CARRIED IN HER TRUE KNIGHT&#39;S ARMS.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class='center'><i>Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, by the Publishers.</i></div>
+
+<div class='right'><span class="smcap">ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston.</span></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><i>Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications.</i></h3>
+
+<h2>OLD ROUGH THE MISER.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<p>By <span class="smcap">Lily F. Wesselh&oelig;ft</span>, author of "Sparrow the Tramp,"
+"Flipwing the Spy," "The Winds, the Woods, and the Wanderer."
+With twenty-one illustrations by J. F. Goodridge. Square
+16mo, cloth, $1.25.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;">
+<img src="images/illus-306ad.png" width="350" height="341" alt="OLD ROUGH THE MISER." title="" />
+<span class="caption">OLD ROUGH THE MISER.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wesselh&oelig;ft's "Fable Stories" are proving themselves more and
+more acceptable to the children. "Old Rough" is a decided acquisition
+to the series.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<p><i>Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, by the publishers.</i></p>
+
+<div class='right'>
+ROBERTS BROTHERS, <span class="smcap">Boston</span>.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><i>Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications.</i></h3>
+
+<h2>SUSAN COOLIDGE'S POPULAR BOOKS.</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 321px;">
+<img src="images/illus-307ad.png" width="321" height="400" alt="The Barberry Bush" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class='hang1'><big><b>THE BARBERRY BUSH.</b></big> And Seven
+Other Stories about Girls for Girls. By <span class="smcap">Susan
+Coolidge</span>. Illustrated by Jessie McDermott. 16mo.
+Cloth. Uniform with "What Katy Did," etc. Price,
+$1.25.</div>
+
+<p><i>For sale by all booksellers, and mailed, post-paid, on receipt of price
+by the publishers.</i></p>
+
+<div class='right'>
+ROBERTS BROTHERS, <span class="smcap">Boston, Mass.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><i>Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications.</i></h3>
+
+<h3>By the Author of Dear Daughter Dorothy.</h3>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Robin's Recruit.</span></h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">By A. G. PLYMPTON</span>,</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>AUTHOR OF "BETTY A BUTTERFLY," AND "THE LITTLE<br />
+SISTER OF WILIFRED."</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 292px;">
+<img src="images/illus-308ad.png" width="292" height="300" alt="Robin&#39;s Recruit" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>With illustrations by the author. Small 4to. Cloth,
+gilt.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Price, $1.00.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of price,
+by the Publishers.</i></p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+<div class='right'>
+<span style="margin-right: 2em;"><span class="smcap">ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers,</span></span><br />
+BOSTON.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>SUSAN COOLIDGE'S POPULAR BOOKS.</h3>
+
+<h2>A GUERNSEY LILY;</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>OR,<br /></div>
+
+<h3>HOW THE FEUD WAS HEALED.</h3>
+
+<h4>A Story for Girls and Boys.</h4>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/illus-309ad.png" width="400" height="242" alt="How the Feud was Healed" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class='center'>BY<br />
+
+SUSAN COOLIDGE,<br />
+
+<small>Author of "What Katy Did," "Clover," "In the High Valley," etc.</small></div>
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+<div class='center'>NEW EDITION.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Square 16mo.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; ILLUSTRATED.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Price, $1.25.</div>
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+<div class='center'>
+ROBERTS BROTHERS,<br />
+<small>BOSTON.</small><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>SUSAN COOLIDGE'S POPULAR BOOKS.</h3>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 294px;">
+<img src="images/illus-310ad.png" width="294" height="400" alt="In the High Valley" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>IN THE HIGH VALLEY.</h2>
+
+<p>Being the Fifth and last volume of the "Katy Did Series." With
+illustrations by <span class="smcap">Jessie McDermott</span>.</p>
+
+<div class='center'><b>One volume, square 16mo, cloth. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Price, $1.25.</b><br /><br /></div>
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span class="smcap">ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, Boston.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><i>Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Juveniles.</i></h3>
+
+<h2>THE LITTLE SISTER OF WILIFRED.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<div class='hang1'>A Story. By Miss A. G. Plympton, author of "Dear
+Daughter Dorothy" and "Betty a Butterfly." Illustrated
+by the author.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Small 4to. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Cloth.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Price,
+$1.00.</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 301px;">
+<img src="images/illus-311ad.png" width="301" height="300" alt="Little Sister of Wilifred" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>The author of "Dear Daughter Dorothy" needs no passport to favor.
+That bewitching little story which she not only wrote but illustrated must
+have given the name A. G. Plympton a notable place among the writers
+of children's stories. Followed by "Betty, a Butterfly" and now by
+"The Little Sister of Wilifred," we have a most interesting trio with
+which to adorn a child's library.&mdash;<i>Boston Times.</i></p>
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+<p><i>Sold by all booksellers; mailed, post-paid, by the publishers,</i></p>
+
+<div class='right'>
+ROBERTS BROTHERS, <span class="smcap">Boston</span>.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><span class="smcap">Jolly Good Times at Hackmatack</span></h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 303px;">
+<img src="images/illus-312ad.png" width="303" height="400" alt="&quot;There,&quot; said Miss Patty, &quot;that&#39;s a surtout as is a surtout.&quot; Page 259." title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;There,&quot; said Miss Patty, &quot;that&#39;s a surtout as is a surtout.&quot; Page 259.</span>
+</div>
+
+<h3>By MARY P. W. SMITH,</h3>
+
+<div class='hang1'>Author of "Jolly Good Times; or, Child-Life on a Farm," "Jolly Good Times at
+School," "Their Canoe Trip," "The Browns."  With illustrations. 16mo. Cloth.
+Price, $1.25.</div>
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span class="smcap">ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers</span>, <i>Boston</i>.<br />
+</div>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3>
+<p>Varied hyphenation was retained when there was an equal number
+of each, as in doorway and door-way.</p>
+<p>Obvious punctuation errors corrected.</p>
+
+<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS***</p>
+<p>******* This file should be named 27678-h.txt or 27678-h.zip *******</p>
+<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br />
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/7/6/7/27678">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/6/7/27678</a></p>
+<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.</p>
+
+<p>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.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.</p>
+
+
+
+<pre>
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license)</a>.
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+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
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS,' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's
+eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII,
+compressed (zipped), HTML and others.
+
+Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over
+the old filename and etext number.  The replaced older file is renamed.
+VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving
+new filenames and etext numbers.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a>
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000,
+are filed in directories based on their release date.  If you want to
+download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular
+search system you may utilize the following addresses and just
+download by the etext year.
+
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/</a>
+
+    (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99,
+     98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90)
+
+EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are
+filed in a different way.  The year of a release date is no longer part
+of the directory path.  The path is based on the etext number (which is
+identical to the filename).  The path to the file is made up of single
+digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename.  For
+example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at:
+
+http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234
+
+or filename 24689 would be found at:
+http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689
+
+An alternative method of locating eBooks:
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a>
+
+*** END: FULL LICENSE ***
+</pre>
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/27678-h/images/contentsa.png b/27678-h/images/contentsa.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9c6019e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h/images/contentsa.png
diff --git a/27678-h/images/contentsb.png b/27678-h/images/contentsb.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..391c535
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h/images/contentsb.png
diff --git a/27678-h/images/emblem.png b/27678-h/images/emblem.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8526a10
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h/images/emblem.png
diff --git a/27678-h/images/illus-001.png b/27678-h/images/illus-001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..de9896b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h/images/illus-001.png
diff --git a/27678-h/images/illus-008.png b/27678-h/images/illus-008.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..86084d3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h/images/illus-008.png
diff --git a/27678-h/images/illus-047.png b/27678-h/images/illus-047.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..20fddea
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h/images/illus-047.png
diff --git a/27678-h/images/illus-072.png b/27678-h/images/illus-072.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9bdd459
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h/images/illus-072.png
diff --git a/27678-h/images/illus-108.png b/27678-h/images/illus-108.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fde2d65
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h/images/illus-108.png
diff --git a/27678-h/images/illus-144.png b/27678-h/images/illus-144.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a7fe36e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h/images/illus-144.png
diff --git a/27678-h/images/illus-172.png b/27678-h/images/illus-172.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6a4d66b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h/images/illus-172.png
diff --git a/27678-h/images/illus-204.png b/27678-h/images/illus-204.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6ff8592
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h/images/illus-204.png
diff --git a/27678-h/images/illus-235.png b/27678-h/images/illus-235.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f9e8304
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h/images/illus-235.png
diff --git a/27678-h/images/illus-266.png b/27678-h/images/illus-266.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7daf833
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h/images/illus-266.png
diff --git a/27678-h/images/illus-305ad.png b/27678-h/images/illus-305ad.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7d9a8c2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h/images/illus-305ad.png
diff --git a/27678-h/images/illus-306ad.png b/27678-h/images/illus-306ad.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7354316
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h/images/illus-306ad.png
diff --git a/27678-h/images/illus-307ad.png b/27678-h/images/illus-307ad.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2028b49
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h/images/illus-307ad.png
diff --git a/27678-h/images/illus-308ad.png b/27678-h/images/illus-308ad.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ab85842
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h/images/illus-308ad.png
diff --git a/27678-h/images/illus-309ad.png b/27678-h/images/illus-309ad.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a0d6f5a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h/images/illus-309ad.png
diff --git a/27678-h/images/illus-310ad.png b/27678-h/images/illus-310ad.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..41f0000
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h/images/illus-310ad.png
diff --git a/27678-h/images/illus-311ad.png b/27678-h/images/illus-311ad.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b12e4ae
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h/images/illus-311ad.png
diff --git a/27678-h/images/illus-312ad.png b/27678-h/images/illus-312ad.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ebeeea7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-h/images/illus-312ad.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/c0001-image1.jpg b/27678-page-images/c0001-image1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fd0f8f6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/c0001-image1.jpg
diff --git a/27678-page-images/f0001-image1.jpg b/27678-page-images/f0001-image1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8d63c65
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/f0001-image1.jpg
diff --git a/27678-page-images/f0001.png b/27678-page-images/f0001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cfd0b02
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/f0001.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/f0002.png b/27678-page-images/f0002.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b33e473
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/f0002.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/f0003.png b/27678-page-images/f0003.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5b80c0b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/f0003.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/f0005.png b/27678-page-images/f0005.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4a3814c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/f0005.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/f0005a-image1.jpg b/27678-page-images/f0005a-image1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2de4a0a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/f0005a-image1.jpg
diff --git a/27678-page-images/f0005b-image1.jpg b/27678-page-images/f0005b-image1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fa8f632
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/f0005b-image1.jpg
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0001.png b/27678-page-images/p0001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6a4a314
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0001.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0002.png b/27678-page-images/p0002.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..df06b15
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0002.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0003.png b/27678-page-images/p0003.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a161009
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0003.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0004.png b/27678-page-images/p0004.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..260dff6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0004.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0005.png b/27678-page-images/p0005.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cbfb886
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0005.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0006.png b/27678-page-images/p0006.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c9499c6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0006.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0007.png b/27678-page-images/p0007.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3154535
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0007.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0008.png b/27678-page-images/p0008.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8486df8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0008.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0009.png b/27678-page-images/p0009.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1937141
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0009.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0010.png b/27678-page-images/p0010.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..881d64e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0010.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0011.png b/27678-page-images/p0011.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1ec870a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0011.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0012.png b/27678-page-images/p0012.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0a49330
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0012.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0013.png b/27678-page-images/p0013.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b95e6d7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0013.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0014.png b/27678-page-images/p0014.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b11a1ee
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0014.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0015.png b/27678-page-images/p0015.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a1faffd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0015.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0016.png b/27678-page-images/p0016.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e8645b7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0016.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0017.png b/27678-page-images/p0017.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..067f30d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0017.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0018.png b/27678-page-images/p0018.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0914926
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0018.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0019.png b/27678-page-images/p0019.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0a795d1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0019.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0020.png b/27678-page-images/p0020.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4e88c22
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0020.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0021.png b/27678-page-images/p0021.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..159a3ab
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0021.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0022.png b/27678-page-images/p0022.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..669a8a9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0022.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0023.png b/27678-page-images/p0023.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..37e54e0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0023.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0024.png b/27678-page-images/p0024.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..75a4006
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0024.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0025.png b/27678-page-images/p0025.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c9e8ad8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0025.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0026.png b/27678-page-images/p0026.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..45075d5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0026.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0027.png b/27678-page-images/p0027.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4224fc9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0027.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0028.png b/27678-page-images/p0028.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7e26008
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0028.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0029.png b/27678-page-images/p0029.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4c74bc3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0029.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0030.png b/27678-page-images/p0030.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d6ec653
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0030.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0031.png b/27678-page-images/p0031.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..46cf0de
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0031.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0032.png b/27678-page-images/p0032.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..65d18df
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0032.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0033.png b/27678-page-images/p0033.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..db2eb79
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0033.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0034.png b/27678-page-images/p0034.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f076cbd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0034.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0035.png b/27678-page-images/p0035.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e4fe96d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0035.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0036.png b/27678-page-images/p0036.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a7a2a76
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0036.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0037.png b/27678-page-images/p0037.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1c909eb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0037.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0038.png b/27678-page-images/p0038.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..55a7564
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0038.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0039.png b/27678-page-images/p0039.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e3d11d9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0039.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0040-image1.jpg b/27678-page-images/p0040-image1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..50e879f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0040-image1.jpg
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0040.png b/27678-page-images/p0040.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d491be3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0040.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0041.png b/27678-page-images/p0041.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..46f9a08
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0041.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0042.png b/27678-page-images/p0042.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6573706
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0042.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0043.png b/27678-page-images/p0043.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d5b71be
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0043.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0044.png b/27678-page-images/p0044.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a538aee
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0044.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0045.png b/27678-page-images/p0045.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a235a64
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0045.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0046.png b/27678-page-images/p0046.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e9cb48b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0046.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0047.png b/27678-page-images/p0047.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5c267e8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0047.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0048.png b/27678-page-images/p0048.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9f1d805
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0048.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0049.png b/27678-page-images/p0049.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..38086e8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0049.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0050.png b/27678-page-images/p0050.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9299c61
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0050.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0051.png b/27678-page-images/p0051.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0be935e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0051.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0052.png b/27678-page-images/p0052.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7d97694
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0052.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0053.png b/27678-page-images/p0053.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..49a423b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0053.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0054.png b/27678-page-images/p0054.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..552c6dc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0054.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0055.png b/27678-page-images/p0055.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..88d8cb1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0055.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0056.png b/27678-page-images/p0056.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2367379
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0056.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0057.png b/27678-page-images/p0057.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..72cf7c7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0057.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0058.png b/27678-page-images/p0058.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..baa9aba
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0058.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0059.png b/27678-page-images/p0059.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1ee1aa3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0059.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0060.png b/27678-page-images/p0060.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c5d8fa2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0060.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0061.png b/27678-page-images/p0061.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..64a2298
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0061.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0062.png b/27678-page-images/p0062.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a618a2b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0062.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0063.png b/27678-page-images/p0063.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ba7a761
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0063.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0064.png b/27678-page-images/p0064.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4858e75
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0064.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0065-image1.jpg b/27678-page-images/p0065-image1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b1ae485
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0065-image1.jpg
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0065.png b/27678-page-images/p0065.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..32d90ca
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0065.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0066.png b/27678-page-images/p0066.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..65aab50
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0066.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0067.png b/27678-page-images/p0067.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bfbca4e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0067.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0068.png b/27678-page-images/p0068.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7aa3806
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0068.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0069.png b/27678-page-images/p0069.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bd9839f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0069.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0070.png b/27678-page-images/p0070.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..49ee49c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0070.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0071.png b/27678-page-images/p0071.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1e3833f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0071.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0072.png b/27678-page-images/p0072.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..99cd58a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0072.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0073.png b/27678-page-images/p0073.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4f7c3ea
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0073.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0074.png b/27678-page-images/p0074.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4badf0b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0074.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0075.png b/27678-page-images/p0075.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cd5abcf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0075.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0076.png b/27678-page-images/p0076.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e07ce90
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0076.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0077.png b/27678-page-images/p0077.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a3d59cb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0077.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0078.png b/27678-page-images/p0078.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a19bdc8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0078.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0079.png b/27678-page-images/p0079.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..670614e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0079.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0080.png b/27678-page-images/p0080.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c26a2c7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0080.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0081.png b/27678-page-images/p0081.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8100fb8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0081.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0082.png b/27678-page-images/p0082.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1fd9cdf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0082.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0083.png b/27678-page-images/p0083.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6f213a3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0083.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0084.png b/27678-page-images/p0084.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3ccfe02
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0084.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0085.png b/27678-page-images/p0085.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0af6428
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0085.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0086.png b/27678-page-images/p0086.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f66351b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0086.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0087.png b/27678-page-images/p0087.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3b4acd8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0087.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0088.png b/27678-page-images/p0088.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..10feb30
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0088.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0089.png b/27678-page-images/p0089.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6b9a6ed
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0089.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0090.png b/27678-page-images/p0090.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c41a387
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0090.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0091.png b/27678-page-images/p0091.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..84d4fec
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0091.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0092.png b/27678-page-images/p0092.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3bbdb0b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0092.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0093.png b/27678-page-images/p0093.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..42a72ec
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0093.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0094.png b/27678-page-images/p0094.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c4c57f5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0094.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0095.png b/27678-page-images/p0095.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c4a9552
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0095.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0096.png b/27678-page-images/p0096.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ae62000
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0096.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0097.png b/27678-page-images/p0097.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1e972fc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0097.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0098.png b/27678-page-images/p0098.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c4554a4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0098.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0099.png b/27678-page-images/p0099.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fe39b9e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0099.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0100.png b/27678-page-images/p0100.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..68b7f14
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0100.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0101-image1.jpg b/27678-page-images/p0101-image1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2ffe290
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0101-image1.jpg
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0101.png b/27678-page-images/p0101.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8cd9d66
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0101.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0102.png b/27678-page-images/p0102.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7f3ad92
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0102.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0103.png b/27678-page-images/p0103.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..147d234
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0103.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0104.png b/27678-page-images/p0104.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e357dca
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0104.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0105.png b/27678-page-images/p0105.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..47009f6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0105.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0106.png b/27678-page-images/p0106.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6d16196
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0106.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0107.png b/27678-page-images/p0107.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1d1dcac
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0107.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0108.png b/27678-page-images/p0108.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..659aeed
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0108.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0109.png b/27678-page-images/p0109.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f8227d4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0109.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0110.png b/27678-page-images/p0110.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d3f1984
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0110.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0111.png b/27678-page-images/p0111.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..be910ed
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0111.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0112.png b/27678-page-images/p0112.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..831189d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0112.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0113.png b/27678-page-images/p0113.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..eecbff7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0113.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0114.png b/27678-page-images/p0114.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1276cdd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0114.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0115.png b/27678-page-images/p0115.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7e79e9b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0115.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0116.png b/27678-page-images/p0116.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..254b7e7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0116.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0117.png b/27678-page-images/p0117.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4cd9b45
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0117.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0118.png b/27678-page-images/p0118.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b53e841
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0118.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0119.png b/27678-page-images/p0119.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5342f25
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0119.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0120.png b/27678-page-images/p0120.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1cda141
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0120.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0121.png b/27678-page-images/p0121.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f35f468
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0121.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0122.png b/27678-page-images/p0122.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..50c976e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0122.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0123.png b/27678-page-images/p0123.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8c52435
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0123.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0124.png b/27678-page-images/p0124.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d83654b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0124.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0125.png b/27678-page-images/p0125.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..edf3f34
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0125.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0126.png b/27678-page-images/p0126.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3b21bd8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0126.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0127.png b/27678-page-images/p0127.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2b780ac
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0127.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0128.png b/27678-page-images/p0128.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c461baf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0128.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0129.png b/27678-page-images/p0129.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ab06a6d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0129.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0130.png b/27678-page-images/p0130.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7ad371c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0130.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0131.png b/27678-page-images/p0131.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..117d9af
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0131.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0132.png b/27678-page-images/p0132.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9612de9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0132.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0133.png b/27678-page-images/p0133.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c62dab6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0133.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0134.png b/27678-page-images/p0134.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ab9b83b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0134.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0135.png b/27678-page-images/p0135.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9df46d3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0135.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0136.png b/27678-page-images/p0136.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..451bdd6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0136.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0137-image1.jpg b/27678-page-images/p0137-image1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..10400eb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0137-image1.jpg
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0137.png b/27678-page-images/p0137.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..308fafc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0137.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0138.png b/27678-page-images/p0138.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..82418bf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0138.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0139.png b/27678-page-images/p0139.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..024164a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0139.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0140.png b/27678-page-images/p0140.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ed38352
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0140.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0141.png b/27678-page-images/p0141.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a5e09c9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0141.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0142.png b/27678-page-images/p0142.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6b88660
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0142.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0143.png b/27678-page-images/p0143.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ba3470c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0143.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0144.png b/27678-page-images/p0144.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e6ce107
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0144.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0145.png b/27678-page-images/p0145.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f885c6b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0145.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0146.png b/27678-page-images/p0146.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..124fb64
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0146.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0147.png b/27678-page-images/p0147.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5806d0d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0147.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0148.png b/27678-page-images/p0148.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9984a8c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0148.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0149.png b/27678-page-images/p0149.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a3932f2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0149.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0150.png b/27678-page-images/p0150.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a905b72
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0150.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0151.png b/27678-page-images/p0151.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7fbacdd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0151.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0152.png b/27678-page-images/p0152.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2061283
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0152.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0153.png b/27678-page-images/p0153.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d96e2a0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0153.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0154.png b/27678-page-images/p0154.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6e05188
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0154.png
diff --git a/27678-page-images/p0155.png b/27678-page-images/p0155.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a0ce9ed
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678-page-images/p0155.png
diff --git a/27678.txt b/27678.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..19f31f8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,5778 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Nine Little Goslings, by Susan Coolidge
+
+
+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: Nine Little Goslings
+
+
+Author: Susan Coolidge
+
+
+
+Release Date: December 31, 2008  [eBook #27678]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Adrian Mastronardi, Emmy, and the Project Gutenberg
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 27678-h.htm or 27678-h.zip:
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/7/6/7/27678/27678-h/27678-h.htm)
+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/7/6/7/27678/27678-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS.
+
+by
+
+SUSAN COOLIDGE,
+
+Author of "The New Year's Bargain," "Mischief's Thanksgiving," "What
+Katy Did," "What Katy Did at School."
+
+With Illustrations.
+
+   CURLY LOCKS.
+   GOOSEY, GOOSEY GANDER.
+   LITTLE BO-PEEP.
+   MISTRESS MARY.
+   LADY BIRD.
+   ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE.
+   RIDE A COCK-HORSE.
+   LADY QUEEN ANNE.
+   UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, DOWN-Y.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Boston:
+Roberts Brothers.
+1893.
+
+Copyright, 1875.
+By Roberts Brothers.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+University Press . John Wilson & Son,
+Cambridge.
+
+
+
+          _When nursery lamps are veiled, and nurse is singing
+                        In accents low,
+           Timing her music to the cradle's swinging,
+                        Now fast, now slow,--_
+
+          _Singing of Baby Bunting, soft and furry
+                        In rabbit cloak,
+           Or rock-a-byed amid the toss and flurry
+                        Of wind-swept oak;_
+
+          _Of Boy-Blue sleeping with his horn beside him,
+                        Of my son John,
+           Who went to bed (let all good boys deride him)
+                        With stockings on;_
+
+          _Of sweet Bo-Peep following her lambkins straying;
+                        Of Dames in shoes;
+           Of cows, considerate, 'mid the Piper's playing,
+                        Which tune to choose;_
+
+          _Of Gotham's wise men bowling o'er the billow,
+                        Or him, less wise,
+           Who chose rough bramble-bushes for a pillow,
+                        And scratched his eyes,--_
+
+          _It may be, while she sings, that through the portal
+                        Soft footsteps glide,
+           And, all invisible to grown-up mortal,
+                        At cradle side_
+
+          _Sits Mother Goose herself, the dear old mother,
+                        And rocks and croons,
+           In tones which Baby hearkens, but no other,
+                        Her old-new tunes!_
+
+          _I think it must be so, else why, years after,
+                        Do we retrace
+           And mix with shadowy, recollected laughter
+                        Thoughts of that face;_
+
+          _Seen, yet unseen, beaming across the ages,
+                        Brimful of fun
+           And wit and wisdom, baffling all the sages
+                        Under the sun?_
+
+          _A grown-up child has place still, which no other
+                        May dare refuse;
+           I, grown up, bring this offering to our Mother,
+                          To Mother Goose;_
+
+          _And, standing with the babies at that olden,
+                        Immortal knee,
+           I seem to feel her smile, benign and golden,
+                        Falling on me._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+          CHAP                                         PAGE
+             I. CURLY LOCKS                               1
+            II. GOOSEY, GOOSEY GANDER                    40
+           III. LITTLE BO-PEEP                           65
+            IV. MISTRESS MARY                           101
+             V. LADY BIRD                               137
+            VI. ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE                165
+           VII. RIDE A COCK-HORSE                       197
+          VIII. LADY QUEEN ANNE                         228
+            IX. UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, DOWN-Y      259
+
+[Illustration]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CURLY LOCKS.
+
+
+WHEN a little girl is six and a little boy is six, they like pretty much
+the same things and enjoy pretty much the same games. She wears an
+apron, and he a jacket and trousers, but they are both equally fond of
+running races, spinning tops, flying kites, going down hill on sleds,
+and making a noise in the open air. But when the little girl gets to be
+eleven or twelve, and to grow thin and long, so that every two months a
+tuck has to be let down in her frocks, then a great difference becomes
+visible. The boy goes on racing and whooping and comporting himself
+generally like a young colt in a pasture; but she turns quiet and shy,
+cares no longer for rough play or exercise, takes droll little
+sentimental fancies into her head, and likes best the books which make
+her cry. Almost all girls have a fit of this kind some time or other in
+the course of their lives; and it is rather a good thing to have it
+early, for little folks get over such attacks more easily than big ones.
+Perhaps we may live to see the day when wise mammas, going through the
+list of nursery diseases which their children have had, will wind up
+triumphantly with, "Mumps, measles, chicken-pox,--and they are all over
+with 'Amy Herbert,' 'The Heir of Redclyffe,' and the notion that they
+are going to be miserable for the rest of their lives!"
+
+Sometimes this odd change comes after an illness when a little girl
+feels weak and out of sorts, and does not know exactly what is the
+matter. This is the way it came to Johnnie Carr, a girl whom some of you
+who read this are already acquainted with. She had intermittent fever
+the year after her sisters Katy and Clover came from boarding-school,
+and was quite ill for several weeks. Everybody in the house was sorry to
+have Johnnie sick. Katy nursed, petted, and cosseted her in the
+tenderest way. Clover brought flowers to the bedside and read books
+aloud, and told Johnnie interesting stories. Elsie cut out paper dolls
+for her by dozens, painted their cheeks pink and their eyes blue, and
+made for them beautiful dresses and jackets of every color and fashion.
+Papa never came in without some little present or treat in his pocket
+for Johnnie. So long as she was in bed, and all these nice things were
+doing for her, Johnnie liked being ill very much, but when she began to
+sit up and go down to dinner, and the family spoke of her as almost well
+again, _then_ a time of unhappiness set in. The Johnnie who got out of
+bed after the fever was not the Johnnie of a month before. There were
+two inches more of her for one thing, for she had taken the opportunity
+to grow prodigiously, as sick children often do. Her head ached at
+times, her back felt weak, and her legs shook when she tried to run
+about. All sorts of queer and disagreeable feelings attacked her. Her
+hair had fallen out during the fever so that Papa thought it best to
+have it shaved close. Katy made a pretty silk-lined cap for her to wear,
+but the girls at school laughed at the cap, and that troubled Johnnie
+very much. Then, when the new hair grew, thick and soft as the plumy
+down on a bird's wing, a fresh affliction set in, for the hair came out
+in small round rings all over her head, which made her look like a
+baby. Elsie called her "Curly," and gradually the others adopted the
+name, till at last nobody used any other except the servants, who still
+said "Miss Johnnie." It was hard to recognize the old Johnnie, square
+and sturdy and full of merry life, in poor, thin, whining Curly, always
+complaining of something, who lay on the sofa reading story-books, and
+begging Phil and Dorry to let her alone, not to tease her, and to go off
+and play by themselves. Her eyes looked twice as big as usual, because
+her face was so small and pale, and though she was still a pretty child,
+it was in a different way from the old prettiness. Katy and Clover were
+very kind and gentle always, but Elsie sometimes lost patience entirely,
+and the boys openly declared that Curly was a cross-patch, and hadn't a
+bit of fun left in her.
+
+One afternoon she was lying on the sofa with the "Wide Wide World" in
+her hand. Her eyelids were very red from crying over Alice's death, but
+she had galloped on, and was now reading the part where Ellen
+Montgomery goes to live with her rich relatives in Scotland.
+
+"Oh, dear," sighed Johnnie. "How splendid it was for her! Just think,
+Clover, riding lessons, and a watch, and her uncle takes her to see all
+sorts of places, and they call her their White Rose! Oh, dear! I wish
+_we_ had relations in Scotland."
+
+"We haven't, you know," remarked Clover, threading her needle with a
+fresh bit of blue worsted.
+
+"I know it. It's too bad. Nothing ever does happen in this stupid place.
+The girls in books always do have such nice times. Ellen could leap, and
+she spoke French _beau_tifully. She learned at that place, you know, the
+place where the Humphreys lived."
+
+"Litchfield Co., Connecticut," said Clover mischievously. "Katy was
+there last summer, you recollect. I guess they don't _all_ speak such
+good French. Katy didn't notice it."
+
+"Ellen did," persisted Johnnie. "Her uncle and all those people were so
+surprised when they heard her. Wouldn't it be grand to be an adopted
+child, Clover?"
+
+"To be adopted by people who gave you your bath like a baby when you
+were thirteen years old, and tapped your lips when they didn't want you
+to speak, and stole your Pilgrim's Progresses? No, thank you. I would
+much rather stay as I am."
+
+"I wouldn't," replied Johnnie pensively. "I don't like this place very
+much. I should love to be rich and to travel in Europe."
+
+At this moment Papa and Katy came in together. Katy was laughing, and
+Papa looked as if he had just bitten a smile off short. In his hand was
+a letter.
+
+"Oh, Clovy," began Katy, but Papa interposed with "Katy, hold your
+tongue;" and though he looked quizzical as he said it, Katy saw that he
+was half in earnest, and stopped at once.
+
+"We're about to have a visitor," he went on, picking Johnnie up and
+settling her in his lap,--"a distinguished visitor. Curly, you must put
+on your best manners, for she comes especially to see you."
+
+"A visitor! How nice! Who is it?" cried Clover and Johnnie with one
+voice. Visitors were rare in Burnet, and the children regarded them
+always as a treat.
+
+"Her name is Miss Inches,--Marion Joanna Inches," replied Dr. Carr,
+glancing at the letter. "She's a sort of godmother of yours, Curly;
+you've got half her name."
+
+"Was I really named after her?"
+
+"Yes. She and Mamma were school-friends, and though they never met after
+leaving school, Mamma was fond of her, and when little No. 4 came, she
+decided to call her after her old intimate. That silver mug of yours was
+a present from her."
+
+"Was it? Where does she live?"
+
+"At a place called Inches Mills, in Massachusetts. She's the rich lady
+of the village, and has a beautiful house and grounds, where she lives
+all alone by herself. Her letter is written at Niagara. She is going to
+the Mammoth Cave, and writes to ask if it will be convenient for us to
+have her stop for a few days on the way. She wants to see her old
+friend's children, she says, and especially her namesake."
+
+"Oh, dear!" sighed Johnnie, ruffling her short hairs with her fingers.
+"I wish my curls were longer. What _will_ she think when she sees me?"
+
+"She'll think
+
+          "There is a little girl, and she has a little curl
+             Right in the middle of her forehead;
+           When she is good she is very, very good,
+             And when she is bad she is horrid--"
+
+said Dr. Carr, laughing. But Johnnie didn't laugh back. Her lip
+trembled, and she said,--
+
+"I'm not horrid _really_, am I?"
+
+"Not a bit," replied her father; "you're only a little goose now and
+then, and I'm such an old gander that I don't mind that a bit."
+
+Johnnie smiled and was comforted. Her thoughts turned to the coming
+visitor.
+
+"Perhaps she'll be like the rich ladies in story-books," she said to
+herself.
+
+Next day Miss Inches came. Katy was an experienced housekeeper now, and
+did not worry over coming guests as once she did. The house was always
+in pleasant, home-like order; and though Debby and Alexander had
+fulfilled Aunt Izzie's prediction by marrying one another, both stayed
+on at Dr. Carr's and were as good and faithful as ever, so Katy had no
+anxieties as to the dinners and breakfasts. It was late in the afternoon
+when the visitor arrived. Fresh flowers filled the vases, for it was
+early June, and the garden-beds were sweet with roses and lilies of the
+valley. The older girls wore new summer muslins, and Johnnie in white,
+her short curls tied back with a blue ribbon, looked unusually pretty
+and delicate.
+
+Miss Inches, a wide-awake, handsome woman, seemed much pleased to see
+them all.
+
+"So this is my name-child," she said, putting her arm about Johnnie.
+"This is my little Joanna? You're the only child I have any share in,
+Joanna; I hope we shall love each other very deeply."
+
+Miss Inches' hand was large and white, with beautiful rings on the
+fingers. Johnnie was flattered at being patted by such a hand, and
+cuddled affectionately to the side of her name-mamma.
+
+"What eyes she has!" murmured Miss Inches to Dr. Carr. She lowered her
+voice, but Johnnie caught every word. "Such a lambent blue, and so full
+of soul. She is quite different from the rest of your daughters, Dr.
+Carr; don't you think so?"
+
+"She has been ill recently, and is looking thin," replied the prosaic
+Papa.
+
+"Oh, it isn't _that_! There is something else,--hard to put into words,
+but I feel it! You don't see it? Well, that only confirms a theory of
+mine, that people are often blind to the qualities of their nearest
+relations. We cannot get our own families into proper perspective. It
+isn't possible."
+
+These fine words were lost on Johnnie, but she understood that she was
+pronounced nicer than the rest of the family. This pleased her: she
+began to think that she should like Miss Inches very much indeed.
+
+Dr. Carr was not so much pleased. The note from Miss Inches, over which
+he and Katy had laughed, but which was not shown to the rest, had
+prepared him for a visitor of rather high-flown ideas, but he did not
+like having Johnnie singled out as the subject of this kind of praise.
+However, he said to himself, "It doesn't matter. She means well, and
+jolly little Johnnie won't be harmed by a few days of it."
+
+Jolly little Johnnie would not have been harmed, but the pale,
+sentimental Johnnie left behind by the recently departed intermittent
+fever, decidedly _was_. Before Miss Inches had been four days in Burnet,
+Johnnie adored her and followed her about like a shadow. Never had
+anybody loved her as Miss Inches did, she thought, or discovered such
+fine things in her character. Ten long years and a half had she lived
+with Papa and the children, and not one of them had found out that her
+eyes were full of soul, and an expression "of mingled mirth and
+melancholy unusual in a childish face, and more like that of _Goethe's
+Mignon_ than any thing else in the world of fiction!" Johnnie had never
+heard of "_Mignon_," but it was delightful to be told that she resembled
+her, and she made Miss Inches a present of the whole of her foolish
+little heart on the spot.
+
+"Oh, if Papa would but give you to me!" exclaimed Miss Inches one day.
+"If only I could have you for my own, what a delight it would be! My
+whole theory of training is so different,--you should never waste your
+energies in house-work, my darling, (Johnnie had been dusting the
+parlor); it is sheer waste, with an intelligence like yours lying fallow
+and only waiting for the master's hand. Would you come, Johnnie, if
+Papa consented? Inches Mills is a quiet place, but lovely. There are a
+few bright minds in the neighborhood; we are near Boston, and not too
+far from Concord. Such a pretty room as you should have, darling, fitted
+up in blue and rose-buds, or--no, Morris green and Pompeian-red would be
+prettier, perhaps. What a joy it would be to choose pictures for
+it,--pictures, every one of which should be an impulse in the best Art
+direction! And how you would revel in the garden, and in the fruit! My
+strawberries are the finest I ever saw; I have two Alderney cows and
+quantities of cream. Don't you think you could be happy to come and be
+my own little Curly, if Papa would consent?"
+
+"Yes, yes," said Johnnie eagerly. "And I could come home sometimes,
+couldn't I?"
+
+"Every year," replied Miss Inches. "We'll take such lovely journeys
+together, Johnnie, and see all sorts of interesting places. Would you
+like best to go to California or to Switzerland next summer? I think, on
+the whole, Switzerland would be best. I want you to form a good French
+accent at once, but, above all, to study German, the language of
+_thought_. Then there is music. We might spend the winter at
+_Stuttgard_--"
+
+Decidedly Miss Inches was counting on her chicken before hatching it,
+for Dr. Carr had yet to be consulted, and he was not a parent who
+enjoyed interference with his nest or nestlings. When Miss Inches
+attacked him on the subject, his first impulse was to whistle with
+amazement. Next he laughed, and then he became almost angry. Miss Inches
+talked very fast, describing the fine things she would do with Johnnie,
+and for her; and Dr. Carr, having no chance to put in a word, listened
+patiently, and watched his little girl, who was clinging to her new
+friend and looking very eager and anxious. He saw that her heart was set
+on being "adopted," and, wise man that he was, it occurred to him that
+it might be well to grant her wish in part, and let her find out by
+experiment what was really the best and happiest thing. So he did not
+say "No" decidedly, as he at first meant, but took Johnnie on his knee,
+and asked,--
+
+"Well, Curly, so you want to leave Papa and Katy and Clover, and go away
+to be Miss Inches' little girl, do you?"
+
+"I'm coming home to see you every single summer," said Johnnie.
+
+"Indeed! That will be nice for us," responded Dr. Carr cheerfully. "But
+somehow I don't seem to feel as if I could quite make up my mind to give
+my Curly Locks away. Perhaps in a year or two, when we are used to being
+without her, I may feel differently. Suppose, instead, we make a
+compromise."
+
+"Yes," said Miss Inches, eagerly.
+
+"Yes," put in Johnnie, who had not the least idea of what a compromise
+might be.
+
+"I can't _give_ away my little girl,--not yet,"--went on Dr. Carr
+fondly. "But if Miss Inches likes I'll _lend_ her for a little while.
+You may go home with Miss Inches, Johnnie, and stay four months,--to the
+first of October, let us say." ("She'll miss two weeks' schooling, but
+that's no great matter," thought Papa to himself.) "This will give you,
+my dear lady, a chance to try the experiment of having a child in your
+house. Perhaps you may not like it so well as you fancy. If you do, and
+if Johnnie still prefers to remain with you, there will be time enough
+then to talk over further plans. How will this answer?"
+
+Johnnie was delighted, Miss Inches not so much so.
+
+"Of course," she said, "it isn't so satisfactory to have the thing left
+uncertain, because it retards the regular plan of development which I
+have formed for Johnnie. However, I can allow for a parent's feelings,
+and I thank you very much, Dr. Carr. I feel assured that, as you have
+five other children, you will in time make up your mind to let me keep
+Johnnie entirely as mine. It puts a new value into life,--this chance of
+having an immortal intelligence placed in my hands to train. It will be
+a real delight to do so, and I flatter myself the result will surprise
+you all."
+
+Dr. Carr's eyes twinkled wickedly, but he made Miss Inches the politest
+of bows, and said: "You are very kind, I am sure, and I hope Johnnie
+will be good and not give you much trouble. When would you wish her
+visit to commence?"
+
+"Oh--now, if you do not object. I should so enjoy taking her with me to
+the Mammoth Cave, and afterward straight home to Massachusetts. You
+would like to see the Cave and the eyeless fish, wouldn't you, darling?"
+
+"Oh yes, Papa, yes!" cried Johnnie. Dr. Carr was rather taken aback, but
+he made no objection, and Johnnie ran off to tell the rest of the family
+the news of her good fortune.
+
+Their dismay cannot be described. "I really do think that Papa is
+crazy," said Clover that night; and though Katy scolded her for using
+such an expression, her own confidence in his judgment was puzzled and
+shaken. She comforted herself with a long letter to Cousin Helen,
+telling her all about the affair. Elsie cried herself to sleep three
+nights running, and the boys were furious.
+
+"The _idea_ of such a thing," cried Dorry, flinging himself about, while
+Phil put a tablespoonful of black pepper and two spools of thread into
+his cannon, and announced that if Miss Inches dared to take Johnnie
+outside the gate, he would shoot her dead, he would, just as sure as he
+was alive!
+
+In spite of this awful threat, Miss Inches persisted in her plan.
+Johnnie's little trunk was packed by Clover and Katy, who watered its
+contents with tears as they smoothed and folded the frocks and aprons,
+which looked so like their Curly as to seem a part of herself,--their
+Curly, who was so glad to leave them!
+
+"Never mind the thick things," remarked Dr. Carr, as Katy came through
+the hall with Johnnie's winter jacket on her arm. "Put in one warmish
+dress for cool days, and leave the rest. They can be sent on _if_
+Johnnie decides to stay."
+
+Papa looked so droll and gave such a large wink at the word "if," that
+Katy and Clover felt their hearts lighten surprisingly, and finished the
+packing in better spirits. The good-by, however, was a sorry affair. The
+girls cried; Dorry and Phil sniffed and looked fiercely at Miss Inches;
+old Mary stood on the steps with her apron thrown over her head; and Dr.
+Carr's face was so grave and sad that it quite frightened Johnnie. She
+cried too, and clung to Katy. Almost she said, "I won't go," but she
+thought of the eyeless fish, and didn't say it. The carriage drove off,
+Miss Inches petted her, everything was new and exciting, and before long
+she was happy again, only now and then a thought of home would come to
+make her lips quiver and her eyes fill.
+
+The wonderful Cave, with its vaults and galleries hung with glittering
+crystals, its underground river and dark lake, was so like a fairy tale,
+that Johnnie felt as if she _must_ go right back and tell the family at
+home about it. She relieved her feelings by a long letter to Elsie,
+which made them all laugh very much. In it she said, "Ellen Montgomery
+didn't have any thing half so nice as the Cave, and Mamma Marion never
+taps my lips." Miss Inches, it seemed, wished to be called "Mamma
+Marion." Every mile of the journey was an enjoyment to Johnnie. Miss
+Inches bought pretty presents for her wherever they stopped: altogether,
+it was quite like being some little girl taking a beautiful excursion in
+a story-book, instead of plain Johnnie Carr, and Johnnie felt that to be
+an "adopted child" was every bit as nice as she had supposed, and even
+nicer.
+
+It was late in the evening when they reached Inches Mills, so nothing
+could be seen of the house, except that it was big and had trees around
+it. Johnnie went to sleep in a large bedroom with a huge double bed all
+to herself, and felt very grown-up and important.
+
+The next day was given to unpacking and seeing the grounds; after that,
+Miss Inches said they must begin to lead a regular life, and Johnnie
+must study. Johnnie had been to school all winter, and in the natural
+course of things would have had holidays now. Mamma Marion, however,
+declared that so long an idle time would not do at all.
+
+"Education, my darling, is not a thing of periods," she explained. "It
+should be like the air, absorbed, as it were, all the time, not like a
+meal, eaten just so often in the day. This idea of teaching by paroxysms
+is one of the fatal mistakes of the age."
+
+So all that warm July Johnnie had French lessons and German, and lessons
+in natural philosophy, beside studying English literature after a plan
+of Miss Inches' own, which combined history and geography and geology,
+with readings from various books, and accounted for the existence of
+all the great geniuses of the world, as if they had been made after a
+regular recipe,--something like this:--
+
+                      TO MAKE A POET.
+
+          Take a political situation, add a rocky soil, and
+          the western slope of a great water-shed, pour into
+          a mould and garnish with laurel leaves. It will be
+          found delicious!
+
+The "lambent blue" of Johnnie's eyes grew more lambent than ever as she
+tried to make head and tail of this wonderful hash of people and facts.
+I am afraid that Mamma Marion was disappointed in the intelligence of
+her pupil, but Johnnie did her best, though she was rather aggrieved at
+being obliged to study at all in summer, which at home was always
+play-time. The children she knew were having a delightful vacation
+there, and living out of doors from morning till night.
+
+As the weeks went on she felt this more and more. Change of air was
+making her rosy and fat, and with returning strength a good deal of the
+old romping, hearty Johnnie came back; or would have come, had there
+been anybody to romp with. But there was nobody, for Miss Inches
+scarcely ever invited children to her house. They were brought up so
+poorly she said. There was nothing inspiring in their contact. She
+wanted Johnnie to be something quite different.
+
+So Johnnie seldom saw anybody except "Mamma Marion" and her friends, who
+came to drink tea and talk about "Protoplasm," and the "Higher Education
+of Women," which wasn't at all interesting to poor Curly. She always sat
+by, quietly and demurely, and Miss Inches hoped was listening and being
+improved, but really she was thinking about something else, or longing
+to climb a tree or have a good game of play with real boys and girls.
+Once, in the middle of a tea-party, she stole upstairs and indulged in a
+hearty cry all to herself, over the thought of a little house which she
+and Dorry and Phil had built in Paradise the summer before; a house of
+stumps and old boards, lined with moss, in which they had had _such_ a
+good time.
+
+Almost as soon as they got home, Miss Inches sent to Boston for papers
+and furniture, and devoted her spare time to fitting up a room for her
+adopted child. Johnnie was not allowed to see it till all was done, then
+she was led triumphantly in. It was pretty--and queer--perhaps queerer
+than pretty. The walls were green-gray, the carpet gray-green, the
+furniture pale yellow, almost white, with brass handles and hinges, and
+lines of dull red tiles set into the wood. Every picture on the walls
+had a meaning, Miss Inches explained.
+
+"Some of these I chose to strengthen your mind, Johnnie, dear," she
+said. "These portraits, for example. Here are Luther, Mahomet, and
+Theodore Parker, three of the great Protestants of the world. Life, to
+be worthy, must be more or less of a protest always. I want you to
+renumber that. This photograph is of Michael Angelo's Moses. I got you
+that too, because it is so strong. I want you to be strong. Do you like
+it?"
+
+"I think it would be prettier without the curl-papers," faltered the
+bewildered Johnnie.
+
+"Curl-papers! My dear child, where are your eyes? Those are horns. He
+wore horns as a law-giver."
+
+"Yes, ma'am," said Johnnie, not daring to ask any more questions for
+fear of making more mistakes.
+
+"These splendid autotypes are from the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in
+Rome, the glory of the world," went on Miss Inches. "And here, Johnnie,
+is the most precious of all. This I got expressly for you. It is an
+education to have such a painting as that before your eyes. I rely very
+much upon its influence on you."
+
+The painting represented what seemed to be a grove of tall yellow-green
+sea-weeds, waving against a strange purple sky. There was a path between
+the stems of the sea-weeds, and up this path trotted a pig, rather soft
+and smudgy about his edges, as if he were running a little into the
+background. His quirly tail was smudgy also; and altogether it was more
+like the ghost of a pig than a real animal, but Miss Inches said _that_
+was the great beauty of the picture.
+
+Johnnie didn't care much for the painted pig, but she liked him better
+than the great Reformers, who struck her as grim and frightful; while
+the very idea of going to sleep in the room with the horned Moses scared
+her almost to death. It preyed on her mind all day; and at night, after
+Johnnie had gone to bed, Miss Inches, passing the door, heard a little
+sob, half strangled by the pillows. She went in.
+
+"What _is_ the matter?" she cried.
+
+"It's that awful man with horns," gasped Johnnie, taking her head out
+from under the bedclothes. "I can't go to sleep, he frightens me so."
+
+"Oh, my darling, what, _what_ weakness," cried Mamma Marion.
+
+She was too kind, however, to persist in any plan which made Johnnie
+unhappy, so Moses came down, and Johnnie was allowed to choose a picture
+to fill his place. She selected a chromo of three little girls in a
+swing, a dreadful thing, all blue and red and green, which Miss Inches
+almost wept over. But it was a great comfort to Johnnie. I think it was
+the chromo which put it into Mamma Marion's head that the course of
+instruction chosen for her adopted child was perhaps a little above her
+years. Soon after she surprised Johnnie by the gift of a doll, a boy
+doll, dressed in a suit of Swedish gray, with pockets. In one hand the
+doll carried a hammer, and under the other arm was tucked a small
+portfolio.
+
+"I like to make your sports a little instructive when I can," she said,
+"so I have dressed this doll in the costume of Linnaeus, the great
+botanist. See what a nice little herbarium he has got under his arm.
+There are twenty-four tiny specimens in it, with the Latin and English
+names of each written underneath. If you could learn these perfectly,
+Johnnie, it would give you a real start in botany, which is the most
+beautiful of the sciences. Suppose you try. What will you name your
+doll, darling?"
+
+"I don't know," replied Johnnie, glaring at the wax-boy with very
+hostile feelings.
+
+"Linnaeus? No, I don't quite like to give that name to a doll. Suppose,
+Johnnie, we christen him _Hortus Siccus_. That's the Latin name for a
+herbal, and will help you to remember it when you form one of your own.
+Now take him and have a good play."
+
+How was it possible to have a good play with a doll named _Hortus
+Siccus_? Johnnie hated him, and could not conceal the fact. Miss Inches
+was grieved and disappointed. But she said to herself, "Perhaps she is
+just too old for dolls and just too young to care for pictures. It isn't
+so easy to fix a child's mental position as I thought it would be. I
+must try something else."
+
+She really loved Johnnie and wished to make her happy, so the thought
+occurred of giving her a child's party. "I don't approve of them," she
+told her friends. "But perhaps it may be possible to combine some
+instruction with the amusements, and Johnnie is _so_ pleased. Dear
+little creature, she is only eleven, and small things are great at that
+age. I suppose it is always so with youth."
+
+Twenty children were asked to the party. They were to come at four, play
+for two hours in the garden, then have supper, and afterward games in
+the parlor.
+
+Johnnie felt as if she had taken a dose of laughing-gas, at the sight of
+twenty boys and girls all at once, real boys, real girls! How long it
+was since she had seen any! She capered and jumped in a way which
+astonished Miss Inches, and her high spirits so infected the rest that a
+general romp set in, and the party grew noisy to an appalling degree.
+
+"Oh, Johnnie dear, no more 'Tag,'" cried poor Mamma Marion, catching
+her adopted child and wiping her hot face with a handkerchief. "It is
+really too rude, such a game as that. It is only fit for boys."
+
+"Oh, please!--please!--_please_!" entreated Johnnie. "It is splendid.
+Papa always let us; he did indeed, he always did."
+
+"I thought you were my child now, and anxious for better things than
+tag," said Miss Inches gravely. Johnnie had to submit, but she pouted,
+shrugged her shoulders, and looked crossly about her, in a way which
+Mamma Marion had never seen before, and which annoyed her very much.
+
+"Now it is time to go to supper," she announced. "Form yourselves into a
+procession, children. Johnnie shall take this tambourine and Willy
+Parker these castanets, and we will march in to the sound of music."
+
+Johnnie liked to beat the tambourine very much, so her sulks gave place
+at once to smiles. The boys and girls sorted themselves into couples,
+Miss Inches took the head of the procession with an accordion, Willy
+Parker clashed the castanets as well as he could, and they all marched
+into the house. The table was beautifully spread with flowers and grapes
+and pretty china. Johnnie took the head, Willy the foot, and Dinah the
+housemaid helped them all round to sliced peaches and cream.
+
+Miss Inches meanwhile sat down in the corner of the room and drew a
+little table full of books near her. As soon as they were all served,
+she began,--
+
+"Now, dear children, while you eat, I will read aloud a little. I should
+like to think that each one of you carried away one thought at least
+from this entertainment,--a thought which would stay by you, and be, as
+it were, seed-grain for other thoughts in years to come. First, I will
+read 'Abou Ben Adhem,' by Leigh Hunt, an English poet."
+
+The children listened quietly to Abou Ben Adhem, but when Miss Inches
+opened another book and began to read sentences from Emerson, a deep
+gloom fell upon the party. Willy Parker kicked his neighbor and made a
+face. Lucy Hooper and Grace Sherwood whispered behind their napkins, and
+got to laughing till they both choked. Johnnie's cross feelings came
+back; she felt as if the party was being spoiled, and she wanted to cry.
+A low buzz of whispers, broken by titters, went round the table, and
+through it all Miss Inches' voice sounded solemn and distinct, as she
+slowly read one passage after another, pausing between each to let the
+meaning sink properly into the youthful mind.
+
+Altogether the supper was a failure, in spite of peaches and cream and a
+delicious cake full of plums and citron. When it was over they went into
+the parlor to play. The game of "Twenty Questions" was the first one
+chosen. Miss Inches played too. The word she suggested was "iconoclast."
+
+"We don't know what it means," objected the children.
+
+"Oh, don't you, dears? It means a breaker of idols. However, if you are
+not familiar with it we will choose something else. How would 'Michael
+Angelo' do?"
+
+"But we never heard any thing about him."
+
+Miss Inches was shocked at this, and began a little art-lecture on the
+spot, in the midst of which Willy Parker broke in with, "I've thought of
+a word,--'hash'?"
+
+"Oh, yes! Capital! Hash is a splendid word!" chorussed the others, and
+poor Miss Inches, who had only got as far as Michael Angelo's fourteenth
+year, found that no one was listening, and stopped abruptly. Hash seemed
+to her a vulgar word for the children to choose, but there was no help
+for it, and she resigned herself.
+
+Johnnie thought hash an excellent word. It was so funny when Lucy asked
+whether the thing chosen was animal, vegetable, or mineral? and Willy
+replied, "All three," for he explained in a whisper, there was always
+salt in hash, and salt was a mineral. "Have you all seen it?"
+questioned Lucy. "Lots of times," shouted the children, and there was
+much laughing. After "Twenty Questions," they played "Sim says
+wiggle-waggle," and after that, "Hunt the Slipper." Poor, kind, puzzled
+Miss Inches was relieved when they went away, for it seemed to her that
+their games were all noisy and a fearful waste of time. She resolved
+that she would never give Johnnie any more parties; they upset the child
+completely, and demoralized her mind.
+
+Johnnie _was_ upset. After the party she was never so studious or so
+docile as she had been before. The little taste of play made her dislike
+work, and set her to longing after the home-life where play and work
+were mixed with each other as a matter of course. She began to think
+that it would be only pleasant to make up her bed, or dust a room again,
+and she pined for the old nursery, for Phil's whistle, for Elsie and the
+paper-dolls, and to feel Katy's arms round her once more. Her letters
+showed the growing home-sickness. Dr. Carr felt that the experiment had
+lasted long enough. So he discovered that he had business in Boston, and
+one fine September day, as Johnnie was forlornly poring over her lesson
+in moral philosophy, the door opened and in came Papa. Such a shriek as
+she gave! Miss Inches happened to be out, and they had the house to
+themselves for a while.
+
+"So you are glad to see me?" said Papa, when Johnnie had dried her eyes
+after the violent fit of crying which was his welcome, and had raised
+her head from his shoulder. His own eyes were a little moist, but he
+spoke gaily.
+
+"Oh, Papa, _so_ glad! I was just longing for you to come. How did it
+happen?"
+
+"I had business in this part of the world, and I thought you might be
+wanting your winter clothes."
+
+Johnnie's face fell.
+
+"_Must_ I stay all winter?" she said in a trembling voice. "Aren't you
+going to take me home?"
+
+"But I thought you wanted to be 'adopted,' and to go to Europe, and have
+all sorts of fine things happen to you."
+
+"Oh, Papa, don't tease me. Mamma Marion is ever so kind, but I want to
+come back and be your little girl again. Please let me. If you don't, I
+shall _die_--" and Johnnie wrung her hands.
+
+"We'll see about it," said Dr. Carr. "Don't die, but kiss me and wash
+your face. It won't do for Miss Inches to come home and find you with
+those impolite red rims to your eyes."
+
+"Come upstairs, too, and see my room, while I wash 'em," pleaded
+Johnnie.
+
+All the time that Johnnie was bathing her eyes, Papa walked leisurely
+about looking at the pictures. His mouth wore a furtive smile.
+
+"This is a sweet thing," he observed, "this one with the pickled
+asparagus and the donkey, or is it a cat?"
+
+"Papa! it's a pig!"
+
+Then they both laughed.
+
+I think there was a little bit of relief mixed with Miss Inches'
+disappointment at hearing of Johnnie's decision. The child of theory was
+a delightful thing to have in the house, but this real child, with moods
+and tempers and a will of her own, who preferred chromos to Raphael, and
+pined after "tag," tried her considerably. They parted, however, most
+affectionately.
+
+"Good-by, dear Mamma Marion," whispered Johnnie. "You've been just as
+good as good to me, and I love you so much,--but you know I am _used_ to
+the girls and Papa."
+
+"Yes, dear, I know. You're to come back often, Papa says, and I shall
+call you my girl always." So, with kisses, they separated, and Miss
+Inches went back to her old life, feeling that it was rather comfortable
+not to be any longer responsible for a "young intelligence," and that
+she should never envy mammas with big families of children again, as
+once she had done.
+
+"So we've got our Curly Locks back," said Katy, fondly stroking
+Johnnie's hair, the night after the travellers' return. "And you'll
+never go away from us any more, will you?"
+
+"Never, never, never!" protested Johnnie, emphasizing each word by a
+kiss.
+
+"Not even to be adopted, travel in Europe, or speak Litchfield Co.
+French?" put in naughty Clover.
+
+"No. I've been adopted once, and that's enough. Now I'm going to be
+Papa's little girl always, and when the rest of you get married I shall
+stay at home and keep house for him."
+
+"That's right," said Dr. Carr.
+
+
+
+
+GOOSEY, GOOSEY GANDER.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+"BUT why must I go to bed? It isn't time, and I'm not sleepy yet,"
+pleaded Dickie, holding fast by the side of the door.
+
+"Now, Dickie, don't be naughty. It's time because I say that it's time."
+
+"Papa never tells me it's time when it's light like this," argued
+Dickie. "_He_ doesn't ever send me to bed till seven o'clock. I'm not
+going till it's a great deal darker than this. So there, Mally Spence."
+
+"Oh, yes, you are, Dickie darling," replied Mally coaxingly. "The reason
+it's light is because the days are so long now. It's quite late
+really,--almost seven o'clock,--that is," she added hastily, "it's past
+six (two minutes past!), and sister wants to put Dickie to bed, because
+she's going to take tea with Jane Foster, and unless Dick is safe and
+sound she can't go. Dickie would be sorry to make sister lose her
+pleasure, wouldn't he?"
+
+"I wiss you didn't want me to go," urged Dick, but he was a
+sweet-tempered little soul, so he yielded to Mally's gentle pull, and
+suffered her to lead him in-doors. Upstairs they went, past Mally's
+room, Papa's,--up another flight of stairs, and into the attic chamber
+where Dick slept alone. It was a tiny chamber. The ceiling was low, and
+the walls sloped inward like the sides of a tent. It would have been too
+small to hold a grown person comfortably, but there was room in plenty
+for Dickie's bed, one chair, and the chest of drawers which held his
+clothes and toys. One narrow window lighted it, opening toward the West.
+On the white plastered wall beside it, lay a window-shaped patch of warm
+pink light. The light was reflected from the sunset. Dickie had seen
+this light come and go very often. He liked to have it there; it was so
+pretty, he thought.
+
+Malvina undressed him. She did not talk as much as usual, for her head
+was full of the tea-party, and she was in a hurry to get through and be
+off. Dickie, however, was not the least in a hurry. Slowly he raised one
+foot, then the other, to have his shoes untied, slowly turned himself
+that Mally might unfasten his apron. All the time he talked. Mally
+thought she had never known him ask so many questions, or take so much
+time about every thing.
+
+"What makes the wall pink?" he said. "It never is 'cept just at
+bedtime."
+
+"It's the sun."
+
+"Why doesn't the sun make it that color always?"
+
+"The sun is setting now. He is not setting always."
+
+"That's an improper word. You mustn't say it."
+
+"What's an improper word?"
+
+"Papa _said_, when I said 'setting on the door-steps,' that it wasn't
+proper to say that. He said I must say _sitting_ on the door steps."
+
+"That isn't the same thing, Goosey Gander," cried Mally laughing. "The
+sun sets and little boys sit."
+
+"I'm not a goosey gander," responded Dickie. "And Papa _said_ it wasn't
+proper."
+
+"Never mind," said Mally, whipping on his night-gown: "you're a darling,
+if you are a goosey. Now say your prayers nicely."
+
+"Yes," replied Dick, dreamily. He knelt down and began his usual prayer.
+"Please, God, bless Papa and Mally and Gwandmamma and--" "make Dick a
+good boy" should have come next, but his thoughts wandered. "Why don't
+the sun sit as well as little boys?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, Dickie, Dickie!" cried the scandalized Malvina. "You're saying your
+prayers, you know. Good children don't stop to ask questions when
+they're saying their prayers."
+
+Dickie felt rebuked. He finished the little prayer quickly. Mally lifted
+him into bed. "It's so warm that you won't want this," she said, folding
+back the blanket. Then she stooped to kiss him.
+
+"Tell me a story before you go," pleaded Dickie, holding her tight.
+
+"Oh, not to-night, darling, because I shall be late to Jane's if I do."
+She kissed him hastily.
+
+"I don't think it's nice at all to go to bed when the sun hasn't sit,
+and I'm not sleepy a bit, and there isn't nothing to play with,"
+remarked Dick, plaintively.
+
+"You'll fall asleep in a minute or two, Goosey, then you won't want any
+thing to play with," said Mally, hurrying away.
+
+"I'm _not_ a goosey," shouted Dick after her. Ten minutes later, as she
+was tying her bonnet strings, she heard him calling from the top of the
+stairs.
+
+"What is it, Dickie?"
+
+"I'm not a goose. Goosies has feathers. They say 'quack.'"
+
+"You're the kind that hasn't feathers and doesn't say quack," replied
+Mally from below. "No, darling, you're not a goose; you're Mally's good
+boy. Now, run back to bed."
+
+"Yes, I will," replied Dick, satisfied by this concession. He climbed
+into bed again, and lay watching the pink patch on the wall. Yellow bars
+began to appear and to dance in the midst of the pink.
+
+"Like teeny-weeney little ladders," thought Dick. There was a ladder
+outside his door, at top of which was a scuttle opening on to the roof.
+Dickie turned his head to look at the ladder. The scuttle-door stood
+open; from above, the pink light streamed in and lay on the rungs of the
+ladder.
+
+"I did go up that ladder once," soliloquized Dick. "Papa took me. It was
+velly nice up there. I wiss Papa would take me again. Mally, she said it
+was dangewous. I wonder why she said it was dangewous? Mally's a very
+funny girl, I think. She didn't ought to put me to bed so early. I can't
+go to sleep at all. Perhaps I sha'n't ever go to sleep, not till
+morning,--then she'd feel sorry.
+
+"If I was a bird I could climb little bits of ladders like that," was
+his next reflection. "Or a fly. I'd like to be a fly, and eat sugar, and
+say b-u-z-z-z all day long. Only then perhaps some little boy would get
+me into the corner of the window and squeeze me all up tight with his
+fum." Dickie cast a rueful look at his own guilty thumb as he thought
+this. "I wouldn't like that! But I'd like very much indeed to buzz and
+tickle Mally's nose when she was twying to sew. She'd slap and slap,
+and not hit me, and I'd buzz and tickle. How I'd laugh! But perhaps
+flies don't know how to laugh, only just to buzz.
+
+                   "'Pretty, curious, buzzy fly.'
+
+That's what my book says."
+
+The pink glow was all gone now, and Dick shifted his position.
+
+"I _wiss_ I could go to sleep," he thought. "It isn't nice at all to be
+up here and not have any playthings. Mally's gone, else she'd get me
+something to amoose myself with. I'd like my dwum best. It's under the
+hall table, I guess. P'waps if I went down I could get it."
+
+As this idea crossed his mind, Dickie popped quickly out of bed. The
+floor felt cool and pleasant to his bare little feet as he crossed to
+the door. He had almost reached the head of the stairs when, looking up,
+something so pretty met his eyes that he stopped to admire. It was a
+star, shining against the pure sky like a twinkling silver lamp. It
+seemed to beckon, and the ladder to lead straight up to it. Almost
+without stopping to think, Dickie put his foot on the first rung and
+climbed nimbly to the top of the ladder. The star was just as much out
+of reach when he got there as it had been before, but there were other
+beautiful sights close at hand which were well worth the trouble of
+climbing after.
+
+Miles and miles and miles of sky for one thing. It rose above Dickie's
+head like a great blue dome pierced with pin-pricks of holes, through
+which little points of bright light quivered and danced. Far away
+against the sky appeared a church spire, like a long sharp finger
+pointing to Heaven. One little star exactly above, seemed stuck on the
+end of the spire. Dickie wondered if it hurt the star to be there. He
+stepped out on to the roof and wandered about. The evening was warm and
+soft. No dew fell. The shingles still kept the heat of the sun, and felt
+pleasant and comfortable under his feet. By-and-by a splendid
+rocker-shaped moon came from behind the sky's edge where she had been
+hiding away, and sailed slowly upward. She was a great deal bigger than
+the stars, but they didn't seem afraid of her in the least. Dickie
+reflected that if he were a star he should hurry to get out of her way;
+but the stars didn't mind the moon's being there at all, they kept their
+places, and shone calmly on as they had done before she came.
+
+He was standing, when the moon appeared, by the low railing which
+guarded the edge of the roof. The railing was of a very desirable
+height. Dickie could just rest his chin on top of it, which was nice.
+Suddenly a loud "Maau-w!" resounded from above. Dickie jumped, and gave
+his poor chin a knock against the railing. It couldn't be the moon,
+could it? Moons didn't make noises like that.
+
+He looked up. There, on the ridge pole of the next roof, sat a black
+cat, big and terrible against the sky. "Ma-a-uw," said the cat again,
+louder than before.
+
+"Why, pussy, what's the matter?" cried Dick. His voice quavered a
+little, but he tried to speak boldly. Pussy was displeased at the
+question. She hissed, put up her back, swelled her tail to a puff, and
+fled to a distant part of the roof, where, from some hidden ambush, Dick
+could hear her scolding savagely.
+
+"She's a cwoss cat, I guess," he remarked philosophically. "Why, this
+chimney is warm," he cried, as his arm touched the bricks. "It's 'cause
+there used to be a fire in there. But there isn't any smoke coming out.
+I wonder if all the chimneys are warm too, like this one."
+
+There was another chimney not far off, and Dick hastened to try the
+experiment. To do this he was obliged to climb a railing, but it was low
+and easy to get over. The second chimney was cold, but a little farther
+on appeared a third, and Dick proceeded to climb another railing.
+
+But before he reached this third chimney, a surprising and interesting
+sight attracted his attention. This was a scuttle door just like the
+one at home, standing open, with a ladder leading down into a garret
+below.
+
+Dick peered over the edge of the scuttle. There was no little chamber in
+this attic like his at home. It was all an open space, crammed with
+trunks, furniture, boxes, and barrels. He caught sight of a
+rocking-horse standing in a corner; a rocking-horse with a blue saddle
+on his wooden back, and a fierce bristling mane much in need of brush
+and comb. Drawn by irresistible attraction, Dickie put, first one foot,
+then the other, over the scuttle's edge, crept down the ladder, and in
+another moment stood by the motionless steed. Thick dust lay on the
+saddle, on the rockers, and on the stiffly stretched-out tail, from
+which most of the red paint had been worn away. It was evidently a long
+time since any little boy had mounted there, chirruped to the horse, and
+ridden gloriously away, pursuing a fairy fox through imaginary fields.
+The eye of the wooden horse was glazed and dim. Life had lost its
+interest to the poor animal, turned out, as it were, to pasture as best
+he might in the dull, silent garret.
+
+Dickie patted the red neck, a timid, affectionate pat, but it startled
+the horse a little, for he shook visibly, and swayed to and fro. There
+was evidently some "go" left in him, in spite of his dejected expression
+of countenance. The shabby stirrup hung at his side. Dickie could just
+reach it with his foot. He seized the mane, and, pulling hard, clambered
+into the saddle. Once there, reins in hand, he clucked and encouraged
+the time-worn steed to his best paces. To and fro, to and fro they
+swung, faster, slower, Dickie beating with his heels, the wooden horse
+curveting and prancing. It was famous! The dull thud of the rockers
+echoed through the garret, and somebody sitting in the room below raised
+his head to listen to the strange sound.
+
+This somebody was an old man with white hair and a gray, stern face, who
+sat beside a table on which were paper and lighted candles. A letter
+lay before him, but he was not reading it. When the sound of the rocking
+began, he started and turned pale. A little boy once used to rock in
+that way in the garret overhead, but it was long ago, and for many years
+past the garret had been silent and deserted. "Harry's horse!" muttered
+the old man with a look of fear as he heard the sound. He half rose from
+his chair, then he sat down again. But soon the noise ceased. Dickie had
+caught sight of another thing in the garret which interested him, and
+had dismounted to examine it. The old man sank into his chair again with
+a look of relief, muttering something about the wind.
+
+The thing which Dickie had gone to examine was a little arm-chair
+cushioned with red. It was just the size for him, and he seated himself
+in it with a look of great satisfaction.
+
+"I wiss this chair was mine," he said. "P'waps Mally'll let me take it
+home if I ask her."
+
+A noise below attracted his attention. He peeped over the balusters and
+saw an elderly woman, with a candle in her hand, coming up from the
+lower story. She went into a room at the foot of the attic stair,
+leaving the door open. "Hester! Hester!" called a voice from below. The
+woman came from the room and went down again. She did not take the
+candle with her: Dick could see it shining through the open door.
+
+Like a little moth attracted by a flame, Dick wandered down the stair in
+the direction of the light. The candle was standing on the table in a
+bedroom,--a pretty room, Dickie thought, though it did not seem as if
+anybody could have lived in it lately. He didn't know why this idea came
+into his mind, but it did. It was a girl's bedroom, for a small blue
+dress hung on the wall, and on the bureau were brushes, combs, and
+hair-pins. Beside the bureau was a wooden shelf full of books. A
+bird-cage swung in the window, but there was no bird in it, and the seed
+glass and water cup were empty. The narrow bed had a white coverlid and
+a great white pillow. It looked all ready for somebody, but it was
+years since the girl who once owned the room had slept there. The old
+housekeeper, who still loved the girl, came every day to dust and smooth
+and air and sweep. She kept all things in their places just as they used
+to be in the former time, but she could not give to the room the air of
+life which once it had, and, do what she would, it looked deserted
+always--empty--and dreary.
+
+On the chimney-piece were ranged a row of toys, plaster cats, barking
+dogs, a Noah's ark, and an enormous woolly lamb. This last struck Dick
+with admiration. He stood on tip-toe with his hands clasped behind his
+back to examine it.
+
+"Oh, dear," he sighed, "I wiss I had that lamb." Then he gave a jump,
+for close to him, in a small chair, he saw what seemed to be a little
+girl, staring straight at him.
+
+It was a big, beautiful doll, in a dress of faded pink, and a pink hat
+and feather. Dick had never seen such a fine lady before; she quite
+fascinated him. He leaned gently forward and touched the waxen hand. It
+was cold and clammy; Dick did not like the feel, and retreated. The
+unwinking eyes of the doll followed him as he sidled away, and made him
+uncomfortable.
+
+In the opposite room the old man still sat with his letter before him.
+The letter was from the girl who once played with the big doll and slept
+in the smooth white bed. She was not a child now. Years before she had
+left her father's house against his will, and in company with a person
+he did not like. He had said then that he should never forgive her, and
+till now she had not asked to be forgiven. It was a long time since he
+had known any thing about her. Nobody ever mentioned her name in his
+hearing, not even the old housekeeper who loved her still, and never
+went to bed without praying that Miss Ellen might one day come back. Now
+Ellen had written to her father. The letter lay on the table.
+
+"I was wrong," she wrote, "but I have been punished. We have suffered
+much. My husband is dead. I will not speak of him, for I know that his
+name will anger you; but, father, I am alone, ill, and very poor. Can
+you not forgive me now? Do not think of me as the wild, reckless girl
+who disobeyed you and brought sorrow to your life. I am a weary,
+sorrowful woman, longing, above all other things, to be pardoned before
+I die,--to come home again to the house where all my happy years were
+spent. Let me come, father. My little Hester, named after our dear
+nurse, mine and Harry's, is a child whom you would love. She is like me
+as I used to be, but far gentler and sweeter than I ever was. Let me put
+her in your arms. Let me feel that I am forgiven for my great fault, and
+I will bless you every day that I live. Dear father, say yes. Your
+penitent ELLEN."
+
+Two angels stood behind the old man as he read this letter. He did not
+see them, but he heard their voices as first one and then the other bent
+and whispered in his ear.
+
+"Listen," murmured the white angel with radiant moonlit wings. "Listen.
+You loved her once so dearly. You love her still. I know you do."
+
+"No," breathed the darker angel. "You swore that you would not forgive
+her. Keep your word. You always said that she would come back as soon as
+she was poor or unhappy, or that scamp treated her badly. It makes no
+difference in the facts. Let her suffer; it serves her right."
+
+"Remember what a dear child she used to be," said the fair angel, "so
+bright, so loving. How she used to dance about the house and sing; the
+sun seemed to shine always when she came into the room. She loved you
+truly then. Her little warm arms were always about your neck. She loves
+you still."
+
+"What is love worth," came the other voice, "when it deceives and hurts
+and betrays? All these long years you have suffered. It is her turn
+now."
+
+"Remember that it was partly your fault," whispered the spirit of good.
+"You were harsh and stern. You did not appeal to her love, but to her
+obedience. She had a high spirit; you forgot that. And she was only
+sixteen."
+
+"Quite old enough to know better," urged the spirit of evil. "Remember
+the hard life you have led ever since. The neighbors speak of you as a
+stern, cruel man; the little children run away when you appear. Whose
+fault is that? Hers. She ought to pay for it."
+
+"Think of the innocent child who never did you wrong, and who suffers
+too. Think of the dear Lord who forgives your sins. Pray to him. He will
+help you to forgive her,"--urged the good angel, but in fainter tones,
+for the black angel spoke louder, and thrust between with his fierce
+voice.
+
+"The thing is settled. Why talk of prayer or pardon? Let her go her
+way."
+
+As this last whisper reached his ear the old man raised his bent head. A
+hard, vindictive look was in his eyes. He seized the letter and tore it
+in two. "Alas! alas!" sighed the sweet angel, while the evil one
+rejoiced and waved his dark wings in triumph.
+
+It was at this moment that Dickie, attracted by the rustle of paper,
+appeared at the door. His eyes were beginning to droop a little. He
+rubbed them hard as he crossed the entry. The pit-pat of his bare feet
+made no sound on the carpeted floor, so that the old man had no warning
+of his presence till, turning, he saw the little night-gowned figure
+standing motionless in the door-way.
+
+He sprang from his chair and stretched out his hands. He tried to speak,
+but no voice came at first; then in a hoarse whisper he
+said,--"Harry--is it you? Ellen--"
+
+Dickie, terrified, fled back into the hall as if shod with wings. In one
+moment he was in the attic, up the ladder, on the roof. The old man ran
+blindly after him.
+
+"Come back, Ellen--come back!" he cried. "I will forgive you,--come
+back to your poor old father, dear child." His foot slipped as he spoke.
+It was at the stair-head. He fell forward heavily, and lump, bump, bump,
+down stairs he tumbled, and landed heavily in the hall below.
+
+Hester and the housemaid ran hastily from the kitchen at the sound of
+the fall. When they saw the old man lying in a heap at the foot of the
+stair, they were terribly frightened. Blood was on his face. He was
+quite unconscious.
+
+"He is dead. Mr. Kirton is dead!" cried the housemaid, wringing her
+hands.
+
+"No,--his heart beats," said Hester. "Run for Doctor Poster, Hannah, and
+ask Richard Wallis to come at once and help me lift the poor old
+gentleman."
+
+Hannah flew to do this errand. A moment after, Mr. Kirton opened his
+eyes.
+
+"Where is Ellen?" he said. Then he shut them again. Hester glanced at
+the torn letter, which through all his fall the old man had held
+tightly clasped in his hand, and gave a loud cry.
+
+"Miss Ellen, come back!" she exclaimed. "My own Miss Ellen. God has
+heard my prayers."
+
+When Mr. Kirton's senses returned, late in the night, he found himself
+in his own bed. His head felt strangely; one arm was tied up in a queer
+stiff bandage, so that he could not move it. A cloth wet with water lay
+on his forehead. When he stirred and groaned, a hand lifted the cloth,
+dipped it in ice-water, and put it back again fresh and cool. He looked
+up. Some one was bending over him, some one with a face which he knew
+and did not know. It puzzled him strangely. At last, a look of
+recognition came into his eyes. "Ellen?" he said, in a tone of question.
+
+"Yes, dear father, it is I."
+
+"Why did you come dressed as a little child to frighten me? You are a
+woman," he said wonderingly; "your hair is gray!"
+
+"I did not come as a little child, father. I am an old woman now. I have
+come to be your nurse."
+
+"I don't understand," muttered the old man, but he asked no more, and
+presently dropped asleep. Ellen watched him for a long time, then she
+went across the hall to her old room, where Hester stood looking at a
+little girl, who lay on the bed sleeping soundly, with the pink doll
+hugged tight in her arms.
+
+"She is just like yourself, Miss Ellen," said Hester, with joyful tears
+in her eyes,--"just like your old self, with a thought more brown in the
+hair. Ah! good times have begun again for my poor old master; the light
+has come back to the house."
+
+But neither Hester nor Ellen saw the white-robed angel, who bent over
+the old man's bed with a face of immortal joy, and sang low songs of
+peace to make sleep deep and healing. The dark spirit has fled away.
+
+Meantime Dickie, unconscious messenger of Fate, scrambling easily over
+the roofs, had gained his own room, and was comfortably tucked up in his
+little bed. His dreams were of dolls, rocking-horses, black cats. So
+soundly did he sleep, that, when morning came, Mally had to shake him
+and call loudly in his ear before she could wake him up.
+
+"Why, Dick!" she cried, "look at your night-gown. It's all over dust,
+and there are one--two--three tears in the cotton. What _have_ you been
+doing?"
+
+But Dickie could not tell.
+
+"I dweamed that I walked about on the woof," he said. "But I guess I
+didn't weally, did I?"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+LITTLE BO PEEP.
+
+
+THE sun was setting at the end of an August day. Everybody was glad to
+see the last of him, for the whole world felt scorched and hot,--the
+ground, the houses,--even the ponds looked warm as they stretched in
+the steaming distance. On the edge of the horizon the sun winked with a
+red eye, as much as to say, "Don't flatter yourselves, I shall be back
+again soon;" then he slowly sank out of sight. It was comforting to have
+him go, if only for a little while. "Perhaps," thought the people, "a
+thunder-storm or something may come along before morning, and cool him
+off."
+
+Little Mell Davis was as glad as anybody when the sun disappeared. It
+had been a hard day. Her step-mother had spent it in making soap.
+Soap-making is ill-smelling, uncomfortable work at all times, and
+especially in August. Mrs. Davis had been cross and fractious, had
+scolded a great deal, and found many little jobs for Mell to do in
+addition to her usual tasks of dish-washing, table-setting, and looking
+after the children. Mell was tired of the heat; tired of the smell of
+soap, of being lectured; and when supper was over was very glad to sit
+at peace on the door-steps and read her favorite book, a tattered copy
+of the Fairy Tales. Soon she forgot the trials of the day. "Once upon a
+time there lived a beautiful Princess," she read, but just then came a
+sharp call. "Mell, Mell, you tiresome girl, see what Tommy is about;"
+and Mrs. Davis, dashing past, snatched Tommy away from the pump-handle,
+which he was plying vigorously for the benefit of his small sisters, who
+stood in a row under the spout, all dripping wet. Tommy was wetter
+still, having impartially pumped on himself first of all. Frocks,
+aprons, jacket, all were soaked, shoes and stockings were drenched, the
+long pig tails of the girls streamed large drops, as if they had been
+little rusty-colored water-pipes.
+
+"Look at that!" cried Mrs. Davis, exhibiting the half-drowned brood.
+"You might as well be deaf and blind, Mell, for any care you take of
+'em. Give you a silly book to read, and the children might perish before
+your eyes for all you'd notice. Look at Isaphine, and Gabella Sarah.
+Little lambs,--as likely as not they've taken their deaths. It shan't
+happen again, though. Give me that book--" And, snatching Mell's
+treasure from her hands, Mrs. Davis flung it into the fire. It flamed,
+shrivelled: the White Cat, Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast,--all, all
+were turned in one moment into a heap of unreadable ashes! Mell gave one
+clutch, one scream; then she stood quite still, with a hard, vindictive
+look on her face, which so provoked her step-mother that she gave her a
+slap as she hurried the children upstairs. Mrs. Davis did not often slap
+Mell. "I punish my own children," she would say, "not other people's."
+"Other people's children" meant poor Mell.
+
+It was not a very happy home, this of the Davis's. Mell's father was
+captain of a whaler, and almost always at sea. It was three years now
+since he sailed on his last voyage. No word had come from him for a
+great many months, and his wife was growing anxious. This did not
+sweeten her temper, for in case he never returned, Mell's would be
+another back to clothe, another mouth to fill, when food, perhaps, would
+not be easily come by. Mell was not anxious about her father. She was
+used to having him absent. In fact, she seldom thought of him one way or
+another. If Mrs. Davis had been kinder, and had given her more time to
+read the Fairy Tales, she would have been quite a happy little girl, for
+she lived in dreams, and it did not take much to content her. Half her
+time was spent in a sort of inward play which never came out in words.
+Sometimes in these plays she was a Princess with a gold crown, and a
+delightful Prince making love to her all day long. Sometimes she kept a
+candy-shop, and lived entirely on sugar-almonds and sassafras-stick.
+These plays were so real to her mind that it seemed as if they _must_
+some day come true. Her step-mother and the children did not often
+figure in them, though once in a while she made believe that they were
+all changed into agreeable people, and shared her good luck. There was
+one thing in the house, however, which invariably took part in her
+visions. This was a large wooden chest with brass handles which stood
+upstairs in Mrs. Davis's room, and was always kept locked.
+
+Mell had never seen the inside of this chest but once. Then she caught
+glimpses of a red shawl, of some coral beads in a box, and of various
+interesting looking bundles tied up in paper. "How beautiful!" she had
+cried out eagerly, whereupon Mrs. Davis had closed the lid with a snap,
+and locked it, looking quite vexed. "What is it? Are all those lovely
+things yours?" asked Mell, and she had been bidden to hold her tongue,
+and see if the kitchen fire didn't need another stick of wood. It was
+two years since this happened. Mell had never seen the lid raised since,
+but every day she had played about the big chest and its contents.
+
+Sometimes she played that the chest belonged to the beautiful Princess,
+and was full of her clothes and jewels. Sometimes a fairy lived there,
+who popped out, wand in hand, and made things over to Mell's liking.
+Again, Mell played that she locked her step-mother up into the chest,
+and refused to release her till she promised never, never again, so long
+as she lived, to scold about any thing. Mrs. Davis would have been very
+vexed had she known about these plays. It made her angry if Mell so much
+as glanced at the chest. "There you are again, peeping, peeping," she
+would cry, and drive Mell before her downstairs.
+
+So this evening, after the burning of the book, Mell's sore and angry
+fancies flew as usual to the chest. "It's so big," she thought, "that
+all the children could get into it. I'll play that a wicked enchanter
+came and flew away with mother, and never let her come back. Then I
+should have to take care of the children; and I'd get somebody to nail
+some boards, so as to make five dear little cubby-houses inside the
+chest. I'd put Tommy in one, Isaphine in another, Arabella Jane in
+another, Belinda in another, and Gabella Sarah in another. Then I'd
+shut the lid down and fasten it, and wouldn't I have a good time! When
+dinner was ready I'd fetch a plate and spoon, feed 'em all round, and
+shut 'em up again. It would be just the same when I washed their faces;
+I'd just take a wet cloth and do 'em all with a couple of scrubs. They
+couldn't get into mischief I suppose in there. Yet I don't know. Tommy
+is so bad that he would if he could. Let me see,--what could he do? If
+he had a gimlet he'd bore holes in the boards, and stick pins through to
+make the others cry. I must be sure to see if he has any gimlets in his
+pocket before I put him in. Oh, dear, I hope I shan't forget!"
+
+Mell was so absorbed in these visions that she did not hear the gate
+open, and when a hand was suddenly laid on her shoulder she gave a
+little cry and a great jump. A tall man had come in, and was standing
+close to her.
+
+"Does Mrs. Captain Davis live here?" asked the tall man.
+
+"Yes," said Mell, staring at him with her big eyes.
+
+"Is she to home?"
+
+"Yes," said Mell again. "She's in there," pointing to the kitchen.
+
+The tall man stepped over Mell, and went in. Mell heard the sound of
+voices, and grew curious. She peeped in at the door. Her step-mother was
+folding a letter. She looked vexed about something.
+
+"What time shall you start?" she said.
+
+"Half-past five," replied the man. "I've my hands to pay at ten, and the
+weather's so hot it's best to get off early."
+
+"I suppose I must go," went on Mrs. Davis, "though I'd rather be whipped
+than do it. You can stop if you've a mind to: I'll be ready."
+
+"Very well," said the man. "You haven't got a drink of cider in the
+house, have you? This dust has made me as dry as a chip."
+
+"Mell, run down cellar and fetch some," said Mrs. Davis. "It was good
+cider once, but I'm afraid it's pretty hard now." She bustled about;
+brought doughnuts and a pitcher of water. The man drank a glass of the
+sour cider and went away. Mrs. Davis sat awhile thinking. Then she
+turned sharply on Mell.
+
+"I've got to go from home to-morrow on business," she said. "Perhaps I
+shall be back by tea-time, and perhaps I sha'n't. If there was anybody I
+could get to leave the house with I would, but there isn't anybody. Now,
+listen to me, Mell Davis. Don't you open a book to-morrow, not once; but
+keep your eyes on the children, and see that they don't get into
+mischief. If they do, I shall know who to thank for it. I'll make a
+batch of biscuit to-night before I go to bed; there's a pie in the
+cupboard, and some cold pork, and you can boil potatoes for the
+children's breakfast and for dinner. Are you listening?"
+
+"Yes'm," replied Mell.
+
+"See that the children have their faces and hands washed," went on her
+step-mother. "Oh, dear, if you were a different kind of girl how much
+easier would it be! I wish your father would come home and look after
+his own affairs, instead of my having to leave things at sixes and
+sevens and go running round the country hunting up his sick relations
+for him."
+
+"Is it grandmother who is sick?" asked Mell timidly. She had never seen
+her grandmother, but she had played about her very often.
+
+"No," snapped Mrs. Davis. "It's your Uncle Peter. Don't ask questions;
+it's none of your business who's sick. Mind you strain the milk the
+first thing to-morrow, and wring out the dishcloth when you're through
+with it. Oh, dear, to think that I should have to go!"
+
+Mell crept to bed. She was so very tired that it seemed just one moment
+before Mrs. Davis was shaking her arm, and calling her to get up at
+once, for it was five o'clock. Slowly she unclosed her sleepy eyes. Sure
+enough, the night was gone. A fiery red bar in the East showed that the
+sun too was getting out of bed, and making ready for a hot day's work.
+Mell rubbed her eyes. She wished that it was all a dream, from which she
+had waked only to fall asleep again. But it was no use playing at dreams
+with Mrs. Davis standing by.
+
+Mrs. Davis was by no means in a humor for play. People rarely are at
+five in the morning. She rushed about the house like a whirlwind, giving
+Mell directions, and scolding her in advance for all the wrong things
+she was going to do, till the poor child was completely stunned and
+confused. By and by the tall man appeared with his wagon. Mrs. Davis got
+in and drove away, ordering and lecturing till the last moment. "What's
+the use of telling, for you're sure to get it all wrong," were her last
+words, and Mell thought so too.
+
+She walked back to the house feeling stupid and unhappy. But the quiet
+did her good, and as gradually she realized that her step-mother was
+actually gone,--gone for the whole day,--her spirits revived, and she
+began to smile and sing softly to herself. Very few little girls of
+twelve would, I think, have managed better than Mell did for the first
+half of that morning.
+
+First she got breakfast, only bread and milk and baked potatoes, but
+there is a wrong as well as a right way with even such simple things,
+and Mell really did all very cleverly. She swept the kitchen, strained
+the milk, wound the clock. Then, as a sound of twittering voices began
+above, she ran up to the children, washed and dressed, braided the red
+pigtails, and got them downstairs successfully, with only one fight
+between Tommy and Isaphine, and a roaring fit from Arabella Jane, who
+was a tearful child. After breakfast, while the little ones played on
+the door-steps, she tidied the room, mended the fire, washed plates and
+cups, and put them away in the cupboard, wrung out the dishcloth
+according to orders, and hung it on its nail. When this was finished she
+looked about with pride. The children were unusually peaceful;
+altogether, the day promised well. "Mother'll not say that I'm a
+good-for-nothing girl _this_ time," thought Mell, and tried to recollect
+what should be done next.
+
+The kerosene can caught her eye.
+
+"I'll clean the lamp," she said.
+
+She had never cleaned the lamp before, but had seen her step-mother do
+it very often. First, she took the lamp-scissors from the table drawer
+and cut the wick, rather jaggedly, but Mell did not know that. Then she
+tipped the can to fill the lamp. Here the misfortunes of the day began;
+for the can slipped, and some of the oil was spilled on the floor. This
+terrified Mell, for that kitchen-floor was the idol of Mrs. Davis's
+heart. It was scrubbed every day, and kept as white as snow. Mell knew
+that her step-mother's eyes would be keen as Blue Beard's to detect a
+spot; and, with all the energy of despair, she rubbed and scoured with
+soap and hot water. It was all in vain. The spot would not come out.
+
+"I'll put a chair there," thought Mell. "Then perhaps she won't see it
+just at first."
+
+"I want that scissors," cried Tommy from the door.
+
+"You can't have it," replied Mell, hurrying them into the drawer. "It's
+a bad scissors, Tommy, all oily and dirty. Nice little boys don't want
+to play with such dirty scissors as that."
+
+"Yes, they do," whined Tommy, quite unconvinced.
+
+"Now, children," continued Mell, "I'm going upstairs to make the beds.
+You must play just here, and not go outside the gate till I come down
+again. I shall be at the window, and see you all the time. Will you
+promise to be good and do as I tell you?"
+
+"Es," lisped Gabella Sarah.
+
+"Es," said Isaphine.
+
+"Yes, yes," clamored the others, headed by Tommy, who was a child of
+promise if ever there was one. All the time his eyes were fixed on the
+table drawer!
+
+Mell went upstairs. First into the children's room, then into her own.
+She put her head out of the window once or twice. The children were
+playing quietly; Tommy had gone in for something, they said. Last of
+all, Mell went to her step-mother's room. She had just begun to smooth
+the bed, when an astonishing sight caught her eyes. _The key was in the
+lock of the big chest!_
+
+Yes, actually, the fairy treasury, home of so many fancies, was left
+unlocked! How Mrs. Davis came to do so careless a thing will never be
+known, but that she had done so was a fact.
+
+Mell thought at first that her eyes deceived her. She stole across the
+room and touched the key timidly with her forefinger to make sure. Then
+she lifted the lid a little way and let it fall again, looking over her
+shoulder as if fearing to hear a sharp voice from the stairs. Next,
+grown bolder, she opened the lid wide. There lay the red shawl, just as
+she remembered it, the coral beads in their lidless box, the blue paper
+parcels, and, forgetting all consequences in a rapture of curiosity,
+Mell sat down on the floor, lifted out the red shawl, tied the coral
+beads round her neck, and plunged boldly into the contents of the big
+chest.
+
+Such a delightful chest as it proved to be! Mell thought it a great deal
+better than any fairy tale, as one by one she lifted out and handled the
+things which it contained. First and most beautiful was a parasol. It
+was covered with faded pink silk trimmed with fringe, and had a long
+white handle ending in a curved hook. Mell had never seen a parasol so
+fine. She opened it, shut it, opened it again; she held it over her head
+and went to the glass to see the effect. It was gorgeous, it was like
+the parasols of Fairy-land, Mell thought. She laid it on the floor close
+beside her, that she might see it all the while she explored the chest.
+
+Below the parasol was a big paper box. Mell lifted the lid. A muff and
+tippet lay inside, made of yellow and brown fur like the back of a
+tortoise-shell cat. These were beautiful, too. Then came rolls of
+calico and woollen pieces, some of which were very pretty, and would
+make nice doll's dresses, Mell thought.
+
+A newspaper parcel next claimed her attention. It held an old-fashioned
+work-bag made of melon seeds strung on wire, and lined with green. Mell
+admired this exceedingly, and pinned it to her waist. Then she found a
+fan of white feathers with pink sticks. This was most charming of all.
+Mell fanned herself a long time. She could not bear to put it away.
+Princesses, she thought, must use fans like that. On the paper which
+wrapped the fan was something written in pencil. Mell spelled it out.
+"For my little Melicent" was what the writing said.
+
+Was the fan really hers? Perhaps the parasol was hers too, the coral
+beads, the muff and tippet! All sorts of delightful possibilities
+whirled through her brain, as she tossed and tumbled the parcels in the
+chest out on to the floor. More bundles of pieces, some
+knitting-needles, an old-fashioned pair of bellows (Mell did not know
+what these were), a book or two, a package of snuff, which flew up into
+her face and made her sneeze. Then an overcoat and some men's clothes
+folded smoothly. Mell did not care for the overcoat, but there were two
+dresses pinned in towels which delighted her. One was purple muslin, the
+other faded blue silk; and again she found her own name pinned on the
+towel,--"For my little Mell." A faint pleasant odor came from the folds
+of the blue silk dress. Mell searched the pocket, and found there a
+Tonquin bean, screwed up in a bit of paper. It was the Tonquin bean
+which had made the dress smell so pleasantly. Mell pressed the folds
+close to her nose. She was fond of perfumes, and this seemed to her the
+most delicious thing she ever smelt.
+
+Suddenly the clock downstairs struck something very long, and Mell,
+waking up as it were, recollected that it was a good while since she had
+heard any sounds from the children in the yard. She jumped up and ran
+to the window. No children were there.
+
+"Children, children, where are you?" she called; but nobody answered.
+
+"Tiresome little things," thought Mell. "They've gone round to the pump
+again. I must hurry, or they will be all sopping wet." She seized the
+parasol, which she could not bear to part with, and, leaving the other
+things on the floor, ran downstairs. The red shawl, which had been lying
+in her lap, trailed after her as far as the kitchen, and then fell, but
+Mell did not notice it.
+
+"What!" she cried, looking at the clock, "noon already! Why, where has
+the morning gone to?"
+
+Where had the children gone to? was another question. Back yard, side
+yard, front yard, cellar, shed, Mell searched. There were no small
+figures ranged about the pump, no voices replied to her calls. Mell ran
+to the gate. She strained her eyes down the road, this way, that way;
+not a sign of the little flock was visible in any direction.
+
+Now Mell _was_ frightened. "What _will_ mother say?" she thought, and
+began to run distractedly along the road, crying and sobbing as she
+went, and telling herself that it wasn't her fault, that she only went
+upstairs to make the beds,--but here her conscience gave a great prick.
+It was but ten o'clock when she went upstairs to make the beds!
+
+"Oh, dear!" she sobbed. "If only Tommy isn't drowned!" Drowning came
+into her head first, because her step-mother was always in an agony
+about the pond. The pond was a mile off at least, but Mrs. Davis never
+let the children even look that way if she could help it.
+
+Toward the pond poor Mell bent her way; for she thought as Tommy had
+been strictly forbidden to go there, it was probably the very road he
+had taken. The sun beat on her head and she put up the parasol, which
+through all her trouble she had grasped firmly in her hand. Even under
+these dreadful circumstances, with the children lost, and the certainty
+of her step-mother's wrath before her, there was joy in carrying a
+parasol like that.
+
+By and by she met a farmer with a yoke of oxen.
+
+"Oh, please," said Mell, "have you seen five children going this
+way,--four girls and one little boy?"
+
+The farmer hummed and hawed. "I did see some children," he said at last.
+"It was a good piece back, nearly an hour ago, I reckon. They was making
+for the pond?"
+
+"Oh, dear!" sighed Mell. She thanked the farmer, and ran on faster than
+ever.
+
+"Have you passed any children on this road?" she demanded of a boy with
+a wheelbarrow, who was the next person she met.
+
+"Boys or girls?"
+
+"One boy and four girls."
+
+"Do they belong to you?"
+
+"Yes, they're my brothers and sisters," said Mell. "Where did you see
+them?"
+
+"Haven't seen 'em," replied the boy. He grinned as he spoke, seized his
+barrow, and wheeled rapidly away.
+
+Mell's tears broke forth afresh. What a horrid boy!
+
+The pond was very near now. It was a large pond. There were hills on one
+side of it; on the other the shore was low, and covered with thick
+bushes. In and out among these bushes went Mell, hunting for her lost
+flock. It was green and shady. Flowers grew here and there; bright
+berries hung on the boughs above her head; birds sang; a saucy squirrel
+ran to the end of a branch, and chippered to her as she passed. But Mell
+saw none of these things. She was too anxious and unhappy to enjoy what
+on any other day would have been a great pleasure; and she passed the
+flowers, the berries, and the chattering squirrel unheeded by.
+
+No signs of the children appeared, till at last, in a marshy place, a
+small shoe was seen sticking in the mud. Belinda's shoe! Mell knew it
+in a minute.
+
+She picked up the shoe, wiped the mud from it with a tuft of dried
+grass, and, carrying it in her hand, went forward. She was on the track
+now, and here and there prints of small feet in the earth guided her.
+She called "Tommy! Isaphine! Belinda!" but no answer came. They were
+either hidden cleverly, or else they had wandered a longer distance than
+seemed possible in so short a time.
+
+Suddenly Mell gave a shriek and a jump. There on the path before her lay
+a snake, or what looked like one. It did not move. Mell grew bold and
+went nearer. Alas! alas! it was not a snake. It was a pigtail of braided
+hair,--Isaphine's hair: the red color was unmistakable. She seized it. A
+smell of kerosene met her nose. Oh that Tommy!
+
+With the pigtail coiled inside of the lost shoe, Mell ran on. She was
+passing a thicket of sassafras bushes, when a sound of crying met her
+ears. Instantly she stopped, and, parting the bushes with her hands,
+peered in. There they were, sitting in a little circle close
+together,--Arabella and Gabella Sarah fast asleep, with their heads in
+Belinda's lap; Isaphine crying; Tommy sitting a little apart, an evil
+smile on his face, in his hand a pair of scissors!
+
+"You naughty, naughty, naughty boy," screamed Mell, flinging herself
+upon him.
+
+With a howl of terror, Tommy started up and prepared to flee. Mell
+caught and held him tight. Something flew from his lap and fell to the
+ground. Alas! alas! three more pigtails. Mell looked at the children.
+Each little head was cropped close. What _would_ mother say?
+
+"He cut off my hair," sobbed Isaphine.
+
+"So did he cut mine," whined Belinda. "He took those nassy scissors you
+told him not to take, and he cut off all our hairs. Boo-hoo! boo-hoo!
+Tommy's a notty boy, he is."
+
+"I'm going to tell Ma when she comes home, see if I don't," added
+Isaphine.
+
+"I ain't a bad boy," cried Tommy. "Stop a-shaking of me, Mell Davis. We
+was playing they was sheep. I was a-shearing of em."
+
+"O Tommy, Tommy!" cried poor Mell, hot, angry, and dismayed, "how could
+you do such a thing?"
+
+"They was sheep," retorted Tommy sulkily.
+
+"Boo-hoo! boo-hoo!" blubbered Belinda. "I don't like my hair to be cut
+off. It makes my head feel all cold."
+
+"He didn't play nice a bit," sobbed Isaphine. "He's always notty to us."
+
+"I'll cut off your head," declared Tommy, threatening with the scissors.
+
+Mell seized the scissors, and captured them, Tommy kicking and
+struggling meantime. Then she waked up the babies, tied on Belinda's
+shoe, collected the unhappy pigtails, and said they must all go home.
+Home! The very idea made her sick with fright.
+
+I don't suppose such a deplorable little procession was ever seen
+before. Isaphine and Belinda went first; then the little ones, very
+cross after their nap; and, lastly, Mell, holding Tommy's arm, and
+driving the poor little shorn sheep before her with the handle of the
+parasol, which she used as a shepherdess uses her crook. They were all
+tired and hungry. The babies cried. The sun was very hot. The road
+seemed miles long. Every now and then Mell had to let them sit down to
+rest. It was nearly four o'clock when they reached home; and, long
+before that, Mell was so weary and discouraged that it seemed as if she
+should like to lie down and die.
+
+They got home at last. Mell's hand was on the garden gate, when suddenly
+a sight so terrible met her eyes that she stood rooted to the spot,
+unable to move an inch further. There in the doorway was Mrs. Davis. Her
+face was white with anger as she looked at the children. Mell felt the
+coral beads burn about her throat. She dropped the parasol as if her arm
+was broken, the guilty tails hung from her hand, and she wished with
+all her heart that the earth could open and swallow her up.
+
+It was a full moment before anybody spoke. Then "What does this mean?"
+asked Mrs. Davis, in an awful voice.
+
+Mell could not answer. But the children broke out in full chorus of
+lament.
+
+"Tommy was so bad to us." "He lost us in the woods." "He stole the
+scissors, and they were dirty scissors." "Mell went away and left us all
+alone."
+
+"Yes," cried Mrs. Davis, her wrath rising with each word, "I know very
+well what you were up to, miss. All my things upset. As soon as I found
+out that I had forgotten my key, I knew very well--" her voice died away
+into the silence of horror. She had just caught sight of Belinda's
+cropped head.
+
+"Tommy did it. He cut off all our hairs," blubbered Belinda.
+
+Mell shut her eyes tight. She was too frightened to move. She felt
+herself clutched, dragged in-doors, upstairs, and her ears boxed, all
+in a moment. Mrs. Davis pushed her violently forward, a door banged, a
+key turned.
+
+"There you stay for a week, and on bread and water," cried a voice
+through the keyhole; and Mell, opening her eyes, found herself in the
+dark and alone. She knew very well where she was,--in the closet under
+the attic stairs; a place she dreaded, because she had once seen a mouse
+there, and Mell was particularly afraid of mice.
+
+"Oh, don't shut me up here! Please don't; please let me out, please,"
+she shrieked. But Mrs. Davis had gone downstairs, and nobody replied.
+
+"They'll come and eat me up as soon as it grows dark," thought Mell; and
+this idea so terrified her that she began to beat on the door with her
+hands, and scream at the top of her voice. No one came. And after a
+while she grew so weary that she could scream no longer; so she curled
+herself up on the floor of the closet and went to sleep.
+
+When she woke the closet was darker than ever. Mell felt weak and ill
+for want of food. Her head ached; her bones ached from lying on the hard
+floor; she was feverish and very miserable.
+
+"It's dark; she's going to leave me here all night," sobbed Mell. "Oh!
+won't somebody come and let me out?" Now _would_ have been a chance to
+play that she was a princess shut up in a dark dungeon! But Mell didn't
+feel like playing. She was a real little girl shut up in a closet, and
+it wasn't nice at all. There was no "make believe" left in her just
+then.
+
+Suddenly a fine scratching sound began in the wall close to her head.
+"The mouse, the mouse," thought Mell, and she gave a shriek so loud that
+it would have scared away a whole army of mice. The shriek sounded all
+over the house. It woke the children in their beds, and rang in the ears
+of Mrs. Davis, who was sitting down to supper in the kitchen with
+somebody just arrived,--a big, brown, rough-bearded somebody, who smelt
+of salt-water; Mell's father, in short, returned from sea.
+
+"What's that?" asked Captain Davis, putting down his cup.
+
+Mrs. Davis was frightened. In the excitement of her husband's sudden
+return she had quite forgotten poor Mell in her closet.
+
+"Some of the children," she answered, trying to speak carelessly. "I'll
+run up."
+
+Another terrible shriek. Captain Davis seized a candle, and hurried
+upstairs after his wife.
+
+He was just in time to see her unlock the closet door, and poor Mell
+tumble out, tear-stained, white, frightened almost out of her wits. She
+clutched her step-mother's dress with both hands.
+
+"Oh, don't make me go in there again!" she pleaded. "I will be good.
+I'll never meddle with the things in the chest any more. There are mice
+in there, hundreds of 'em; they'll run all over me; they'll eat me up.
+Oh, _don't_ make me go in there again!"
+
+"Why, it's my little Mell!" cried the amazed Captain. "Shiver my
+timbers! what does this mean?" He lifted Mell into his arms and looked
+sternly at his wife.
+
+"She's been a _very_ naughty girl," said Mrs. Davis, trying to speak
+boldly. "So naughty that I had to shut her up. Stop crying so, Mell. I
+forgive you now. I hope you'll never be so bad again."
+
+"Oh, may I come out?" sobbed Mell, clinging to her father's neck. "You
+said I must stay a week, but I couldn't do that, the mice would kill me.
+Mice are so awful!" She shuddered with horror as she spoke.
+
+"This ain't a pleasant welcome for a man just in from sea," remarked
+Captain Davis.
+
+Mrs. Davis explained and tried to smooth the matter over, but the
+Captain continued very sober all that evening. Mell thought it was
+because he was angry with her, but her step-mother knew very well that
+she also was in disgrace. The truth was that the Captain was thinking
+what to do. He was not a man of many words, but he felt that affairs at
+home must go very wrong when he was away, and that such a state of
+things was bad for his wife, and very bad for Mell.
+
+So in a day or two he went off to Cape Cod, "to see his old mother," as
+he said, in reality to consult her as to what should be done. When he
+came back, he asked Mell how she would like to go and live with
+Grandmother and be her little girl.
+
+"Will she shut me up in closets?" asked Mell apprehensively.
+
+"No, she'll be very kind to you if you are a good girl. Grandma's an old
+lady now. She wants a handy child about the house to help, and sort of
+pet and make much of."
+
+"I--guess--I'll--like--it," said Mell slowly. "It's a good way from
+here, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes,--a good way."
+
+Mell nodded her head in a satisfied manner. "_She'll_ not often come
+there," she thought. "She" meant Mrs. Davis.
+
+Mrs. Davis was unusually pleasant for the few remaining days which Mell
+spent at home. I do not think she had ever meant to treat Mell unkindly,
+but she had a hot temper, and the care of five unruly children is a good
+deal for one woman to undertake, without counting in a little
+step-daughter with a head stuffed with fairy stories. She washed and
+ironed, mended and packed for Mell as kindly as possible, and did not
+say one cross word, not even when her husband brought the coral necklace
+from the big chest and gave it to Mell for her very own. "The child had
+a right to her mother's necklace," he said. All was peaceful and serene,
+and when Mell said good-by she surprised herself by feeling quite sorry
+to go, and kissed Gabella Sarah's small face with tears in her eyes.
+
+Grandmother was just such a dear old woman as one reads about in books.
+Her cheeks were all criss-crossed with little wrinkles, which made her
+look as if she were always smiling. Her forehead was smooth, her eyes
+kind and blue. She was small, thin, and wiry. Her laugh was as fresh as
+a young woman's. Mell loved her at once, and was sure that she should be
+happy to live with her and be her little girl.
+
+"Why, Bethuel, you've brought me a real good helper," said Grandmother,
+as Mell ran to and fro, setting the tea-table, cutting bread, and
+learning where things were kept. "I shall sit like a lady and do nothing
+but rock in my cheer now that I've got Mell." Mell heard the kind words,
+and sprang about more busily than ever. It was a new thing to be
+praised.
+
+Before Captain Davis went next day he walked over to Barnstable, and
+came back with a parcel in his hand. The parcel was for Mell. It
+contained the Fairy Tales,--all new and complete, bound in beautiful red
+covers.
+
+"You shall read them aloud to me in the evenings," said Grandmother.
+
+That night, if anybody had peeped through the window of Grandmother's
+little house he would have seen a pleasant sight. The kitchen was all
+in order; the lamp burned clear; Grandmother sat in her rocking-chair
+with a smile on her kind old face, while Mell, at her feet on a little
+stool, opened the Fairy Tales, and prepared to read. "Once upon a time
+there lived a beautiful Princess," she began;--then a sudden sense of
+the delightfulness of all this overcame her. She dropped the book into
+her lap, clasped her hands tight, and said, half to herself, half to
+Grandmother, "_Isn't_ it nice?"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+MISTRESS MARY.
+
+
+IT was the first of May; but May was in an April mood,--half cloudy,
+half shiny,--and belied her name. Sprinkles of silvery rain dotted the
+way-side dust; flashes of sun caught the drops as they fell, and turned
+each into a tiny mirror fit for fairy faces. The trees were raining too,
+showers of willow-catkins and cherry-bud calyxes, which fell noiselessly
+and strewed the ground. The children kicked the soft brown drifts aside
+with their feet as they walked along.
+
+The doors of the Methodist meeting-house at Valley Hill stood open, and
+crowds of men and women and children were going into them. It was not
+Sunday which called the people together: it was the annual Conference
+meeting; and all the country round was there to hear the reports and
+learn where the ministers were to be sent for the next two years.
+Methodist clergymen, you know, are not "called" by the people of the
+parish, as other clergymen are. They go where the church sends them, and
+every second year they are all changed to other parishes. This, it is
+thought, keeps the people and pastors fresh and interested in each
+other. But I don't know. Human beings, as well as vegetables, have a
+trick of putting down roots; and even a cabbage or a potato would resent
+such transplanting, and would refuse to thrive.
+
+Sometimes, when a parish has become attached to its minister, it will
+plead to have him stay longer. Now and then this request is granted;
+but, as a rule, the minister has to go. And it is a hard rule for his
+wife and children, who have to go too.
+
+The Valley Hill people "thought a heap" of their minister, Mr. Forcythe,
+and had begged hard that he might stay with them for another term.
+Everybody belonging to the church had come to the meeting feeling
+anxious, and yet pretty certain that the answer would be favorable. All
+over the building, people were whispering about the matter, and heads
+were nodding and bowing. The bonnets on these heads were curiously
+alike. Mrs. Perry, the village milliner, never had more than one pattern
+hat. "That is what is worn," she said; and nobody disputed the fact,
+which saved Mrs. Perry trouble. The Valley Hill people liked it just as
+well, and didn't mind the lack of variety. This year Mrs. Perry had
+announced yellow to be the fashion, so nine out of ten of the hats
+present were trimmed with yellow ribbon crossed in just the same way
+over a yellow straw crown; and the church looked like a bed of sisterly
+tulips nodding and bowing in the wind.
+
+Bishop Judson was the person to read the announcements. He was a nice
+old man, kind at heart, though formal in manner, and anxious eyes were
+fixed on him as he got up with a paper in his hand. That important
+little paper held comfort or discomfort for ever so many people. Every
+one bent forward to listen. It was so still all over the church that you
+might have heard a pin drop. The Bishop began with a little speech about
+the virtues of patience and contentment, and how important it was that
+everybody should be quite satisfied whatever happened to them. Then he
+opened the paper.
+
+"Brother Johnson, Middlebury," he read. Middlebury was a favorite
+parish, so Brother Johnson looked pleased, and Sister Johnson was
+congratulated by the friends who sat near her. "Brother Woodward, Little
+Falls; Brother Ashe, Plunxet; Brother Allen, Claxton Corners." And so
+on. Some faces grew bright, some sad, as the reading proceeded. At last
+"Brother Forcythe, Redding; Brother Martin, Valley Hill," was announced.
+A quiver of disappointment went over the church, and a little girl
+sitting in the gallery began to cry.
+
+"My dear, my dear," whispered her mother, much distressed at her sobs
+and gulps. People looked up from below; but Mary could not stop. She
+took her mother's handkerchief and held it tight over her mouth; but the
+sobs would come. Her heart was half-broken at the idea of leaving Valley
+Hill and going to that horrid Redding, where nobody wanted to go.
+
+Old Mrs. Clapp, from behind, reached over and gave her a bunch of
+fennel. But the fennel only made Mary cry harder. In Redding, she was
+sure, would be no kind Mrs. Clapp, no "meeting-house seed;" and her sobs
+grew thicker at the thought.
+
+"I observe that your little daughter seems to be distressed," said
+Bishop Judson, as Mrs. Forcythe led the sobbing Mary down from the
+gallery at the end of service. "Children of her age form strong
+attachments to places, I am aware. But it is well to break them before
+they become unduly strong. Here we have no continuing city, you know."
+
+"Yes," said poor Mrs. Forcythe, with a meek sigh. She had been married
+fourteen years, and this was her seventh move.
+
+"Redding--hum--is a desirable place in some respects," went on the
+Bishop. "There is a great work to do there,--a great work. It requires a
+man of Brother Forcythe's energy to meet it. Mistress Mary here will
+doubtless find consolation in the thought that her father's sphere of
+usefulness is--h'm--enlarged."
+
+"But we shan't have any garden," faltered Mary, "Tilly Brooks, who was
+there before, says it isn't a bit nice. She never saw a flower all the
+time she was there, she said. I'd just planted my bed in the garden
+here. Mrs. Clapp gave me six pansies, and it was going to be so pretty.
+Now I've got to--leave--'em." Her voice died away into sobs.
+
+"Tut, tut!" said the Bishop. "The customs of a church cannot be set
+aside to accommodate a child's flower-bed. You'll find other things to
+please you in Redding, Mistress Mary. Come, come, dry your eyes. Your
+father's daughter should not set an example like this."
+
+"No, sir," gulped Mary, mortified at this reproof from the Bishop, who
+was an important person, and much looked up to. She did her best to stop
+crying, but it was hard work. When they reached home, the sight of the
+pansies perking their yellow and purple faces up to meet her, renewed
+her grief. There was her mignonette seed not yet sprouted. If she had
+known that they were going away, she would not have planted any. There,
+worst of all, was the corner where she had planned such a nice surprise
+for her mother,--"A. F." in green parsley letters. A. F. stood for Anne
+Forcythe. Now, mother would never see the letters or know any thing
+about it. Oh dear, oh dear!
+
+Mrs. Forcythe's own disappointment was great, for they had all made sure
+that they should stay. But, like a true mother, she put her share of the
+grief aside, and thought only of comforting Mary.
+
+"Don't feel so badly, dear," she said. "Recollect, you'll have Papa
+still, and me and Frank and little Peter. We'll manage to be happy
+somehow. Redding isn't half so disagreeable as you think."
+
+"Yes, it is. Tilly said so. I was going to have radishes and a
+rose-bush," replied Mary tearfully. "There's a robin just building in
+the elm-tree now. There won't be any trees in Redding; only horrid hard
+cobble-stones."
+
+"We must hope for the best," said Mrs. Forcythe, who did not enjoy the
+idea of the cobble-stones any more than Mary did.
+
+"Only ten days more at Valley Hill," was the first thought that came
+into Mary's mind the next morning. She went downstairs cross and out of
+spirits. Her mother was laying sheets and table-cloths in a trunk. The
+books were gone from the little book-shelf; every thing had already
+begun to look unsettled and uncomfortable.
+
+"I shall depend on you to take care of little Peter," said Mrs.
+Forcythe. "We shall all have to work hard if we are to get off next
+Monday week."
+
+Mary gave an impatient shrug with her shoulders. She loved little Peter,
+but it seemed an injury just then to have to take care of him. All the
+time that her mother was sorting, counting, and arranging where things
+should go, she sat in the window sullen and unhappy, looking out at the
+pansy-bed. Peter grew tired of a companion who did nothing to amuse him,
+and began to sprawl and scramble upstairs.
+
+"O baby, come back!" cried Mary, and, I am sorry to say, gave him a
+shake. Peter cried, and that brought poor weary Mrs. Forcythe
+downstairs.
+
+"Can't you manage to make him happy?" she said. Mary only pouted.
+
+All that day and the next and the next it was the same. Mrs. Forcythe
+was busy every moment. There were a thousand things to do, another
+thousand to remember. People kept coming in to say good-by. Peter
+wandered out on the door-steps when Mary's back was turned, took cold,
+and was threatened with croup. Mrs. Forcythe was half sick herself from
+worry and fatigue. And all this time Mary, instead of helping, was one
+of her mother's chief anxieties. She fretted and complained continually.
+Every thing went wrong. Each article put into the boxes cost her a flood
+of tears. Each friend who dropped in, renewed the sense of loss. She
+scarcely noticed her mother's pale face at all. All the brightness and
+busy-ness in her was changed for selfish lamentations, and still the
+burden of her complaint was, "I shan't have any flowers in Redding. My
+garden, oh, my garden."
+
+"I don't know what's come to her," said poor Mrs. Forcythe. "She's not
+like the same child at all." And old Mrs. Clapp, who had been very fond
+of Mary, declared that she never knew a girl so altered.
+
+"She's the most _contrary_ piece you ever saw," she said to her
+daughter. "I could have given her a right-down good slap just now for
+the way she spoke to her mother. It's all her fault that the baby took
+cold. She don't lift a hand to help, and I expect as sure as Fate that
+we'll have Mrs. Forcythe sick before we get through. I wouldn't have
+believed that such a likely girl as Mary Forcythe could act so."
+
+Poor "contrary" Mary! She was very unhappy. The fatal last morning came.
+All the boxes were packed. The drays, laden with furniture and beds,
+stood at the gate. Mrs. Clapp, and Mrs. Elder, the class-leader, were
+going over the house collecting last things and doing last jobs. Mary
+wandered out alone into the garden for a farewell look at her pets.
+
+"Good-by, pansies," she said, bending over them. There were only five in
+the bed now, for Mary had taken up one and packed it in paper to carry
+with her. A big tear hopped down her nose and splashed into the middle
+of the yellow pansy, her favorite of all. It turned up its bright
+kitten-face just the same. None of them minded Mary's going away.
+Flowers are sometimes so unkind to people.
+
+"Good-by, rose-bush," proceeded Mary, turning from the pansy-bed.
+"Good-by, honey-suckle. Good-by, peony. Good-by, matter-i-mony." This
+sounds funny, but Mary only meant by it a vine with a small purple
+flower which grew over the back-door. "Good-by, lilac," she went on.
+"Good-by, grass plot." This brought her to the gate. The wagon stood
+waiting to carry them to the railroad, three miles away. Mrs. Forcythe,
+with the baby in her arms, was just getting in. "Hurry, Mary," called
+her father. Slowly she opened the gate, slowly shut it. Her father
+helped her over the wheel. She sat down beside Frank. Mrs. Clapp waved
+her handkerchief, then put it to her eyes. Mary took a long look at the
+pretty garden just budding with spring, and burst into tears. Mr.
+Forcythe chirruped to the horse; they were off,--and that was their
+good-by to Valley Hill.
+
+Redding was certainly very different. It was an old-fashioned town with
+narrow streets, which smelt of fish. Most of the people were sailors, or
+had something to do with ships. There were several nice churches, and
+outside the town a few handsome houses, but there were a great many poor
+people in the place and not many rich ones.
+
+In the very narrowest of all the streets stood the parsonage; a little
+brick house with a paved yard behind, just wide enough for
+clothes-lines. When the wash was hung out there was not an inch to
+spare on either side. Mary gave up all hope as soon as she saw it. There
+was not room even for _one_ pansy. The windows looked out on chimneys
+and roofs and other backyards, with lines of wet clothes flapping in the
+sun. Not a tree was to be seen. Any one might be excused for thinking it
+doleful; and Mary, having made up her mind beforehand to dislike it,
+found it easy to keep her resolution.
+
+There was no possibility of getting things to rights that night; though
+several people came in to help, and a comfortable supper was ready
+spread for the travellers on their arrival. Mrs. Forcythe was cheered by
+this kindness, but Mary could not be cheerful. She had to sleep upon a
+mattress laid on the floor. At another time this would have been fun,
+but now it did not seem funny at all; it was only part and parcel of the
+misery of coming to live in Redding. She cried herself to sleep, and
+came down in the morning with swollen eyelids and a disposition to make
+the very worst of things,--easy enough for any girl to do if she sets
+about it.
+
+She scarcely thanked her father when he went out and bought a red pot
+for the unlucky pansy, which, after its travels and its night in brown
+paper, looked as disconsolate as Mary herself. "I know it'll die right
+away," she muttered as she set it on the window-sill. "Oh, dear, there's
+mother calling. What _does_ she want?"
+
+"Mary, dear," said Mrs. Forcythe when she went down, "where have you
+been? I want you to put away the dishes for me."
+
+"I'm so tired," objected Mary crossly.
+
+"Don't you think that mother must be tired too?" asked her father
+gravely.
+
+Mary blushed and began to place the cups and plates on the cupboard
+shelves. Her slow movements attracted her father's attention.
+
+"What's the matter?" he said. "At Valley Hill you were as brisk as a
+bee, always wanting to help in every thing. Here you seem unwilling to
+move. How is it?"
+
+"I--don't--like--Redding," broke out Mary in a burst of petulance.
+
+"You haven't seen it yet."
+
+"Yes, I have, Papa. I've seen it as much as I want to. It's horrid!"
+
+"I never knew her to behave so before," said Mr. Forcythe in a perplexed
+tone, as Mary, having unpacked the dishes, sobbed her way upstairs.
+
+"She'll brighten when we are settled," replied Mrs. Forcythe, indulgent
+as mothers are, and ready to hope the best of her child. "Oh, dear!
+there's the baby waked up. Would you call Mary to go to him?"
+
+So it went on all that week. Mr. and Mrs. Forcythe were very patient
+with Mary, hoping always that this evil mood would pass, and their
+bright, helpful little daughter come back to them again. She never
+refused to do any thing that was asked of her; but you know the
+difference between willing and unwilling service: Mary just did the
+tasks set her, no more, and as soon as they were finished fled to her
+own room to fret and cry. Her father took her out to walk and showed her
+the new church, but Mary thought the church ugly, and the outside view
+of Redding as unpleasant as the inside one. Dull streets, small houses
+everywhere; no gardens, except now and then a single bed, edged with a
+row of stiff cockle-shells by way of fence, and planted with pert
+sweet-williams or crown imperials. These Mary thought were worse than no
+flowers at all. Every thing smelt of fish. The very sea was made ugly by
+warehouses and shabby wharves. The people they met were strangers; and,
+altogether, the effect of Mary's walk was to send her back more homesick
+than ever for Valley Hill.
+
+By Friday night the little parsonage was in order. Mrs. Forcythe was a
+capital manager. She planned and contrived, turned and twisted and made
+things comfortable in a surprising way. But she overtired herself
+greatly in doing this, and on Saturday morning Mary was waked by her
+father calling from below that mother was very ill, and she must come
+down at once and stay with her while he went for a doctor.
+
+"Oh, dear!" sighed Mary, as she hurried on her clothes. "Now mother is
+sick. It's all this hateful Redding. She never was sick when we lived in
+the country."
+
+But the hard mood melted the moment she saw her mother's pale face and
+feeble smile.
+
+"I hope I'm not going to be very ill," said Mrs. Forcythe; "probably
+it's only that I have tired myself out. You'll have to be 'Mamma' for a
+day or two, Mary dear. Make Papa as comfortable as you can. See that
+Frank has his lunch put up for school, and don't let Peter take cold.
+Oh, dear!--my head aches so hard that I can't talk. I know you'll do
+your best Mary, won't you?"
+
+Guess how Mary felt at this appeal! All her better nature came back in a
+moment. She saw how wrong she had been in nursing her selfish griefs,
+and letting this dear mother over-work herself. "O mother, I will,
+indeed I will!" she cried, kissing the pale face; and, only waiting to
+draw the blind so that the sun should not shine in, she flew
+downstairs, eager to do all she could to make up for past ill-conduct.
+
+The Doctor came. He said Mrs. Forcythe was threatened with fever, and
+must be kept very quiet for several days. Mary had never in her life
+worked so hard as she did that Saturday. There was breakfast, dinner,
+supper to get, dishes to wash, water to heat, the fire to tend, rooms to
+dust, beds to make, the baby to keep out of mischief. She was very tired
+by night, but her heart felt lighter than it had for many days past. Do
+you wonder at this? I can tell you the reason. Mary's troubles were
+selfish troubles, and the moment she forgot herself in thinking of
+somebody else, they became small and began to creep away.
+
+"Pitty, pitty!" said little Peter, as he heard her singing over her
+dish-washing. Mary caught him up and gave him a hearty kiss,--a real
+Valley Hill kiss, such as she had given no one since they came to
+Redding.
+
+"Mary is doing famously," Mr. Forcythe told his wife that night. "She
+has a first-rate head on her shoulders for a girl of her age." Mary
+heard him, and was pleased. She liked--we all like--to be counted useful
+and valuable. The bit of praise sent her back to her work with redoubled
+zeal.
+
+Next morning Mrs. Forcythe was a little better. Her head ached less; she
+sat up on her pillows and drank a cup of tea. Mary was smoothing her
+mother's hair with soft pats of the brush, when suddenly the church
+bells began to ring. She had never heard such sounds before. The bell at
+Valley Hill was cracked, and went tang--tang--tang, as if the
+meeting-house were an old cow walking slowly about. These bells had a
+dozen different voices,--some deep and solemn, others bright and clear,
+but all beautiful; and across their pealing a soft, delicious chime from
+the tower of the Episcopal church went to and fro, and wove itself in
+and out like a thread of silver embroidery. Mary dropped the brush, and
+clasped her hands tight. It was like listening to a song of which she
+could not hear enough. When the last tinkle of the chime died away, she
+unclasped her hands, and, turning from the window, cried, "O mother!
+wasn't that lovely? There is _one_ pleasant thing in Redding, after
+all!"
+
+I do not think matters ever seemed so hard again after that morning when
+Mary made friends with the church bells. It was the beginning of a
+better understanding between her and her new home; and there is a great
+deal in beginnings, even though they may work slowly toward their ends.
+
+By the close of the week Mrs. Forcythe was downstairs again, weak and
+pale, but able to sit in her chair and direct things, which Mary felt to
+be a great comfort. The parishioners began to call. There were no rich
+people among them; but it was a hard-working, active parish, and did a
+great deal for its means. The Sunday-school was large and flourishing;
+there was a missionary association, a home missionary association, a
+mite society, and a sewing circle, which met every week to make clothes
+for the poor and partake of tea, soda biscuit, and six sorts of cake.
+Beside these, a new project had just been started, "The Seamen's
+Daughters' Industrial Society;" or, in other words, a sewing-school for
+little girls whose fathers were sailors. There were plenty of such
+little girls in Redding.
+
+"Your daughter will join, of course," said Mrs. Wallis, when she came to
+call on her minister's wife. "It's important that the pastor's family
+should take a part in every good work." Mrs. Wallis was the most
+energetic woman of the congregation,--at the head of every thing.
+
+"I'm afraid Mary's sewing is not good enough," replied Mrs. Forcythe.
+"She isn't very skilful with her needle yet."
+
+"Oh! she knows enough to teach those ignorant little creatures. Half of
+them are foreigners, and never touch a needle in their homes. It's
+every thing to give them some ideas beyond their own shiftless ways."
+
+"Would you like to try, Mary?" asked her mother.
+
+"I--don't--know," replied Mary, afraid to refuse, because Mrs. Wallis
+looked so sharp and decided.
+
+"Very well, then I'll call for you on Saturday, at half-past ten," went
+on Mrs. Wallis, quite regardless of Mary's hesitating tone. "I'm glad
+you'll come. It would never do not to have some of the minister's
+family. Saturday morning, at half-past ten! Good-by, Mrs. Forcythe.
+Don't get up; you look peaked still. To-morrow is baking day, and I
+shall send you a green-currant pie. Perhaps _that'll_ do you good." With
+these words she departed.
+
+"Must I really teach in that school?" asked Mary dolefully.
+
+"I think you'd better. The people expect it, and it will be a good thing
+for you to practise sewing a little," replied her mother. "I daresay it
+will be pleasanter than you think."
+
+"It seems so funny that I should be set to teach any one to sew," said
+Mary, bursting into a laugh. "Don't you recollect how Mrs. Clapp used to
+scold me, and say I 'gobbled' my darns?"
+
+"You mustn't 'gobble' before the seamen's daughters," said Mrs.
+Forcythe, smiling. "It will be a capital lesson for you to try to teach
+what you haven't quite learned yourself."
+
+Punctual as the clock Mrs. Wallis appeared on Saturday, and bore the
+unwilling Mary away to the sewing-school. Mrs. Forcythe watched them
+from the window. She couldn't help laughing, their movements were so
+comically different,--Mrs. Wallis was so brisk and decided, while Mary
+lagged behind, dragging one slow foot after the other as if each moment
+she longed to stop and dared not. Very different was her movement,
+however, two hours later, when she returned. She came with a kind of
+burst, her eyes bright with excitement, and her cheeks pinker than they
+had been since she left Valley Hill.
+
+"O mother, it is _so_ nice! Ever so many children were there,--thirty at
+least; and Mrs. Wallis said I might choose any five I liked to be my
+class. First, I chose the dearest little Irish girl. Her name is Norah,
+and she's just as pretty as she can be, only her face was dreadfully
+dirty, and her clothes all rags. Then her little sister Kathleen cried
+to come; so I took her too. Then I chose a cunning little German tot
+named Gretchen. She has yellow hair, braided in tight little tails down
+her back, and is a good deal cleaner than the rest, but not very clean,
+you know; and she hadn't any shoes at all. Then Mrs. Wallis brought up
+the funniest little French girl, with a name I can't pronounce. I'm
+going to call her Amy. And the last of all is an American, real pretty.
+Her name is Rachel Gray. Her father is gone on a whaling voyage, and
+won't be back for three years. Don't they sound nice, mother? I think I
+shall like teaching them so much!"
+
+"Do they know any thing about sewing?" asked Mrs. Forcythe.
+
+"Not a thing. They made dreadful stitches. Kathleen cried because the
+needle pricked her, and Rachel wanted to wear the thimble on the wrong
+finger. Amy did the best. When they went away they all wanted to kiss
+me, and Norah said she guessed I was the best teacher in the school.
+Wasn't that cunning? Mrs. Wallis is real kind. She brought ever so much
+gingerbread, and gave each of the children a piece."
+
+"I'm glad it begins so well--"
+
+"Yes. There's just one thing, though. The children's faces! You can't
+think how dirty they are. I should like to give them a good scrub all
+round."
+
+"Well, why don't you?"
+
+"How can I? There isn't any wash-bowl down at the school-room."
+
+"If you liked you might have them all come here at ten o'clock, and walk
+down with you. Then you could take them up to your room, wash their
+faces and hands, and brush their hair smooth before you start. I really
+think you would enjoy your teaching more if the scholars were clean."
+
+"May I really do that?"
+
+"Yes. I'll buy you a fresh cake of soap and a brush, and you can take
+two clean towels from the drawer every Saturday morning. Make it a rule,
+but be very gentle and pleasant about it or the children may refuse."
+
+"O mother, what a good plan! Thank you so much," said Mary with
+sparkling eyes. "Now I shall have real comfort with them."
+
+There was great excitement in the sewing-class when they were told that
+in future they were to go to "Teacher's" house every Saturday, and walk
+down to school with her. They were a droll little procession enough when
+they appeared the next week at the appointed time. Norah's toes were out
+of her shoes. Her tangled curls were as rough as a bird's-nest, and the
+hat on top of them looked as if it had sailed across every mud-puddle in
+town. Little Kathleen's scanty garments were rather rags than clothes.
+And Gretchen, tidiest of all, had smears of sausage on her rosy face,
+and did not seem to have been brought into contact with soap and water
+for weeks.
+
+Mary led them up into her own room, which, plain as it was, looked like
+a palace to the little ones after the dirt and discomfort of their
+crowded homes. There were the nice clean towels, the new hair-brush, and
+the big cake of honey-soap, mother's contributions to the undertaking.
+The washing was quite a frolic. Norah cried a little at having her hair
+pulled, but Mary was gentle and pleasant, and made the affair so amusing
+that the children thought it pleasant to be clean, instead of disliking
+it. She rewarded their patience by a kiss all round. Kathleen threw her
+arms about Mary's neck and gave her a great hug. "You're iver so nice,"
+she said, and Mary kissed her again.
+
+So every Saturday from that time forward, Mary went to school followed
+by a crowd of clean little faces, which looked all the brighter and
+happier for their cleanliness. She was proud of her class, but their
+ragged clothes distressed her greatly.
+
+"It is such a pity," she told her mother. "They are so pretty, and they
+look like beggars."
+
+Mrs. Forcythe had only been waiting for this. She was not a woman to
+give much advice, even to her own child. "Drop in a seed and let it
+grow," was her motto.
+
+"There's that old gingham of yours," she suggested. "You could spare
+that for one of them, if there were anybody to make it over."
+
+"_I'll_ make it!" cried Mary, "only--" her, face falling, "I don't know
+how to cut dresses."
+
+"I'll cut it for you if you like," said Mrs. Forcythe quietly.
+
+"Will you, mother dear? How splendid. I'll make it for Norah. She's the
+raggedest of all."
+
+The gingham was measured, and proved enough to make frocks for Norah
+and Kathleen too. Mary had double work to undertake, but her heart was
+in her fingers, and they flew fast. It took every spare moment for a
+fortnight to make the frocks, but when they were done and tried on to
+the delighted children, they looked so nicely that Mary was rewarded for
+her trouble and for the many needle-pricks in her forefinger.
+
+"Only it's such a pity about the others," she told her mother. "They'll
+think I'm partial, and I'm not, though I _do_ love Norah a little bit
+the best, she's so affectionate. I wish we were rich. Then I could buy
+frocks for them all."
+
+"If you were rich, perhaps you wouldn't care about it," said her mother.
+"A little here and a little there, a stitch, a kind word, a small
+self-denial, these are in the power of all of us, and in course of time
+they mount up and make a great deal. And, Mary dear, I've always found
+if you once start in a path and are determined to keep on, somebody's
+sure to come along and lend a helping hand, when you think you have got
+to the end of every thing, and must stop or turn back."
+
+"Well, I've got to the end of every thing now," said Mary. "There aren't
+any more old frocks to make over, and we can't afford to buy new ones."
+
+"Don't be discouraged," said her mother. "The way is sure to open
+somehow."
+
+"How wise mother is," thought Mary, when the very next week on their way
+back from school Mrs. Wallis said, "I noticed that two of your scholars
+had respectable frocks on to-day. I wonder if their mothers made them?
+If they did, I've an old chintz dress which I could spare, and perhaps
+Gretchen's mother and Amadine's could take it and fit them out too."
+
+"I made the dresses," cried Mary joyfully. "And if you'll let me have
+the old chintz, I'll make some more for the others, Mrs. Wallis. Oh, I'm
+so glad."
+
+"Did you make them," said Mrs. Wallis in a pleased tone. "Well, that's
+first-rate. I'll send the chintz round to-night; and any other old
+things I can find to help along."
+
+So that night came a great bundle, which, on opening, revealed not only
+the chintz, but a nice calico, some plaid ribbon, a large black alpaca
+apron, and an old shirt of Mr. Wallis's. Such a busy time as Mary had in
+planning how to make the most of these gifts. The chintz was long and
+full. It had a cape, and made two beautiful frocks. The calico made
+another frock and two nice pinafores, the black alpaca some small
+aprons. Mary trimmed the two worst hats with the ribbon. Last of all,
+she cut and stitched five narrow bands of the linen, which mother washed
+and starched, and behold, the class had collars! I don't know which was
+most pleased at this last decoration, Mary or the children.
+
+"They are just as good as dolls to you, aren't they," said her father.
+
+"O Papa! much better than _that_. Dolls can't laugh and talk, and they
+don't really care any thing about you, you only just make believe that
+they do. It's horrid to fit a doll's clothes; she sticks her arm out
+stiff and won't bend it a bit. I'd rather have my class than all the
+dolls in the world."
+
+"Teaching those children is having a capital effect on Mary herself,"
+said Mrs. Forcythe to her husband after Mary had gone away. "She gains
+all the time in patience and industry, and is twice as careful of her
+things as she used to be. I found her crying the other day because she
+had torn her oldest frock, and the darn was sure to come in a bad place
+when the frock was made over for Gretchen! Think of Mary's crying
+because of having torn any thing!"
+
+Time flies rapidly when people are busy and happy. Days crept into
+weeks, weeks into months; before any one knew it two years were passed
+and another Conference day was at hand. It met this time at Redding.
+
+Mary, a tall girl of fifteen now, went with her mother to hear the
+appointments read. The Redding people had applied to keep Mr. Forcythe
+for another term, but the request was denied; and, when his name was
+reached on the list, it appeared that he was to go back to Valley Hill.
+
+"There's one person I know will be pleased," said the Bishop, pausing on
+his way out of church to speak to Mrs. Forcythe. "Mistress Mary here!
+She'll be glad to go back to Valley Hill again. But, hey-day! she
+doesn't look glad. What! tears in her eyes. How is this?"
+
+"I--don't--know--" sighed Mary. "I thought--I thought we should stay
+here. Of course I feel sorry just at first."
+
+"Sorry! Not want to leave Redding! Why, what a contrary little maid you
+are! Don't you recollect how you cried, and said Redding was horrid."
+
+"Yes," said Mary, on the verge of a sob. "But I like it now, Bishop. I
+don't mind the fish a bit, and the funny old streets and the posy-beds
+with cockle-shell edges are so nice, and the bells sound so sweet on
+Sunday morning!--I like Redding ever so much."
+
+"But your garden,--I remember how badly you felt to leave that. You
+can't have a garden in Redding."
+
+"No, but I have my little girls. I'd rather have them than a garden, a
+great deal!"
+
+"What does she mean?" asked the Bishop, turning to Mrs. Forcythe.
+
+"Her sewing-class," replied Mrs. Forcythe, smiling.
+
+"There they are!" cried Mary eagerly. "They're waiting for me. Do look
+at them, Bishop; it's those five little girls in a row behind the second
+pillar from the door. That big one is Norah, and the one in blue is
+Rachel, and the littlest is named Kathleen. Isn't she pretty? They're
+the sweetest little things, oh, I shall miss them so. I shan't ever have
+such good times again as I've had with them." Her voice faltered; a lump
+came in her throat. To hide it she slipped away, and went across the
+church to where the little ones sat.
+
+"That's a dear child of yours," said the good Bishop, looking after her.
+"I guess she'll _do_ wherever she goes."
+
+And I think Mary will.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+LADY BIRD.
+
+
+"NOW, Pocahontas Maria, sit still and don't disturb the little ones.
+Imogene, that lesson must be learned before I come back, you know. Now,
+dear, that was very, very naughty. When Mamma tells you to do things you
+mustn't pout and poke Stella with your foot in that way. It isn't nice
+at all. Stella is younger than you, and you ought to set her samples, as
+Nursey says. Look at Ning Po Ganges, how good she is, and how she minds
+all I say, and yet she's the littlest child I've got."
+
+If anybody had been walking in Madam Bird's old-fashioned garden that
+morning, and had heard these wise words coming from the other side of
+the rose thicket, he would certainly have supposed that some old dame
+with a school was hidden away there, or at the least an anxious Mamma
+with a family of unruly children. But if this somebody had gone into the
+thicket, bobbing his head to avoid the prickly, wreath-like branches, he
+would have found on the other side only one person, little Lota Bird,
+playing all alone with her dolls. "Lady Bird" Nursey called Lota,
+because when, six years before, Papa fetched her home from China, she
+wore a speckled frock of orange-red and black, very much the color of
+those other tiny frocks in which the real lady-birds fly about in
+summer-time. The speckled frock was outgrown long ago, but the name
+still clung to Lota, and every one called her by it except Grandmamma,
+who said "Charlotte," sighing as she spoke, and Papa, whose letters
+always began, "My darling little Lota." Papa had been away so long now
+that Lota would quite have forgotten him had it not been for these
+letters which came regularly every month. The paper on which they were
+written had an odd, pleasant smell. Nurse said it was the smell of
+sandal-wood. Sometimes there were things inside for Lota, bird's
+feathers of gay colors, Chinese puzzles of carved ivory, or small
+pictures painted on rice paper. Lota liked these things very much. It
+was like playing at a Papa rather than really having one, but she
+enjoyed the play; and when they told her that Papa was soon coming home
+to stay always, she was only half glad, and said: "Won't there be any
+more letters then? I shan't like that." Poor little girlie: we, who know
+how nice it is to have real Papas, can feel sorry for her; can't we?
+
+But Lota did not pity herself in the least. Grandmamma's house was stiff
+and gloomy, shaded by high trees and thick vines which jealously shut
+out the sun whenever he tried to shine in at the window panes.
+Grandmamma's servants were old too, like the house. Most of them had
+gray hair. Nursey wore spectacles; the coachman indulged in rheumatism.
+Grandmamma herself was old and feeble. She rarely laughed or seemed to
+enjoy any thing, but sat in an easy chair all the year round, and read
+solemn books bound in black leather, which made her cry. Jennings her
+maid waited on her, fetched footstools and cushions, pushed the blinds
+down as soon as the cheerful noon got round to that side of the house.
+"Missus is uncommon poorly to-day," she announced every morning. "Miss,
+you must be very quiet." Lota was quiet. She was the only young thing
+in the sad old house, but the shadows of age and sorrow fell lightly
+upon her, and in spite of them she was as happy a child as you will find
+in a summer's day. The garden was her kingdom and her Paradise. It was a
+wide, fragrant, shaded place, full of the shrubs and flowers of former
+days. Huge pink and white oleanders, planted in tubs, stood on either
+side the walks. Thick spikes of purple lavender edged the beds; the
+summer-house was a tangle of honey-suckle, rosemary, and eglantine.
+Roses of all colors abounded. They towered high above Lota's head as she
+walked,--twined and clasped, shut her in with perfumed shadows, rained
+showers of many-colored petals on the grass. An old-fashioned fairy
+would have delighted to dwell in that garden, and perhaps one did dwell
+there, else why should little lonely Lota have been always so very, very
+happy left alone among the trees and flowers? Can any one tell me that?
+
+Far up in the curved angle made by the rose-hedge was the little house
+where she and her dollies lived. Jacob the gardener built this house, of
+roots and willow-osiers curiously twisted. It was just big enough for
+Lady Bird and her family. The walls were pasted over with gay prints cut
+from the "Illustrated News" and other papers. There was a real window.
+The moss floor had a blue cotton rug laid over it. A small table and
+chair for Lota and one apiece for the dolls made up the furniture,
+beside a shelf on which the baby-house tea-set was displayed. The roof
+kept out the weather pretty well, except when it rained hard; then
+things got wet. Here Lota sat all the morning, after she had finished
+her lessons with Nursey,--short lessons always, and easy ones, by Papa's
+particular request, for the doctors had said that Lota must not study
+much till she was really big and strong. Pocahontas Maria and the other
+children had to work much harder than their Mamma, I assure you. Lota
+was very strict with them. When they were idle she put them into the
+corner, and made them sit with their faces to the wall by way of
+punishment. Once Lota had the measles, and for two whole weeks was kept
+away entirely from the garden-house. When she came back, she found that
+during all this time poor little Ning-Po Ganges had been sitting in this
+ignominious position with her face hidden. Lota cried with remorse at
+this, and promised Ning-Po that never, so long as she lived, should she
+be put into the corner again; so after that, for convenience' sake,
+Ning-Po was always called the best child in the family. Now and then,
+when Lota felt hospitable, she would give a tea-party, and ask Lady
+Green and her children from under the snow-ball bush next door. Nobody
+but Lota and the dolls could see the Greens, even when they sat about
+the table talking and being talked to, but that was no matter; and when
+Nursey said, "Law, Miss Lady Bird, how can you; there's never any such
+people, you know," Lota would point triumphantly to a card tacked on to
+the snow-ball bush, which had "Lady Green" printed on it, and would say,
+"Naughty Nursey! can't you read? There's her door-plate!"
+
+As this story is all about Lota, I think I would better tell you just
+how she spent one week of her life, she and the dolls.
+
+The week began with Sunday, which was always a dull day, because Lota
+was forbidden to go into the garden.
+
+In the morning she went to church with Grandmamma, drawn thither by two
+fat old black horses, who seemed to think it almost too much trouble to
+switch the flies off with their tails. Church was warm and the sermon
+was drowsy, so poor Lady Bird fell asleep, and tumbled over suddenly on
+to Grandmamma's lap. This distressed the old lady a good deal, for she
+was very particular about behavior in church. By way of punishment, Lota
+had to learn four verses of a hymn after dinner. It was the hymn which
+begins,--
+
+          "Awake, my soul, and with the sun
+           Thy daily course of duty run,"
+
+and learning it took all the time from dinner till four o'clock.
+
+The hymn learned and repeated, Lota read for awhile in one of her Sunday
+books. She was ashamed of her sleepiness in the morning, and had every
+intention of being very good till bedtime; but unluckily she looked
+across to where the dolls were sitting, and, as she explained to Nursey
+afterward, Pocahontas Maria was whispering to Imogene, and both of them
+were laughing so hard and looking so mischievous that she _had_ to see
+what was the matter. Result;--at five, Jennings, coming to call Lota,
+found her with all the dolls in a row before her teaching them hymns.
+And, though this seems most proper, Jennings, who was a strict
+Methodist, did not think so; so Lota had another lecture from
+Grandmamma, and went to bed under a sense of disgrace. So much for
+Sunday.
+
+Monday opened with bright sunshine. It had rained all night; but by
+eleven o'clock the dear old garden was quite dry, and how sweet it did
+look! The pink roses twinkled and winked their whisker-like calyxes as
+she went by; the white ones shook their serene leaves, and sent out
+delicious smells. Every green thing looked greener than it had done
+before the rain. The blue sky, swept clear of clouds, seemed to have
+been rubbed and made brilliant. It was a day for gardens; and Lady Bird
+and her family celebrated it by a picnic, to which they invited all the
+Greens.
+
+"Lady Green hasn't treated me quite properly," remarked Lota to her
+oldest child, Pocahontas. "She didn't leave her card at this house I
+don't know when. But we won't mind about that, because it's such a nice
+day, and we want the picnic. And we can't have the picnic without the
+Greens, you know, dear, because there aren't any other people to
+invite."
+
+So they had the picnic,--a delightful one. The young Greens behaved
+badly. They almost always did behave badly when they came to see Lady
+Bird; but it was rather a good thing, because she could warn her own
+children that, if they did the same, they would be severely punished.
+"Lady Green is too indulgent," she would say. "I want _my_ children to
+be much gooder than hers. Mind that, Imogene." So, on this occasion,
+when Clarissa Green snatched at the rose-cakes which formed the staple
+of the feast, Lota looked very sharply at Stella, and said, "Don't let
+me ever see you do so, Stella, or I shall have to slap your little
+hands." Stella heeded the warning, and sat upright as a poker and
+perfectly still.
+
+Clarissa was perhaps not so much to blame, for the rose-cakes were
+delicious. Would you like Lady Bird's recipe? Any little girl can make
+them. Take a good many rose-leaves; put some sugar with them,--as much
+sugar as you can get; tie them up in paper, or in a good thick
+grape-leaf; lay them on a bench, and _sit down on them hard several
+times_: then they are done. Some epicures pretend that they must be
+buried in the ground, and left there for a week; but this takes time,
+and reasonable children will find them quite good enough without. These
+particular rose-cakes were the best Lota had ever made. The whole party,
+Greens and all, agreed to that. For the rest of the feast there was a
+motto-paper, which had ornamented several picnics before. It could not
+be eaten, but it looked well sitting in the middle of the table. At the
+close of the banquet all the party sang a song. Lady Green's voice was
+not very good, but Lota explained to the children afterward that it
+isn't polite to laugh at company even when they do make funny squeaks
+with their high notes. Pocahontas had to sit in the corner awhile for
+having done so. She was sorry, and promised never to offend again; as a
+reward for which, her Mamma gave her a small blank book made of
+writing-paper and a pin, which she told her was for her very own.
+
+"You are such a big girl now," said Mamma Lota, "that it is time you
+began to keep a Diary like I do. I shall read it over every day, and see
+how you spell."
+
+Here is Pocahontas Maria's journal as it stood on Tuesday afternoon,
+after the children had done their lessons and had their dinners:--
+
+"Tuseday. I am going to keep a Diry like Mamma's. Studded as usel. Mamma
+said I was cairless, and didn't get my jography lesson propperly. Stella
+had hers better than me. I hurt my ellbow against the table. It won't
+bend any more. Mamma is going to get Doctor Jacob to put in a woulden
+pin. I hope it won't hurt."
+
+"Oh, Pocahontas! Pocahontas!" cried the scandalized Lady Bird as she
+read this effusion. "After all the pains I have taken, to think you
+should spell so horridly as this." Then she sat down and corrected all
+the words. "I don't wonder your cheeks are so red," she said severely.
+Pocahontas sat up straight and blushed, but made no excuses. It is not
+strange that Lota, who really spelt very nicely for a little girl of
+her age, should have been shocked.
+
+On Tuesday night it rained again, and the sun got up in a cloud next
+morning, and seemed uncertain whether or not to shine. Grandmamma was
+going to drive out to make a call, and Jennings came early to the
+nursery to tell Nurse to dress Lady Bird nicely, so that she might go
+too. Accordingly Nursey put on Lota's freshest white cambric and her
+best blue sash, and laid a pair of white gloves and a little hat trimmed
+with blue ribbons and forget-me-nots on the bed, so that they might be
+ready when the carriage came to the door. "Now, Miss Lady Bird, you must
+sit still and keep yourself very nice," she said. This was hard, for the
+children had all been left in the garden-house the night before, and
+Lota wanted very much to see them. She stood at the window looking
+wistfully out. By and by the sun flashed gloriously from the clouds, and
+sent a bright ray right into her eyes. It touched the rain-drops which
+hung over the bushes, and instantly each became a tiny mimic sun,
+sending out separate rays of its own. Lota forgot all about Nursey's
+injunctions. "I'll just run out one minute and fetch little Ning-Po in,"
+she thought. "That child's too delicate to be left out in the damp. She
+catches cold so easily; really it quite troubles me sometimes the way
+she coughs."
+
+So down the garden walk she sped. The shrubs, shaken by her swift
+passage, scattered showers of bright drops upon the white frock and the
+pretty sash. But Lota didn't mind or notice. The air and sun, the clear,
+fresh feeling, the birds' songs, filled her with a kind of intoxication.
+Her head spun, her feet danced as she ran along. Suddenly a cold feeling
+at the toes of her bronze boots startled her. She looked down. Behold,
+she was in a pool of water, left by the rain in a hollow of the
+gravel-walk. Was she frightened? Not at all. The water felt delightfully
+fresh, her spirits flashed out like the sun himself, and in the joy of
+her heart she began to waltz, scattering and splashing the water about
+her. The crisp ruffles of the cambric lost all their starch, the pretty
+boots were quite spoiled, but Lota waltzed on, and in this plight
+Nursey, flying indignantly out from the kitchen door, found her naughty
+pet.
+
+"Well, Miss Charlotte, I _am_ discouraged," she said, as she pulled off
+the wet things. "Waltzing in a mud-puddle! That's nice work for a young
+lady! I am discouraged, Miss Charlotte."
+
+Nursey never said "Miss Charlotte" except on the most solemn occasions,
+so Lota knew that she was very vexed. She should have been cast down by
+this, but somehow she was not.
+
+"But _I'm_ not discouraged," she replied. "I'm not discouraged a bit!
+And the birds aren't discouraged! They sang all the while I was waltzing
+in the mud-puddle, Nursey; I heard 'em!"
+
+Nursey gave it up. She loved Lady Bird dearly, and could not hear to
+scold her or to have any one else do so. So she made haste to change
+the unlucky frock and shoes, so that she should be neat and trim
+whenever Grandmamma sent for her. I suppose this forbearance touched
+Lota's heart, for at the last moment she turned, ran back, threw her
+arms round Nursey's neck, and whispered, "I'm sorry, and I'll never
+waltz in mud-puddles again." Nursey squeezed her hard by way of answer.
+"Precious lamb!" she said, and Lota ran downstairs quite happy.
+
+The lady whom Grandmamma drove out to see, had a little granddaughter
+visiting her. Isabel Bernard was her name. She came from the city, and
+was so beautifully dressed and so well-mannered, that Grandmamma took
+quite a fancy to her, and invited her to spend a day with Lota.
+
+"Charlotte will enjoy a young companion," said Grandmamma. So the next
+day was fixed upon.
+
+This was a very exciting event for the Bird family, who rarely had any
+visitors except Lady Green, who did not count, being such a near
+neighbor. Pocahontas wrote in her journal, "A grand lady is coming to
+see Mamma. Me and all of us are going to have on our best frocks. I hope
+she'll think us pretty;" and though Lota told her that little girls
+ought not to mind about being pretty if only they obey their mammas and
+are good, the sentiment was so natural that she really hadn't the heart
+to scold the child much. The baby-house was swept and garnished for the
+occasion, a fresh batch of rose-cakes was made, and a general air of
+festivity pervaded the premises.
+
+Lota hoped that Isabel would come early, soon after breakfast, so as to
+have a longer day; but it was quite twelve o'clock before she made her
+appearance, all alone by herself in a huge barouche, which made her seem
+scarcely larger than a doll. She wore a fine frilled muslin frock over
+blue silk, a white hat, and dainty lemon-colored boots. When Lota,
+feeling shy at the spectacle of this magnificence, proposed going into
+the garden, she hung back.
+
+"Are you quite sure that it isn't damp?" she said, "because--you
+see--this is my best frock."
+
+"Oh, quite sure," pleaded Lota. "The grass was cut only day before
+yesterday, and Jacob rolled the gravel last night. Do come! The children
+want to see you so much."
+
+"The children!" said Isabel, surprised. But when she saw the doll-family
+sitting in a row with their best clothes on, and their four pairs of
+fixed blue eyes looking straight before them, she laughed scornfully.
+
+"Do you play with dolls?" she asked. "I gave them up long ago."
+
+Lady Bird's eyes grew large with distress. "Oh, don't call them _that_,"
+she cried. "I never do. It hurts their feelings so. You can't think."
+
+Isabel laughed again. She wasn't at all a nice girl to play with. The
+rose-cakes she pronounced "nasty." When Lota explained about Lady Green,
+she stared and said it was ridiculous, and that there was no such
+person. She turned up her nose at Pocahontas's journal, and declared
+that Lota wrote it herself! "Did you ever hear of such a thing?" asked
+Lady Bird afterward of Lady Green. "As if my child could not write!" It
+was just so all day. The only thing Isabel seemed to enjoy was dining in
+state with Grandmamma, and answering all her questions with the air of a
+little grown-up woman. Grandmamma said she was a very well-behaved
+child, and she wished Charlotte would take pattern by her. But Lota
+didn't agree with Grandmamma. She hoped with all her heart that Isabel
+would never come to visit her again.
+
+Pocahontas Maria wrote in her journal next day:--
+
+"The lady who came to see Mamma wasn't very nice, I think. She didn't
+even speak to us children, and she made fun at my diry. We didn't like
+her a bit. Stella says she's horrid, and Ning-Po hopes Mamma won't ever
+ask her any more." Lady Bird reproved Pocahontas very gravely for these
+sentiments, and reminded her again that "diry" is not the way to spell
+diary; but she said to Lady Green, who dropped in for a call, "Poor
+little thing, I don't wonder! children always find out when people isn't
+nice; and Isabel, she _was_ very disagreeable, you know, calling them
+'dolls' and things like that! It's not surprising that they didn't like
+her, I'm sure."
+
+Saturday was an eventful day. There were no lessons to do for one thing,
+because Nursey's daughter had come to see her, and Grandmamma said Lady
+Bird might be excused for once. This gave her the whole morning to
+attend to domestic matters, which was nice, or would have been, only
+unluckily little Stella took this opportunity to break out with measles.
+Of course Lady Bird was much distressed. She put Stella to bed at once,
+and sent the others to the farthest side of the room lest they should
+catch the disease also, "though," as she told Pocahontas, "You'll be
+sure to have it. It always runs straight through families; the doctor
+said so when I had it; and whatever I shall do with all of you on my
+hands at once, I can't imagine." There is always a great deal to do in
+times of sickness, so this was a very busy day. Lota had to make broth
+for Stella, to concoct medicine out of water and syringa-stems, to
+prepare dinner for the other children, and hear all their lessons, for
+of course education must not be neglected let who will have measles!
+Pocahontas was unusually troublesome. Imogene cried over the spelling
+lesson; and altogether Lady Bird had her hands full that morning.
+
+"I shall certainly send you all away to boarding-school if you don't
+learn to behave better," she cried in despair, at which awful threat the
+children wept aloud and promised to be good. Then came dinner,--real
+dinner, I mean,--which Lady Bird could scarcely eat, so anxious was she
+about her sick child in the garden. The moment it was over back she
+flew, oblivious of the charms of raisins and almonds. Stella was asleep,
+but she evidently had fever, for her cheeks were bright pink, and her
+lips as red as sealing-wax.
+
+"I must have a doctor for her," cried poor Lady Bird.
+
+She tried to think what article would be best to choose for the doctor,
+and fixed on an old black muff of Nursey's which lived on the shelf of
+the nursery closet. To get it, however, it was needful to leave the
+children again.
+
+"You must all be good," she said, fussing about and tidying the room,
+"very good and very quiet, so as not to wake up Stella. Dear me, what a
+queer smell there is here! Let me think. What did Nursey do when I had
+measles? She burned some sort of paper and made it smell nice again. I
+must burn some paper too, else Stella'll suffocate, won't you, dear?"
+
+No sooner thought than done. Jacob had left his coat hanging near the
+tool-house while he went to dinner, and he always carried matches in his
+pipe-pocket. Lady Bird knew that. She put her hand in and drew one out,
+feeling guilty, for one of Nursey's chief maxims was, "Never touch
+matches, Lady Bird; remember what I say, never!"
+
+"If Nursey knew about Stella's having the measles she'd say different,"
+she soliloquized.
+
+There was a good-sized bit of brown paper in the garden-house. Lota
+rolled it up, laid it near the bedside, lit the edge, and carefully blew
+out the match. The paper did not flame, but smouldered slowly, sending
+up a curl of smoke. Lady Bird gazed at it with much satisfaction, then,
+with a last kiss to Stella, she went away to fetch the doctor, stopping
+at Lady Green's door as she passed, to tell her that she had better not
+let any of her children come over, because they might catch the measles
+and be sick too.
+
+It took some time to rummage out the muff, for Nursey had tucked it far
+back on the shelf behind other things. There was nobody in the nursery.
+Something unusual seemed to be going on downstairs, for doors were
+opening and shutting, and persons were talking and exclaiming. Lota
+paid no attention to this; her head was full of her own affairs, and she
+had no time to spend on other people's. Muff in hand, she hastened down
+the garden walk. As she drew near she smelt smoke, and smiled with
+satisfaction. But the smell grew stronger, and the air was blue and
+thick. She became alarmed, and began to run. Another moment, and the
+house was in sight. Smoke was pouring from the door, from the window,
+and--what was that red thing which darted out from the smoke like a long
+tongue? Oh, Lady Bird! Lady Bird! fly, hasten, your house is on fire,
+and there are the children inside with none but you to aid them!
+
+Did ever mother hesitate when her little ones were in danger? Lady Bird
+did not. With a shriek of affright she plunged boldly into the midst of
+the smoke. An awful sight met her eyes through the open door. The
+wall-paper was on fire, the cotton rug, the table-cover! Little red
+flames were creeping up the valance of the crib in which poor sick
+Stella lay! The other children were sitting in a row opposite, very
+calm and still, but blisters had begun to form on Imogene's waxen
+cheeks, and a cinder, lodged on Ning-Po's flaxen wig, was scorching and
+singeing. What a spectacle to meet a mother's eyes! Oh, Lady Bird, haste
+to the rescue!
+
+She did not falter. In the twinkling of an eye she had dashed into the
+burning room, had caught Stella from her bed, the others from their
+chairs, and with all four hugged tight to her heart was making for the
+door. Ah! a spark fell on the white apron, on the holland frock! Her
+rapid movement fanned it. It flickered, blazed, the red flame rushed
+upward. What would have happened I dare not think, if just at that
+moment a gentleman, who was hastening down the garden walk, had not
+caught sight of the little figure, and, with a horrified exclamation,
+seized, held it fast, wrapped round it a great woollen shawl from his
+own shoulders, and in one moment put out the deadly fire which was
+snatching at the sweet young life. Who was this gentleman, do you
+think, thus arrived at the very nick of time? Why, no other than Lady
+Bird's own Papa, come home from China a few weeks before any one
+expected him!
+
+I cannot pretend to describe all that followed on that bewildering day,
+the dismay of Grandmamma and Nursey, the wrath of Jennings over the
+match, the joy of everybody at Lady Bird's escape, or her own confusion
+of mind at the fire and the excitement and the new Papa, who was and was
+not the Papa of the letters. At first she hugged the rescued dolls and
+said nothing. But Papa gave her time to get used to him, and she soon
+did so. He was very kind and nice, and did not laugh at the children and
+call them names as Isabel had done, but felt Stella's pulse, recommended
+pomatum for the scorch on Imogene's forehead, and even produced a little
+out of his own dressing-case. Best of all, he led Lady Bird upstairs,
+unlocked a box and showed her a beautiful little Chinese lady in purple
+silk and lovely striped muslin trowsers, which he had brought for her.
+
+"Another child for you to take care of," said Papa.
+
+Pocahontas Maria wrote in her Diary the next day:--
+
+"My Grandpapa has come home from China. He is _very_ nice. He brought me
+a little Chinese sister. Her name is Loo Choo, he says, but Mamma calls
+her Loo Loo, because it sounds prettier. Grandpapa treats us very
+kindly, and never says 'dolls,' as Isabel Berners did; and he went to
+call on Lady Green with Mamma. I'm so glad he is come."
+
+When Lady Bird read this she kissed Pocahontas and said,--
+
+"That's right, dear; so am I!"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE.
+
+
+THE old clock on the stairs was drowsy. Its ticks, now lower, now
+louder, sounded like the breathings of one asleep. Now and then came a
+distincter tick, which might pass for a little machine-made snore. As
+striking-time drew near, it roused itself with a quiver and shake. "One,
+two, three, four, five," it rang in noisy tones, as who should say,
+"Behold, I am wide awake, and have never closed an eye all night." The
+sounds sped far. Marianne the cook heard them, rubbed her eyes, and put
+one foot out of bed. The nurse, Louisa, turned over and began to dream
+that she was at a wedding. Perhaps the sun heard too, for he stood up on
+tip-toe on the edge of the horizon, looked about him, then launched a
+long yellow ray directly at the crack in the nursery shutter. The ray
+was sharp: it smote full on Archie's eyelids, as he lay asleep,
+surrounded by "Robinson Crusoe," two red apples, a piece of gingerbread,
+and a spade, all of which he had taken to bed with him. When he felt the
+prick of the sun-ray he opened his eyes wide. "Why, morning's come!" he
+said, and without more ado raised himself and sat up.
+
+"What'll I do to-day?" he thought. "I know. I'll go into the wood and
+build a house, a nice little house, just like Wobinson Cwusoe's, all
+made of sticks, Nobody'll know where my house is; I'll not tell, not
+even Mamma, where it is. Then when I don't want to study or any thing, I
+can run away and hide, and they won't know where to find me. That'll be
+nice! I guess I'll go and begin it now, 'cause the days are getting
+short. Papa said so once. I wonder what makes 'em get short? Pr'aps
+sometime they'll be so short that there won't be any days at all, only
+nights. That wouldn't be pleasant, I think. Mamma'd have to buy lots of
+candles then, or else we couldn't see."
+
+With this he jumped out of bed.
+
+"I must be very quiet," he thought, "else Loo--isa'll hear, and then she
+won't let me go till I've had my bekfast. Loo--isa's real cross
+sometimes; only sometimes she's kind when she makes my kite fly."
+
+His clothes were folded on a chair by the bedside. Archie had never
+dressed himself before, but he managed pretty well, except that he
+turned the small ruffled shirt wrong-side out. The other things went on
+successfully. There were certain buttons which he could not reach, but
+that did not matter. The small stocking toes were folded neatly in, all
+ready to slip on to the feet. But the shoes _were_ a difficulty; they
+fastened with morocco bands and buckles, and Archie couldn't manage them
+at all.
+
+"Oh, dear!" he said to himself, "I wish Loo--isa would come and buckle
+my shoes for me. No, I don't, though, 'cause p'raps she'd say, 'Go back
+to bed, naughty boy; it isn't time to get up.' I wouldn't like that.
+Sometimes Loo--isa does say things to me."
+
+So he put on the shoes without buckling them, and, not stopping to brush
+his hair or wash his face, he clapped on his broad-brimmed straw hat,
+took "Robinson Crusoe" and the spade, dropped the red apples and the
+gingerbread into his pocket, and stole softly downstairs. The little
+feet made no noise as they passed over the thick carpets. Marianne, who
+was lighting the kitchen fire and clattering the tongs, heard nothing.
+He reached the front door, and, stretching up, pulled hard at the bolt.
+It was stiff, and would not move.
+
+"Oh, dear!" sighed Archie, "I wish somebody _would_ come and open this
+door for me."
+
+He looked at the bolt a minute. Then an idea struck him, and, laying
+"Robinson Crusoe" and the little spade down on the floor, he went into
+the dining-room pantry, where was a drawer with tools in it.
+
+"I'll get Papa's hammer," he thought to himself, "and I'll pound that
+old bolt to pieces."
+
+While he was gone, Marianne, who had lighted her fire, came from the
+kitchen with a broom in her hand. She opened the door, shook the mat,
+and began to sweep the steps. A sharp tinkle, tinkle met her ear from
+the back gate. It was the milkman ringing for some one to come and take
+in the milk. Marianne set her broom against the side of the door, and
+hurried back to the kitchen. Her foot struck against "Robinson Crusoe"
+as she went. She picked it up and laid it on the table.
+
+"Why, the door's open!" exclaimed Archie, who at that moment came from
+the dining-room, hammer in hand.
+
+He did not trouble himself to speculate as to how the door happened to
+be open, but, picking up the spade, wandered forth into the garden. The
+gate gave no trouble. He walked fast, and long before Marianne came back
+to her sweeping he had gained the woods, which were near, and enclosed
+the house on two sides in a shady half-circle. They were pretty woods,
+full of flowers and squirrels and winding, puzzling paths. Archie had
+never been allowed to go into them alone before.
+
+The morning was delicious, so full of snap and sunshine that it set him
+to dancing and skipping as he went along. All the wood-flowers were as
+wide awake as he. They nodded at Archie, as if saying "Good-morning,"
+and sent out fresh smells into the air. Busy birds flapped and flew,
+doing their marketing, and fetching breakfast to hungry nestlings,
+chirping and whistling to each other, as they did so, that the sun was
+up and it was a fine day. A pair of striped squirrels frisked and
+laughed and called out something saucy as Archie trotted by. None of
+these wild things feared the child: he was too small and too quick in
+his movements to be fearful. They accepted him as one of themselves,--a
+featherless bird, or a squirrel of larger growth; while he, on his part,
+smiled vaguely at them and hurried past, intent on his projects for a
+house and careless of every thing else.
+
+The sun rose higher and higher. But the thick branching trees kept off
+the heat, and the wood remained shady and cool. The paths twisted in and
+out, and looped into each other like a tangled riband. No grown person
+could have kept a straight course in their mazes. Archie did not even
+try, but turned to right or to left just as it happened, taking always
+the path which looked prettiest, or which led into deepest shade. If he
+saw anywhere a particularly red checkerberry, he went that way;
+otherwise it was all one to him where he went. So it came to pass that,
+by the end of an hour, he was as delightfully and completely lost as
+ever little boy has succeeded in being since woods grew or the world was
+made.
+
+"I dess this is a nice place for my house," he said suddenly, as the
+path he had been following led into a small open space, across which lay
+a fallen tree, with gray moss, which looked like hair, hanging to its
+trunk. It _was_ a nice place; also, Archie's feet were tired, and he was
+growing hungry, which aided in the decision. The ground about the fallen
+tree was carpeted with thick mosses. Some were bright green, with stems
+and little branches like tiny, tiny pine-trees. Others had horn-shaped
+cups of yellow and fiery red. Others still were bright beautiful brown,
+while here and there stood round cushion-shaped masses which looked as
+soft as down.
+
+Into the very middle of one of these pretty green cushions plumped
+Archie. He rested his back against a tree trunk, and gave a sigh of
+comfort. It was like an easy chair, except that it had no arms; but what
+does a little boy want of arms to chairs? He put his hand into his
+pocket and pulled out, first the red apples, and then the gingerbread.
+The gingerbread was rather mashed; but it tasted most delicious, only
+there was too little of it.
+
+"I wish I'd brought a hundred more pieces," soliloquized Archie, as he
+nibbled the last crumb. "One isn't half enough bekfast."
+
+The red apples, however, proved a consolation; and, quite rested and
+refreshed now, he jumped from the moss cushion and prepared to begin his
+house-building.
+
+"First, I must pick up some sticks," he thought,--"a great many, many
+sticks, heaps of 'em. Then I'll hammer and make a house. Only--I
+haven't got any nails," he added with an after-thought.
+
+There were plenty of sticks to be had in that part of the wood; twigs
+and branches from the dead tree, fragments of bark, odds and ends of dry
+brush. Close by stood a white birch. The thin, paper-like covering hung
+loose on its stem, like grey-white curls. Archie could pull off large
+pieces, and he enjoyed this so much that he pulled till the birch trunk,
+as far up as he could reach, was perfectly bare. Some of the boughs were
+crooked. Archie tried to lay them straight with the others, but they
+wouldn't fit in nicely, and stuck their stiff angles out in all
+directions.
+
+"Those are naughty sticks," said Archie, giving the crookedest a shove.
+"They shan't go into my house at all."
+
+The want of nails became serious as the heap of wood grew large and
+Archie was ready to build. What was the use of a hammer without nails?
+He tried various ways. At last he laid the longest boughs in a row
+against the side of the fallen tree. This left a little place beneath
+their slope into which it was possible to creep. Archie smiled with
+satisfaction, and proceeded to thatch the sloping roof with moss and
+bits of bark. Then he grubbed up the green cushion and transferred it
+bodily to his house.
+
+"This'll be my chair," he said to himself. "I dess I don't want any more
+furnture except just a chair. Loo--isa, she said, 'so many things to
+dust is a bodder.'"
+
+At that moment came a rustling sound in the underbrush. "P'raps it's
+savages," thought Archie, and, half pleased, half frightened at the
+idea, he gave a loud whoop. Out flew a fat motherly hen, cackling and
+screaming. What she was doing there in the woods I cannot imagine.
+Perhaps she had lost her way. Perhaps she had private business there
+which only hens can understand. Or it may be that she, too, had built a
+little house and hidden it away so that no one should know where it
+was.
+
+Archie was enchanted. "A hen, a hen," he cried. "I'll catch her and keep
+her for my own. Then I'll have eggs, and I'll give 'em to Mamma, and
+I'll make custards. Custards _is_ made of eggs. Loo--isa said so."
+
+"Chicky, chicky, chicky," he warbled in a winning voice, waving his
+fingers as if he were sprinkling corn on the ground for the hen to eat.
+But the hen was not to be enticed in that manner, and, screaming louder
+than ever, ran into the bushes again. Then Archie began to run too.
+Twice he almost seized her brown wings, but she slipped through his
+hands. Had the hen been silent she would easily have escaped him, but
+she cackled as she flew, and that guided him along. His shoe came off,
+next the hammer flew out of his hand, but he did not stop for either.
+Running, plunging, diving, on he went, the frightened hen just before,
+till at last a root tripped him up and he fell forward on his face. The
+hen vanished into the thicket. Her voice died away in distance. By the
+time Archie had picked himself up there was not even the rustling of a
+leaf to show which way she had gone.
+
+He rose from the ground disconsolate. His nose bled from the fall, and
+there was a bump on his forehead, which ached painfully. A strong desire
+to cry came over him. But, like a brave fellow, he would not give way to
+it, and sat down under a tree to rest and decide what was to be done
+next.
+
+"I'll go back again to my house," was his decision. But where _was_ the
+house? He ran this way, that way; the paths all looked alike. The house
+had vanished like the hen. Archie had not the least idea which way he
+ought to turn to find it.
+
+One big tear did force its way to his eyes when this fact became
+evident. House and hen, it was hard to lose both at once. The hammer,
+too, was gone. Only the spade remained, and, armed with this, Archie,
+like a true hero, started to find a good place and build another house.
+Surely nowhere, save in the histories of the great Boston and Chicago
+fires, is record to be found of parallel pluck and determination!
+
+House-building was not half so easy in this part of the wood where he
+then was, for the bushes were thick and stood closely together. Their
+branches hung so low, that, small as Archie was, he had to bend forward
+and walk almost double to avoid having his eyes scratched by them. At
+last, in the middle of a circle of junipers, he found a tolerably free
+space which he thought would do. The ground, however, was set thick with
+sharp uncomfortable stones, and the first thing needed was to get rid of
+them.
+
+So for an hour, with fingers and spade, Archie dug and delved among the
+stones. It was hard work enough, but at last he cleared a place somewhat
+larger than his small body, which he carpeted with soft mosses brought
+from another part of the wood. This done, he lay down flat on his back,
+and looked dreamily up at the pretty green roof made by the juniper
+boughs overhead. "I dess I'll take a nappy now," he murmured, and in
+five minutes was sleeping as soundly as a dormouse. Two striped
+squirrels, which may or may not have been the same which he had seen in
+the early morning, came out on a bough not a yard from his head,
+chattered, winked, put their paws to their noses and made disrespectful
+remarks to each other about the motionless figure. Birds flew and sang,
+bees hummed, the wind went to and fro in the branches like the notes of
+a low song. But Archie heard none of these things. The hen herself might
+have come back, cackled her best, and flapped her wings in his very face
+without arousing him, so deep was his slumber.
+
+Meantime at home, two miles away, there was great commotion over the
+disappearance of Master Archie. Marianne had lingered quite a long time
+at the back gate. The milkman was a widower, looking out for a wife,
+and Marianne, as she said, could skim cream with anybody; so it was
+only natural that they should have a great deal to say to each other,
+and that measuring the milk at that particular gate should be a slow
+business. This morning their talk was so interesting that twenty minutes
+at least went by before Marianne, with very rosy cheeks and very bright
+eyes, came back, pail in hand, along the garden walk. As she took up the
+broom to finish her sweeping, she heard a great commotion overhead,
+steps running about, voices exclaiming; but her mind was full of the
+milkman, and she paid no attention, till Louisa came flying downstairs,
+half-dressed, and crying,--
+
+"Sake's alive, Marianne, where's Master Archie?"
+
+"How should I know? Not down here, anyway," was Marianne's reply.
+
+"But he _must_ be down here," persisted Louisa. "He's gone out of the
+nursery, and so are his clothes. Whatever's taken him I can't imagine.
+I've searched the closets, and looked under the beds, and up in the
+attic, and I took Mr. Gray his hot water, and he isn't there. His
+spade's gone too, and his ap-- Oh, mercy! there's his story-book now,"
+and she pounced on "Robinson Crusoe," where it lay on the table. "He's
+been down here certain sure, for that book was on his bed when he went
+to sleep last night. Don't stand there, Marianne, but come and help me
+find him."
+
+Into the parlor, the dining-room, the pantry, ran the maids, calling
+"Archie! Archie!" at the tops of their voices. But Archie, who as we
+know was a good mile away by that time, did not hear them. They searched
+the kitchen, the cellar, the wood-shed, the store-closet. Marianne even
+lifted the lid of the great copper boiler and peeped in to make sure
+that he was not there! Louisa ran wildly about the garden, looking
+behind currant bushes and raspberry vines, and parting the tall feathers
+of the asparagus lest Archie should have chosen to hide among them. She
+tapped the great green watermelons with her fingers as she
+passed,--perhaps she fancied that Archie might be stowed away inside of
+one. All was in vain. Archie was not behind the currant bushes, not even
+in the melon patch. Louisa began to sob and cry, Marianne, never
+backward, joined her with a true Irish howl; and it was in this
+condition that Archie's Papa found things when he came downstairs to
+breakfast.
+
+Then ensued a fresh confusion.
+
+"Where did you say the book was lying, Louisa?" said Mr. Gray, trying to
+make out the meaning of her sobbing explanation.
+
+"Just here, sir, on the hall table. Oh, the darling child, whatever has
+come to him?"
+
+"Oh, wurra! wurra!" chimed in Marianne. "He been and got took away by
+wicked people, perhaps. Well niver get him back, niver!"
+
+"The hall table? Then he must have passed out this way. Surely you must
+have seen him or heard him open the door, Marianne?"
+
+"Is it I see him, sir? I'd niver forget it if I had. Oh, the pretty face
+of him! Wurra! wurra!"
+
+"But, now I think of it, the child couldn't have opened the door for
+himself," went on Papa, growing impatient. "Did you leave it standing
+open at all, Marianne?"
+
+"Only for a wee moment while I fetched in the milk," faltered Marianne,
+growing rosy-red as she reflected on the length of the "moment" which
+she had passed at the gate with the milkman.
+
+"That must have been the time, then," said Mr. Gray. "Probably the
+little fellow has set off by himself for a walk. I'll go after and look
+for him. Don't frighten Mrs. Gray when she comes down, Louisa, but just
+say that Archie and I are both gone out. Try to look as you usually do."
+
+This, however, was beyond Louisa's powers. Her eyes were as red as a
+ferret's, and her cheeks the color of purple cherries from crying and
+excitement of mind. Mrs. Gray saw at once that something was wrong. She
+began to question, Louisa to cry, and the secret came out in a burst of
+sobs and tears. "Master Archie--bless his little heart!--has got out of
+bed and ran away into the woods. The master was gone after him, but he'd
+niver find him at all at all"--(this was Marianne's addition). "The
+tramps had him fast by this time, no doubt. They'd niver let him go."
+
+"How could he get away all by himself?" asked poor frightened Mrs. Gray.
+
+"Ah, who knows? Like as not the thaves came into the room and lifted him
+out of his very bed. They're iverywhere, thim tramps! There's no
+providing against thim. Oh, howly St. Patrick! who'd have thought it?"
+
+This happy idea of tramps having lodged itself in Marianne's mind, the
+story grew rapidly. The butcher was informed of it when he came, the
+fishmonger, and the grocer's boy. By noon all the village had heard the
+tale, and farmers' wives for ten miles round were shuddering over these
+horrible facts, that three men in black masks, with knives as long as
+your arm, had broken into Mr. Gray's house at midnight, gagged the
+family, stowed the silver and money in pillow-cases, token the little
+boy from his bed,--that pretty little boy with curly hair, you know, my
+dear,--and, paying no attention to his screams and cries, had carried
+him off nobody knew where. Poor Mrs. Gray was half dead with grief, of
+course, and Mr. Gray had gone in pursuit; but law! my dear, he'll never
+catch 'em, and if he did, what could he do against three men?
+
+"He'd a ought to have taken the constable with him," said old Mrs.
+Fidgit, "then perhaps he'd have got him back. I guess the thieves won't
+keep the boy long though, he's too troublesome! His ma sent him over
+once on an errand, and I'd as lieve have a wild-cat in the house any
+day. Mark my word, they'll let him drop pretty soon!"
+
+As the day went on, Louisa began to disbelieve this theory about
+robbers. It was Marianne's theory for one thing; for another, she
+recollected that Archie must have taken his apples and gingerbread with
+him, and his spade. "Is it likely that thieves would stop to pack up
+things like that?" she asked Marianne, who was highly indignant at the
+question. The afternoon came, still Mr. Gray had not returned, and there
+were no tidings of Archie. Mrs. Gray, half ill with anxiety and
+headache, went to her room to lie down. Marianne was describing the
+exact appearance of the imaginary robbers to a crony, who stood outside
+the kitchen window. "Six foot high, ivery bit, and a face as black as
+chimney sut," Louisa heard her say. "Pshaw," she called out; but sitting
+still became unbearable; and the motion of her needle in and out of the
+work made her feel half crazy. She flung down the work,--it was a jacket
+for Archie,--and, tying on her bonnet, set off by herself in the
+direction of the woods. Where she was going she did not
+know,--somewhere, anywhere, to search for her lost boy!
+
+The blind wood paths puzzled Louisa more than they had puzzled Archie in
+the morning; for she wanted to keep her way, which he did not. She lost
+it, however, continually. Her eyes were scratched by boughs and
+brambles, the tree roots tripped her up, her dress caught in a briar and
+was torn. "Archie! Archie!" she cried, as she went along. Her voice came
+back from the forest in strange echoing tones which made her start. At
+last, after winding and turning for a long time, she found herself again
+upon the main path, not far from the place where she had entered the
+wood. She was hot, tired, and breathless; her voice was hoarse with
+crying and calling. "I'll wait here awhile," she thought. "Perhaps the
+blessed little dear'll come this way; but, whether he does or not, I'm
+too tired to move another step till I've had some rest." She found a
+smooth place under an oak, sat down, and leaned her back against the
+stem.
+
+"Cheep, cheep, chickeree," sang one bird to another. "What a stupid girl
+that is! I could tell her which way to go. Why, there's the mark of his
+big foot on the moss close by. Why doesn't she see it and follow? Cheep,
+cheep."
+
+"Cluck, cluck, whirr, whillahu," sang the other bird. "Human beings are
+_too_ stupid."
+
+Poor stupid Louisa, her eyes blurred with tears, did not heed the birds'
+songs or understand those plain directions for finding Archie which they
+were so ready to give. The tree trunk felt comfortable against her back.
+The air came cool and spicy from the wood depths to steal the smart from
+her hot face. The rustle of the leaves was pleasant in her ear. So the
+faithful maid waited.
+
+Mr. Gray meantime had tracked Archie for a little way by the traces of
+his small feet on the dewy grass. Then the marks became too confused to
+help him longer; he lost the track, and, after a long and weary walk,
+found himself on the far side of the wood, near a little village. There
+he hired a wagon, and drove home; resolving to rouse the neighbors, and
+give the wood a thorough search, even should it keep them out all night.
+
+While he was bargaining for his wagon in the distant village, Archie, in
+the midst of his nest of moss, was waking up. He had slept three hours,
+and so soundly that, at first arousing, he could not in the least
+remember where he was. He rubbed his eyes, and stared about him
+wonderingly. "Why, I'm out in the woods!" he said in a surprised voice.
+Gradually he recollected how he had built the house, chased a hen, and
+lost his hammer. This last accident troubled him a little. "Papa said I
+mustn't touch that big hammer ever," he thought to himself, "'cause I'd
+be sure to spoil it. But I'll tell him it isn't spoiled, and he can pick
+it up and put it back into the drawer; then he won't mind."
+
+One of the striped squirrels came down from a bough overhead, and
+stopped just in front of the place where Archie sat. Archie looked at
+him; he looked at Archie. The squirrel put its paws together and rubbed
+its nose. It chippered a minute, twinkled its bead-like eyes, then, with
+a final flick of its tail, it was off, and up the tree again like a
+flash. Archie looked after it delighted.
+
+"What a pretty bunny!" he said out loud.
+
+"Now I'll go home," was his next remark, getting suddenly up from the
+ground.
+
+The cause of this resolution was a little gnawing sensation which had
+begun within him and was getting stronger every moment. In other words,
+he was hungry. Gingerbread and apples do not satisfy little boys as
+roast beef does. Archie's stomach was quite empty, and began to cry with
+an unmistakable voice, "I want my dinner, I want my dinner. Give me my
+dinner quick, or I shall do something desperate." Everybody in the world
+has to listen when voices like these begin to sound inside of them. All
+at once home seemed the most attractive spot in the world to Archie.
+Visions of Mamma and bread and milk and a great plate full of something
+hot arose before his eyes, and an immense longing for these delights
+took possession of him. So he shouldered his spade and set forth, not
+having the least notion--poor little soul!--as to which side home lay,
+but believing, with the confidence of childhood, that now he wanted to
+go that way, the way was sure to be easily found. Refreshed by his long
+sleep, he marched sturdily on, taking any path which struck his eye
+first.
+
+There is a pretty picture--I wonder if any of you have ever seen it?--in
+which a little child is seen walking across a narrow plank which bridges
+a deep chasm, while behind flies a tall, beautiful angel, with a hand on
+either side the child, guiding it along. The child does not see the
+angel, and walks fearlessly; but the heavenly hands are there, and the
+little one is safe. It may be that just such a good angel flew behind
+our little Archie that afternoon to guide him through the mazes of the
+wood. Certain it is that, without knowing it, he turned, or something
+turned him, in the direction of home. It was far for such small feet to
+go, and he made the distance farther by straying, now to left and now to
+right; but, after each of these strayings, the unseen hands brought him
+back again to the right path and led him on. He did not stop to play
+now, for the hungry voices grew louder each minute, and he was in a
+hurry to get home. Speculations as to whether dinner would be all eaten
+up crossed his mind. "But I dess not," he said confidently, "'cause it
+isn't very long since morning." It was really four in the afternoon, but
+Archie's long nap had cheated the time, and he had no idea that it was
+so late.
+
+The path grew wider, and was hedged with barberries and wild roses. The
+lovely pink of the roses pleased Archie's eye. He stopped and tugged at
+a great branch till it broke, then he laid it across his shoulder to
+carry to Mamma. Suddenly, as he tramped along, a gasp and exclamation
+was heard, and a tall figure rose up from under a tree and caught him in
+its arms. It was Louisa, who had fallen half asleep at her post, and had
+been roused by the sound of the well-known little feet as they went by.
+
+"Master Archie, dear," she cried, sobbing, "how could you run away and
+scare us so?"
+
+"Why, it's Loo--isa," said Archie wonderingly. "Did you come out here to
+build a house too, Loo--isa?"
+
+"Where _have_ you been?" clamored Louisa, holding him tight in her arms.
+
+"Oh, out there," explained Archie, waving his hand toward the woods
+generally.
+
+"How could you slip away and frighten Nursey so, and poor Mamma and
+Papa? Papa's been all the day hunting you. And where are you going now?"
+
+"Home! Stop a squeezing of me, Loo--isa. I don't like to be squeezed.
+Has the dinner-bell runged yet? I want my dinner."
+
+"Dinner! Why it's most evening, Master Archie. And nobody could eat,
+because we was so frightened at your being lost."
+
+"I wasn't lost!" cried Archie indignantly. "I was building a house. Come
+along, Loo--isa, I'll show you the way."
+
+So Archie took Louisa's hand and led her along. Neither of them knew the
+path, but they were in the right direction, and by and by the trees grew
+thinner, and they could see where they were, on the edge of Mr.
+Plimpton's garden, not far from home.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Gray were consulting together on the piazza, when the click
+of the gate made them look up, and behold! the joyful Louisa, displaying
+Archie, who walked by her side.
+
+"Here he is, ma'am," she cried. "I found him way off in the wood. He'd
+run away."
+
+"I didn't," said Archie, squirming out of his mother's arms. "I was
+building houses. And you didn't find me a bit, Loo--isa. I found you,
+and I showed you the way home!"
+
+"Never mind who found who, so long as we have our little runaway back,"
+said Mr. Gray, stooping to kiss Archie. "Another time we must have a
+talk about boys who go to build houses without leave from their Mamma's
+and Papa's, and make everybody anxious. Meantime, I fancy somebody I
+know about is half-starved. Tell Marianne to send some dinner in at
+once, Louisa."
+
+"Yes, sir, I will." And Louisa hastened off to triumph over her friend
+Marianne.
+
+"Archie, darling, how could you go away and frighten us so?" asked Mrs.
+Gray, taking him in her lap.
+
+"Why, Mamma, were you frightened?" replied Archie wonderingly. "I was
+building a house. It's a _beau_-tiful house. I'll let you come and sit
+in it if you want to. And I've got a hen, and I'll give you all the eggs
+she lays, to cook, you know. Only the hen's runned away, and I couldn't
+find my house any more, and the hammer tumbled down, and I lost my
+shoe. I know where the hammer is, I dess, and to-morrow I'll go back and
+get it."--Here the expression of Archie's face changed. Louisa had
+appeared at the door with a plate of something which smelt excessively
+nice, and sent a little curl of steam into the air. She beckoned. He
+jumped down from Mamma's lap, ran to the door, and both disappeared.
+Nothing more was heard of him except his feet on the stairs, and by and
+by the sound of Louisa's rocking-chair, as she sat beside his bed
+singing Archie to sleep. Mamma and Papa went in together a little later
+and stood over their boy.
+
+"Oh, the comfort of seeing him safe in his little bed to-night!" said
+Mrs. Gray.
+
+Roused by her voice, Archie stirred. "I _dess_ I know where the hammer
+is," he said drowsily. Then his half-opened eyes closed, and he was
+sound asleep.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+RIDE A COCK-HORSE.
+
+
+IT was a drizzly day in the old market-town of Banbury. The clouds hung
+low: all the world was wrapped in sulky mist. When the sun tried to
+shine out, as once or twice he did, his face looked like a dull yellow
+spot against the sky, and the clouds hurried up at once and extinguished
+him. Children tapped on window panes, repeating--
+
+          "Rain, rain, go away,
+           Come again some other day."
+
+But the rain would not take the hint, and after awhile the sun gave up
+his attempts, hid his head, and went away disgusted, to shine somewhere
+else.
+
+"It's too bad, it's _too_ bad!" cried Alice Flower, the Mayor's little
+daughter, looking as much out of sorts as the weather itself.
+
+"You mustn't say too bad. It is God who makes it rain or shine, and He
+is always right," remarked her Aunt.
+
+"Yes--I know," replied Alice in a timid voice. "But, Aunty, I did want
+to go to the picnic very much."
+
+"So did I. We are both disappointed," said Aunty, smiling.
+
+"But I'm the _most_ disappointed," persisted Alice, "because you're
+grown up, you know, and I haven't any thing pleasant to do. All my
+doll's spring clothes are made, and I've read my story-books till I'm
+tired of 'em, and I learned my lessons for to-morrow with Miss Boyd
+yesterday, because we were going to the picnic. Oh, dear, what a long
+morning this has been! It feels like a week."
+
+Just then, Toot! toot! toot! sounded from the street below. Alice
+hurried back to the window. She pressed her nose close to the glass, but
+at first could see nothing; then, as the sound grew nearer, a man on
+horseback rode into view. He was gorgeously dressed in black velveteen,
+with orange sleeves and an orange lining to his cloak. He carried a
+brass trumpet, which every now and then he lifted to his lips, blowing a
+long blast. This was the sound which Alice had heard.
+
+Following the man came a magnificent scarlet chariot, drawn by ten black
+horses with scarlet trappings and scarlet feathers in their heads. Each
+horse was ridden by a little page in a costume of emerald green. The
+chariot was full of musicians in red uniforms. They held umbrellas over
+their instruments, and looked sulky because of the rain, which was no
+wonder. Still, the effect of the whole was gay and dazzling. Behind the
+chariot came a long procession of horses, black, gray, sorrel, chestnut,
+or marked in odd patches of brown and white. These horses were ridden by
+ladies in wonderful blue and silver and pink and gold habits, and by
+knights in armor, all of whom carried umbrellas also. Pages walked
+beside the horses, waving banners and shields with "Visit Currie's
+World-Renowned Circus" painted on them. A droll little clown, mounted on
+an enormous bay horse, made fun of the pages, imitated their gestures,
+and rapped them on the back with his riding-stick in a droll way. A long
+line of blue and red wagons closed the cavalcade.
+
+But prettiest of all was a little girl about ten years old, who rode in
+the middle of the procession upon a lovely horse as white as milk. The
+horse had not a single spot of dark color about him, and his trappings
+of pale blue were so slight that they seemed like ribbons hung on his
+graceful limbs. The little girl had hair of bright, pale yellow, which
+fell to her waist in loose shining waves. She was small and slender, but
+her color was like roses, and her blue eyes and sweet pink mouth smiled
+every moment as she bent and swayed to the motion of the horse, which
+she managed beautifully, though her bits of hands seemed almost too
+small to grasp the reins. Her riding-dress of blue was belted and
+buttoned with silver; a tiny blue cap with long blue plumes was on her
+head; and altogether she seemed to Alice like a fairy princess, or one
+of those girls in story-books who turn out to be kings' daughters or
+something else remarkable.
+
+"O Aunty! come here do come," cried Alice.
+
+Just then the procession halted directly beneath the window. The
+trumpeter took off his hat and made a low bow to Alice and her Aunt.
+Then he blew a final blast, rose in his stirrups and began to speak.
+Miss Flower opened the window that they might hear more distinctly. This
+seemed to bring the pretty little girl on the horse nearer. She looked
+up at Alice and smiled, and Alice smiled back at her.
+
+This is what the trumpeter said:--
+
+"Ladies and gentlemen,--I have the honor to announce to you the arrival
+in Banbury of Signor James Currie's World-Renowned Circus and Grand
+Unrivalled Troupe of Equestrian Performers, whose feats of equitation
+and horsemanship have given unfeigned delight to all the courts of
+Europe, her Majesty the Queen, and the nobility and gentry of this and
+other countries. Among the principal attractions of this unrivalled
+troupe are Mr. Vernon Twomley, with his famous trained steed Bucephalus;
+Madame Orley, with her horse Chimborazo, who lacks only the gift of
+speech to take a first class at the University of Oxford; M. Aristide,
+the admired trapezeist; Goo-Goo, the unparalleled and side-splitting
+clown; and last, but not least, Mademoiselle Mignon, the child
+equestrienne, whose feats of agility are the wonder of the age! On
+account of Mr. Currie's unprecedented press of engagements, his
+appearance in Banbury is limited to a single performance, which will
+take place this evening under the Company's magnificent tent, in the
+Market Place, behind the old cross. Come one, come all! Performances to
+begin at eight precisely. Admission, one-and-sixpence. Children under
+ten years of age, half price. God save the Queen."
+
+Having finished this oration, the trumpeter bowed once more to the
+window, blew another blast, and rode on, followed by all the procession;
+the little girl on the white horse giving Alice a second smile as she
+moved away. For awhile the toot, toot, toot of the trumpet could be
+heard from down the street. Then the sounds grew fainter. At last they
+died in distance, and all was quiet as it had been before.
+
+Alice was sorry to have them go. But the interruption had done her good
+by taking her thoughts away from the rain and the lost picnic. She could
+think and talk of nothing now except the gay riders, and especially the
+pretty little girl on the white horse.
+
+"Wasn't she sweet?" she asked her Aunt. "And didn't she ride
+_beau_tifully. I wish I could ride like that. And what a pretty name,
+Mademoiselle Mignon! It must be very nice to belong to a circus, I
+think."
+
+"I'm afraid that Mademoiselle Mignon does not always find it so nice,"
+remarked Miss Flower.
+
+"O Aunty, what makes you say so? She looks as if she were perfectly
+happy! Didn't you see her laugh when the clown stole the other man's cap
+from his head? And such a dear horse as she was riding! I never saw such
+a dear horse in all my life. I wish I had one just like him."
+
+"It _was_ a beauty. So perfectly white."
+
+"Wasn't it! O Aunty, don't you wish Papa would take you and me to the
+performance? There will only be one, you know, because Mr. Currie has
+such un--un--unpresidential engagements. I mean to ask Papa if he won't.
+There he is now! I hear his key in the door. May I run down and ask him,
+Aunty?"
+
+"Yes, indeed--"
+
+Downstairs ran Alice.
+
+"O Papa!" she cried, "_did_ you meet the Circus? It was the most
+wonderful Circus, Papa. Just like a story-book. And such a dear little
+girl on a white horse! Won't you please take me to see it, Papa--and
+Aunty too? We both want to go very much. It's only here for one night,
+the man said."
+
+"We'll see," said the Mayor, taking off his coat. Alice danced with
+pleasure when she heard this "we'll see," for with Papa "we'll see"
+meant almost always the same thing as "yes." Alice was an only child,
+and a petted one, and Papa rarely refused any request on which his
+motherless little girl had set her heart.
+
+She skipped upstairs beside him, full of satisfaction, and had just
+settled herself on his knee for the half hour of frolic and talk which
+was her daily delight and his, when a knock came to the door below, and
+Phebe the maid appeared.
+
+"Two persons to see you, sir."
+
+"Show them in here," said the Mayor. Alice lingered and was rewarded,
+for the "persons" were no other than Signor Currie himself and his
+ring-master. Alice recognized them at once. Both were gorgeously dressed
+in black and orange and velvet-slashed sleeves, and came in holding
+their plumed hats in their hands. The object of the call was to solicit
+the honor of the Mayor's patronage for the evening's entertainment. How
+pleased Alice was when Papa engaged a box and paid for it!
+
+"I shall bring my little daughter here," he told Signor Currie. "She is
+much taken by a child whom she saw to-day among your performers."
+
+"Mademoiselle Mignon, no doubt," replied the Signor solemnly. "She is,
+indeed, a prodigy of talent,--one of the wonders of the age, I assure
+your worship!"
+
+"Well," said his worship, smiling, "we shall see to-night. Good-day to
+you."
+
+"O Papa, that is delightful!" cried Alice, the moment the men were gone.
+"How I wish it were evening already! I can scarcely wait."
+
+Evenings come at last, even when waited for. Alice had not time, after
+all, to get _very_ impatient before the carriage was at the door, and
+she and Papa and Aunty were in it, rolling away toward the market-place.
+Crowds of people were going in the same direction. Half the Papas and
+Mammas in Banbury had taken their boys and girls to see the show. There,
+behind the market cross, rose the great tent, a flapping red flag on
+top. Bright lights streamed from within. How exciting it was! The tent
+was so big inside that there was plenty of room for all the people who
+wished to come, and more. Ranges of benches ran up till they met the
+canvas roof. Below were the boxes, hung with red and white cloth and
+banners. Dazzling lights were everywhere, the band was playing, from
+behind the green curtain came sounds of voices and horses whinnying to
+each other. Alice had never been to a circus before. It seemed to her
+the most beautiful and bewildering place which she had ever imagined.
+
+By and by the performance began. How the Banbury children did enjoy it!
+The clown's little jokes had done duty in hundreds of places before.
+Some of them had even appeared in the almanac! But in Banbury they were
+all new, and so funny that everybody laughed till their sides ached. And
+the wonderful horses! Madame Orley's educated steed, which picked out
+letters from a card alphabet and spelled words with them, went through
+the military drill with the precision of a trooper, and waltzed about
+the arena with his mistress on his back!--well, he was not a horse; he
+was a wizard steed, like the one described in the "Arabian Nights
+Tales." Alice almost thought she detected the little peg behind his ear!
+
+She shuddered over the feats of the sky-blue trapezeist, who seemed to
+do every thing but fly. The knights in imitation armor were real knights
+to Alice; the pink and gold ladies were veritable damsels of romance,
+undergoing adventures. But, delightful as all this was, she was
+conscious that the best remained behind, and eagerly watched the door of
+entrance, in hopes of the appearance of the white steed and the little
+rider who had so fascinated her imagination in the morning. Papa noticed
+it, and laughed at her; but, for all that, she watched.
+
+At last they came, and Alice was satisfied. Mignon looked prettier and
+daintier than ever in her light fantastic robe of white and spangles,
+with silver bracelets on her wrists and little anklets hung with bells
+about her slender ankles. Round and round and round galloped the white
+horse, the fairy figure on his back now standing, now lying, now on her
+knees, now poised on one small foot, or, again, dancing to the music on
+top of the broad saddle, keeping exact time, every movement graceful and
+light as that of a happy elf. Hoops, wreathed with roses and covered
+with silver paper, were raised across her path. She bounded through them
+easily, smiling as she sprang. The white horse seemed to love her, and
+to obey her every gesture; and Mignon evidently loved the horse, for
+more than once in the pauses Alice saw her pat and caress the pretty
+creature. At length the final bound was taken, the last rose-wreathed
+hoop was carried away, Mignon kissed her hand to the audience and
+disappeared at full gallop, the curtain fell, and the ring-master
+announced that Part First was ended, and that there would be an
+intermission of fifteen minutes.
+
+By this time Alice was in a state of tumultuous admiration which knew no
+bounds.
+
+"Oh, if I could only speak to her and kiss her, just once!" she cried.
+"Isn't she the darlingest little thing you ever saw? I wish I could.
+Don't you think they'd let me, Papa?"
+
+"Would there be any harm in it, do you think?" asked the Mayor of his
+sister. "She's a pretty, innocent-looking little creature."
+
+"I don't quite like having Alice associate with such people," objected
+Miss Flower. Then, softened by the wistful eagerness of Alice's face,
+she added, "Still, in this case, the child is so young that I really
+think there would be no harm, except that the manager might object to
+having the little girl disturbed between the acts."
+
+"I'll inquire," said Papa.
+
+The manager was most obliging. Managers generally are, I fancy, when
+Mayors express wishes. "Mademoiselle Mignon," he said, "would be very
+pleased and proud to receive Miss Flower, if she would take the trouble
+to come behind the scenes." So Alice, trembling with excitement, went
+with Papa behind the big green curtain. She had fancied it a sort of
+fairy world; but instead she found a great bare, disorderly place.
+Sawdust was scattered on the ground; huge boxes were standing about,
+some empty, some half unpacked. From farther away came sounds of loud
+voices talking and disputing, and the stamping of horses' feet. It was
+neither a pretty or a pleasant place; and Alice, feeling shy and half
+frightened, held Papa's hand tight, and squeezed it very hard as they
+waited.
+
+Pretty soon the manager came to them with Mignon beside him. She looked
+smaller and more childish than she had done on horseback. A little plaid
+shawl was pinned over her gauzy dress to keep her warm. Alice lost her
+fears at once. She realized that here was no fairy princess, but a
+little girl like herself. Mignon's face was no less sweet when seen so
+near. Her cheeks were the loveliest pink imaginable. Her blue eyes
+looked up frankly and trustfully. When the Mayor spoke to her she
+blushed and made a pretty courtesy, clasping Alice's hand very tight in
+hers, but saying nothing.
+
+"The performances will recommence in ten minutes," said Signor Currie,
+consulting his watch. Then he and the Mayor moved a little aside and
+began talking together, leaving the little girls to make acquaintance.
+
+"I saw you this morning," said Alice.
+
+Mignon nodded and smiled.
+
+"Oh, did you see me? I thought you did, but I wasn't sure, because we
+were up so high. Aunty and I thought the procession was beautiful. But I
+liked your horse best of all. Is he gentle?"
+
+"Pluto? oh, he's very gentle," replied Mignon. "Only now and then he
+gets a little wild when the people hurrah and clap very loud. But he
+always knows me."
+
+"How beautifully you do ride," went on Alice. "It looks just like flying
+when you jump through the hoops. I wish I knew how. Is it very hard to
+do?"
+
+"No--except when I get tired. Then I don't do it well. But as long as
+the music plays I don't feel tired. Sometimes before I come out I am
+frightened, and think I can't do it at all, but then I hear the band
+begin, and I know I can. Oh! don't you love music?"
+
+"Y--es," said Alice wonderingly, for Mignon's eyes sparkled and her face
+flushed as she asked this question. "I like music when it's pretty."
+
+"I love it so _so_ much," went on Mignon confidentially. "It's like
+flowers--and colors--all sorts of things--sunsets too. Our band plays
+beautifully, don't you think so? It makes me feel as if I could do any
+thing in the world, fly or dance on the air,--any thing! It's quite
+different when they stop. Then I don't want to jump or spring, but just
+to sit still. If they would keep on playing always, I don't believe I
+should ever get tired."
+
+"How funny!" said the practical Alice. "I never feel that way at all.
+Aunty says I haven't got a bit of ear for music. Did you see Aunty at
+the window this morning when you looked up?"
+
+"Was that your Aunty? I thought it was your Mamma."
+
+"No; I haven't got any Mamma. She died when I was a little baby. I don't
+remember her a bit."
+
+"Neither do I mine," said Mignon wistfully. "Mr. Currie says he guesses
+I never had any. Do you think I could? Little girls always have Mammas,
+don't they?"
+
+"But haven't you an Aunty or any thing?" cried Alice.
+
+Mignon shook her head.
+
+"No," she said. "No Aunty."
+
+"Why! Who takes care of you?"
+
+"Oh, they all take care of me," replied Mignon smiling. "Madame
+Orley,--that's Mrs. Currie, you know,--she's very kind. She curls my
+hair and fastens my frock in the morning, and she always dresses me for
+the performance herself. Mr. Currie,--he's kind too. He gave me these
+anklets and my silver bracelets and two rings--see--one with a blue
+stone and one with a red stone. Aren't they pretty? Goo-Goo is nice too.
+He taught me to write last year. And old Jerry,--that's the head groom,
+you know,--he's the kindest of all. He says I'm like his little
+granddaughter that died, and wherever we go he almost always buys me a
+present. Look what he gave me this morning," putting her hand into the
+bosom of her frock and pulling out an ivory needle-case. "I keep it here
+for fear it'll get lost. There's always such a confusion when we only
+stop one night in a place."
+
+"Isn't it pretty," said Alice admiringly. "I'm glad Jerry gave it to
+you. But I wish you had an Aunty, because mine is so nice."
+
+"Or a Mamma," said Mignon thoughtfully. "If I only had a Mamma of my
+own, and music which would play _all the time_ and never stop, I should
+be just happy. I wouldn't mind the Enchanted Steed then,--or any
+thing."
+
+"What's the Enchanted Steed?" asked Alice.
+
+"Oh,--one of the things I do. It's harder than the rest, so I don't like
+it quite so well. You'll see--it's the grand _finale_ to-night."
+
+A sharp little bell tinkled.
+
+"That's to ring up the curtain," said Mignon. "I must go. Thank you so
+much for coming to see me."
+
+"Oh, wait one minute!" cried Alice, diving into her pocket. "Yes, I
+thought so. Here's my silver thimble. Won't you take it for a keepsake,
+dear, to go with your needle-book, you know? And don't forget me,
+because I never, never shall forget you. My name's Alice,--Alice
+Flower."
+
+"How pretty!" cried Mignon, looking admiringly at the thimble. "How kind
+you are! Good-by."
+
+"Kiss your hand to me from the back of the horse, won't you, please?"
+said Alice. "That will be splendid! Good-by, dear, good-by."
+
+The two children kissed each other; then Mignon ran away, tucking the
+thimble into her bosom as she went.
+
+"O Aunty! you never saw such a darling little thing as she is!" cried
+Alice, when they had got back to the box. "So sweet, and so pretty,
+prettier than any of the little girls we know, Aunty. I'm sure you'd
+think so if you saw her near. She hasn't any Mamma either, and no Aunty
+or any thing. She wishes so much she had. But she says all the circus
+people are real kind to her. You can't think how much she loves music.
+If the band would play all the time, she could fly, she says, or do any
+thing else that was hard. It was so queer to hear her talk about it. I
+never saw any little girl that I liked so much. I wish she was my
+sister, my own true sister; really I do, Aunty."
+
+"Why, Alice, I never knew you so excited about anybody before," remarked
+Miss Flower.
+
+"O Aunty! she isn't _anybody_; she's quite different from common people.
+How I wish she'd hurry and come out again. She promised to kiss her
+hand to me from the horse's back, Papa. Won't that be splendid?"
+
+The whole performance was more interesting to Alice since her
+conversation with Mignon. Madame Orley and her trained steed were quite
+new and different now that she knew that Madame Orley's real name was
+Currie, and that she curled Mignon's hair every morning. Goo-Goo seemed
+like an intimate friend, because of the writing-lessons. Alice was even
+sure that she could make out old Jerry of the needle-book among the
+attendants. Round and round and round sped the horses. Goo-Goo cracked
+his whip. The trapezeist swung high in air like a glittering blue spider
+suspended by silver threads. Mr. Vernon Twomley's Bucephalus did every
+thing but talk. Somebody else on another horse played the violin and
+stood on his head meanwhile, all at full gallop! It was delightful. But
+the best of all was when Mignon came out again. Her cheeks were rosier,
+her eyes brighter than ever, and--yes--she recollected her promise, for
+during the very first round she turned to Alice, poised on one foot like
+a true fairy, smiled charmingly, and kissed her hand twice. How
+delightful that was! Not Alice only, but all the children present were
+bewitched by Mignon that evening. Twenty little girls at least said to
+their mothers, "Oh, how I would like to ride like that!" and many who
+did not speak wished privately that they could change places and _be_
+Mignon. Alice did not wish this any longer. The noise and confusion
+behind the scenes, the stamping horses and swearing men, had given her a
+new idea of the life which poor Mignon had to lead among these sights
+and sounds, the only child among many grown people, dependant upon the
+chance kindness of clowns and head grooms for her few pleasures, her
+little education. She no longer desired to change places. What she now
+wanted was to carry Mignon away for a companion and friend, sharing
+lessons with her and Aunty and all the other good things which she had
+forgotten, when in the morning she wished herself a part of the gay
+circus troupe.
+
+And now the performances were almost over. One last feat remained, the
+_Finale_, of which Mignon had spoken. It stood on the bills thus:--
+
+                  "GRAND FINALE!!
+                   IN CONCLUSION
+          WILL BE GIVEN THE STUPEFYING FEAT
+                        OF
+               THE ENCHANTED STEED,
+                       AND
+             THE FLIGHT THROUGH THE AIR!
+                  _Performers:_
+   MADEMOISELLE MIGNON; HER HORSE PLUTO; M. ARISTIDE;
+                 AND M. JOACHIN."
+
+Alice watched with much interest the arrangements making for this feat.
+Fresh sawdust was sprinkled over the arena, the ropes of the trapezes
+were lowered and tested: evidently the feat was a difficult one, and
+needed careful preparation. M. Aristide and M. Joachin took their places
+on the suspended bars, the ring-master cleared the circle, and Mignon
+rode in at a gallop. Three times she went round the arena at full speed,
+then she was snatched from the horse's back by the long arm of M.
+Aristide extended from the trapeze above. Pluto galloped steadily on.
+One second only M. Aristide held Mignon poised in air, then he flung her
+lightly across the space to M. Joachin, who as lightly caught her,
+waited a second, and, as Pluto passed beneath, dropped her upon his
+back. It looked fearfully dangerous; all depended upon the exact time at
+which each movement was executed. The whole audience caught its breath,
+but Mignon did not seem to be frightened. Her little face was quite
+unruffled as the strong men tossed her to and fro, her limbs and dress
+fell into graceful lines as she went through the air; it was really like
+a bird's flight. Alice's hands were squeezed tightly together, she could
+hardly breathe. Ah!--Pluto was an instant too late, or M. Joachin a
+second too soon,--which was it? Mignon missed the saddle,--grazed it
+with her foot, fell,--striking one of the wooden supports of the tent
+with her head as she touched the ground. There was a universal thrill
+and shudder. Mr. Currie hurried up, Pluto faltered in his pace, whinnied
+and ran back to where his little mistress lay. But in one moment Mignon
+was on her feet again, making her graceful courtesy and kissing her
+hand, though she looked very pale. The curtain fell rapidly. Alice,
+looking anxiously that way, had a vague idea that she saw Mignon drop
+down again, but Aunty said, "How fortunate that that sweet little thing
+was not hurt;" and Alice, being used to finding Aunty always in the
+right, felt her heart lightened. They went out, following the audience,
+who were all praising Mignon, and saying that it might have been a
+terrible accident; and, for their part, it didn't seem right to let
+children run such risks, and they were thankful that the little dear was
+not injured. Many a child envied Mignon that night; many dreamed of
+silver spangles, galloping steeds, roses, applause, and waked up
+thinking how charming it must be to live on a horse's back with music
+always playing, and exciting things going on, and people praising you!
+
+Oh, dear! I wish I could stop here. Why should there be painful things
+in the world which must be written about? That pretty courtesy, that
+spring from the earth were poor Mignon's last. She had risen and bowed
+with the instinct which all players feel to act out their parts to the
+end, but as the curtain fell down she dropped again, this time heavily.
+Mr. Currie, much frightened, lifted and carried her to his wife's tent.
+The band, who were playing out the audience, stopped with a dismayed
+suddenness. Goo-Goo untied his mask and hurried in. Madame Orley, who
+was feeding Chimborazo with sugar, dropped the sugar on the floor and
+ran too. Jerry flew for a doctor. Mignon was laid on a bed. They fanned
+her, rubbed her feet, put brandy into her pale lips. But it was all of
+no use. The little hands were cold, the blue-veined eyelids would not
+unclose. Madame Orley and the other women riders who were clustered
+beside the bed began to sob bitterly. They all loved Mignon; she was the
+pet and baby of the whole circus troupe.
+
+It was not long before the doctor came. He felt Mignon's pulse, and
+tried various things, but his face was very grave.
+
+"She's a frail little creature," he said. "No stamina to carry her
+through."
+
+"She's opening her eyes," cried Madame Orley. "She's coming to herself."
+
+Slowly the blue eyes opened. At first she seemed not to see the anxious
+countenances bent over her. Then a look of recognition crept into her
+face, and a wan little smile parted the lips. She lifted one hand and
+began to fumble feebly in the bosom of her frock.
+
+"What is it, Mignon, dear?" said one of the women. It was Alice's silver
+thimble that Mignon was seeking after. When it was given her she seemed
+content, and lay clasping it in her hand.
+
+Just then a strange noise came from outside. Pluto, suspecting that
+something had gone wrong, had slipped his halter. A groom tried to catch
+him. He snorted back and cantered away. At the door of Madame Orley's
+tent he paused, put in his head and gave a long whinny.
+
+Mignon started. The bells on her ankles tinkled a little as she moved.
+
+"Now, Pluto"--she whispered faintly,--"steady, dear Pluto. Ah, there's
+the music at last! I thought it would never begin. How sweet,--oh, how
+sweet! They never made such sweet music before. I can do it now." A
+smile brightened her face.
+
+"Has she a mother?" asked the doctor.
+
+The words caught Mignon's ear. She looked up. "Mamma," she said--"Mamma!
+Did _you_ make the music?" Her head fell back, she closed her
+eyes.--That was all.
+
+"She loved music so dearly," said one of the women weeping.
+
+"She has it now," replied the good old doctor, laying down the little
+hand from which the pulse had ebbed away. "Don't cry so over her, my
+good girl. She was a tender flower for such a life as this. Depend upon
+it, it is better as it is. Heaven is a home-like place for such little
+ones as she, and the angels' singing will be sweeter to her ears than
+the music of your brass band."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+LADY QUEEN ANNE.
+
+
+"WHERE is Annie?" demanded old Mrs. Pickens.
+
+"I'm sure I don't know. Not far away, for I heard her voice just now
+singing in the woods near the house."
+
+"That child is always singing, always," went on Mrs. Pickens in a
+melancholy voice. "What she finds to sing about in this miserable place
+I cannot imagine. It's really unnatural!"
+
+"Oh, no! mother,--not unnatural. Remember what a child she is. She
+hardly remembers the old life, or misses it. The sun shines, and she
+sings,--she can't help it. We ought to be glad instead of sorry that she
+doesn't feel the changes as we do."
+
+"Well, I _am_ glad," responded the old lady. "You needn't take me up so
+sharply, Susan. All I say is that it seems to me _unreasonable_."
+
+Miss Pickens glanced about the room, and suppressed a sigh. It was,
+indeed, a miserable dwelling, scarcely better than a hut. Very few of
+you who read this have ever seen a place so comfortless or so poor. The
+roof let in rain. Through the cracked, uneven floor the ground could be
+distinctly seen. A broken window-pane was stopped by an old hat thrust
+into the hole. For furniture was only a rusty stove, a table, three
+chairs, a few battered utensils for cooking, and a bed laid on the floor
+of the inner room,--that was all. And the dwellers in this wretched
+home, for which they were indebted to the charity of friends scarcely
+richer than themselves, were ladies born and bred, accustomed to all the
+comforts and enjoyments of life.
+
+It was the old story,--alas! too common in these times,--the story of a
+Southern family reduced to poverty by the ravages of war. Six years
+before, all had been different. Then the fighting was not begun, and the
+Southern Confederacy was a thing to boast over and make speeches about.
+The gray uniforms were smart and new then; the volunteers eager and full
+of zeal. All things went smoothly in the stately old house known to
+Charleston people as the "Pickens Mansion." The cotton was regularly
+harvested on the Sea Islands, and on the Beaufort plantation, which
+belonged to Annie; for little Annie, too, was an heiress, with acres and
+negroes of her own. War seemed an easy thing in those days, and a
+glorious one. There was no lack felt anywhere; only a set of fresh and
+exciting interests in lives which had always been interesting enough.
+Mrs. Pickens and the other Charleston ladies scraped lint and rolled
+bandages with busy fingers; but they smiled at each other as they did
+so, and said that these would never be needed, there would never be any
+real fighting! They stood on their balconies to cheer and applaud the
+incoming regiments,--regiments of gallant young men, their own sons and
+the sons of neighbors: and it was like the opening chapter of a story.
+Ah! the story had run through many chapters since then, and what
+different ones! The smart uniforms had lost all their gloss, blood was
+upon the flags, the glory had changed to ashes; every family wore
+mourning for somebody. The pleasant Charleston home, where Mrs. Pickens
+had stood on the balcony to watch the gray-coated troops pass by, and
+little Annie had fluttered her mite of a handkerchief, and laughed as
+the gay banners danced in air, where was it? Burned to the ground; only
+a sorry heap of ruin marked where once it stood. No more cotton bales
+came from the Sea Islands. First one army, then the other, had swept
+over the Beaufort plantation, trampling its fields into mire. It had
+been seized, confiscated, retaken, re-confiscated, sold to this person
+and that. Nobody knew exactly to whom it belonged nowadays; but it was
+not to little Annie, rightful heiress of all. Stripped of every thing,
+reduced to utter want, Mrs. Pickens and her daughter took refuge in a
+lonely village, far up among the Carolina hills, where some former
+friends, also ruined by the war, offered them the wretched home where
+now we find them. Little Annie, sole blossom left upon the blasted tree,
+went with them. It was a miserable life which they led. The pinch of
+poverty is never so keenly felt as when the recollection of better days
+mixes with it like a perpetual sting. All the bright hopes of six years
+before were over, and the poor ladies could have said, "Behold, was ever
+sorrow like unto my sorrow!" They grieved for themselves; they grieved
+most of all for their beautiful little Annie, but Annie did not
+grieve,--not she!
+
+Never was a happier little maiden,--as blithe and merry in her coarse
+cotton frock and bare feet as though the cotton were choicest satin. She
+was as pretty too. No frock could spoil that charming little face framed
+in thick chestnut curls, or hide the graceful movements which would have
+made her remarkable anywhere. Her eyes, which were brown like her curls,
+danced continually. Her mouth was always smiling. The dimples came and
+went with every word she spoke. And, however shabby might be her dress,
+she was a little lady always. No one could mistake it, who listened to
+her sweet voice and prettily chosen words. The pitiful sadness of her
+Grandmother, the rigid melancholy of her Aunt, passed over her as a
+cloud drifts over a blue sky on a summer's day, leaving the blue
+undimmed. She loved them, and was sorry when they were sorry; but God
+had given her such a happy nature, that happy she must be in spite of
+all. Just to be alive was pleasant enough, but there were many other
+pleasant things beside. The woods were full of flowers, and Annie loved
+flowers dearly. Then there were the beautiful pine forests themselves,
+with their cool shades and fragrant smell. There was sunshine too, and
+now and then a story, when Aunty felt brighter than usual. The negroes
+in the neighborhood were all fond of little "Missy Annie." They would
+catch squirrels for her, or climb for birds' eggs; and old Sambo
+scarcely ever passed the hut without bringing some little gift of
+flowers or nuts. There was Beppo, also, a large and handsome hound
+belonging to a distant plantation, who came now and then to make Annie
+visits. It was a case of pure affection on his part, for she was not
+allowed to give him any thing to eat, not even a piece of corn bread,
+for food was too precious with the stricken family to be shared with
+dogs. But Beppo came all the same, and seemed to like to race and romp
+with Annie just as well as though the entertainment had wound up with
+something more substantial. Oh! there were many pleasant things to do,
+Annie thought.
+
+When Aunty went out to call her that day, she was sitting under a tree
+with a lap full of yellow jessamines, which she was tying into a bunch.
+As she worked she sang.
+
+"Who are those for, Annie?" asked Miss Pickens.
+
+"I was going to give them to Mrs. Randolph, Aunty. She came yesterday to
+the camp, Juba says. I thought she'd like them."
+
+Miss Pickens looked rigid, but she made no reply. "The Camp" was a depot
+of United States supplies, established for the relief of the poor
+blacks and whites of the region, and Major Randolph was the officer in
+charge of it. In her great poverty, Miss Pickens had been forced to
+apply with the rest of her neighbors for this aid, going every week with
+a basket on her arm, and receiving the same rations of bacon and
+corn-meal which the poorest negroes received. It was bitter bread; but
+what can one do when one is starving? Major Randolph was sorry for the
+poor lady, and kind and courteous always, but Miss Pickens could not be
+grateful; he was one of the Northern invaders who had helped to crush
+her hopes and that of her State, and to bring them to this extremity;
+and though she took the corn-meal, she had no thanks in her heart.
+
+"We are going to the village this afternoon, aren't we, Aunty?" went on
+Annie.
+
+"Yes, we must," replied her Aunt. "I came to tell you to get ready. And,
+Annie, don't sing so loud when you are near the house. Grandmamma
+doesn't like to hear it."
+
+"Doesn't she?" said Annie wondering. "I'll try to remember, Aunty. But
+sometimes I don't know when I am singing. It just sings of itself."
+
+"Getting ready" consisted of tying on two faded, flapping sun-bonnets,
+to which Miss Pickens added an old ragged India shawl, relic of past
+grandeur. Annie's feet were bare, her Aunt wore army shoes made of
+cow-skin, part of the Bureau supply. She was a tall, thin woman, and,
+with the habit of former days, carried her head high in air as she
+walked along. Little fairy Annie danced by her side, now stopping to
+gather a flower, now to listen to a bird, chatting and laughing all the
+way, as though she were a bird herself, and never heeding Aunty's
+melancholy looks or short answers.
+
+"Who _are_ those people?" asked Mrs. Randolph of her husband, as she
+watched the odd-looking pair come along the road. "Do look, Harry. Such
+a strange woman, and--I do declare, the prettiest child I ever saw in my
+life. Tell me who they are?"
+
+"Oh, that's my little pet, Annie Pickens," replied the Major. Then he
+hastily told his wife the story.
+
+"The poor ladies suffer dreadfully both in pride and in pocket, I fear,"
+he added. "But Annie, bless her! she doesn't know what suffering means,
+any more than if she were a bird or a squirrel. I thought you'd take a
+fancy to her, Blanche; and perhaps you can think of some way to help
+them. Women know how to set about such things. I'm such a clumsy fellow
+that all I dared attempt was to deal out as much meal and bacon as the
+Aunt could carry."
+
+Blanche Randolph found it easy to "take a fancy" to the sweet little
+creature who lifted to her such beaming eyes as she made her offering of
+the yellow jessamines. "Oh, dear!" she said to herself, "how I wish she
+belonged to me." She kissed and fondled her, and while Miss Pickens
+transacted her business, Annie sat on Mrs. Randolph's lap and talked to
+her, quite as though they were old acquaintances.
+
+"What do you do all day, dear? Have you any one to play with?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I have Beppo. That's Mr. Ashley's dog, you know. He runs over
+to see me almost every week, and we have such nice times."
+
+"And don't you study any lessons?" asked Mrs. Randolph.
+
+"No, not now. I used to, but Aunty is so busy now that she says she
+hasn't time to teach me. Beside, all my books were burned up."
+
+"Come, Annie, it is time to go," said Miss Pickens, moving away, with a
+curt bow to Mrs. Randolph.
+
+Annie lingered to kiss her new friend.
+
+"I shall pick you some fresh flowers next time we come," she said.
+
+"I'll tell you what, Harry," said Mrs. Randolph, "that is the most
+_pathetically_ sweet little darling I ever saw."
+
+"Pathetic? Why she's as happy as the day is long."
+
+"Ah, you don't understand! That's the very reason. 'I feel to cry' over
+her, as old Mauma Sally would say."
+
+Medville was a quiet, lonely place. All the people, black and white
+alike, were very poor. Nobody called to see Mrs. Randolph; there were no
+parties to go to; and after a while she learned to look forward to
+little Annie's visit as the pleasantest thing in the whole week. Annie
+looked forward to it also. Her new friend was both kind and gay. Always
+some little treat was prepared for her coming,--a book, a parcel of
+cakes, or a picture-paper with gay colored illustrations. Mrs. Randolph
+chose these gifts carefully, because she was afraid of offending Miss
+Pickens, but Miss Pickens was not offended; she loved Annie too dearly
+for that, and became almost gracious as she thanked Mrs. Randolph for
+her kindness. After some time Mrs. Randolph ventured to walk out to the
+cottage. What she saw there horrified her, but I can best tell what that
+was by quoting a letter which she wrote about that time to her sister,
+Mrs. Boyd, who was spending the summer in England:--
+
+"Fancy, dear Mary, a miserable log hut not one bit better than those in
+which the negroes dwell. In fact, it used to be a negro hut, some say a
+pig-pen; but that is too bad, I cannot believe it. The roof lets in
+water, the floor is broken away, the windows are stuffed with rags and
+an old hat. Every thing is perfectly clean inside, swept and scrubbed
+continually by the poor ladies, and they are real ladies, Mary. It was
+pitiful to see old Mrs. Pickens sitting in her wooden chair in a dress
+which her former cook would have disdained, and yet with all the dignity
+and sad politeness of a duchess in difficulties. They make no secret of
+their extreme poverty; they cannot, in fact, for it stares you in the
+face; but they ask for nothing, and you would scarcely dare to offer
+aid. I was so shocked that I could not restrain my tears. Miss Pickens
+brought me a tin cupful of water, and I think my sympathy touched her,
+for she has thawed a little since, and has permitted Annie to accept a
+gingham frock which I made for her, and some stockings and shoes. Such
+dainty little feet as hers are, and such a lovely child! I have scarcely
+ever seen one so beautiful, and it is not common beauty, but of the
+rarest sort, with elegance and refinement in every feature and movement.
+It is a thousand pities that she should be left here to grow up in
+poverty without education, or any of the things she was born to, for, as
+I told you in my last, the family was once wealthy, and Annie herself
+would be a great heiress had not the war ruined them all."
+
+When Mrs. Boyd received this letter, she was making a visit to some
+friends who lived in a villa on the banks of the Thames. Mr. and Mrs.
+Grant were the names of these friends. They were all sitting on the lawn
+when the post came in. The sunset cast a pink glow on the curves of the
+beautiful river; the roses were in perfect bloom; overhead and
+underfoot the grass and trees were of that rich and tender green which
+is peculiar to England. The letter interested Mrs. Boyd so much that she
+read it aloud to her friends, who were rich and kind-hearted people,
+with one little boy of their own.
+
+Mrs. Grant almost cried over the letter. It was the saddest thing that
+she had ever heard of, and all that evening she and her husband could
+talk of nothing else. Little Annie, sound asleep in her Carolina cabin,
+did not dream that, three thousand miles away, two people, whom she had
+never heard of, were spending half the night in the discussion of her
+fate and fortunes! Long after their guest had gone to bed, the Grants
+sat up together conversing about Annie; and in the morning they came
+down with a proposal so astonishing, that Mrs. Boyd could hardly believe
+her ears when she heard it.
+
+"We have been talking in a vague way for years past of adopting a little
+girl," said Mr. Grant. "We always wished for a daughter, and felt sure
+that to have a sister would be the best thing in the world for Rupert,
+who is an affectionate little fellow, and would enjoy such a playmate of
+all things. But you can easily guess that there have been difficulties
+in the way of these plans, especially as to finding the right child, so
+we have done nothing about it. Now it strikes my wife, and it strikes me
+also, that this story of your sister's is a clear leading of Providence.
+Here is a child who wants a home, and here are we who want a child. So
+we have made up our minds to send to America for Annie, and, if her
+relatives will consent, to adopt her as our own. Will you give me Mrs.
+Randolph's exact address?"
+
+"But it is so sudden. Are you sure you won't repent?" asked Mrs. Boyd.
+
+"I don't think we shall. And it seems less sudden to us than to you,
+because, as I have explained, this idea has been in our minds for a a
+long time."
+
+You can fancy the excitement of Major and Mrs. Randolph when Mr.
+Grant's letter reached Medville. He offered to adopt Annie, and treat
+her in every respect as though she were his own daughter, provided her
+Grandmother and Aunt would give her up entirely, and promise never again
+to claim her as theirs.
+
+"If they will consent to this," wrote Mr. Grant, "I will settle a
+hundred pounds a year on them for the rest of their lives. I will also
+employ a lawyer to see if any thing can be done towards getting back a
+part of the confiscated property. But all this is only on condition that
+the child is absolutely made over to me. I am not willing to take her
+with any loop-hole left open by which she may, by and by, be claimed
+back again just as we have learned to consider her our own. I beg that
+Major Randolph will have this point most clearly understood, and will
+attend to the drawing up of a legal paper which shall put it beyond the
+possibility of dispute."
+
+The day after this letter came, Mrs. Randolph put it in her pocket and
+walked out to the mountain hut. She felt very nervous as she tapped at
+the door.
+
+"It was a terrible thing to do," she wrote afterwards to her sister.
+"There were the two poor ladies as stately as ever, and little Annie so
+bright and winning. It was like asking for the only happy thing left in
+their lives. I explained first about my letter to you, and how you
+happened to be staying with the Grants when you received it, and then I
+gave Miss Pickens Mr. Grant's letter. Her face was like iron as she read
+it, and she swallowed hard several times, but she never uttered one
+word. When she had done, she thought for several minutes; then she said,
+in a choked voice, 'If you will leave this with us, Madam, you shall
+have an answer to-morrow.' I came away. Dear little Annie walked half
+way down the hill with me. I hope, oh, so much, that they will let her
+go. The life they lead is too sad for such a child, and in every way it
+is better for them all; but oh, dear! I am so sorry for them that I
+don't know what to do."
+
+Next day Miss Pickens walked down alone to the Relief Station.
+
+"My mother and I have talked it over," she said briefly, "and we have
+decided. Annie must go."
+
+"I am glad," said Mrs. Randolph. "Glad for her, but very sorry for you."
+
+"It is like cutting out my heart," said the poor Aunt. "But what can we
+do? I am not able to give the child proper food even, or decent clothes.
+If we keep her she must grow up in ignorance. These English strangers
+offer every thing; we have nothing to offer. If we could count on the
+bare necessaries of life,--no more than those,--I would never, never
+give up Annie. As it is, it would be sinning against her to refuse."
+
+"Mr. Grant's assistance will do much to make your own lives more
+comfortable," suggested Mrs. Randolph.
+
+"I don't care about that. We could go on suffering and not say a word,
+if only we might keep Annie. But she would suffer too, and more and
+more as she grows older. No, Annie must go."
+
+"The Grants are thoroughly good people, and will be kindness itself, I
+am sure. The only danger is that they may spoil your dear little girl
+with over-indulgence."
+
+"She can stand a good deal, having had none for so long a time," replied
+Miss Pickens with a sad smile. "But Annie is not that sort of child;
+nothing could spoil her. When must she go, Mrs. Randolph?"
+
+"Mr. Grant spoke of the 'Cuba,' on which some friends of his are to
+sail. She leaves on the 24th."
+
+"The 24th. That is week after next."
+
+"If it seems to you too soon--"
+
+"No. The sooner it is over the better for us all."
+
+"I half feel as if I had done you a wrong," said Mrs. Randolph, with
+tears in her eyes.
+
+"No, you have done us no wrong. It is in our own hands, you see. We
+could say no, even now. Oh, if I dared say it! But I dare not,--that is
+worst of all,--I dare not." She gave a dry sort of sob and walked away
+rapidly. Mrs. Randolph, left behind, broke down and indulged in a good
+fit of crying.
+
+Dear little Annie! she was partly puzzled, partly pleased, partly pained
+by the news of what was going to befall her. She clung to her Aunty, and
+declared that she could not go. Then Mrs. Randolph talked with her and
+explained that Aunty would be better off, and Grandmamma have a more
+comfortable house to live in--making pictures of the sweet English home,
+the kind people, the dear little brother waiting for her on the other
+side of the sea, till Annie felt as if it would be pleasant to go. There
+was not much time for discussion; every thing was done in a hurry. Mrs.
+Randolph sewed all day long on her machine, making little underclothes
+and a pretty blue travelling dress. Miss Pickens patched up one of her
+faded silks, for she was to accompany Annie to New York and see her
+sail, Mr. Grant paying all the expenses of the journey for both of them.
+Grandmamma cried all night, but in the daytime her face looked set and
+hard. There were papers to sign and boxes to pack. Beppo seemed to smell
+in the air that something was about to happen. All day long he hung
+around the hut, whining and sniffing. Now and then he would throw back
+his head and give a long, sorrowful bay, which echoed from some distant
+point in the pine wood. The last day came,--the last kisses. It was like
+a rapid whirling dream, the journey, the steam cars, the arrival in New
+York, and Annie only seemed to wake up when she stood on the steamer's
+deck and felt the vessel throb and move away. On the wharf, among the
+throng of people who had come down to say good-by, stood Aunty's tall
+figure in her faded silk and ragged shawl, looking so different from any
+one else there. She did not wave her handkerchief or make any sign, but
+fixed her eyes on Annie as if she could never look away, and there was
+something in the expression of her face which made Annie suddenly burst
+into tears. She wiped them fast, but before she could see clearly, the
+wharf was far distant, and Aunty's face was only a white spot among
+other white spots, which were partly faces and partly fluttering
+handkerchiefs. A few minutes more and the spots grew dim, the wharf
+could no longer be seen, the vessel began to rock and plunge in the
+waves, and the great steamer was fairly at sea.
+
+Do you suppose that Annie cried all the voyage? Bless you, no! It was
+not in her to be sorrowful long. In a very little while her tears dried,
+smiles came back, and the trustful brown eyes were as bright as ever.
+Everybody on board noticed the dear little girl and was kind. The
+Captain, who had little girls of his own at home, would walk with her on
+the deck for an hour at a time, telling her stories which he called
+"yarns," and which were very interesting. The old sailors would coax the
+little maiden amidships and tell her "yarns" also, about sharks and
+whales and albatrosses. One of them was such a nice old fellow. His name
+was "Jack," and he won Annie's affections completely, by catching a
+flying-fish in a bucket and making her a present of it. Did you ever see
+a flying-fish? Annie's did not seem at all happy in the bucket, so she
+threw him into the sea again, but none the less was she pleased that
+Jack gave him to her. She liked to watch the porpoises turn and wheel in
+the water, and the gulls skim and dive; but most of all she delighted in
+the Mother Carey's chickens, which on stormy days fluttered in and out,
+rocking on the waves, and never seeming afraid, however hard the wind
+might blow. Going to sea was to Annie as pleasant as all the other
+pleasant things in her life. She would have laughed hard enough had
+anybody asked whether unpleasant things had never happened to her, and
+would have said "No!" in a minute.
+
+The voyage ended at Liverpool. Annie felt sorry and homesick at leaving
+the vessel, as travellers are apt to do. But pretty soon a gentleman
+came on board, and a pretty little boy. It was Mr. Grant and Rupert,
+come down to meet her, and they were so pleasant and so glad to see
+Annie that she forgot all her home-sickness at once.
+
+"What a funny carriage," she exclaimed, when, after they had all landed,
+Mr. Grant helped her into a cab.
+
+"It's a Hansom," explained Rupert. "Papa engaged one because I asked
+him. It's such fun to ride in 'em, I think. Don't they have any in
+America where you live?"
+
+"No,--not any carriages at all where I live," replied Annie, nestling
+down among the cushions,--"only mule carts and--wheelbarrows--and--oh,
+yes--Major Randolph had an ambulance. There were _beau_-tiful carriages
+in New York though, but I didn't see any like this."
+
+"Don't you like it?"
+
+"Oh, yes,--very much," replied Annie, cuddling cosily between her new
+Papa and Brother.
+
+"Isn't she pretty?" whispered Rupert to his father. "None of the other
+fellows at our school have got such a pretty sister as she is. And she's
+a jolly little thing, too," he added confidentially.
+
+Mrs. Grant had grown a little anxious about the first meeting. "If we
+_should_ be disappointed!" she thought. But when the carriage drove up
+and her husband lifted Annie out, a glance made her easy. "I can love
+that child," she said to herself, and her embrace was so warm that Annie
+rested in her arms with the feeling that here was real home and a real
+Mamma, and that England was just as nice as America.
+
+You can guess how she enjoyed the lawn with its roses, and the beautiful
+river. Fresh from the poor little cabin on the hill-top, she
+nevertheless fell with the greatest ease into the ways and habits of her
+new life. It did not puzzle or disturb her in the least to live in
+large rooms, be waited on by servants, or have nice things about her;
+she took to all these naturally. For a few days Mr. and Mrs. Grant
+watched with some anxiety, fearing to discover a flaw in their treasure,
+but no flaw appeared. Not that Annie was faultless, but hers were honest
+little faults; there was nothing hidden or concealed in her character,
+and in a short time her new friends had learned to trust her and to love
+her entirely.
+
+So here was our little girl fairly settled in England, with dainty
+dresses to wear, a governess coming every day to give her lessons,
+masters in French and music, a carriage to ride in, and half a dozen
+people at least ready to pet and make much of her all the time. Do you
+think she was happier than she had been before? How could she be? One
+cannot be more than happy. She was happy then, she was happy now,--no
+more, no less.
+
+Rupert used to talk to her sometimes about that old life, which seemed
+to him so strange and dismal.
+
+"How you must have hated it!" he said once. "I can't bear to have you
+tell me any more. What's corn-meal? It sounds very nasty! And didn't you
+have anybody to play with, not anybody at all, or any fun, ever?"
+
+"Fun!" cried Annie; "I should think so! Why, Rupert, our woods were full
+of squirrels. Such dear little things!--you never saw such pretty
+squirrels. One of them got so tamed that he used to eat out of my hand.
+His name was Torpedo. I named him myself. Then there was Beppo, the
+dearest dog! I wish you knew him. We used to run races and have the
+greatest fun. And Aunty and I had nice times going down to the camp."
+
+"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" sighed Rupert. He could not see the fun at all.
+
+When Annie had been three years with the Grants, Major and Mrs. Randolph
+came to London, and drove down to the villa to see her. It was a great
+pleasure to them all. Annie had a thousand questions to ask about
+Grandmamma and Aunty, who no longer lived in the hut, but in Medville,
+where Mr. Grant had hired a small house for them.
+
+"They are quite comfortable now," said Mrs. Randolph. "Aunty has gained
+a little flesh, and Grandmamma is stronger, and able to walk out
+sometimes. Old Sambo came down the very night before we left with a box
+of birds' eggs, which he wished to send to 'Missy Annie.' They are in
+the carriage; you shall have them presently. And here is a long letter
+from Aunty."
+
+"Annie, you look just the same," remarked the Major; "only you are
+grown, and the sunburn has worn off and left you as fair as a lily. You
+used to be brown as a bun when I knew you first. I needn't ask if you
+are happy here?"
+
+"Oh! very, very happy," said Annie warmly.
+
+"A great deal happier than you were when you lived with Grandmamma and
+Aunty?" inquired Mrs. Randolph.
+
+"Why, no!" cried Annie wonderingly; "not any happier than _that_. I used
+to have lovely times then; but I have lovely times here too."
+
+"That child will never lack for happiness," said the Major, as they
+drove back to London. "She's the brightest little being I ever saw."
+
+"Yes," replied his wife; "rain or shine, it's all one with Annie. Her
+cheer comes from within, and is so warm and radiant that, whatever sky
+is overhead, she always rejoices. Let the clouds do what they may, it
+makes no difference: Annie will always sit in the sun,--the sunshine of
+her own sweet, happy little heart."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, DOWN-Y.
+
+
+"NOW, Dinah, it's time to try the jelly."
+
+"Wait a minute, Miss May; it can't be stiff yet."
+
+"Oh, yes! Dinah, it is; I think it is. I'll only just breathe on it,
+Dinah; I'll not disturb it a bit."
+
+"Let me breathe on it too."
+
+"And me."
+
+Dinah chuckled silently to herself in a way she had. She opened the
+kitchen window, and in one second three little girls had climbed on
+three chairs, and three curly heads had met over the saucer of currant
+juice which stood on the sill.
+
+"I _think_ it's going to jelly," said May.
+
+Lulu touched it delicately with the point of her small forefinger.
+
+"There!" she cried triumphantly. "It _crinkled_; it did, Dinah! The
+jelly's come."
+
+"Oh, how good!" added Bertha, applying her finger, not so gently, to the
+hot surface, and then putting it into her mouth to cool it! "It's the
+bestest jelly we ever made, Dinah."
+
+Dinah chuckled again at this "we." But, after all, why not? Had not the
+children watched her scald and squeeze the currants, and stir and skim?
+Had not May wielded the big wooden spoon for at least three minutes? Had
+not Lulu eaten a mouthful of skimmings on the sly? Were they not testing
+the product now? The little ones had surely a right to say "we," and
+Dinah accepted the partnership willingly. She lifted the preserving
+kettle on to the table; and the junior (not silent!) members of the firm
+mounted on their chairs, watched with intense interest as she dipped the
+glasses in hot water, and filled each in turn with the clear red liquid.
+
+"It's first-rate jell," she remarked. "Be hard in no time."
+
+"Put a tiny, tiny bit in my doll's tumbler," said Bertha, producing a
+minute vessel. "She likes jelly very much, my dolly does."
+
+"Oh, isn't it nice to cook!" exclaimed Lulu, jumping up and down in her
+chair! "Such fun! I wish Mamma'd always let us do it."
+
+"What shall we make next?" asked May.
+
+"Jumbles," responded the senior partner briefly.
+
+"I like to make jumbles," cried May. "I may cut out all the
+diamond-shaped ones, mayn't I, Di?"
+
+"And I, all the round ones?"
+
+"And I, the hearts?"
+
+Dinah nodded. The children got down from their chairs, and ran to the
+closet. They came back each with a tin cookie-pattern in her hand. Dinah
+sifted flour and jumbled egg and sugar rapidly together, with that
+precise carelessness which experience teaches. In a few minutes the
+smooth sheet of dough lay glistening on the board, and the children
+began cutting out the cakes; first a diamond, then a heart, then a
+round, each in turn. As fast as the shapes were cut, Dinah laid them in
+baking-tins, and carried them away to the oven. The work went busily on.
+It was great fun. But, alas! in the very midst of it, interruption came.
+The door opened, and a lady walked in,--a pretty lady in a beautiful
+silk gown of many flounces. When she saw what the children were doing,
+she frowned, and did not seem pleased.
+
+"My dears," she said, "I was wondering where you were. It is quite time
+that you should be dressed for the afternoon. Come upstairs at once."
+
+"O Mamma!--we're helping Dinah. Mayn't we stay and finish?"
+
+"Helping? Nonsense! Hindering, you mean. Dinah will be glad to get rid
+of you. Come at once."
+
+May got down from her chair. But Lulu and Bertha pouted.
+
+"We've hung all our dolls' things out on the line," they said. "It's
+washing-day in the baby-house, Mamma. Mayn't we stay just a little while
+to clap and fold up?"
+
+"Clap and fold," exclaimed Mrs. Frisbie. "Where do you pick up such
+words, I wonder. Of course you can't stay, you must come and be made
+decent. Susan shall finish your dolls' wash."
+
+"Oh, no! please Mamma, it's so much nicer to do 'em ourselves," pleaded
+Lulu. "Don't let Susan touch them. We love so to wash. Dinah says we're
+worth our wages, we do it so well."
+
+"Dinah should not say such things," said Mrs. Frisbie, severely, leading
+the unwilling flock upstairs. "Now, Lulu, do look pleasant. I really
+cannot have all this fuss made each time that I tell you to come and sit
+with me and behave like little ladies. This passion for house-work is
+vulgar; I don't like it at all. With plenty of servants in the house,
+and your Pa's money, and all, there's no need that you should know any
+thing about such common doings. Now, go upstairs and tell Justine to put
+on your French cambrics and your sashes, and when you're ready come
+straight down. I want you."
+
+Mrs. Frisbie went into the drawing-room as she spoke, and shut the door
+behind her with a little bang. She was a good-natured woman in the
+main, but at that moment she was really put out. Why should _her_
+children have this outlandish taste for cooking and washing? _She_ liked
+to be beautifully dressed, and sit on a sofa doing nothing. Why
+shouldn't they like to do the same? It was really too bad, she thought.
+The children were not a bit like her. They were "clear Frisbie straight
+through," and it was really a trial. She felt quite unhappy, and, as I
+said, gave the door a bang to relieve her feelings.
+
+While the children are putting on their French cambrics, I will tell you
+a Fairy story.
+
+Once upon a time, in a wonderful country where all the inhabitants are
+Kings and Queens, a little Prince was born. His father's kingdom was not
+big, being only a farm-house, two clover fields, and a potato patch, but
+none the less was it a kingdom, because no one else had right to it or
+could dispute it. The Prince was born on a Sunday, and the Fairy who has
+charge of Sunday children came and stood by his cradle.
+
+"You shall be lucky always," she said, touching the baby's soft cheek
+with the point of her finger. "I give you four gifts, Sunday Prince. The
+first is a strong and handsome body,"--and the Fairy, as she spoke,
+stroked the small limbs with her wand. "The next is a sweet temper. The
+third is a brave heart--you'll need it, little Prince,--all people do in
+this world. Lastly,"--and the Fairy touched the sleeping eyelids
+lightly,--"I give you a pair of clear, keen eyes, which shall tell you
+the difference between hawks and hernshaws from the very beginning. This
+gift is worth something, as you'll soon find out. Now, good-by, my baby.
+Sleep well, and grow fast. Here's a pretty plaything for you,"--taking
+from her pocket a big, beautiful bubble, and tossing it in the air. "Run
+fast," she said, "blow hard, follow the bubble, catch it if you can;
+but, above all things, keep it flying. Its name is Fortune,--a pretty
+name. All the little boys like to run after my bubbles. As long as it
+keeps up, up, all will go brightly; but if you fail to blow, or blow
+unwisely, and it goes down, down--well--you'll be lucky either way, my
+Sunday Prince; 'tis I who say so." Thereupon the Fairy kissed the
+sleeping child and vanished.
+
+Only the clear eyes of the little Prince could see the rainbow bubble
+which hung in air above his head, and flew before, wherever he went. He
+began to see it when still very young, and as he grew bigger he saw it
+more clearly still. And he blew, blew, and the gay bubble went up, up,
+and all things prospered. Before long, the baby Prince was a man, and
+took possession of his kingdom; for in this wonderful country plenty of
+kingdoms are to be had, and Princes are not forced to wait until their
+fathers die before taking possession of their crowns. So, being a grown
+Prince, he began to look about for a Princess to share his throne with
+him. And he found a very nice little one; who, when he asked her, made a
+courtesy and said, "Yes, thank you," in the prettiest way possible. Then
+the Prince was pleased, and sent for a priest. The priest's name was
+Slack. He belonged to the Methodist persuasion, Otsego Conference, but
+he married the Prince and the Princess just as well as though he had
+been an archbishop. They went to live in a small palace of their own,
+and after awhile some little princelings came to live with them, and
+they were all very happy together. And the lucky Prince, being
+fairy-blessed, kept on being lucky. The rainbow bubble flew before; he
+blew strongly, wisely; it soared high, high, and all things prospered.
+His kingdom increased, his treasure-bags were filled with gold. By and
+by the little palace grew too small for them, or they fancied it so, and
+another was built, a real palace this time, with lawns, and fish-ponds,
+and graperies, and gardens. The only trouble was--
+
+But here come the children downstairs, so I must drop into plain prose,
+and tell you what already you have guessed, that the Prince I mean is
+their father, John Frisbie,--Prince John, if you like,--and the
+Princess's name was Mary Jones before she was married, but now, of
+course, it is Mary Frisbie. There were five of the princelings,--Jack
+and May and Arthur and Lulu and Bertha. The new palace was a beautiful
+house, with wide, lovely grounds. But since they came to live in it,
+Mrs. Frisbie had taken it into her head that so fine a house required
+manners to match, and that the things the children liked best, and had
+been allowed to do in the small house, were vulgar, and might not be
+permitted now. This was a real trouble to the little ones, for, as their
+mother said, they were "clear Frisbie all through;" and the thrift,
+energy, cleverness, and other qualities by which their father had made
+his fortune, were strong in them. Perhaps the Fairy had visited their
+cradles also. Who knows?
+
+The girls came down crisp and fresh in their ruffled frocks, with curls
+smoothed, sashes tied, and their company dolls in their hands.
+
+"Now sit down and be comfortable," said Mrs. Frisbie.
+
+Dear me, what a number of meanings there are to that word "comfortable"!
+Mrs. Frisbie thought it meant pretty clothes, pretty rooms, and nothing
+to do. To the boys it took the form of hard, hearty work of some sort.
+Papa understood it as a cool day in his office, business brisk, but not
+too brisk, and an occasional cigar. May, Lulu, and Bertha would have
+translated it thus: "our old ginghams and our own way;" while Dinah, if
+asked, would have defined "comfort" as having the kitchen "clar'd up"
+after a successful bake, and being free to sit down, darn stockings, and
+read the "Illustrated Pirate's Manual," a newspaper she much affected on
+account of the blood-thirstiness of its pictures. None of these various
+explanations of the word mean the same thing, you see. And the drollest
+part is that no one can ever be made "comfortable" in any way but his
+own: that is impossible.
+
+The company dolls were very fine ladies indeed; they came from Paris,
+and had trunks full of splendid dresses. The children did not care much
+for them, and liked better certain decrepit babies of rag and
+composition, which were thought too shabby to be allowed in the parlor.
+
+"Where are the boys?" asked Mrs. Frisbie, when the small sisters had
+settled themselves.
+
+"Jack was going to have his sale this afternoon," replied Mary. "And
+Arthur is auctioneer."
+
+"His sale! What on earth is that?"
+
+"Why, Mamma--don't you know? Jack's chickens, of course. Croppy had
+eleven and Top-knot nine. There's a 'corner' in chickens just now,
+Arthur says, because most of the other boys have lost theirs. Alfred's
+were sick and died, and the rats ate all of Charley Ross's, and a hawk
+carried off five of Howard's. Jack expects to make a lot of money,
+because Croppy is a Bramahpootra hen, you know, and her chicks are very
+valuable."
+
+"Corner! Lot of money! Oh, dear!" sighed poor Mrs. Frisbie, "what words
+the boys do teach you. Where they learn them I can't imagine. Not from
+me."
+
+"From Papa, I guess," explained Lulu innocently. "He used to have hens
+when he was little, and sell 'em. It was splendid fun, he says.
+Grandmamma thinks that Jack is just Papa over again."
+
+"All of you are," said Mrs. Frisbie. "Not one of you is a bit like me.
+Can't you sit still, Bertha? What _are_ you doing there with your
+handkerchief?"
+
+"Only dusting the table leg, Mamma; it wasn't quite clean."
+
+"Dear, dear! and in your nice frock. Do let the furniture alone, child.
+Ring for Bridget, if any thing wants cleaning. You're a real Meddlesome
+Matty, Bertha."
+
+"O Mamma!" cried Bertha, aggrieved. "Grandmamma taught me to dust when
+we lived in the other house, you know. Grandmamma said it was a good
+thing for little girls to be useful. And I didn't meddle with any thing
+on the table; really I didn't, Mamma."
+
+"Never mind, dear," said Mrs. Frisbie. "It's no great matter, only I
+don't like to have you do such things. Now sit still and play with your
+doll." She opened a book and began to read. The children crept nearer to
+each other and talked in low whispers.
+
+"Let's play that Eugenie and Victoria are little girls come to make each
+other a visit, and Isabella is their Mamma."
+
+"You can't! Little girls never have trains to their dresses or
+necklaces."
+
+"Oh! I wish Nippy Scatch-Face and old Maria were down here," sighed
+Lulu.
+
+"I'll tell you," put in May. "We'll play they are three stiff old
+ladies, who always wear best clothes, you know, and sit so in chairs;
+and that Nippy and Maria are coming to make them a visit. They needn't
+really come, you know. Mrs. Eugenie, sit up straight. Now listen to the
+hateful old thing! She's talking to Victoria."
+
+"Sister, when are those children coming?"
+
+"I don't know, sister," squeaked back Lulu in the character of Victoria.
+"I wish they wouldn't come at all. Children are the bane of my
+existence."
+
+"You horrid doll, talking that way about _my_ baby," cried Bertha,
+giving Victoria a shove.
+
+"Don't, Beppie; you'll push her down," said May. Then changing her voice
+again, "Your manners is most awful, I'm sure," she squeaked, in the
+person of the irate Victoria.
+
+All the children giggled, and Mrs. Frisbie looked up from her book.
+
+At this moment in ran the two boys, hot, dusty, and excited,--Arthur
+with a handful of "fractional currency," and Jack waving a two-dollar
+bill.
+
+"See!" they cried. "Four dollars and sixty-five cents. Isn't that
+splendid? Mr. Ashurst bought all the Croppys, and gave twenty-five cents
+a piece for them."
+
+"Let us see, let us see!" cried the little girls, precipitating
+themselves on the money.
+
+"Look here, now, Mary Frisbie--no snatching!" protested Jack,--"I
+haven't told you the best yet. Mr. Ashurst says we're such good farmers,
+that he'll give us work whenever we like to take it. He says I could
+earn three dollars a week _now_! Think of that."
+
+"Oh, how much!" cried Lulu, awe-struck. "What could you do with so much,
+Jacky?"
+
+"Now boys,--listen to me," said their mother. "Go upstairs right away
+and get ready for tea. You look like real farmers' boys at this moment,
+I declare, so hot and dusty. I don't wonder Mr. Ashurst offered you
+work,--though I think it was very impertinent of him to do so. I hope
+you said that your father's sons didn't need to earn money in any such
+way."
+
+"Why, Mamma, of course I didn't. Arthur and me like to work, and we are
+going to somehow just as soon as we're big enough. It's lots better fun
+than going to school. Besides, Papa says we may. He told us all American
+boys ought to work, whether their fathers are rich or poor."
+
+"Papa likes to talk nonsense with you," said Mrs. Frisbie, biting her
+lips. "Go up now and dress."
+
+There was a howl from both boys.
+
+"O Mamma! not yet. It's too early for that horrid dressing, oh, a great
+deal too early, Mamma. We've got a lot to do in our chicken house.
+Mayn't we go out again for a little while, just for half an hour,
+Mamma?"
+
+"Well--for half an hour you may," said Mrs. Frisbie reluctantly,
+consulting her watch. Away clattered the boys,--the girls looking after
+them with envious eyes.
+
+Presently Lulu slipped out and was gone a few minutes. She came back
+sparkling, with her cheeks very rosy.
+
+"Mamma," she cried, "what _do_ you think? David says if you haven't any
+objections, we may each of us have a little garden down there behind the
+asparagus beds. He'll make them for us, Mamma, he says, and we can plant
+just what we like in them. O Mamma! don't have any objections--please."
+
+"Will he really?" cried May. "I'll put peppergrass in mine,--and
+parsley. Dinah says she never has as much parsley as she wants."
+
+"Yes, and little green cucumbers," added Bertha,--"little teeny-weeny
+ones, for pickles, you know. Dinah is always wishing she could get them,
+but David never sends in any but big ones. O Mamma! do say yes. It'll be
+so nice."
+
+"Cucumbers! peppergrass! Well, you are the strangest children! Why don't
+you have pinks and pansies and pretty things?"
+
+"Oh, we will, and make bouquets for you, Mamma; only we thought of the
+useful things first."
+
+"Somehow you always do think of useful things first," murmured Mrs.
+Frisbie. "However, have the gardens if you like. I'm sure I don't care."
+
+The children's thanks were cut short by the click of a latch-key in the
+hall-door.
+
+"There's Papa!" cried Bertha; and, like three arrows dismissed from the
+string, the children were off to greet him. It was always a joy to have
+Papa come home.
+
+He was looking grave as he opened the door, but his face lit up at once
+at the sight of his little girls. Papa's face without a smile upon it
+would have seemed a strange sight indeed to that household. It did cross
+May's mind that evening that the smiles were not so merry as usual, and
+that Papa seemed tired; but no one else noticed it, either then or on
+the days that followed.
+
+Bubbles are pretty things, but the keeping them in air grows wearisome
+after a while. About this time the rainbow bubble set afloat by the kind
+Fairy for the sleeping Prince began to misbehave itself. Contrary winds
+seized it; it flew wildly, now here, now there; and, instead of sailing
+steadily, it was first up, then down, then up again, but more down than
+up. Prince John blew his hardest and did his best to keep it from
+sinking; for he knew, as we all do, that once let a bubble touch the
+earth, and all is over,--its glittering wings collapse,--they fly no
+more.
+
+So the weeks went on. Unconscious of trouble, the children dug and
+planted in their little gardens. Each new leaf and shoot was a wonder
+and a delight to them. Bertha's plants flourished less than the others,
+because of a habit she had of digging them all up daily to see how the
+roots were coming on; but, except for that, all went well, and the
+bluest of skies stretched itself over the heads of the small gardeners.
+In the City, where Papa's office was, the sky was not blue at all. High
+winds were blowing, stormy black clouds shut out the sun. Bubbles were
+sinking and bursting on every side, and men's hearts were heavy and
+anxious. Prince John did his best. He watched his bubble anxiously, and
+followed it far. It was fairy-blessed, as I said, and its wings were
+stronger than bubble's wings usually are; but at last the day came when
+it could soar no longer. The pretty shining sphere hovered, sank,
+touched a rock, and in a minute--hey! presto!--there was no bubble
+there; it had utterly disappeared, and Prince Frisbie, with a very sober
+face, walked home to tell his wife that he had lost every thing they had
+in the world. This was not a pleasant or an easy thing to do, as you can
+readily imagine.
+
+The children never forgot this evening. They used to vaguely refer to it
+among themselves as "That time, you know." Papa came in very quiet and
+pale, and shut himself up with Mamma. She--poor soul!--was much
+distressed, and sobbed and cried. They heard her as they came downstairs
+dressed for the evening, and it frightened them. Papa, coming out after
+a while, found them huddled together in a dismayed little group in the
+corner of the entry.
+
+"O Papa! is it any thing dreadful?" asked May. "Is Mamma sick?"
+
+"No, not sick, darling, but very much troubled about something. Come
+with me and I will explain it to you." Then Papa led them into the
+dining-room; and, with Bertha on his knee and the others close to him,
+he told them that he had lost a great deal of money (almost all he had),
+and they would have to sell the place, and go and live in a little house
+somewhere,--he didn't yet know exactly where.
+
+The children had looked downcast enough when Papa commenced, but at this
+point their faces brightened.
+
+"A really little house?" exclaimed May. "O Papa! do you know, I'm glad.
+Little houses are so pretty and cunning, I always wanted to live in one.
+Susie Brown's Papa does, and Susie can go into the kitchen whenever she
+likes, and she toasts the bread for tea, and does all sorts of things.
+Do you suppose that I may toast the bread when we go to live in our
+little house, Papa?"
+
+"I daresay Mamma will be glad of your help in a great many ways,"
+replied Papa.
+
+"Shall we be poor, very poor indeed?" demanded Bertha anxiously.
+
+"Pretty poor for the present, I am afraid," replied her Father.
+
+"Goody! goody!" cried May, hopping up and down on her toes. "I always
+wanted to be poor, it's so nice! We'll have the _best_ times, Papa; see
+if we don't!"
+
+Papa actually laughed, May's happy, eager face amused him so much.
+
+"I know what we'll do," said Jack, who had been considering the matter
+in silence. "We'll raise lots of chickens, and give you all the money,
+Papa."
+
+"My boy, I am afraid you must give up your chickens. There will be no
+place for them in the new home."
+
+"Must we?" Jack gave a little gulp, but went on manfully, "Well, never
+mind, we'll find something else that we can do."
+
+"Mr. Ashurst says Jack is the 'handiest' boy he ever saw, Papa," put in
+Arthur eagerly.
+
+"Well, handiness is a capital stock-in-trade. Now, dears, one thing,--be
+as good and gentle as possible with Mamma, and don't trouble her a bit
+more than you can help."
+
+"We will, we will," promised the little flock. Mrs. Frisbie was quite
+right in saying that the children took after their father. Their brave,
+bright natures were as unlike hers as possible.
+
+It is sad to see what short time it requires to pull down and destroy a
+home which has taken years to build. The Frisbies' handsome, luxurious
+house seemed to change and empty all in a moment. Carriages were sold,
+servants dismissed. Furniture was packed and carried away. In a few days
+nothing remained but a fine empty shell, with a staring advertisement of
+"For Sale" pasted on it. The familiar look was all gone, and everybody
+was glad to get away from the place. It took some time to find the
+"little house," and some time longer to put it to rights. Papa attended
+to all that, the children remaining meanwhile with Grandmamma. Mamma
+had taken to her bed with a nervous attack, and cried day and night.
+Everybody was sorry; they all waited on her, and did their best to raise
+her spirits.
+
+At last the new home was ready. It was evening when the carriage set
+them down at the gate, and they could only see that there were trees and
+shrubs in the tiny front yard, and a cheerful light streaming from the
+door, where Dinah stood to welcome them,--dear old Di, who had insisted
+on following their fortunes as maid of all work. As they drew nearer,
+they perceived that she stood in a small, carpeted entry, with a room on
+either side. The room on the right was a sitting-room; the room on the
+left, a kitchen. There were three bedrooms upstairs, and a small coop in
+the attic for Dinah. That was all; for it was indeed a "really little
+house," as Papa had said.
+
+"Oh, how pretty!" cried Lulu, as she caught sight of the freshly papered
+parlor, with its cheerful carpet, and table laid for tea, and on the
+other hand of the glowing kitchen stove and steaming kettle. "Such a
+nice parlor, and the dearest kitchen. Why, it's smaller than Susie
+Brown's house, which we used to wish we lived in. Don't you like it,
+Mamma? I think it's _sweet_."
+
+Mrs. Frisbie only sighed by way of reply. But the children's pleasure
+was a comfort to Papa. He and Dinah had worked hard to make the little
+home look attractive. They had papered the walls themselves, put up
+shelves and hooks, arranged the furniture, and even set a few late
+flowers in the beds, that the garden might not seem bare and neglected.
+
+The next day was a very busy one, for there were all the trunks to
+unpack, and the bureau drawers to fill, and places to be settled for
+this thing and that. By night they were in pretty good order, and began
+to feel at home, as people always do when their belongings are
+comfortably arranged about them.
+
+Mrs. Frisbie was growing less doleful. Her husband, who was very tired,
+lay back in a big arm-chair. The evening was chilly, so Dinah had
+lighted a small fire of chips, which flickered and made the room bright.
+The glow danced on Bertha's glossy curls as she sat at Mamma's knee, and
+on the rosy faces of the two boys. All looked cheerful and cosy; a smell
+of toast came across the entry from the kitchen.
+
+"Bertha, your hair is very nicely curled to-night," said Mrs. Frisbie.
+"I don't know how Dinah found time to do it."
+
+"Dinah didn't do it, Mamma. May did it. She did Lulu's too, and Lulu did
+hers. We're always going to dress each other now."
+
+Just then May came in with a plate of hot toast in her hand. Lulu
+followed with the teapot.
+
+"It's so nice having the kitchen close by," said May, "instead of way
+off as it was in the other house. This toast is as warm as--toast"--she
+concluded, not knowing exactly how to end her simile.
+
+"Your face looks as warm as toast, too," remarked her Father.
+
+"Yes, Papa, that's because I toasted to-night. Dinah was bringing the
+clothes from the lines, so she let me."
+
+"I stamped the butter, Papa," added Lulu. "Look, isn't it a pretty
+little pat?"
+
+"And I sifted the sugar for the blackberries," put in Bertha from her
+place at Mamma's knee.
+
+"You don't mind, do you Mamma?" observed Mary anxiously. "Di pinned a
+big apron over my frock. See, it hasn't got a spot on it."
+
+"I'm glad she did," said Mrs. Frisbie, surprised. "But it doesn't matter
+so much how you dress here, you know. It was in the other house I was so
+particular."
+
+"But I like to please you, Mamma, and you always want us to look nice,
+you know. We mean to be very careful now, because if we don't we shall
+worry you all the time."
+
+Mrs. Frisbie put her arm round Mary and kissed her.
+
+"I declare," she said, half-laughing, half-crying. "This house _is_
+pleasant. It seems snugger somehow, as if we were closer together than
+we ever were before. I guess I shall like it after all."
+
+"Hurrah!" cried Prince John, rousing from his fatigue at these
+comfortable words. "That's right, Molly, dear! You don't know what good
+it does me to hear you say so. If only you can look bright and the
+chicks keep well and happy, I shall go to work with a will, and the
+world will come right yet." He smiled with a look of conscious power as
+he spoke; his eyes were keen and eager.
+
+I think that just then, as the children gathered round the table, as
+Mrs. Frisbie took up the teapot and began to pour the tea, and her
+husband pushed back his chair,--that just then, at that very moment, the
+Fairy entered the room. Nobody saw her, but there she was! She smiled on
+the group; then she took from her pocket another bubble, more splendid
+than the one she had brought before, and tossed it into the air above
+Prince John's head. "There," she said, "catch that. You'll have it this
+time, and it won't break and go to pieces as the first one did. Look at
+it sailing up, up, up,--this bubble has wings, but it sails toward and
+not away from you. Catch it, as I say, and make it yours. But even when
+it _is_ yours, when you hold it in your hand and are sure of it, you'll
+be no luckier and no happier, my lucky Prince, than you are at this
+moment, in this small house, with love about you, hope in your heart,
+and all these precious little people to work for, and to reward you when
+work is done."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF JULIETTE.
+
+A Child's Romance. By BEATRICE WASHINGTON. With 45 illustrations by J.
+F. Goodridge. Small 4to. Cloth. Price, $1.00.
+
+[Illustration: "SHE WAS CARRIED IN HER TRUE KNIGHT'S ARMS."]
+
+_Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, by the Publishers._
+
+ROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON.
+
+
+
+
+_Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications._
+
+OLD ROUGH THE MISER.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+By LILY F. WESSELHOEFT, author of "Sparrow the Tramp," "Flipwing the
+Spy," "The Winds, the Woods, and the Wanderer." With twenty-one
+illustrations by J. F. Goodridge. Square 16mo, cloth, $1.25.
+
+[Illustration: OLD ROUGH THE MISER.]
+
+Mrs. Wesselhoeft's "Fable Stories" are proving themselves more and
+more acceptable to the children. "Old Rough" is a decided acquisition to
+the series.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, by the publishers._
+
+          ROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON.
+
+
+
+
+_Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications._
+
+SUSAN COOLIDGE'S POPULAR BOOKS.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE BARBERRY BUSH. And Seven Other Stories about Girls for Girls. By
+SUSAN COOLIDGE. Illustrated by Jessie McDermott. 16mo. Cloth. Uniform
+with "What Katy Did," etc. Price, $1.25.
+
+_For sale by all booksellers, and mailed, post-paid, on receipt of price
+by the publishers._
+
+          ROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON, MASS.
+
+
+
+
+_Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications._
+
+By the Author of Dear Daughter Dorothy.
+
+ROBIN'S RECRUIT.
+
+BY A. G. PLYMPTON,
+
+AUTHOR OF "BETTY A BUTTERFLY," AND "THE LITTLE SISTER OF WILIFRED."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+With illustrations by the author. Small 4to. Cloth, gilt. Price, $1.00.
+
+_Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of price, by the
+Publishers._
+
+          ROBERTS BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
+          BOSTON.
+
+
+
+
+SUSAN COOLIDGE'S POPULAR BOOKS.
+
+A GUERNSEY LILY;
+
+OR,
+
+HOW THE FEUD WAS HEALED.
+
+A Story for Girls and Boys.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+BY
+
+SUSAN COOLIDGE,
+
+Author of "What Katy Did," "Clover," "In the High Valley," etc.
+
+NEW EDITION. Square 16mo. ILLUSTRATED. Price, $1.25.
+
+          ROBERTS BROTHERS,
+          BOSTON.
+
+
+
+
+SUSAN COOLIDGE'S POPULAR BOOKS.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+IN THE HIGH VALLEY.
+
+Being the Fifth and last volume of the "Katy Did Series." With
+illustrations by JESSIE MCDERMOTT.
+
+One volume, square 16mo, cloth. Price, $1.25.
+
+          ROBERTS BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, BOSTON.
+
+
+
+
+_Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Juveniles._
+
+THE LITTLE SISTER OF WILIFRED.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A Story. By Miss A. G. Plympton, author of "Dear Daughter Dorothy" and
+"Betty a Butterfly." Illustrated by the author. Small 4to. Cloth. Price,
+$1.00.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+The author of "Dear Daughter Dorothy" needs no passport to favor. That
+bewitching little story which she not only wrote but illustrated must
+have given the name A. G. Plympton a notable place among the writers of
+children's stories. Followed by "Betty, a Butterfly" and now by "The
+Little Sister of Wilifred," we have a most interesting trio with which
+to adorn a child's library.--_Boston Times._
+
+_Sold by all booksellers; mailed, post-paid, by the publishers,[** .?]_
+
+          ROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON.
+
+
+
+
+JOLLY GOOD TIMES AT HACKMATACK
+
+[Illustration: "There," said Miss Patty, "that's a surtout as _is_ a
+surtout." PAGE 259.]
+
+By MARY P. W. SMITH,
+
+Author of "Jolly Good Times; or, Child-Life on a Farm," "Jolly Good
+Times at School," "Their Canoe Trip," "The Browns." With illustrations.
+16mo. Cloth. Price, $1.25.
+
+          ROBERTS BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, _Boston_.
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+Varied hyphenation was retained when there was an equal number of each,
+as in doorway and door-way.
+
+Obvious punctuation errors corrected.
+
+Page 33, "o" changed to "of" (The game of)
+
+Page 158, "what" changed to "when" (said so when)
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 27678.txt or 27678.zip *******
+
+
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/7/6/7/27678
+
+
+
+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.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://www.gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+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
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
diff --git a/27678.zip b/27678.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f9a0bdf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27678.zip
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6312041
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..500e0f0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #27678 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/27678)