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+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)
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+
+
+
+
+
+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 *******
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