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diff --git a/29744.txt b/29744.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..94ee8aa --- /dev/null +++ b/29744.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5471 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Kristy's Rainy Day Picnic, by Olive Thorne Miller + +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: Kristy's Rainy Day Picnic + +Author: Olive Thorne Miller + +Illustrator: Ethel N. Farnsworth + +Release Date: August 21, 2009 [EBook #29744] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KRISTY'S RAINY DAY PICNIC *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Ritu Aggarwal, Joseph Cooper and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + KRISTY'S RAINY DAY PICNIC + + + [Illustration: They were playing that the wax Doll was Sick.] + + + + + KRISTY'S + RAINY DAY PICNIC + + + BY + OLIVE THORNE MILLER + + + WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY + ETHEL N. FARNSWORTH + + + BOSTON + AND NEW YORK + HOUGHTON, + MIFFLIN CO. + + + COPYRIGHT 1906 BY H. M. MILLER + ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + _Published October 1906_ + + + + + CONTENTS + + + I. THE RAINY DAY 1 + + II. PLAYING DOCTOR; AND WHAT CAME OF IT 5 + + III. A SCHOOLGIRL'S JOKE 20 + + IV. ALL NIGHT IN THE SCHOOLHOUSE 27 + + V. MOLLY'S SECRET ROOM 45 + + VI. HOW MAMMA RAN AWAY 61 + + VII. HOW AUNT BETTY MADE HER CHOICE 73 + + VIII. NORA'S GOOD LUCK 91 + + IX. ONE LITTLE CANDLE 106 + + X. THE LOCKET TOLD 123 + + XI. HOW A DOG SAVED MY LIFE 145 + + XII. LOTTIE'S CHRISTMAS TREE 156 + + XIII. CHRISTMAS IN A BAGGAGE-CAR 172 + + XIV. HOW A BEAR CAME TO SCHOOL 189 + + XV. HOW LETTIE HAD HER OWN WAY 202 + + XVI. HOW KATE FOUND A BABY 223 + + + + + LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + + THEY WERE PLAYING THAT THE WAX DOLL WAS SICK + (page 6) _Frontispiece_ + + KRISTY STOOD PEERING INTO A WORLD OF DRIZZLING RAIN 2 + + SHE HAD TO PASS A COTTAGE ALMOST HIDDEN WITH FLOWERS 124 + + IN THE PARK I FOUND A BABY ... AND I SAT DOWN BESIDE IT 226 + + + + + +KRISTY'S RAINY DAY PICNIC + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE RAINY DAY + + +"I think it's just horrid!" said Kristy, standing before the window, +peering out into a world of drizzling rain. "Every single thing is +ready and every girl promised to come, and now it has to go and rain; +'n' I believe it'll rain a week, anyway!" she added as a stronger gust +dashed the drops against the glass. + +Kristy's mother, who was sitting at her sewing-table at work, did not +speak at once, and Kristy burst out again:-- + +"I wish it would never rain another drop; it's always spoiling +things!" + +"Kristy," said her mother quietly, "you remind me of a girl I knew +when I was young." + +"What about her?" asked Kristy rather sulkily. + +"Why, she had a disappointment something like yours, only it wasn't +the weather, but her own carelessness, that caused it. She cried and +made a great fuss about it, but before night she was very glad it had +happened." + +"She must have been a very queer girl," said Kristy. + +"She was much such a girl as you, Kristy; and the reason she was glad +was because her loss was the cause of her having a far greater +pleasure." + +"Tell me about it," said Kristy, interested at once, and leaving the +window. + +"Well, she was dressed for a party at the house of one of her friends, +and as she ran down the walk to join the girls in the hay-wagon that +was to take them all there, her dress caught on something and tore a +great rent clear across the front breadth." + +"Well; couldn't she put on another?" asked Kristy. + +"Girls didn't have many dresses in those days, and that was a new one +made on purpose for the occasion. She had no other that she would +wear." + + [Illustration: Kristy stood, peering into a world of drizzling Rain.] + +"What did she do?" asked Kristy. + +"She turned and ran back into the house, held up her ruined dress for +her mother to see, and then flung herself on the lounge with a burst +of tears. Her mother had to go out and tell the girls that Bessie +could not go." + +"That was horrid!" said Kristy earnestly; "but why was she glad, for +you said she was?" + +"She was, indeed; for an hour later her father drove up to the door +and said that he was obliged to go to the city on business, and if +Bessie could be ready in fifteen minutes, he would take her and let +her spend a few days with her cousin Helen, who had been urging her to +visit her. This was a great treat, for Bessie had never been to a +large city, and there was nothing she wanted so much to do. You see, +if she had been away at the party, she would have missed this +pleasure, for her father could not wait longer. She forgot her +disappointment in a moment, and hurried to get ready, while her +mother packed a satchel with things she would need." + +By this time Kristy was seated close by her mother, eagerly interested +in the story. + +Mrs. Crawford paused. + +"Do go on, mamma," said Kristy; "tell me more about her. Did she have +a nice time in the city?" + +"She did," went on Mrs. Crawford; "so nice that her father was +persuaded to leave her there, and she stayed more than a week. There +was one scrape, however, that the girls got into that was not so very +nice." + +"Tell me about it," said Kristy eagerly. + +"Well," said her mother, "this is the way it happened." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +PLAYING DOCTOR; AND WHAT CAME OF IT + + +One rainy Saturday afternoon when they were not allowed to go out, +Bessie and Helen were playing with their dolls in the nursery. + +Helen had a large family of dolls of many kinds: stiff kid-bodied +dolls with heads made of some sort of composition that broke very +easily, and legs and feet from the knees down of wood, with slippers +of pink or blue painted on; others all wood, with jointed legs and +arms, that could sit down; whole families of paper dolls cut from +cardboard, with large wardrobes of garments of gilt and colored paper +which the girls made themselves. Then there was a grand wax doll with +real hair which hung in curls, and lips slightly open showing four +tiny white teeth. This lovely creature was dressed in pink gauze, and +was far too fine for every day. It lived in the lower bureau drawer +in Helen's room, and was brought out only on special occasions. + +Dearest of all was a doll her mother made for her, of white cloth with +a face painted on it, and head of hair made of what used to be called +a "false front." This delightful doll was quite a wonder in those +days. It had a wardrobe as well made as Helen's own, including +stockings and shoes, and could be dressed and undressed and combed and +brushed to her heart's content. + +Well, one morning,--a rainy Saturday, as I said,--the two girls were +very busy with the big family of dolls. They were playing that the wax +doll was sick and they were Doctor and Nurse. Many tiny beads--called +pills--and several drops from a bottle out of the family medicine case +had been thrust between the teeth of this unlucky creature, when the +thought struck Helen that a living patient would be more fun than a +doll. So she hunted up a half-grown kitten that belonged to her little +brother Robbie. + +The kitten was dressed for her part in a white towel pinned around +her and a pointed cap of paper on her head. Very droll she looked, but +she was not so easy to manage as the doll. Beads she refused to +swallow, but thrust them out on her small pink tongue, and she +struggled violently when a drop of the medicine was given to her. In +fact, her struggles made Helen's arm joggle, and sent more down her +throat than she meant to give her. + +Finally, the kitten struggled and fought so violently that they let +her go, when she ran quickly down the stairs, and hid where they could +not find her. + +The next morning the kitten was missing, to Robbie's great grief. The +house was searched in vain, and the two girls began to fear that +medicine was not good for her. + +Feeling very guilty, they hunted everywhere on the place, and at last +found the poor little dead body behind a box in the cellar, where she +had crept to die. + +The girls were horrified to think their play had killed her. They felt +like murderers, and stole out into the arbor to think and plan what +they should do. They dared not confess; they feared some sort of +punishment for their crime, and they knew it would make Robbie very +unhappy. + +After much talk, they decided to dispose of the body secretly and not +tell any one of their part in the sad business. But how to do it was +the question that troubled them. They dared not bury it, for fresh +digging in that small city yard would arouse suspicion at once. Bessie +suggested that they should carry it far off in the night and throw it +away. This plan seemed the best they could think of, till Helen said +they would not be allowed to go out in the city after dark. + +"I'll tell you," said Bessie at last. "I can do up a nice +package,--Uncle Tom taught me,--and I'll do it up, and we can take it +away in the daytime; no one will know what it is, and then we can lose +it somewhere." + +This plan was adopted. Helen got paper and string, and when everybody +had gone to church that evening, they brought up the poor kitten, and +Bessie made a very neat package which no one could suspect. This they +hid away till they could get it out of the house. + +After school the next day they got leave to visit a schoolmate who +lived far up town, and Helen's mother gave them money to ride in the +omnibus--or stage, as they called it--which would take them there. +There were no street cars then. + +Hiding the small bundle under her cape, Bessie slipped out at the +door, feeling now not only like a murderer, but like a thief besides. + +They took the stage and rode up town, the package lying openly on +Helen's lap. When the stage reached Nineteenth Street it stopped, and +to Helen's horror one of her schoolmates came in. She was delighted to +see the girls, and seated herself beside Helen. + +"Where you going?" she asked. + +"We're going to see Lottie Hart," answered Helen. + +"Why, so am I!" she exclaimed; "ain't it fun that we met so?" + +"Yes," said Helen, but she was filled with dismay. How could she get +rid of her package! + +"What are you taking up to Lottie?" was the next question, as the +unfortunate bundle was noticed. + +"Oh, nothing!" said Helen, trying to speak carelessly; "it's something +of mine." + +Julia looked as if she did not believe her but said no more, though +she looked sharply at it. + +Meanwhile Helen was trying to plan some way of getting out of the +unpleasant scrape, and at last she said hurriedly, pulling the strap +at the same moment to stop the stage, "We're going to stop here to do +an errand; we'll come on soon. Tell Lottie we're coming," she added, +as she saw the look of surprise on her friend's face. + +"Why, I'll stop too--and we'll all go on together," she began, half +rising, but Helen interrupted rather shortly: "No; you go on and tell +her we're coming; we might be detained, you know." And without +another word the two conspirators hurried out and turned down a side +street. + +"Wasn't it horrid that Jule should get in?" said Helen, as soon as the +stage had moved on. "She's the greatest tattler in school; she'll make +a great talk about it. She was very curious about that package." + +"Where shall we go now?" asked Bessie. "Shall we really go to Lottie's +after we lose the bundle?" + +"No indeed! They'd tease us to death about it. I don't know where +we'll go," she added, for she was getting rather cross. "I wish we'd +left the old cat in the cellar anyway; it was a silly plan to do +this." + +"I think you're real mean to talk so," said Bessie indignantly, for it +was her plan, you remember. "I don't care if the whole town knows it! +it wasn't my fault anyway--'n' I'm going home tomorrow--so there!" + +This brought Helen to her senses, for she didn't want Bessie to go +home, and she remembered that she was the one who had spilled the +medicine. + +"I didn't mean that"--she said quickly; "I meant going in the stage +'n' all that." + +During this little talk the girls had walked a block or two. "But +where shall we go now?" asked Bessie anxiously, for she felt lost +among so many streets all looking just alike. + +"There's a ferry at the end of the street," said Helen, brightening +up; "I didn't think of that. We might cross it and lose the bundle in +the river." + +"That'll be easy," said Bessie, and with fresh courage they walked on. + +It was a long way to the ferry, and two rather tired girls went on to +the boat, having paid their fare with the last penny they had, for +they had expected to walk home from Lottie's. They forgot until they +had started that they had no money to get back, and that thought so +frightened Helen that she almost forgot about the first pressing +business of getting rid of her package. + +There seemed to be as much trouble about that as ever, for the boat +was full of passengers and somebody was all the time looking at them. +They dared not drop it in when any one was looking, for fear they +would think it very queer, and perhaps try to get it for them. Helen +had heard of such things. + +They walked to the front end of the boat, but could not find a chance +when no one was looking; and indeed no doubt their manner was so +strange that they aroused the curiosity of everybody. + +One of the deck-hands, too, kept close watch of them, and when they +went to the front of the boat, hoping to get where they would not be +noticed, he came up to them and said to Helen: + +"Look out, Miss! you might slip and fall overboard," and kept near +them as if he suspected that she meant to jump into the river. + +"We can't do it here," Helen whispered; "we'll have to go back--and I +haven't another cent; have you any money, Bessie?" + +"No!" answered Bessie in horror; "oh, what can we do!" + +Helen thought very hard for a few minutes, and then remembering that +they had paid their fare in the ferry-house, she thought perhaps if +they stayed on the boat and did not go through the ferry-house, they +might go back without paying. She whispered all this to Bessie, who by +this time was frightened half out of her wits, wondering if they would +ever get back over the river, and thinking of all the terrible things +she had heard in stories about being lost. She looked so scared that +Helen, who was used to the city and was sure she could find some way, +had to seem more brave than she really felt. + +"We better go back into the cabin," she whispered, "so that man won't +see that we don't get off." So they took seats in one corner of the +cabin, as the people began to hurry off, hoping with all their hearts +that no one would notice them. + +But that deck-hand did not lose sight of them, and when the cabin was +empty he came in. "It's time to get off, Miss," he said; "we don't go +any farther." + +"We don't want to get off," said Helen; "we're going back." + +"But you haven't paid your fare," he said gruffly. + +On this Bessie really began to cry, and Helen, though she tried to +brave it out, trembled. + +"Can't we go back without, if we don't go to the ferry-house?" she +said, with trembling lips. "We haven't any more money and we want to +go home." + +On this the man was softened and probably ashamed of his suspicions, +for he turned and said as he went out of the door, "Well, if the +capt'n don't object, I don't care." + +Then the people began to come in, and the two girls sat trembling, +dreading that every man who entered was the captain to demand their +fare. + +In this new trouble they forgot the bundle, and did not attempt to get +rid of it on the river. + +When they were safely away from the ferry-boat and on the street on +the home side, they felt better, and began to think again of what they +wanted now more than ever to do. They both felt that if they ever got +safely home and out of this scrape they would never--never--get into +another one again. + +As they trudged wearily along, full of these good resolutions, they +came to a row of houses set back a little in the yards with grass and +shrubs growing. + +Bessie whispered, "Couldn't you drop it under one of these bushes, +Helen? See; there's a lilac very thick and down to the ground." + +Sure enough; there was a most convenient bush close to the fence. + +"Is anybody looking?" whispered Helen, glancing around fearfully. + +"No; I don't see anybody," answered Bessie. "Do it! do it! quick!" +eagerly. + +No sooner said than done; the package that had made them so much +trouble was hastily thrust far under a broad-spreading lilac bush, and +with a gasp, Helen started on a mad run down the street followed +closely by Bessie. Not until they had turned a corner and passed into +another street, did the two culprits dare to take a long breath and +begin to walk. + +As they got farther and farther away, and no one followed them, they +grew less frightened, and then they found themselves very, very tired, +with still a long way to go to reach home. + +It was almost dark when two tired and hungry girls reached the steps +of their own home and safety. + +"I'm half starved!" said Helen, as they dragged themselves up the +stairs. + +"So 'm I," said Bessie. + +"You go onto my room," whispered Helen, "and I'll go down and see if I +can get something to eat--it isn't near supper time." + +In a few minutes she came up with some cakes which they eagerly +devoured, and felt that their troubles were over. They had, however, +one more ordeal. + +At the supper table Helen's mother asked: "How did you find Lottie? +Did you have a pleasant time?" + +Helen hesitated a moment and then said hastily:-- + +"We didn't go there; we met Jule Dayton going there, so we got out at +S---- Street and walked down to the river." + +Helen's mother eyed the girls sharply. "You must have had a long +walk." + +"We did," answered Helen, "and we're awful hungry;" adding quickly as +she saw another question on her mother's lips, "I'll tell you all +about it after supper." + +And she did. Alone with her mother the two girls confessed--told the +whole story and promised never, never again to try to deceive. + + * * * * * + +"That was a good story," said Kristy, as her mother ended. "You never +told me anything about that Bessie before. Do you know anything more +about her?" + +Kristy's manner was rather suspicious and Mrs. Crawford smiled as she +answered:-- + +"Yes; I know a good deal about her and I'll tell you more some day." + +"Tell me now!" begged Kristy; "I believe I know who she was. Was her +name really Bessie?" + +"No matter about that," answered Mrs. Crawford; "if I told you her +real name, perhaps I shouldn't like to tell you so much about her." + +"Oh, well! then you needn't; but I guess I can guess." + +"I guess you can guess all you like," said mamma, smiling again. + +"One thing more I remember now that happened during that famous visit, +which was not quite so tragical as the death of the poor kitten." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A SCHOOLGIRL'S JOKE + + +The school to which Helen went--and where Bessie went with her--was +not like the great schoolhouses they have now. It had but two rooms, +one for girls and the other for boys. Some of the school windows +opened on the street, and one morning when all was quiet in the +schoolroom an organ-grinder suddenly began to play under the open +windows. + +The girls looked up from their books and listened, the teacher looked +annoyed, but thinking he would soon go on, she waited. The girls began +to get restless; study was at an end; and at last when the grinder had +played all his airs and begun again, the teacher went to the door to +ask him to go. In the hall she met the teacher of the boys, who was on +the same errand, for the boys were all excited and getting very +noisy. In fact school work was stopped in both rooms. + +The man refused to move on, and at last gave as his excuse, that he +had been hired by one of the scholars to play there an hour. + +The teachers tried to make him tell who had hired him, and finally he +said it was a small boy with red hair. Finding him determined to earn +his money by playing the whole hour, the teachers went back to their +rooms, sure that they knew the culprit and that he should be punished. + +There was only one small boy with red hair in the school, and he was +called up and accused of the prank. He declared that he knew nothing +about it,--that he never did it,--and began to cry when the teacher +brought from his desk a long ruler which the boys knew too well, for +when one broke the rules he was punished by being first lectured +before the whole school, and then ordered to hold out his hand and +receive several blows from it. + +The poor little red-haired boy cried harder than ever when this +appeared, and again protested that he did not do it. Then a voice +from the back of the room spoke timidly: "Perhaps the girls know +something about it." + +This was a new idea; it had not occurred to the master that the man +might have told a falsehood to shield the real culprit, and he laid +down the ruler, telling the sobbing boy that he might go to his seat +while he inquired into it. Meanwhile the organ-grinder went on with +his work and the whole school was in an uproar. + +When the girls' teacher heard the suggestion that perhaps some of her +pupils might be guilty, she was very much vexed. But ordering all +books put aside, she gave them a serious lecture on the trouble that +had been made by that mischief, and then called upon the guilty one, +if she were there, to rise and receive her sentence, and save the +small boy sobbing in the next room from a punishment that he did not +deserve. + +Upon this, sixty girls--the whole room full--rose together as one +girl. + +The teacher was amazed--almost in consternation. She first made one +of them tell the story, when it came out that it was the prank of one +of their number--whose name she would not give. + + * * * * * + +"Who was it?" interrupted Kristy eagerly; "was it Bessie?" + +"No," answered her mother, "not alone; but it was her cousin Helen who +was full of such foolish jokes, seconded by Bessie. She had asked the +organ-grinder how much he would charge to play under the school +windows an hour, and when he said sixty cents, she had gone around +among the girls and got a penny from each so that all should be +guilty." + + * * * * * + +The teacher's next thought was how to punish sixty girls, but she was +quick-witted, and bidding them resume their seats, she gave them +another lecture, and then said: "Since you are all guilty, you shall +all be punished." + +She then ordered text-books to be laid aside and slates and pencils to +be brought out--for this happened before quiet paper had taken the +place of noisy slates. + +Each girl produced from her desk a large slate, and waited further +orders. Then the teacher wrote in large letters on the blackboard +these words:-- + + I LOVE TO HEAR THE ORGAN-GRINDER PLAY + +and ordered each girl to write that upon her slate over and over and +over again for one hour. + +This seemed like a very easy punishment, and then began a vigorous +scratching of pencils, with shy laughing glances between the culprits, +while the teacher took a book and began to read, keeping, however, a +sharp eye on the pupils to see that no one shirked her work. When one +announced that her slate was full, she was told to sponge it off and +begin again. + +Never was an hour so long! The lively scratching of pencils soon began +to lag, and the teacher had to spur them on again, and now and then +she walked down between the desks and looked at the slates to see that +no one failed to obey orders. + +Many eager glances were turned upon the clock; recess-time came--and +went; the boys were let out and their shouts and calls came in at the +window, but the silence in the room of the girls was broken only by +the scratching of slate-pencils and the sighs of weary girls,--for it +had long ceased to be funny. + +When at last that tiresome old clock struck the hour, they were made +to put away their slates and resume their lessons, and no recess at +all did they have that morning. + + * * * * * + +"That was an awful funny prank," said Kristy; "and wasn't it a cute +punishment!" she added, getting up to look out of the window again. +"Rain! rain! rain!" she said, in a vexed tone, "nothing but rain +to-day." + +"There are worse storms than rain, Kristy," said her mother. + +"I don't see what can be worse," said Kristy, returning to her seat. + +"What would you say to a blizzard?" asked mamma. + +"What's a blizzard?" said Kristy. + +"It's a kind of storm they have out on the western prairies; let me +tell you about one." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +ALL NIGHT IN THE SCHOOLHOUSE + + +It was very quiet one winter day in the little schoolhouse out on the +prairie near the village of B----. + +The afternoon was wearing away, and thoughts of home and the warm +supper awaiting them began to stir in the children's thoughts, and +many glances were turned to the clock which was busily ticking the +minutes away. + +Suddenly, without the least warning, a severe blast of wind struck the +little schoolhouse and shook it to its foundations, while at the same +moment a great darkness fell upon the world, as if the sun had been +stricken out of the heavens. + +"A blizzard!" came trembling from the lips of the older scholars, who +well knew the enemy which had suddenly descended upon them. + +Miss Grey, the teacher, left her seat and hurried to the window. +Nothing was to be seen but snow. Not the soft, feathery flakes of +eastern storms, but sharp ice-like particles that cut and stung when +it beat against the flesh, like needles. + +Here was a situation! Though new to the country, Miss Grey had been +warned of the terrible storms which sometimes descended upon it, +obliterating every landmark, and so blinding and bewildering one that +even the sense of direction was lost, while the icy wind that came +with it, seemed to freeze the very vitals, and left many lost and +frozen in its path. + +Though it was her first sight of the monster, she recognized it in a +moment, and her instant thought was, "O God! what can I do with these +children?" And a faintness, almost a feeling of despair, came over +her. Then seeing that all order was at an end, and the children were +huddled about her, some crying and all terrified, she pulled herself +together, realizing that to avert a real panic she must arouse +herself. She returned to her seat, and in as calm a voice as she could +command, she ordered the children back to their seats, to give her +time to consider what she could do. + +"Please may I go home?" came anxiously from small lips of the younger +children. Older ones knew well that one step beyond the door they +would be lost, for years of experience with blizzards and the stern +directions of parents never to venture out in one was thoroughly +impressed on their minds. + +"Wait till I think!" was the answer of the teacher to these requests; +and for a few moments she did try to think, but all the time she knew +in her heart that she should have to keep them all, and make them as +comfortable as she could. + +At length she spoke. "You know, children, that it will not be safe to +go out in the storm. You could not find your way; you would be lost +and perhaps perish in the snow. We must just be patient and make +ourselves as comfortable as we can. You may put away your +books,"--for she saw that study or school work would be impossible in +their state of excitement. With sudden inspiration she went on: "We +will have a recess, and I will tell you a story, but first we must +have some more wood. Harry, will you bring some?" + +Harry Field was her oldest scholar and gave her the most trouble. He +was in fact full-grown and seventeen years old. He did the work of a +man on the farm all summer, but being anxious to get more of an +education, he went to school in winter. + +That was commendable, and Miss Grey was glad to help him; but though a +man in size, he had not outgrown the boy in him, and he sometimes gave +her a great deal of trouble by putting the younger ones up to mischief +or teasing them past endurance. + +With Harry, Miss Grey dreaded the most trouble, but real danger +brought out his manly side and he at once ranged himself on her side +to stand by her and help. + +On her request, he went to the passageway where wood was kept and +returned with a small armful and a white face. He whispered to Miss +Grey: "This is the last stick!" + +A new horror was thus added to the situation, but Miss Grey assumed a +confidence she by no means felt. "Then we must burn up the wood-box," +she said calmly. + +"I will split it up," said Harry; "I know where the axe is kept." + +This was some relief. Permission was granted, and in a few minutes the +vigorous blows of the axe were heard, and soon he returned with a +glowing face and a big armful of wood. Miss Grey called for quiet and +began to tell her story. + +Never was story-telling so hard; she could not collect her thoughts; +she could not think of a single thing that would interest that +frightened crowd. The blizzard--the horror of it--the dread of what it +might bring to these children under her charge--then the terrors of +hunger and cold, and panic of fear, which seemed impossible to +prevent, almost deprived her of her reason. She felt a strong impulse +to run away, to fling herself into the very thick of the storm and +perish. + +Then a glance at the intelligent and fearless face of Harry gave her +new courage. "Harry," she said, in a low tone, "you are the oldest +here--you must help me. Can't you tell a story while I try to think?" + +"I don't know," hesitated Harry. + +"Do think!" she said earnestly; "these children will work themselves +into a panic, and then how can we manage them!" + +"Well perhaps I can," said Harry, pleased to be her helper; then after +a moment, "I guess I can; I'll tell them about a bear I saw once in +the woods." + +"Oh, do!" said Miss Grey, sinking back in her chair. + +In a moment Harry began, and as the story was really a thrilling one +and he told it with enthusiasm, the children quieted down and +listened. + +Meanwhile Miss Grey had somewhat recovered herself and made some +definite plans for the rest of the day. + +When the story ended with the sensational end of the bear, the details +of which Harry enlarged upon till they became very exciting, Miss Grey +was calm again. + +Thanking Harry, she then proposed to tell a story herself, when a +faint little voice spoke up, "Oh, I'm so hungry," and was echoed by +many more, "So 'm I." + +This was the most pressing trouble, as Miss Grey well knew. With Harry +at the axe, they could be kept warm; but how to satisfy their hunger! +She had a plan, however. + +"Did any of you have any dinner left in your baskets?" she asked. + +Two or three said that they had, when she ordered all baskets and +pails to be brought to her. + +Even when all were emptied there was a very meagre supply for a dozen +hearty, country appetites, and her heart sank; but, telling those who +had anything that of course what there was must be divided between +all, she portioned it out as well as she could, leaving none for +herself. + +"But you have nothing yourself!" said Harry, who was distributing the +small supply. + +"Oh, I don't want anything," said Miss Grey. + +"Nor I either," said Harry; "I'll give up my share." + +"You'd better not, Harry," said Miss Grey, with a smile of thanks; +"you are young." + +"Yes, and strong," said Harry, adding his small portion to the others. +"I guess I can stand it if you can." + +"Thank you, Harry; I don't know what I should do without you." + +Then Miss Grey began her story, hoping to make the children forget +their hunger. She took her cue from Harry's bear story and added +harrowing incidents and thrilling experiences, as many as she could +think of, trying to remember some of the stories of adventure she had +read. + +When the children got tired and began to be restless, she brought out +her next resource: she proposed a game, and in a few minutes the whole +school was romping and shouting and enjoying the novelty of a real +play in the schoolroom. + +When at last they sat down warm and breathless, she began again. This +time she sang them some songs; some that she remembered her mother +singing to her in the nursery. But she found this a rather dangerous +experiment, for the thought of that happy time contrasted with the +anxieties of this, with a dozen frightened children on her hands, cut +off from all the world, nearly overcame her. But she rallied again, +and this time proposed a song that all could sing. + +After that she told another story, making it as long and as stirring +as she possibly could. + +By this time it was quite dark so that the stove-door was left open to +give a little light, and the younger ones began to cry quietly with +sleepiness. + +All the children were sent to the hall to bring their wraps, and then +beginning with the smallest, they were all put to bed on the benches. +These benches, fortunately, had backs, and by putting two of them face +to face they made a bed, which, if hard and cheerless, would +certainly keep them from falling out. + +When the last one had been made as comfortable as could be done under +the circumstances, Miss Grey sang several rather sleepy verses, and +when long breathing announced the sleep of some, she sank back in her +chair exhausted. + +"I'll keep the fire going, Miss Grey," said her gallant helper, Harry. +"You try to sleep, or at least to rest." + +"Indeed, Harry, I couldn't sleep if I tried. You know about these +storms--how long do they usually last? Do you suppose some one will +come for us?" + +"Why, Miss Grey," said Harry, "I suppose every man in the village is +out now trying to get to us--surely every man who has a child in +school." + +"I suppose every mother is half crazy," said Miss Grey. + +"No doubt she is," said Harry. + +Now when all was quiet inside the room, Miss Grey had leisure to +listen to the rage of the elements outside. How the savage wind roared +and beat upon the lonely little building as if it would tear it to +pieces and scatter its ruins over the pitiless prairie; how the icy +storm beat against the staring great windows as if in its fury it +would crash them in and bury them all. It was fearful, and Miss Grey, +unused to storms of such violence, shuddered as she listened. + +"Harry," she whispered with white lips, "isn't this the worst storm +you ever knew? It seems as if it must blow the house down." + +"No," said Harry, "I think they're all about alike. I was caught out +in one once." + +"Were you? Did you get lost?" + +"Oh, yes indeed; my father was with me and we wandered around, it +seemed for hours, till we saw a light and got to a farmhouse, miles +away from where we thought we were. I was so stiff with cold I +couldn't walk. I was a kid then"--he hastily added, "and my father had +to carry me to the house. He froze his ears and his nose that time." + +"Well, this is the most awful storm I ever knew," said Miss Grey. "I +feel now as if I should run away from this place as soon as my term is +up." + +"Don't," said Harry earnestly; "you're the best teacher we ever +had--don't go away!" + +For some time not much was said between the two watchers. The +children--most of them--slept. + +"Harry," said Miss Grey, after a while, "you didn't answer my question +of how long these storms usually last." + +Harry looked a little confused, for he had purposely not answered it, +fearing to discourage her. + +"Sometimes," he said, hesitatingly, "it is over in a few hours, but +sometimes," he added more slowly, "one has lasted two or three days." + +"Oh!" cried Miss Grey in horror, "what can I do with the children! +They'll be hungry as bears when they wake!" + +"Oh, they'll surely find us as soon as morning comes," said Harry. "I +wish we could show a light now; they might be right on us and not see +us." + +"That's true--but there's no possible way of making one. We ought to +have candles and matches, and I'll see that we have--if we ever get +out of this," she added, in a lower tone. + +After what seemed interminable hours, daylight began to creep through +the windows. It gave little hope, for the wind was strong as ever, and +nothing could be seen but a world of whirling, rushing, blinding snow. +And before it was fully light the children began to wake; soon they +were all awake and most of them crying with hunger and fright. + +Then the scenes of the afternoon were repeated. The worn-out teacher +sang and told stories, and led in games till she was ready to drop +with exhaustion. + +About noon a shout startled them, and Harry rushed to the door; indeed +all started for it in a mad rush, but Miss Grey ordered them back so +sternly that they obeyed. + +In a moment the room was full of men--or were they some strange +snow-monsters?--clad in white from head to foot, and so disguised by +the snow that no child could know his own father. + +With joy and relief, Miss Grey almost fainted, while the men, after +assuring themselves that all the children were safe, listened to +Harry's animated story of the terrible night, and then applauded Miss +Grey for her heroic labors. + +She did not look heroic now, for she had sunk back in her chair almost +as white as the world outside the windows. When the weary men had +rested a little and warmed themselves, the children were wrapped up in +extra wraps the men had brought, and Miss Grey rallied and prepared to +set out on her fight for life, through the still raging storm. + +They had made some sort of a path through the drifts as they came, and +though little signs of it were left, there was enough to guide these +hardy men used to such storms. Every man took his child in his arms +and all started out, Miss Grey under the care of her faithful Harry. + +At first she clung to his arm, but the snow was everywhere; it filled +her eyes and took away her breath, the wind blew her skirts and +impeded her steps, and in her state of nervous exhaustion she was very +soon overcome. A dull stupor came over her, and, letting go her hold +on the arm of her protector, she sank down into the snow unconscious. + +From that state she would never have roused but for the efforts of +Harry. There was not a moment to lose; the rest of the party were +almost out of sight, and to lose them would be to be without a guide +in this wilderness of snow. + +It was no time for ceremony. With a hasty "You must excuse me, then," +Harry took her light form up in his arms and trudged on as well as he +could, striving only to keep the men in sight. + +When, after efforts that tried his strength to its limits, he reached +the farmhouse where Miss Grey boarded, he staggered up the steps, +burst open the door, and almost fell on the floor with his unconscious +burden. + +The family rushed to his aid; took Miss Grey's limp form, laid it on +a lounge, and some set to work to restore her, while others helped +Harry to free himself from snow and thaw himself out. + +When, after some time, Miss Grey was fully recovered, and both she and +Harry had eaten a very welcome breakfast, he rose to go to his own +home not far away, she rose, too, and said earnestly:-- + +"Harry, I don't know what to say! I believe you have saved my +life--what can I say--what can I ever do"-- + +"Promise that you won't give up the school and go away!" burst eagerly +from Harry's lips. + +"Do you really care so much to have me stay?" she asked, somewhat +surprised, for she had sometimes been obliged to assert her authority +very sternly. + +"Yes, I do!" he said, bluntly. "I--I"--he went on embarrassed, "I've +been a donkey and given you trouble--I'd like to kick myself--but +you're a brick and I'll behave myself--if you'll stay." + +"I will," said Miss Grey cordially, "and I depend on you to be the +help you were last night. I might never"--here she broke down. + +"You'll see," said Harry bluntly, as he opened the door to go. + +She did. He was better than his word, for he seemed to have shaken off +all his boyishness from that terrible day. He not only attended to his +studies, but he became her aid and assistant on all occasions, and his +example as well as his influence made the little school far different +from what it had been. Before spring, Miss Grey had become so attached +to her scholars and the little town that she had no wish to leave +them. She, however, learned to see in time the coming of a storm and +she provided herself with the means of getting help, so that she was +never again made prisoner with a roomful of children by a blizzard. + + * * * * * + +"Mamma," said Kristy, after a few moments' silence, "why did you never +tell me anything about that Bessie before?" + +Mamma smiled. "I didn't want to tell you everything at once; I wanted +to save some till you were a little older." + +"I guess there's another reason, too," said Kristy, looking very wise; +"I guess they are about some one I know." Mamma smiled again, but said +nothing for a moment till Kristy began again. + +"Tell me another." + +"Well; let me see," said Mrs. Crawford. "I don't think of anything +else interesting that happened to Bessie while she was in the city, +and soon after the affair of the dead kitten she went home. But I +remember another thing that happened about that time which I will tell +you after lunch." + +"Oh, tell it now!" demanded Kristy, looking at the clock which pointed +to ten minutes after twelve. + +"Well; perhaps there is time," said her mother. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +MOLLY'S SECRET ROOM + + +When Molly was a little girl eight or ten years old, she was living in +the city with her two sisters who took care of her. + +They had no father or mother, and the sisters were clerks in a store, +for they had to support themselves. They lived in one room, high up in +a business block, so as to be near their work, which was indeed in the +very next building. + +They had to go to work early in the morning and leave Molly alone. +They had lived in the country, and it was very hard for the child to +be shut up in one room all day, with no one to play with, and only +back windows to look out of. + +Once or twice Molly had left the room and wandered into the street, +and the sisters were so afraid she would be lost that finally they +locked the door and took away the key so that she could not get out. + +Playing all alone with her dolls became very tiresome after a while, +and looking out of the window was not very exciting; there was nothing +to be seen but back yards of stores where nothing ever happened. + +Now Molly noticed that the next building, which was lower than the one +they were in, was a little deeper than theirs, and stuck out a foot or +so beyond it. One of their windows was quite near this roof which was +flat, and Molly often looked longingly at it, wishing she could get +out upon it and be out of doors. + +One day when she was very tired and warm, she stood at the window +looking at the tempting roof so near, when suddenly the thought came +to her that she could almost step from the window on to it. This was +an enticing thought, and without thinking of the danger of falling, or +of anything except the longing to get out, she pushed the window as +high as it would go, climbed up on the sill, and holding fast to the +casing inside, thrust one foot carefully out. Oh, joy! she touched the +roof, and with one fearful step was safely on it, though her heart +beat a little hard. + +The sun shone brightly, and she was almost too happy to look about to +see her new possessions. The roof was flat, as large as a big room; on +one side was a tall brick chimney and in the middle a queer-looking +structure which she at once went over to examine. It was shaped like a +tent, and all made of windows which she could not see through because +they were of colored glass. + +Both sides of this roof-room were tall, brick walls of neighboring +buildings, and in the front a lower one, which was, however, too high +for her to look over. Only the back was open. + +It was not a very attractive place, but to Molly it was a new world. +She was a strange child always, full of imagination, and she at once +decided that the brick chimney was a castle in which some children +were shut up, and the window tent looked into a garden where they were +allowed to play. + +She resolved to bring her doll out here, and she thought she should +never be lonely again if she could only find a peep-hole in that glass +roof and look down into the garden; so she was always looking for one. + +After that day she spent all her time--when it did not rain--on the +delightful roof. She carried her treasures out, her whole family of +dolls with their furniture and things, her sisters keeping her well +supplied so that she should not be lonely. She found a small box which +she could leave out there, and made her a nice seat, and soon she +began to get rosy and happy again, to the great delight of her +sisters. + +Every day, as soon as she was left alone, she pushed up the window, +took that fearful step on which, if she had slipped or lost her hold, +she would have been dashed to pieces on the pavement below, and then +spent the day happily with her dolls and toys, making stories for +herself. + +It was not long before she found the peep-hole she was always looking +for into the room under the glass tent--for it was a room, and not a +garden, as she hoped. This peep-hole was a small three-cornered piece +of clear glass among the colored, and through it she could see +everything in the room below. + +The room was not particularly interesting, but she made up a story +about it as she always did. It seemed to be a gentleman's office, for +an elderly gentleman nearly always sat at a table under the +roof-window and had papers about him. + +To him came many callers; sometimes other men, sometimes shop-boys, +now and then a shop-girl on some errand, and once a week a charwoman +who cleaned, and swept, and dusted, and piled the papers neatly up on +the table. + +All this was of deepest interest to Molly, who passed hours every day +looking into this room, her only outlook into the world, and making up +stories about the people who came. + +Sometimes--not very often--there came a beautiful lady to the room, +who had long talks with the old gentleman, and seemed to be unhappy +about something. She would cry, and appeared to be begging him to do +something which he never did, though he seemed to be sorry for her. +Molly had made up a story about her: that she was the daughter of the +old gentleman and wanted to go to live in the country where there were +trees, and birds, and gardens, and her father always refused to let +her, but kept her shut up in a big brick house in the city. + +One day while peering down into the room, Molly saw the beautiful +lady, after much talk, take out of her bag a small leather case and +open it. There was something very glittering inside, which flashed +bright colors as she turned it. Molly was so interested that she could +not take her eyes off her. After a while she gave it to the old +gentleman, who unlocked a drawer in the table, put into it the case +with its wonderful treasure, and then took from the same drawer a +small bag, out of which he counted what Molly thought were bright, new +pennies, such big pennies, too, as the pennies were at that time, so +shining and beautiful that Molly wished she had a handful to play +with. These he gathered up and gave to the lady who put them carefully +into her bag and then went away. + +Now for many days the lady did not come again, and Molly saw only the +errand-boys and occasionally a shop-girl, and the men who came to +talk, and always the old gentleman, till one day something else +happened. + +The old gentleman was away all day and the charwoman was cleaning the +room. One or two persons came, apparently to see the old gentleman, +and among the rest one of the shop-girls Molly had often seen there. +She talked with the cleaning-woman a few minutes, and then, the work +being done, they went out together. + +While Molly still looked, hoping they would come back, she saw a boy +steal in very quietly. She knew him for one she had often seen there; +he seemed to belong to the store below. But he acted very strangely. +He looked all around the room carefully, opened a door at the back, +then locked the door he had come in at. + +Then he went to the table--all the time listening and acting as if +afraid. He acted so strangely that Molly was so much interested she +couldn't look away. She wondered what he was going to do. She soon +saw, for he took from his pocket a bunch of keys and began trying them +in the drawer of the table. + +He tried several, and at last found one that fitted and he pulled the +drawer open. He tumbled over the things in the drawer, took out the +little bag which had held the bright pennies, put it in his pocket, +and then pulled out the small leather case Molly remembered so well, +and she saw--as he opened it--the same flashing colors she had seen +before. This he hastily closed and slipped into another pocket. Then +snatching his keys, he hurried out of the room, leaving the drawer +open, but shutting the door very quietly. + +Meanwhile Molly was breathless with excitement over this new mystery +and could hardly tear herself away from her peep-hole, hoping always +to see what would happen next. + +She soon saw unusual things. The next day policemen came to the room, +examined the drawer carefully, looked at doors and windows, as if +seeking something. The old gentleman seemed distressed, and the lady +came and cried and wrung her hands; plainly there was something very +serious the matter. + +One evening--not long after this--she heard her sisters talking about +a mysterious robbery that had taken place in the store. The +proprietors of the store had lost money and a valuable piece of +diamond jewelry, and one of the shop-girls had been arrested. She was +the only one who had been in the room that day, it was said by the +charwoman who was first suspected. The sisters were very indignant +over the arrest; they did not believe the girl was guilty. + +While listening to this story, Molly understood that her show-room was +the private office of the old gentleman and that she knew who had +stolen the diamonds. But if she told, it would reveal the secret of +her play-room, and she knew her sisters would never let her go there +again. + +The lonely child felt that she could not give up her only pleasure; so +she sat listening but saying nothing, till one of her sisters told +about the poor shop-girl, how she was in great distress, and her +mother, who was almost helpless, had come to the store to plead with +the old gentleman. + +This was too much for kind-hearted Molly, and on one of her sisters +saying she did not believe the girl stole it, Molly exclaimed, before +she thought:-- + +"She didn't! the shop-boy took it!" + +"How do you know?" demanded her sister in amazement. + +"I saw him; I know all about it," said Molly excitedly. + +"You saw it?" said her sister. "What do you mean? How could you see +it?" + +Surprised as they were, Molly was a truthful child, and she was so +earnest that her sisters could not doubt she did know something, +though they could not imagine how. A little questioning, however, +brought the facts to light, and Molly's long-treasured secret was out. +She showed her sisters how she got on to the roof, and they were +forced to believe her. + +After talking it over, they decided it was too serious a matter for +them to manage, and the next morning, asking to see the store manager, +they quietly told him Molly's story. + +He poohed at it, said it was impossible; but upon their insisting, he +at last brought them before the old gentleman. + +He was struck with their straightforward story, and impossible as it +seemed, was resolved to test it. Molly was sent for and told so +straight a story of the beautiful lady and the shining jewel, of the +bright pennies he gave her, and of other things she had seen, that a +visit was made to the attic room. + +Molly took her fearful step on to the roof in an easy way that showed +it was perfectly familiar, followed by the manager, who was a slight +man. She showed him the peep-hole and how she could see everything in +the room below, and he returned in almost speechless amazement. + +The next thing was to pick out the boy who had done it, and this Molly +had to do, though she would not have consented except for her pity for +the shop-girl now shut up in jail. + +All the boys of the store were made to stand up in line, and Molly was +told to pick out the boy. It did not need her word, however, for the +guilty boy turned red and white, and at last fell at the feet of the +old gentleman and confessed all. + +That was a time of triumph for the sisters: first they received--to +their amazement--the five hundred dollars reward which had been +offered, and then they were given better places in the store at much +higher wages, and Molly was adopted by the beautiful lady whose +valuable jewels she had been the means of recovering. + +The sisters hated to give Molly up, but seeing the great benefit it +would be for her, they consented. With the money they bought a tiny +home in a country suburb, and came every day to their work on the +cars. There they live nicely now, and Molly often goes to see them. +They have been advanced to fine positions and are prosperous and +happy. + + * * * * * + +When the story was ended, Kristy drew a long sigh. "That was splendid! +was it true? How I should like to see Molly's play-room." + +"Yes, it is true; but you can never see it," said her mother, "for the +next year the store was built up a story or two higher, and the +play-house on the roof was no more." + +"There's the lunch bell," said Kristy, "will you tell me some more +after lunch?" + +"Dear me, Kristy," said her mother, with a sigh, "you are certainly +incorrigible; don't you _ever_ get tired of stories?" + +"Never!" said Kristy emphatically; "I could listen to stories all day +and all night too, I guess." + +Mrs. Crawford hesitated; Kristy went on. + +"Won't you tell me stories as long as it rains?" + +"Well, yes," began Mrs. Crawford, who had noted signs of clearing. But +Kristy interrupted, shouting, "It's a bargain! it's a bargain! you +said yes! Now let's go to lunch; I'm in a hurry to begin the next +story." + +"Well," said Mrs. Crawford, when they returned to the sitting-room +after lunch, "if I'm to tell stories all day, you certainly should do +something, too; it isn't fair for me to do all the work." + +"I will," said Kristy laughing; "I'll listen." + +"Do you call that work?" asked her mother. + +"N--o!" said Kristy, thinking a moment. "Well, I'll tell you! I'll get +my knitting;" and she ran out of the room and in a minute or two came +back with some wool and needles with a very little strip of knitting, +all done up in a clean towel. She had set out to knit a +carriage-blanket for a baby she was fond of, but she found it slow +work, for as soon as she became interested in anything else the +knitting was forgotten. Now she took her seat in a low chair and began +to knit. "Now begin," she said, as her mother took up her sewing. + +"Did I ever tell you, Kristy, how I learned to knit?" + +"No," said Kristy; "I suppose your mother taught you." + +"She did not. I was taught by my grandmother, my father's mother, one +winter that I spent with her, when my mother was ill." + +"Wasn't your grandmother very queer?" asked Kristy. "Did she look like +that picture in your room?" + +"Yes; that's a good likeness, but she wasn't exactly queer. She was a +very fine woman, but she had decided notions about the way girls +should be brought up, and she thought my mother was too easy. So when +she had the whole care of me, she set herself to give me some good, +wholesome training." + +"Poor little mamma!" said Kristy. "What did she do? It seems so funny +to think of you as a little girl being trained!" + +"Well, it was not at all funny, I assure you. I thought I was terribly +abused, and I used to make plans to run away some night and go home. +But every night I was so sleepy that I put it off till another night; +and indeed I had a bit of common sense left, and realized that I had +no money and did not know the way home, and couldn't walk so far +anyway; though I did run away once"-- + +"Oh, tell me about that"--cried Kristy, laughing; "you run away! how +funny! tell me!" + +"I'll tell you the story of my naughty runaway, but first I must tell +you about my grandmother and why I wanted to run away." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +HOW MAMMA RAN AWAY + + +My mother was not a very strong woman, while I was a healthy strong +girl, so when she tried to teach me to knit and sew, I always managed +to get out of it, and she was too weak to insist. So when I went to my +grandmother's to spend the winter, and her first question was, "What +sewing have you on hand now?" I was struck with horror. + +"Why none"--I stammered, and seeing the look of surprise in her face, +I hastened to add, "I never have any on hand." + +"Do you never sew?" she asked, in her sternest tone. + +"Why--not very often," I faltered. "I don't like to sew." + +"Hm!" said my grandmother, "I shall have to teach you then; I am +surprised! ten years old and not know how to sew! At your age, your +Aunt Emily was almost an expert needlewoman; she could do overhand, +hemming, felling, backstitching, hemstitching, running, catstitching, +buttonholes, and a little embroidery." + +I was aghast. Had I got to learn all these mysteries of the needle! My +grandmother went on. + +"We'll begin at the beginning then; I'll prepare some patchwork for +you." + +My heart sank; patchwork was the thing my mother had tried to have me +do, and I hated it. I remember now some mussed up, dirty-looking +blocks, stuffed behind a bureau at home--to have them lost. + +True to her word, my grandmother brought out her "piece-bag" and +selected a great pile of bits of colored calico and new white cotton +cloth, which she cut into neat blocks about four inches square, and +piled up on the table, the white pieces by themselves, the pink and +the blue in separate piles, and the gray and dull colored also by +themselves. + +Then taking needle and thread, she began basting them for sewing, a +white and colored one together. Oh, what a pile there was of basted +pieces, ready for me to learn overhand, or "over 'n over" as I used to +call it. I thought there was enough for a quilt. Should I have to sew +it all? I was in despair. But my grandmother was much pleased with the +show. "There!" she said, "when you finish those, I shall prepare some +more, and if you are industrious, you will have enough for a quilt by +spring, and then I will have a quilting and you can take home to your +mother a sample of the work you have done." + +Somehow this picture did not allure me. I thought only of the weary, +weary hours of sewing I should have to do. + +Well, that very day she sent to the store and had a thimble bought for +me, and that afternoon after school I began my quilt under her eye. I +must have a regular "stint," she said, and it was to be--at first--one +of those dreadful blocks, at least four inches of over-and-over +stitches! This was to be done the first thing after school, before I +could go out to play. + +I won't tell you of the tears I shed over those blocks, of the bad +stitches I had to pick out and do over, of the many times I had to go +and wash my hands because of dirty thread. I thought my grandmother +the most cruel taskmaster in the world. + +And the patchwork was not all. When she found that I could not even +knit, and that I was accustomed at home to read all the long winter +evenings before my bedtime at eight, she said at once that so much +reading was not good for me, and I must have some knitting. So she had +some red yarn bought, and some steel needles, and "set up" a stocking +big enough for my little brother, cheering me, as she thought, by +telling me that if I paid proper attention to it, I could knit a pair +of stockings for him before spring. My evening "stint" was six times +around the stocking-leg. + +These two tasks, which my grandmother never failed to exact from me, +made life a burden to me. How I hated them! how naughty I was! How I +used to break my needles and lose my spool of thread, and ravel my +knitting to make a diversion in the dreary round, forgetting that all +these hindrances only prolonged my hours of labor, for every stitch of +my task must be finished before she would release me. + +I brooded over my hardships till I became really desperate, and so was +in a fit state to agree to a plan proposed by a schoolmate--to run +away. She too had troubles at home; her mother made her help in the +housework; she had to wash dishes when she wanted to play out of +doors. + +We compared notes and made up our minds that we were persecuted and +abused, and we wouldn't stand it any longer. We were not quite so +silly as to think of a serious runaway, but we wanted to get rid of +our tasks for one day at least; and besides it was spring now and the +woods were full of flowers, which I loved, next to books, best of +anything in the world. + +So after school one day we started for the woods instead of for home. +We felt very brave and grown-up when we turned into the path that led +into the woods, but before the afternoon was over our feelings +changed, and we began to feel very wicked, and to dread going home. I +thought of my grandmother's sharp eyes fixed on me, and dreaded what +punishment she might inflict, for I knew she believed in punishments +that terrified me, such as doubling my daily task, shutting up in a +dark closet, and even, I feared, the rod. + +Moreover my fault was made worse by the fact that I had lost my +schoolbooks which I was taking home for the study-hour in the morning. +I had laid them down on a log and was unable to find them again, +though we spent hours--it seemed to me--in looking for them. + +We did not enjoy our freedom after all, for the sense of guilt and +dread took all the pleasure out of everything; besides, we had one +great fright. We heard some great animal rustling among the bushes and +were sure it was a bear. We turned and fled, running as hard as we +could, looking fearfully back to see if we were pursued, stumbling +over logs, and tearing our clothes on bushes. I lost one shoe in a +muddy place, and Jenny lost her sunbonnet. + +We picked flowers, and when the frail things wilted in our hot hands, +we threw them away, and not till it began to grow dark did we get up +courage to turn towards the village. + +The piece of woods was not large, and we did not really get lost, and +before it was quite dark, two very tired, shamefaced girls, with torn +dresses and generally disreputable looks, stole into the back doors of +their respective homes. + +I never knew what happened to Jenny--she never would tell me; but I +met the stern face of my grandmother the moment I stepped into the +kitchen. I had tried to slip in and go to my room to wash and brush +myself, and try to mend my dress before she saw me, but the moment I +entered, her eye was upon me. + +After one look of utter horror, she seized me by the shoulders, and +walked me into the sitting-room, where the family were gathered,--my +uncle who lived with my grandmother, and my three cousins, all older, +and not playmates for me. + +She left me standing in the middle of the room, while all eyes were +turned in reproof upon me. + +"There!" said my grandmother, in her most severe voice, "there's the +child who runs away! Look at her." + +Then my uncle began to question me. Where had I been? where was my +shoe? how did I tear my dress? what did I do it for? what did I think +I deserved? and various other questions. Before long, I was weeping +bitterly, and feeling that imprisonment for life would be a fitting +punishment for my crimes. + +Then came my sentence in the stern voice of my grandmother: "I think a +suitable punishment for a naughty girl will be to go to bed without +her supper." This was assented to by my uncle, and I was sent off in +disgrace, to go to bed. + +Now I had a healthy young appetite, and the long tramp had made me +very hungry, so that the punishment--though very mild for my +offense--seemed to me almost worse than anything. + +I was tired enough, however, to fall asleep, but after some hours I +awoke, ravenous with hunger. All was still in the house, and I knew +the family must have gone to bed. A long time I lay tossing and +tumbling and getting more restless and hungry every minute. + +At last I could stand it no longer, and I crept out of bed and +carefully opened the door--my room was off the kitchen. The last +flickering remains of the fire on the hearth made it light enough to +see my way about. + +Softly I crept to the pantry, hoping to find something left from +supper; but my grandmother's maid was well trained, and I found +nothing; the cookie jar, too, was empty, for tomorrow was baking-day. +I was about turning back in despair when my eyes fell on a row of milk +pans, which I knew were full of milk. + +The shelf was too high for me to reach comfortably, but I thought I +could draw a pan down enough to drink a little from it, and not +disturb anything. So I raised myself on tiptoe and carefully drew it +towards me. + +You can guess what happened; and if I had known more I should have +expected it. As soon as I got the pan over the edge the milk swayed +towards me, the pan escaped from my hands, and fell with terrific +clatter on the floor, deluging me with milk from head to foot. + +Terrified out of my wits, I fled to my room, jumped into bed, covered +my head with the bedclothes, and lay there panting. There was a +moment's silence, and then my grandmother's voice,-- + +"What was that? What has happened?" and my uncle's answer, "I'll bring +a light and see." + +Alas! a light revealed wet milk tracks across the kitchen, leading to +my room. In a minute it was opened by my grandmother, who drew me out +into the kitchen, and stood me up on the hearth--uttering not a word. + +I was utterly crushed; I expected I knew not what, but something more +than I could guess, and to my uncle's "Why did you do it, child?" I +could only gasp out with bursts of frantic tears, "I was so hungry!" + +My grandmother, still silent, hastened to get me dry clothes, then +left me standing on the warm hearth, sobbing violently, and feeling +more and more guilty, as I saw what trouble I had made. + +Then she got clean sheets and made up my bed afresh. While she was +doing this, my uncle went in and spoke to her very low. But I think I +must have heard or guessed that he said my sentence had been too +severe, and I was not so much to blame for trying to get a simple +drink of milk, for when my grandmother came out, went into the pantry +and brought me a slice of bread and butter, I was not surprised, but +fell upon it like a half-starved creature. + +Then I was sent to bed again, and it being nearly morning, the maid +was called up, and I heard her scrubbing the floor and reducing the +kitchen to its usual condition of shining neatness. + +I never tried to run away again; my grandmother never scolded me, but +my shame as I put on the new shoes and took the new schoolbooks was +punishment enough. I tried harder after that to please my grandmother, +and really learned a good deal of sewing, and could knit beautifully +before I went home. + + * * * * * + +"Poor little mamma!" said Kristy, as her mother paused, "you didn't +have much fun, did you? I can just fancy how you looked, all dripping +with milk. Tell me another." + +"Well, I'll tell you something that happened to Jenny soon after that. +Jenny had often told me about an old aunt she had, whom she and her +two cousins used to go to see very often. She wanted me to go with her +sometimes, but I didn't know her aunt, and I was shy, and didn't like +to visit strangers, so I never went." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +HOW AUNT BETTY MADE HER CHOICE + + +One morning three cousins were walking slowly down the village street +towards the house of their Aunt Betty, where they had been invited to +dine. They were eager and excited, for there was something peculiar +about the invitation, though none but Jenny knew exactly what it was. +Jenny began:-- + +"Well, I do wonder who'll get it!" + +"Get what?" asked Grace. + +"Why, don't you know? Didn't your mother tell you?" said Jenny, in +surprise. "Aunt Betty didn't mean to have us know, but mamma told me." + +"I don't know what you mean," said Grace. + +"Nor I," put in Ruth. + +"Why," said Jenny eagerly, "you know Aunt Betty has not been so well +lately, and her doctor says she must have some one to live with her +besides old Sam, and she's made up her mind--mamma says--to take one +of us three and give her all the advantages she can while she lives, +and leave her something when she dies. Mamma says, probably her whole +fortune, or at any rate a big share. It's a grand chance! I do hope +she'll take me!" + +"But," said Ruth, "I don't understand; why should she leave everything +to one, after spending so much on her?" + +"Oh, to make up to her for giving up so much," said Jenny. "She's so +cranky, you know!" + +"It won't be much fun to live with her," said Grace thoughtfully. "But +think of the advantages! I'd have all the music lessons I want, and +I'm sure she'd let me go to concerts and operas. Oh! Oh!" + +"I'm not so sure of that," said Jenny. "She wouldn't want you going +out much; for my part I'd coax her to travel; I'd love to go all over +the world--and I'm just dying to go to Europe, anyway." + +"What would you choose, Ruth?" asked Grace. + +"I don't know," answered Ruth slowly, "and it's no use to wish, for of +course she won't choose me. I don't think she ever cared much for me, +and I do make such stupid blunders. It seems as if I was bound to +break something or knock over something, or do _something_ she +particularly dislikes every time I go there. You know the last time I +went there I stumbled over a stool and fell flat on the floor, making +her nearly jump out of her skin--as she said--and getting a big, +horrid-looking bump on my forehead." + +The girls laughed. "You do seem to be awfully unlucky, Ruth," said +Jenny magnanimously, "and I guess the choice will be one of us two." + +"Well, here we are!" said Grace, in a low tone, as they reached the +gate of the pretty cottage where Aunt Betty lived. "Now for it! Put on +your best manners, Ruthie, and try not to upset the old lady's nerves, +whatever you do!" + +"I shall be sure to do it," said Ruth sadly, "I'm so awkward." + +Grace and Jenny laughed, not displeased with the thought that the +choice would be only between two. + +These three girls, so eager to leave their parents and live with Aunt +Betty, had comfortable homes, all of them; but in each case there were +brothers and sisters and a family purse not full enough to gratify all +their desires. Aunt Betty had always been ready to help them out of +any difficulty; to give a new dress or a new hat when need became +imperative, or a little journey when school work had tired them. So +she had come to be the source of many of their comforts and all their +luxuries. To live with Aunt Betty, so near their own homes that they +would scarcely be separated from them, seemed to them the greatest +happiness they could hope for. + +Old Sam, the colored servant who had lived with Miss Betty, as he +called her, since she was a young woman, and was devoted to her, +opened the door for them, a broad grin on his comely face. + +"Miss Betty, she's a-lookin' fur you-all," he said; "you're to take +off your things in the hall." + +"Why! Can't we go into the bedroom as usual?" asked Grace, who liked a +mirror and a brush to make sure that every curl was in place. + +"No, Miss Grace," said Sam, "y'r aunt said fur you to take 'em off +here." + +Rather sulkily, Grace did as she was bid, and then, bethinking herself +of the importance of the occasion, she called up her usual smile, and +the three entered the sitting-room where their aunt awaited them. + +Aunt Betty was a pleasant-faced lady of perhaps sixty years, but +though rather infirm so that she walked with a cane, she was bright +and cheery-looking. She was dressed in her usual thick black satin +gown and lace mitts, with a fine lace kerchief around her neck and +crossed on her breast, and a string of fine gold beads around her +throat. + +The few moments before Sam opened the door of the dining-room, clad in +snowy apron and white gloves, and announced in his most dignified +butler's manner, "Dinner is served!" were passed by Aunt Betty in +asking about the three families of her guests, and soon all were +seated at the pretty round table, set out with the very best old +china, of which every piece was more precious than gold, with +exquisite cut glass and abundance of silver. This was an unusual +honor, and the girls were surprised. + +"You see, nieces," said Aunt Betty, "this is a special occasion, and I +give you my very best." + +"This china's almost too lovely to use," said Grace warmly. "I don't +know as I shall dare to touch it!" + +"It's all beautiful!" said Jenny eagerly; "I do love to eat off dainty +dishes. Did Sam arrange the table?" + +"Yes," said Aunt Betty, "Sam did everything." + +"Well, he's just a wonder!" said Grace. "I wish we could ever have a +table like this in our house--but then we haven't any such things to +put on it," she added, with a sigh. + +"I only hope," said Ruth ruefully, "that I shall not break anything. +Auntie, you ought to have set me in a corner by myself with kitchen +dishes to use; I deserve it for my clumsiness." + +"Well, niece!" said Aunt Betty, with a rather anxious look, "I hope +you'll be on your good behavior to-day, for I value every piece above +gold." + +"I know you do," said Ruth anxiously, "and that's what scares me." + +While they were talking, Sam had served each one with a plate on which +lay a small slice of fish, browned to perfection and temptingly hot. +Each girl took a small taste, and then began picking at the food +daintily with her fork, but not eating. Grace raised her napkin to her +lips, and surreptitiously removed from her mouth the morsel she had +taken. Jenny heroically swallowed, and then hastily drank from her +glass, while Ruth quietly took the morsel from her mouth, deposited it +on her plate, and took no more. + +Aunt Betty apparently did not observe all this, but in a moment, +seeing that they were toying with the food on their plates, asked +quietly, "What's the matter? Why do you not eat?" + +"I don't care much for fish," said Grace, in her most polite manner, +and, "I beg your pardon, aunt," said Jenny, in apparent confusion, +"but I must confess to having had some candy this morning, and I'm +afraid I haven't much appetite; the fish is fine, I'm sure." + +"And you, Ruth?" asked her aunt. + +Ruth hesitated. + +"I want the truth, niece," Aunt Betty went on; "you know I always want +the honest truth." + +"Indeed, Aunt Betty," began Grace, "I'm sure"--She paused, and Jenny +broke in, "I'm awfully sorry, Aunt Betty"--But Ruth, while a deep +blush rose to her honest face, said in a low tone, "Auntie--I'm sorry +to have to tell you--but I think the fish had been kept a little too +long." + +Jenny and Grace looked at her in amazement, expecting some burst of +indignation from Aunt Betty. + +But she only said quietly, though a queer look stole over her face, +"Then we'll have it removed," touching a bell as she spoke. + +Sam appeared instantly, his broad, black face shining, and a grin he +could not wholly repress displaying his white teeth. + +In a moment he removed the fish and replaced it with the next course, +which was turkey, roasted in Sam's superb way, which no one in the +village could equal. This was all right, and received full justice +from the youthful appetites, even Jenny forgetting that candy had +spoiled hers. + +After this the dinner progressed smoothly till ice cream was served +with dessert. Again something seemed to be out of joint. Aunt Betty +noticed that her young guests did not show their usual fondness for +this dish. Again she asked, "Is anything wrong with the cream?" and +again she was answered with bland apologies, though some confusion. + +"I've eaten so much," said Grace, with a sigh. + +"It's so cold it makes me shiver," said Jenny, laying down her spoon. + +"And what ails you, Ruth?" asked Aunt Betty, with a grave look on her +face. + +"I'm afraid"--said Ruth timidly, "I'm really afraid Sam spilled some +salt in it, auntie;" and so embarrassed was she at being obliged to +say what she was sure would be a mortal offense, that in her confusion +she knocked a delicate glass off the table, and it was shattered to +pieces on the floor. + +"Oh, dear!" she cried, "I've done it now! Auntie, you'll never forgive +me! I don't know what ails me when I get among your precious things." + +"I know," said her aunt grimly. "I believe you are a little afraid of +me, my dear, and that makes you awkward. Never mind the glass," as +Ruth was picking up the pieces, tears rolling down her face, "that can +be replaced; it is only the china that is precious; don't cry, +child." + +Ruth tried to dry her tears, but she was really much grieved, and her +cousins exchanged a look which said plainly as words, "That settles +_her_ chance!" + +If Aunt Betty saw the look, she did not mention it, but she soon made +the move to leave the table, and all gladly followed her into the +other room. + +"Nieces," she said, before they had seated themselves, "did you wonder +why I had you leave your wraps in the hall today?" + +"It was, of course, unusual," said Grace, "for we have always gone +into the bedroom, but it did not matter in the least." + +"It did not make any difference," murmured Jenny. + +"I will show you what I have been doing to the bedroom," said Aunt +Betty, throwing open the door to that room. + +It had been entirely transformed. In place of the old-fashioned set of +furniture, the gorgeous flowered carpet, the dark walls and thick +curtains that had been in the room ever since they could remember, +were light-tinted walls, hard wood floors, with several rugs, a +modern light set of furniture, pictures on the walls, lace curtains at +the windows, all the latest style and very elegant. One thing only +made a discord: over the dainty bed was spread a gay-colored cover. It +disfigured the whole effect, but the girls apparently saw nothing out +of the way. + +"Oh, how lovely!" cried Jenny. + +"It's so dainty and sweet!" put in Grace. "Auntie, you have exquisite +taste." + +Ruth looked her appreciation till her glance fell upon the bedspread; +then she hesitated. + +"Nieces, do you like it? Could you suggest any change in it?" + +"It is simply perfect as it is," said Grace warmly, while not to be +outdone by Grace, Jenny added with a sigh, "Nothing could improve it, +I'm sure." + +Aunt Betty looked at Ruth, who was covered with confusion, but she +stammered, "I seem to be the only one to find fault to-day, but +indeed, auntie--if you want my honest opinion"-- + +"I do," said Aunt Betty, with a smile. + +"Well then--couldn't you--couldn't you put on a white spread instead +of that gay one? That doesn't seem to suit the beautiful room." + +Aunt Betty smiled again. "Take it off, then, and let's see!" + +Ruth pulled off the spread, and there under it was a dainty lace one +as exquisite as the rest of the room. + +"I guess we'll keep it off," said Aunt Betty, "though Jenny and Grace +seem to like it well enough; it certainly is an improvement." + +Aunt Betty's manner was so peculiar as she said this, that the two +girls who had sacrificed truthfulness to please her, began to suspect +that there was more in it than they had thought; they were both rather +silent when they returned to the sitting-room and Aunt Betty began:-- + +"Nieces, I have a little plan to tell you about, though possibly you +may have suspected it"--with a sharp look at the two guilty ones. +"Perhaps you have heard that I have decided, by the advice of my +physician, to take one of you to live with me--provided you and your +parents are willing, of course. I shall ask a good deal of the one I +select, but I shall try to make it up to her. I shall formally adopt +her as my own, and, of course, make a distinction in her favor in my +will. I shall ask a good deal of her time and attention; but I shall +not live forever, and when I am gone, she will be independent, and +able to make her own life." + +The three girls were breathless with attention, and Aunt Betty went +on. + +"I want the one I shall choose to ponder these conditions well; there +will be a few years--probably--of partial seclusion from society, and +of devotion to her old auntie, and then freedom, with the +consciousness of having made happy the declining years of one who +buried the last of her own children many years ago." + +She paused--but not a word was spoken--and in a moment she went on. + +"I did not know how to choose between you, for you are all so sweet to +me, so I made a plan to find out--with Sam's help--a little about your +characteristics. The virtue I prize almost above all others, +is--truthfulness, honest, outspoken truth. The bad fish, the salted +cream, and the odious spread were tests, and only one of you stood the +test and spoke the honest truth. I am glad that _one_ did, for +otherwise I should not have found, in my own family, one I could adopt +and depend upon." + +She paused; not a word was said. + +"Ruth," she began again, turning to that confused, and blushing, and +utterly amazed girl, "Ruth, will you come to live with me, take the +place of a daughter, and occupy that room?" + +"You ask _me_?" cried Ruth, "clumsy and awkward as I am! I never +dreamed you could want me!" + +"I know you did not," said Aunt Betty; "but your habit of truthfulness +is far more valuable to me than the deftest fingers or the most +finished manners. Will you come?" + +"Oh, yes, indeed!" cried Ruth, falling on her knees and burying her +face in Aunt Betty's lap, while happy tears fell from her eyes, and +Aunt Betty gently stroked her hair. + +"Well, well," said Jenny, with a sigh, as the two girls walked slowly +home, "I always knew Aunt Betty was the crankiest woman in the world, +and if Ruth wasn't so perfectly sincere I should almost think that +she"-- + +She paused, and Grace broke in. + +"Yes; I'm perfectly sure Ruth is not capable of putting on; besides, +we always knew she couldn't deceive to save her life." + + * * * * * + +"Hush," said mamma, as Kristy was about to speak. "Here comes Mrs. +Wilson." + +Mrs. Wilson, the next door neighbor, walked in, explaining that she +had come in the rain because she was all alone in her house and was +lonely, and seeing Mrs. Crawford sewing by the window, thought she +would bring her work and join her. + +Mrs. Crawford welcomed her, but Kristy was disturbed. "Mrs. Wilson," +she began, "don't you think a person ought to keep her promise?" + +"Why, certainly," said Mrs. Wilson. + +"Kristy! Kristy!" said her mother warningly. + +"I'm just going to ask Mrs. Wilson," said Kristy, with a twinkle in +her eye, "if she doesn't think you ought to _go_ on telling me +stories, when you promised to do it as long as it rained. She likes to +hear stories, too, I'm sure." + +Mrs. Wilson laughed. "Of course I do, and I shall be delighted, I'm +sure. Your mother must be a master hand at the business, for I never +knew such a story-lover as you, Kristy." + +"I've about told myself out," said Mrs. Crawford. "Kristy, I think you +really ought to excuse me now." + +"How will it do if I tell you one to rest mamma?" asked Mrs. Wilson. +"I happen to be much interested just now in a story that is still +going on in town." + +"Do tell it!" said Kristy. "I can get mamma to keep her promise this +evening." + +Mrs. Wilson laughed, and first taking her sewing out of a bag she +carried, she began:-- + +"It's about the Home we see on the cars, going to the city." + +"Oh, yes! where we always see girls in the yard as we go by?" said +Kristy. + +"Yes; I'll tell you how it began." + +Kristy settled herself more comfortably on the lounge, and the story +began. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +NORA'S GOOD LUCK + + +It does not seem very good in the beginning--but you shall see. One +cold winter night a man in the city came home crazy with drink. I will +not tell you what he did to his trembling daughter who was all the +family left, except one thing: he put her out of the house and told +her never to come back. It was a very poor house, hardly any comforts +in it, but it was the only home the child knew and she was twelve +years old. When she was turned out of it, her only thought was to hide +herself away where no one could find her. + +This was in the edge of the city, and she wandered about a little till +she came to a new barn where there was an opening in the foundations +big enough for her to crawl in. When she saw this, by the light of the +street lamp, she crept into the hole and far back in one corner where +she thought no one would ever find her--and there she lay. + +The house to which that barn belonged held two boys and a dog, and the +next day, when the three were playing together, as they generally +were, the dog began to act strangely. He smelled around that hole, +then ran in, and barked and growled and seemed much excited. + +"I guess there's a cat in there," said one of the boys, calling the +dog out. He came, but in a minute rushed back, and barked more and +seemed to be pulling at something. + +This aroused the curiosity of the boys, who got down by the opening +and peered in. It was so dark that they could see nothing, but the dog +refusing to come out, they went into the house and brought out a +candle, and by the light of that, saw what looked like a bundle of +rags, which, however, stirred a little as the dog tugged at it. + +Then the boys called to her to come out; they threw sticks to see if +she were alive; they tried all ways they could think of, and at last +they went away. But soon they came back and men with them. Nora, +through half-shut eyes, could see them. She knew their blue coats and +bright stars--they were policemen. + +They called, they coaxed, they commanded, but she did not move. They +found a boy small enough to crawl under the barn, and he went in. He +found that she was alive, but she would not speak. Never a wish or a +hope crossed the child's mind, except a wish to be let alone. + +At last the boy, by the directions of the policemen, pulled her +towards the opening. She did not resist--she did not know how to +resist; her whole life had been a crushing submission to everything. + +Finally the men could reach her, and the poor, little, half-dead +figure was brought to the light. + +"Poor soul!" said one of the men, almost tenderly. "She's near dead +with cold and hunger." + +She could not walk. Kind though rough hands carried her to the station +house, where a warm fire and a few spoonfuls of broth--hastily +procured from a restaurant--brought her wholly back to life, and she +sat up in her chair and faced a row of pitying faces with all her +young misery. + +Little by little her story was drawn from her. + +But what to do with her--that was the question. She was not an +offender against the law, and this institution was not for the +protection of misfortune, but for the punishment of crime. They did +the best they could. They fed her, made her a comfortable bed on a +bench in the station house, and the next morning the whole story went +into the papers. + +This story was read by a lady of wealth over her morning coffee. She +had lately been reading an account of the poor in our large cities, +and had begun to think it was her duty to do something to help. With +more money than she could use, and not a relative in the world, there +was no reason why she should not make at least one child happy, and +educate it for a useful life. + +On reading the story of Nora, with the added statement that her father +had been arrested and placed in a retreat where he would not soon get +out, the thought struck her that here was her chance to make the +experiment. + +After her breakfast, Miss Barnes ordered her carriage and went out. +After driving about a little, she ordered her coachman to drive to the +B---- Street police station. He looked astonished, but of course +obeyed, and in a short time, the dingy station house received an +unusual visitor. + +The moment Miss Barnes entered the room, she saw the child, and knew +she was the one she had come to see. As for Nora, she had never seen a +beautiful, happy-looking woman, and she could not take her eyes off +her face. + +Miss Barnes asked a few questions. Who was going to take her? Who were +her friends? She learned that she had none, that her father had been +arrested for vagrancy, and would be sent to the bridewell. + +"Where is the child to go?" at last she asked. + +"Indeed, ma'am, I don't know, unless she goes into the streets," said +the policeman. + +"I'll take her," said Miss Barnes. + +"It'll be a heavenly charity if you do, ma'am," replied the man. + +Miss Barnes turned to the girl. + +"Nora, will you go with me?" + +"Yes 'm," gasped Nora, with hungry soul looking out of her eyes. + +"Come, then," said the lady shortly, leading the way out. + +Thomas, holding the door of the carriage, was struck dumb with horror +to see the apparition, but the timid little figure kept close to his +mistress, and she wore such a look that the old servant dared not +speak. + +"To a respectable bath house," was Miss Barnes's order. + +Thomas bowed, reached his seat somehow, and drove off. + +"Not pretty, decidedly," thought Miss Barnes, looking steadily at the +wondering face opposite hers, "but at least not coarse. Dress will +improve her." + +At the door of the bathing rooms, Thomas again threw open the carriage +door. Miss Barnes went in with Nora, gave her into the hands of the +young woman in charge, with directions to have her thoroughly bathed +and combed, and otherwise made ready for new clothes that she would +bring. + +The amazed young woman marched off with the unresisting Nora, and Miss +Barnes went shopping. She bought a complete outfit, from hat to shoes, +and in an hour returned to the bath rooms, to find Nora waiting. She +was soon dressed, much to her own surprise, for she hardly knew the +names of half the articles she had on, and they were once more in the +carriage. As for Thomas, he thought wonders would never cease that +morning. + +As they rolled home, Miss Barnes said:-- + +"Now, Nora, you're to live with me and be my girl. You're not Nora +Dennis; you're Nora Barnes. You're to forget your old life--at least +as much as you can," she added, seeing a shade come over Nora's face. +"And on no account are you to speak of it to the servants in my house. +Do you understand?" + +"Yes 'm," said Nora. + +"I shall try to make your life happy," Miss Barnes went on a little +more tenderly. "I shall educate you"-- + +"Please, ma'am, what's that?" asked Nora timidly. + +"Teach you to read and write," said Miss Barnes, wincing as she +reflected how much there was to do in this neglected field. + +"And, Nora," she went on, "I shall expect you to do as I tell you, and +always to tell me the truth." + +"Shall I stay at your house and be warm?" asked Nora. + +"Always, poor child, if you try to do right," said Miss Barnes. + +"Are these things mine?" was the next question, looking lovingly at +her pretty blue dress and cloak. + +"Yes, and you shall have plenty of clothes, and always enough to eat, +Nora. I hope you will never again be so miserable as I found you." + +Nora could not comprehend what had come to her. She sat there as +though stupefied, only now and then whispering to herself, "Always +enough to eat, always warm." + +"Thomas," said Miss Barnes, in her most peremptory manner, as he held +the carriage-door for her to alight, "I especially desire that you +should not mention to any one where I got this child. I want to make a +new life for her, and I trust to your honor to keep her secret." + +Thomas touched his hat. + +"Indeed, you may be sure of me, Miss Barnes." + +And faithfully he kept his word, although all the household was in +consternation when Miss Barnes installed the child as her adopted +daughter, procured a governess for her, had a complete outfit of +suitable clothes prepared, and, above all, took unwearied pains to +teach her all the little things necessary to place her on a level with +the girls she would meet when she went to school. + +Nora soon learned the ways and manners of a lady. She seemed to be +instinctively delicate and lady-like. She was pretty, too, when her +face grew plump and the hungry look went out of her eyes. + +Miss Barnes, though on the sharp lookout, never discovered a vice in +her. Whatever may have been her original faults, she seemed to have +shed them with her rags, and the great gratitude she felt for her +benefactor overwhelmed everything. She seemed to live but to do +something for Miss Barnes. + +To Nora, life was like a dream--a dream of heaven, at that. Always +warm, always fed, always safe from roughness, surrounded by things so +beautiful she scarcely dared to touch them; every want attended to +before it was felt. It was too wonderful to seem true. In dreams she +would often return to the desolate shanty, where the winds blew +through the cracks, and the rickety old stove was no better fed than +her mother and herself. + +Five years rolled away. Miss Barnes grew to love this child of poverty +very much, and to be grieved that she showed none of the joy of youth. +For Nora walked around as though in a dream. She was always anxious to +please, always cheerful, but never gay. She was too subdued. She +never spoke loud. She never slammed a door, she never laughed. + +"Nora," said she one day, after studying her face some time in +silence, "why are you not like other young girls?" + +"Why am I unlike them?" asked Nora, looking up from the book she was +reading. + +"You're not a bit like any young girl I ever saw," said Miss Barnes; +"you're too sober, you never laugh and play." + +"I don't know how to play," said Nora, in a low tone; "I never did." + +"Poor child," said Miss Barnes, "you never had any childhood. I wanted +to give you one, but you were too old when I took you. Why, you're a +regular old woman." + +"Am I?" said Nora, with a smile. + +"I don't know what I'll do to you," Miss Barnes went on. "I'd like to +make you over." + +"I wish you could," said Nora earnestly. "I try to be like other +girls, but somehow I can't. I seem always to have a sort of weight on +my heart." + +"Nora, isn't there something you would like that I haven't done for +you? Haven't you a wish?" + +"Oh!" cried Nora, "I can't wish for anything, you make me too happy, +but"--she hesitated, and tears began to fall fast--"I can't forget my +old life, it comes back in my dreams, it is always before me. I don't +want to tell you, but I must. I can't help thinking about the many +miserable girls, such as I was, living in horrid shanties, starved, +frozen, beaten, wretched." + +"Then you have a wish?" said Miss Barnes softly. + +"Oh, it seems so ungrateful!" Nora sobbed. "Such a poor return for the +life you have given me! I have tried to forget. I can't tell what is +right for me to do. I'm sorry I said anything." + +"No, Nora," said Miss Barnes promptly. "You should tell me all your +wishes and feelings. If they are wrong, I can help you outgrow them; +if right"--she hesitated--"why, I must help you." + +Nora fell on her knees with the most impulsive movement Miss Barnes, +had ever seen. + +"Oh, I do believe you are an angel!" + +"Far from it, Nora," said Miss Barnes smiling, "but I've set out to +make you happy, and if I find whims and notions in your head, I +suppose I'll have to follow them out. But seriously, dear child, I +must say I have had a little uneasy feeling of responsibility in my +heart ever since I've had you. And there's nothing to hinder my being +as odd as I please, and now let me hear your plans." + +"I have no plans. I have only longings to do something for them." + +Well; plans grew fast as they always do when planners are anxious to +do something. Long into the night they talked, and the very next day +the work began. Nora captured a poor little girl who came to beg, and +took her in to Miss Barnes, in spite of the horror of the servants. +They found she had no parents, and decided to take her, and Nora went +on to make her decent, with more pleasure than she had ever known. + +So it went on; before the end of a month, Miss Barnes found herself +more interested than she had been in anything. And Nora grew bright +and happy as the months rolled by, and one after another wretched girl +was gathered out of the streets and brought to a home. + +As soon as one girl was trained and fitted to take a place in some +one's kitchen, or sewing-room, or nursery, a dozen places opened to +her. By telling a little of her story, Miss Barnes interested her new +mistress in the girl, who was thus started out in a useful, +independent life. + +This institution, though it never had a name, grew and flourished, and +Nora still lives in the Barnes Home, manages the Barnes income, and +"lends a hand" wherever needed. + + * * * * * + +"And that's the story of how the Barnes Home came to be," said Mrs. +Wilson, in ending. + +"And was that nice lady that you went to see about a maid," cried +Kristy eagerly, turning to her mother, "was she Nora?" + +"Yes," said her mother, "she was Nora." + +"That was fine!" said Kristy. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Wilson." + +"That story of a great charity, started through one poor girl," said +Mrs. Wilson, "reminds me of another that I heard lately; shall I tell +it, Kristy?" + +"Oh, do!" said Kristy. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +ONE LITTLE CANDLE + + +This story is about a girl not much older than you, who had a great +trouble come upon her, some years ago. Her father who was--I'm sorry +to say--a drunkard, had at last died, leaving Alice Rawson, and her +brother a little older, to take care of their invalid mother. + +The trouble that came upon her, as I said, was the finding that the +brother, who was steady at his work, and proud to support the family, +began to go out every evening. The great dread seized her that he +would follow in the footsteps of his father. They had suffered so much +from the father's habits, that this was almost more than she could +bear, and she felt sure that it would kill her mother. + +She tried every way she could think of to entertain her brother at +home, but she could not make it gay and lively as it was in the +saloon where the boys met, and when she tried to coax him to stay at +home, he answered her that it was awful dull in the evening after a +long day's work. + +Alice could not deny this, and she had not a word to say when one +evening he ended with, "You can't expect a fellow to stay mewed up at +home all the time. Now look here," as he saw the tears come into +Alice's eyes, "you needn't fret about me, Sis. I'm bound to take care +of myself, but I must have a little pleasure after working all day. +Good-by; I'll be home by nine." + +But he was not home by nine, nor by ten, and the clock had struck +eleven when Alice heard his step. She hurried to the door to let him +in. His face was flushed, and his breath--alas!--reminded her of her +father's. + +He made some excuse and hurried off to bed, and Alice sank into a +chair in the sitting-room. She was shocked. She was grieved. This was +the first time Jack had showed signs of being under the influence of +strong drink, and she felt as if she could not bear it. + +A month before, they had laid in a drunkard's grave their father, and +over his terrible death-bed, Jack had promised their mother that he +would not follow in his steps. + +"Yet now--so soon--he has begun," thought Alice, sitting there alone +in the cold. "And how can I blame him, poor boy!" she went on, "when +it is so dull and stupid for him here? It's no wonder he prefers the +pleasant warm room, the lights, the gay company, the games that he +gets at Mason's. Oh, why aren't good things as free as bad ones!" she +cried out in her distress. + +"But what can I do?" was the question to which her thoughts ever came +back. "I must save Jack, for he's all mother and I have; but how?" + +"What can one girl do, without money and without friends--almost?" +thought Alice, remembering, with a shudder, that a drunkard's daughter +is apt to have few influential friends. + +Alice Rawson was clear-headed though young. She thought the matter +over during the next day, as she went about her work in the house, +waiting on her invalid mother, making the cottage tidy, and cooking +their plain meals. + +"It's no use to talk," she said to herself; "Jack means to do what's +right. And it's even worse to scold or be cross to him, for that only +makes him stay away more." And she gave the pillow she was stirring up +a savage poke to relieve her feelings. + +"I know, too," she went on, pausing with the other pillow in her hand, +"that when he's there with the boys, it's awful hard never to spend a +cent when the others do. It looks mean, and Jack hates being mean;" +and she flung the pillow back into its place with such spirit that it +went over on to the floor. + +"What are you banging about so for?" asked her mother, from the next +room. + +"Oh, nothing. I was thinking, mother," she answered. And she went on +thinking. + +"What would be best would be to have some other place just as +pleasant, and warm, and free as Mason's,--some _good_ place." Alice +sighed at this thought. + +"It can't be here at home, because it takes so much money to have it +warm and light; and besides, his friends wouldn't feel free to come, +and it would be lonely for him." + +"Alice, what _are_ you muttering about?" called Mrs. Rawson. + +"Nothing, mother; I'm only making a plan." + +"If I could get books and papers," she went on, closing the door, and +starting for the kitchen; "but Jack is too tired to read much." + +Suddenly a new thought struck her, and she stood in the middle of the +kitchen like a statue. + +"I wonder--I do wonder why a place couldn't be fixed--a room +somewhere! I believe people would help if they only thought how good +it would be for boys. That would be splendid!" And she looked anything +but a statue now, for she fairly beamed with delight at the thought. + +"I don't suppose I can do much alone," she said later, as the plan +grew more into shape; "but it's for Jack, and that'll help me talk to +people, I'm sure, and at least I can try." + +She did try. Without troubling her mother with her plans,--for she +knew she would be worried and think of a dozen objections to it,--in +her delicate state of health,--Alice hurried through with her work, +put on her things, and went to call first on Mr. Smith, a grocer. She +happened to know that at the back of Mr. Smith's store was a room +opening on a side street, which he had formerly rented for a cobbler's +shop, but which was now empty. + +Alice's heart fluttered wildly a moment, when she stood before the +grocer in his private office, where she was sent when she asked of the +clerk an interview with Mr. Smith. + +"You are Rawson's daughter, I believe," was Mr. Smith's greeting. + +"Yes," said Alice, "I am Alice Rawson, and you'll think I am crazy, +I'm afraid, when I tell you my errand," she went on, trembling. "But +oh, Mr. Smith! if you remember my father before--before"-- + +"I do, child," said the grocer kindly, supposing she had come to ask +for help. + +"Then you'll not wonder," she went on bravely, "that I am going to try +every way to save my brother." + +"Is your brother in danger?" asked Mr. Smith. "And what can I do?" + +"He is in danger," said Alice earnestly, "of doing just as father did, +and so are lots of other boys, and what you can do is to let me have +Johnson's old shop, free of rent for a little while, to make an +experiment--if I can get help," she added warmly. + +"But what will you do? I don't understand," said Mr. Smith. + +"What will I do? Oh, I'll try to make a place as pleasant as Mason's +saloon, that shan't cost anything, and I'll try to get every boy and +young man to go there, and not to Mason's. If they could have a nice, +warm place of their own, Mr. Smith, don't you think they would go +there?" she asked anxiously. + +"I don't know but they would," said the grocer; "but it's an +experiment. I don't see where you'll get things to put in, or your +fire, or anything to make it rival Mason's. However, I'm busy now and +can't talk more, and as you're in earnest and the cause is good, I'll +let you have the room to try the plan." + +"Oh, thank you!" cried Alice. + +"Here's the key," taking that article down from a nail. "Say no more, +child, I couldn't rent it this winter anyway," as she tried to speak. + +Alice walked out with her precious key, feeling as if the whole thing +was done. But it was far from that. + +Her next visit--she had carefully planned them all out--was to a man +who sold wood; for in that village wood was the only fuel. + +This man, Mr. Williams, had a son who was somewhat dissipated, +therefore he was ready to listen patiently to Alice's pleading, and to +help in any really practical plan. He listened interestedly, and +promised to give a cord of cut wood to begin with, and if it proved a +success, to give enough to run the fireplace--there was no stove--all +the evenings of that winter. + +Next, Alice went to the finest house in the village, where lived Mrs. +Burns, a wealthy lady, whose son was wild and gave her anxiety. + +"She must pity mother and me," thought Alice, as she walked up the +broad walk to the house, "and I'm sure she'll help." + +She did. She was surprised at Alice's bravery, but warmly approved of +her plan. "You'll want books and papers," she said, "and you must have +hot coffee always ready." + +"I hadn't dared to think of so much," said Alice. + +"But you must have coffee," repeated Mrs. Burns, "or they'll miss +their beer too much; and you must charge enough to pay for it, say two +cents a cup; I think it could be made for that." + +"But then we must have some one to make it," said Alice thoughtfully. + +"Yes," said Mrs. Burns, "and I think I know the very woman--Mrs. Hart. +She is poor, and I know will be glad, for a little wages (which I +shall pay her), to spend her evenings there, making coffee. She's a +jolly sort of a person, too, and I think would be just the one to make +the boys feel at home. + +"And I'll do more," went on the kind-hearted woman, "I'll give you an +old-fashioned bookcase I have upstairs, and some books to start a +library. Other ladies will give you more, and you'll have it full, no +doubt." + +After leaving Mrs. Burns, Alice's work was much easier, for that lady +gave her a little subscription book, in which she entered Mr. Smith's +gift of the room-rent, Mr. Williams's gift of the wood, and her own of +the hire of the woman to tend it, a dozen books in a bookcase, and two +comfortable chairs. + +Alice called at nearly every house in the village, and almost every +one gave something. Several gave books; two or three others agreed to +send their weekly papers when they had read them; many gave one chair +each; three or four gave plain tables, games,--backgammon and +checkers,--and two or three bright colored prints were promised. + +Red print curtains for the windows, and cups and saucers for the +coffee, came from the village storekeeper, a teakettle to hang over +the fire, and a tin coffee-pot, came from the tin-shop; cheap, plated +teaspoons from the jeweler; two copies of the daily paper and promise +of lots of exchanges, from the editor of the only paper. + +In fact, a sort of enthusiasm seemed to be aroused on the subject, and +when Alice went home that night, her little book had a list of +furniture enough to make the room as pleasant as could be desired. + +The next day was quite as busy. The woman Mrs. Burns had engaged came +to put the room in order, and after it had a thorough scrubbing, Alice +went out to collect the furniture. The village expressman, who owned a +hand-cart, had subscribed his services to the plan, and Alice went +with him, book in hand, and gathered up the gifts. + +The floor was covered with fresh sawdust--the butcher sent that; the +gay curtains were up, the bookcase full of books was arranged, some +tables were covered with papers, and others with games, a rousing fire +was built in the fireplace, the tea-kettle was singing away merrily, +and at a side table with cups and coffee things, sat Mrs. Hart, when +Alice asked Jack to go somewhere with her. He consented though a good +deal surprised. She brought him to this room. + +"What's this?" asked Jack, as they turned down the street. A sign was +over the door (Mr. Dover, the sign-painter gave that) of +"COFFEE-ROOM." "This is something new." + +"Yes," said Alice, "let's go in." + +Jack was too surprised to reply, and followed his sister as she opened +the door. + +There sat smiling Mrs. Hart, with knitting in hand, a delightful odor +of coffee in the air, and a sign over her table which said "Coffee +two-cents." + +"Let's have some," said Jack; "how good it smells!" + +"Since you went out, Miss Alice," said Mrs. Hart, as she poured the +two cups, "a big package of coffee--ten pounds at the least--and +another of sugar has most mysteriously appeared;" and she nodded +towards the grocer's part of the house, to indicate the giver. + +"Why, what have you to do with it?" asked Jack, looking sharply at +Alice. + +"She!" exclaimed Mrs. Hart. "Don't you know? She got it up; it's all +her doing--everything in this room." + +"No, no, Mrs. Hart," protested Alice, "I didn't give a single thing." + +"Except your time and the plan, and everything," said Mrs. Hart +warmly. + +"What does it mean? Tell me, Alice," asked Jack; and she told him. +"And the room is for you, Jack, and the other boys; and every evening +there'll be a bright fire and hot coffee, and Mrs. Hart to make it, +and I hope--oh, I do hope--you'll come here and have a good time every +night," she ended. + +Jack was touched. "Ally, you're a trump! and I'll do it sure." + +And he did. At first when the story got out, all the boys came from +curiosity to see what one girl had done; and after that they +continued to come because it was the pleasantest place in town and all +their own. + +No irksome restraints were put upon the boys, and there were no +visitors who came to give them temperance lectures or unwelcome +advice; no boy was asked to read book or paper, and no one was told +how much better for him was coffee than beer. This, each one found out +for himself, in the best way--by experience. + +Every evening, before it was time for the boys to begin to come, Alice +would run down to see that everything was right, that the fire was +bright, the coffee ready, and Mrs. Hart in her place. Then she would +open the bookcase, select three or four of the most interesting +looking books, and lay them around on the tables, in a careless way, +as if they were accidentally left there. + +Nor did she let people forget about it. As often as once a week, she +went to the houses of those most interested, and received from one the +weekly papers that had been read, from another a fresh book or +magazine, and from a third some new game or a pretty print to put on +the wall. + +Coffee and the things to put in it, Alice had no need to ask for. The +two cents a cup proved to be more than enough to pay for it. + +Promptly at half-past nine Mrs. Hart gathered up the things and washed +the cups and saucers, and as the clock struck ten she put out the +lights and locked the door. + +Books and papers did their silent work, and before spring the young +men grew ashamed of owing their comforts to charity, so they agreed +among themselves to pay a small sum weekly toward expenses. It was not +binding on any one, but nearly every one was glad to do it, and by +this means, before another winter, the coffee-room was an independent +establishment. + +The power it was among those boys could not be told, till years +afterwards, when it was found that nearly every one who had spent his +evenings there had become a sober, honest citizen, while those who +preferred the saloon, filled drunkards' graves, or lived criminals, +and a pest upon society. + +On Jack himself, the effect was perhaps the most striking. As Alice +had started the thing, he could not help feeling it his business to +see that the boys had a good time, and also, to keep order among them. +Mrs. Hart soon found that he was a sort of special policeman, always +ready to settle difficulties, and make the boys behave themselves if +necessary--which it seldom was. + +Feeling the responsibility of his position and influence, brought out +in him a manliness of character he had never before shown, and when he +became a man in years, no one could have the slightest fear that Jack +Rawson would ever follow in the downward steps of his father. And all +this he owed to the fact that Alice tried what one girl could do. + +It is Shakespeare who says,-- + + "How far that little candle throws its beams! + So shines a good deed in a naughty world." + +"You said it was going on now," said Kristy, as Mrs. Wilson paused. + +"Yes, it is; I was in that town a few days ago, and one of the +neighbors told me the whole story." + +"That's a good deal for one girl to do," said Kristy. + +"I know it is," said Mrs. Wilson, "but I know of another girl who did +almost as much." + +"What did she do?" asked Kristy, all interest. + +"She conquered a crusty old woman, who was soured to all the world." + +"Conquered her?" asked Kristy puzzled. + +"Yes; shall I tell you? I see it is raining yet, and mamma's time +isn't out." + +"Please do!" said Kristy, adding as she turned to her mother, "Mamma, +you're getting off too easy." + +"Oh, I'm afraid I shall have to make it up later," said mamma, in +pretended dismay. + +"Indeed you will," said Kristy, with a laugh; "I shan't let you off a +single story." + +"We'll see," said mamma smiling, as Mrs. Wilson began. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE LOCKET TOLD + + +This is about a girl who drove the village cows out to pasture every +morning and back to the village every evening. She had to pass a small +cottage, almost hidden with flowers, where lived a mysterious woman +whom the foolish and ignorant children of the neighborhood called "old +witch," simply because she had a hump on her back and was rarely seen, +except when she rushed out to drive away some naughty child trying to +steal her flowers through the fence. She attended to her garden very +early in the morning before other people were out of bed, and so was +rarely seen except on these occasions. + +One day she was sitting at her window, behind the blinds as usual, +when the girl I spoke of came by with her cows. + +"There's that cow-girl again," said Hester Bartlett--for that was her +name--"staring at my sweet peas as usual! I must go and drive her away +or she'll be putting her hand through the fence to get some. But what +a wretched looking creature she is!" she went on thoughtfully, looking +more closely. "She's worse off than you are, Hester Bartlett, if she +hasn't got a humpback. Hardly a decent rag to her back--not a shoe or +stocking--an old boy's hat, picked out of a gutter likely. And how she +does stare! looks as if she'd eat the flowers. Well anyway," she went +on more slowly, "she's got good taste; she never turns an eye on my +finest flowers, but stands glued to the sweet peas." + +Another silence; the ragged girl still spellbound without; the little, +humpbacked mistress of the house peering through the blinds, an +unusual feeling of pity restraining her from going to the door and +putting to flight the strange, shy girl who seemed so fond of sweet +peas. + +"I've a good mind to give her some," was the kind thought that next +stirred her heart, "but I suppose she'd run away if I spoke to her, +or call me old witch as the rest of 'em do," she went on bitterly, +talking to herself, as people do who live alone; then adding, "Well, I +can't stand here all day; I must go on with my work," she took up a +watering-pot she had filled, and started for her little flower patch. + + [Illustration: She had to pass a cottage, almost hidden with Flowers.] + +The instant the door opened, the flower-lover at the fence started on +a run after the cows, which finding themselves not urged from behind, +had stopped and were contentedly cropping the grass beside the road. + +In a few minutes she had them safely shut into their pasture, and +turned back towards the village. + +As she passed Miss Hester, that lady was tying up some straggling +vines, and almost to her own surprise, moved by her unwonted feeling +of pity for the child, she hastily picked half a dozen stems of the +fragrant blossoms and held them out. + +"Want some?" she said shortly, almost gruffly, to the half-frightened +child. + +The girl stopped. "Oh, Miss Hester!" she said doubtingly, half afraid +of the strange-looking, little woman who lived by herself, and was +never known to speak to anybody. + +"If you don't want 'em," said Miss Hester savagely, "you needn't have +'em," and she flung the flowers far over the fence and turned away. + +Maggie--for that was her name--with a cry of horror sprang eagerly +after them, picked them up carefully, shook off the dust, and turned +again to the little garden. But Miss Hester had gone in and shut the +door, and slowly, but in a state of rapture, the child went +on--hugging and caressing her flowers,--to what had been her home +since her mother, a year before, had been carried from their poor room +to the hospital, and never come back. She lived with a woman who added +a bit to her scanty earnings by taking the village cows on their +morning and evening journeys, and for this service she gave Maggie a +shelter and a share of the scanty food on her table. + +When she went with the cows that evening, Maggie looked eagerly into +the little garden as she passed, but Miss Hester was not there. Maggie +could not see her, but she sat behind her blind looking out eagerly. +Could it be to see the child? + +Maggie hesitated; she wanted to say "Thank you," yet she was half +afraid of the strange, silent woman. She waited a moment, hoping she +would come out, but all was still, and slowly and lingeringly at last +she went on. + +In this odd way began a curious acquaintance between the lonely woman +and the still more friendless girl. Sometimes, if Miss Hester happened +to be in her garden when Maggie went by, she would half reluctantly +toss a flower over the fence, which Maggie always received with +delight, while still half afraid of the giver. But generally Hester, +with a strange feeling of shyness, managed to be in the house, where +strange to say, she hung around the window and seemed unable to settle +to anything, till the pale little thing had passed. + +So it went on, till winter settled down grim and cold on that New +England village, and the cows went no more to the snow-covered +pasture, and Maggie--fixed up a bit as to clothes by some kind ladies +of the village--went every day to school. + +As the weather grew colder, Miss Hester shut herself more and more +into her house, and so months passed and the strange acquaintance +progressed no farther. + +One cold night, after everybody in the little village was snugly +tucked into bed, and every light was out, a wind came down from the +plains of the great Northwest, and brought with it millions and +billions of beautiful dancing flakes of snow, and proceeded to have a +grand frolic. + +All night long the snow and the wind played around the houses and +through the streets, and in the morning when people began to get up +and look out, they hardly knew their own village. It seemed to be +turned into a strange range of white hills, with here and there a roof +or a chimney peeping out. There were no fences, there were no roads, +but all was one mass of glittering white, and the wind was still at +work tossing the billions of sharp little ice-needles into the face of +any one who ventured to peep out, sending a shower of snow into an +open door, and piling it up in great drifts in every sheltered spot. +So nearly everybody who was comfortable at home, and had plenty to eat +in the house, at once decided to stay there. There was no use trying +to dig themselves out until the snow stopped falling, and the wind got +tired of tossing it about. + +The villagers were late in getting up, for the snow before the windows +made it dark, and it was nearly nine o'clock when Mrs. Burns said to +Maggie, "You must try to get to the well; I'm out of water." + +So Maggie put on her coat and mittens, tied her hood down over her +ears, took the pail, and went out. + +Fortunately, the kitchen door was in a sheltered place, and no snow +was piled up before it, but she had a hard time getting through the +drifts to the well. However, she did at last succeed in drawing the +water and getting back to the door. As she set down the pail, a +thought struck her,--"What will become of Miss Hester in this storm?" + +She went out again, closing the door softly behind her, and looked +toward the cottage, which was not far off, in plain sight. In the +place where the little house should be was a great white hill. Maggie +floundered through the drifts till she reached the gate, where she had +a better view. + +The storm held up for a moment, so that Maggie could see over the +village. Every house in sight was sending up a thin column of smoke, +showing there was life within. Miss Hester's chimney alone was +smokeless. + +"Dear me!" thought the child, "I'm afraid she's sick, and what'll +become of her and the cow--the shed is so far off, and she could never +fight her way through the drifts,--she ain't very strong--and so +little." Another pause while she strained her eyes to see signs of +life about the cottage. + +"Well, anyway," she said at last, "she was awful good to me last +summer, and I'll see if I can't get there to help her," and she +bravely started out. + +It was a hopeless-looking task, for between Mrs. Burns's and Hester +Bartlett's were drifts that seemed mountain high. Not a soul was in +sight, and just then the storm began again, wilder than ever. + +But Maggie was not to be daunted; that cold, smokeless chimney gave +her a strange feeling of fear, and nerved her for great efforts. + +I shall not go with her step by step over her terrible journey, for +though the house was near, every step was a struggle and a battle. +Many times she fell down and got up staggering and blinded by snow; +many times she lost her direction and had to wait till a momentary +lull in the storm showed her the forlorn chimney again. + +Through unheard-of difficulties she reached the house, her clothes +full of the dry, powdery snow, her eyes blinded, her hair a mass of +white, and aching in every limb from her efforts and the cold. + +The front door was completely buried in snow, and indeed, the whole +front of the cottage seemed but a snow mountain. The drifts were lower +on the side, so she staggered on towards the kitchen door. As she came +near, she saw, to her dismay, that the snow had fallen away, and the +door was open. + +Now thoroughly alarmed, she struggled on, and reached the step. The +snow had fallen inward, and the drift inside was as heavy as that +outside. + +At first she hesitated to enter the house she had always dreaded, but +in an instant she reflected that Miss Hester would not leave her door +open if she were able to shut it, and she staggered in. Two steps +inside she stumbled over something, and dashing the snow out of her +eyes, she saw to her horror, the well-known brown dress of Miss +Hester, and sure enough there she lay on the floor, half covered with +snow, silent--perhaps dead. + +One little scream escaped Maggie's lips, and then she fell on her +knees before her. No, she was not dead, but she was unconscious and +perfectly cold. + +In a moment her own sufferings were forgotten. She did not know or did +not care that she was exhausted from her struggles--that she was +herself half frozen. She flew to work. + +First she dragged Miss Hester away from the snow, with difficulty shut +the door, then hurried into the bedroom, brought out a pillow and +blanket, put the pillow under Miss Hester's head, wrapped the blanket +around her on the floor, and then hurried to the stove. + +The fire was ready to light; evidently Miss Hester had opened the door +to look out before starting her fire, and the great drift had fallen +upon her and knocked her down. + +Maggie did not stop to think of all this. She looked around for +matches and lighted the fire, then turned her attention to the silent +figure on the floor. She chafed her hands and warmed them in her own, +which now from excitement were burning, and before long she had the +happiness of seeing the closed eyes open and the blood rush back to +the white face. + +The sight of the child working over her brought Miss Hester to very +quickly. She tried to spring up, but fell back too weak to do so. Then +she began to talk. + +"Where am I? Why are you here? Why can't I get up?" + +As quickly as she could, Maggie told her everything. How the village +was snowed under, and seeing her chimney without smoke alarmed her, +and she had found her on the floor with snow-drifts over her, and had +lighted the fire and got the blanket and warmed her. + +Long before she had ended her tale, Miss Hester could sit up and see +for herself the snow and the condition of the room. Then she thought +she could get up, and with the help of Maggie she did, and sat in her +chair, strangely enough--as it seemed to her--too weak to stand. + +When she was seated, Maggie had stopped--it was different making fires +and taking liberties in this kitchen while it seemed necessary to her +life, but now that Miss Hester could sit up and look at her, Maggie +hesitated. Miss Hester leaned back and closed her eyes and then +Maggie said:-- + +"Please, Miss Hester, may I get you something to eat, and sweep out +the snow, and help you?" + +"If you will, child," said Miss Hester slowly. "I don't seem to be +able to do anything; I shall be very glad to have you." + +Then Maggie went to work again, and how she did fly! She put the +teakettle on to the now warmed stove; she searched about in the pantry +till she found the coffee and the coffee-pot. Then she drew up beside +Miss Hester a little table, put on the dishes, and in a word, +proceeded to set out as dainty a breakfast as she knew how to get out +of what she could find. + +All this time Miss Hester had apparently been half asleep, so that +Maggie did not like to ask her anything; but she was far from asleep. +She was watching eagerly, through half-closed eyelids, everything her +neat handmaiden did. + +As for Maggie, she had not been so happy since her mother had taught +her all sorts of neat household ways. She hunted up the butter and +the bread; she made a fragrant cup of coffee and toasted a slice of +bread, and when all was ready, she spoke to Miss Hester. + +"Please, Miss Hester," she said timidly, "will you drink some coffee? +I think you will feel better." + +Miss Hester opened her eyes as if just wakened. "Why, how nicely you +have got breakfast!" she said; "but here's only one cup and plate! Get +another for yourself--you shall have it with me;" and as Maggie +hastened, delighted, to do her bidding, she added, "Bring a jar of +marmalade from the second shelf, and look for some crullers in a stone +crock." + +Maggie did as she was bid, and in a few minutes the two strange +friends were enjoying their breakfast together. + +Miss Hester was confined to her bed several days, with the cold she +had taken that fateful morning, and during that time, Maggie did +everything for her, every minute she was out of school. When at last +Miss Hester was able to be about, she had become so attached to +Maggie, and found such comfort in her help, that she was not willing +to let her go. Maggie being equally delighted to stay, the arrangement +was soon made, and Maggie came to the cottage to live. + +The strangest part of the story is yet to come. + +When Christmas time drew near, Miss Hester one day, while Maggie was +at school, opened some long-closed drawers in her desk to see if she +could find something to give Maggie on that day, for she had not +forgotten her own youthful days when Christmas was the event of the +year. + +Among the long-forgotten treasures of the past, she came upon a little +locket given her when she was about Maggie's age, by her only brother, +who had gone to the war and been killed in battle, severing the last +link that bound the solitary girl to the world. Since that, she had +lived alone and shrank from all society. + +"Poor Eddy!" she said, taking the trinket up in her hands, "how +different would have been my life if you had lived! But it's no use +keeping these relics of the past; they would much better make some one +happy in the present. I think Maggie will like this." + +With a sigh she turned over the contents of the drawer, every item of +which was associated with her happier days, till she found a fine gold +chain which had held the locket around her neck. This she laid aside +with the locket, closed and locked the drawer. + +When the great day arrived, Maggie, who had not dreamed of a present, +was surprised and delighted to receive it. The locket was very pretty, +of gold, with a letter B in black enamel on it. Miss Hester hung it +around her neck, and was as pleased as Maggie herself to see how +pretty it looked. + +"I wonder if it will open," said Maggie to herself a little later, +when she had taken it off to examine more closely; "I'll try it," and +she worked over it a long time but without success. + +That was a very busy day in the cottage; that evening was to be a +great school exhibition to which all the village was invited. Maggie, +who was a bright scholar, had to speak a piece, and Miss Hester had +made her a pretty white dress out of an old one of her own. + +Maggie never felt so fine in her life as when, her hair smoothly +braided by Miss Hester, and tied with a bright ribbon from her old +stores, she had put on the white dress, and hung around her neck the +cherished locket. + +For the first time in her life, she was dressed like other girls, and +it was with a very happy heart that she kissed Miss Hester and went to +the schoolhouse, regretting only that Miss Hester could not be +persuaded to go with her. + +After the exercises of the evening were over, a social hour followed, +in which ice cream and cake were served, and every one walked around +the room to talk with their friends; and now came the surprise of the +evening--the most wonderful event in Maggie's life. + +Among the familiar villagers, she had noticed a quiet, pleasant-faced +man who seemed to be a stranger,--at least she had never seen him +before. He had come with the family from the little hotel, and no +doubt at their invitation. + +This gentleman was walking about, looking with interest at the people, +when he came face to face with Maggie. He stopped suddenly; his eyes +opened wide, and he seemed strangely moved--almost shocked. + +Maggie was frightened, and tried to leave her place, but he stopped +her with a low, eager question. + +"Little girl, where did you get that locket?" + +Maggie supposed he thought she had stolen it, and a bright color rose +to her face, as she answered indignantly, "It was given to me to-day." + +"By whom?" he cried; "tell me instantly!" + +"By Miss Hester," Maggie replied, trying again to get away, for his +eager manner frightened her. + +"Miss Hester!" he repeated, in a disappointed tone, then muttering to +himself, "It can't be! yet it is so like! let me see it!" with a +sudden movement. + +"No!" cried Maggie, now almost crying with fright, and clutching her +treasure. + +By this time some of the people around had noticed the scene, and the +hotel-keeper came up. + +"What is it, Mr. Bartlett?" + +The gentleman tried to calm himself, seeing that they had become the +centre of a curious crowd, and then replied:-- + +"Why, I find on this child the double of a locket I gave my sister +years ago, a sister who has disappeared and whom I have been seeking +for years; I wanted to examine it--but I seem to have frightened her; +will you, if you know her, ask her to let me look at it? If it is the +one I seek, it should open by a secret spring, and have a boy's face +inside. If it should help me to find my long-lost sister!" He paused, +much moved. + +Mr. Wild, the hotel-keeper, calmed Maggie, and asked her to let the +gentleman examine it. + +As he took it in his hand, he murmured, "The very same! here is a mark +I well remember. Now if I can open it!" He held it a moment when +suddenly it sprang open, to Maggie's amazement, and there--sure +enough--was a faded, old-fashioned daguerreotype of a boy's face. + +"It is the very one!" he exclaimed in excitement. "Now where is this +Miss--What did you say her name was? Where could she have got it?" + +"She told me," said Maggie, trembling, "that her brother gave it to +her." + +"So I did," said the man eagerly; "but the name! can she have changed +her name?" + +"It is Miss Hester Bartlett," said one of the bystanders, "and she +is--a little--deformed, and lives alone in the edge of the village." + +The man turned so white he seemed about to faint as he said: "It is +she! Friends"--turning to the much interested crowd, "I have sought +her for years. I was in the army and reported killed in battle, and +when I went home to take care of my unfortunate sister, she had +disappeared, and I have never till now found a clue to her. Take me +to her instantly!" turning to Maggie, who was now really crying for +joy to think of Miss Hester's happiness. + +But the people urged that such a shock, when she supposed him dead, +might be very dangerous, and at last he was persuaded to let some one +who knew her break the joyful news to her. + +Maggie went back to the cottage the happiest girl in the village, and +the next morning the news was safely broken to Miss Hester, who in a +short half hour found herself crying on her brother's shoulder--the +richest and the happiest woman in all the world, as she said through +her tears. + +From that day a new life began for Maggie, for neither brother nor +sister would hear of parting from her, who had been the means of their +finding each other. A larger house was built, and Miss Hester +persuaded to mingle a little with her neighbors, while Maggie took her +place among the young people on equal terms with all. + +"That was splendid!" said Kristy, with shining eyes, as Mrs. Wilson +ended her story. "Is it true? Did it really happen?" + +"Yes, it is true; I know Maggie myself,--met her last summer, when I +went to B----." + +"I should like to know her," said Kristy. "Can't you tell another, +Mrs. Wilson?" + +"Kristy," said her mother, reprovingly, "it's bad enough for you to +tease me for stories without making victims of others." + +"Oh, I like to tell stories," said Mrs. Wilson, laughing, "and I think +I have time to tell Kristy about the naughtiest day of my life." + +"Oh, do!" cried Kristy eagerly. + +"Did you ever notice in my sitting-room a little dog preserved in a +glass case?" + +"Yes, I have," said Kristy, "and I have always wondered about it." + +"Well; I'll tell you why I preserve it so carefully. That little dog +saved my life, I believe, and if not my life, he certainly saved my +reason." + +"Oh, how was that, Mrs. Wilson?" said Kristy earnestly. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +HOW A DOG SAVED MY LIFE + + +I was twelve years old when I had the most dreadful experience of my +life--an experience that I am sure would have ended in my death or +insanity if it had not been for the love of my little dog Tony. + +It was all my own fault, too--my own naughtiness. But let me begin at +the beginning. My father and mother were going away from home on a +short visit to my grandmother. They had arranged to have me stay at my +Uncle Will's and had given Molly, the maid, leave to spend the time at +her own home; so the house was to be shut up and left alone. + +Now I had an intimate friend, a schoolmate, of whom my mother did not +approve, for family reasons, which I understood when I was older, and +she never liked to have me be much with her. When Maud--for that was +her name--found out that I was to be at my uncle's a few days, she at +once asked me to stay with her instead. She offered all sorts of +inducements. She was going to have a party--a dance it was--and my +parents did not approve of dancing. In fact, she drew such an enticing +picture of the good times we would have that I was tempted to do what +I had never done in my life--deceive my own mother. + +I did not dare ask her to let me go to Maud's, for I knew she would +not consent, and if she positively forbade me, I think I should not +have ventured to disobey, but if I did not ask her and she did not +forbid, that--I thought--would not be so very bad. Fortifying myself +by these thoughts, I decided to accept Maud's invitation secretly. + +I made up my mind not to go to Uncle Will's at all, for I did not want +them to know where I was going. I knew my father or mother would lock +the house and leave the key at Uncle Will's, and I wanted to get my +best clothes to go to Maud's party. + +After some thought, and at Maud's suggestion, I planned to hide myself +in the house till all had left it, then get the things I wanted, and +slip out of a window that was not fastened. + +I knew my mother would go all over the house before she left it, and +the only place I could think of to hide was in the cellar. So with +these naughty thoughts in my head, I took occasion, a short time +before they were to start, to slip into the cellar and hide behind +some barrels. I must say that I had always a foolish fear of the +cellar, and nothing but my great desire to go to Maud's would have +induced me to spend even a few minutes in it. + +I heard my father drive up to the door and my mother walking about +seeing that everything was shut and locked, but I did not hear that as +she passed the cellar door she slipped the bolt into place. + +When they were out of the house, and I heard them drive away, I came +out of my hiding place, exulting in the thought that now I was free +to do as I liked. I would hurry up to my room, put my best dress and +ribbons and things into a traveling bag, and hurry down to Maud's. I +felt my way to the stairs, for it was late afternoon and the +cellar--never very light in the brightest noon--was at that hour quite +dark, and I went up those stairs the happiest, lightest-hearted girl +in the world. Alas! it was my last happy moment for months. + +I fumbled about for the latch, lifted it, and pushed the door. It did +not open--and the truth flashed upon me. It was locked! I was a +prisoner! The full horror of my position burst upon me. No one knew I +was there. No one would seek me. No one could hear me, for the house +was at some distance from others. I was a prisoner in a dark +cellar--it was almost night--my parents would be gone three days! + +I went into a frenzy, I shrieked and called, I pounded the door till +my hands were bleeding, though all the time I knew no one could hear +me. + +I can scarcely remember what I did. I was, I believe, actually insane +for a while. + +Night came on; I heard--or I thought I heard--rats, and I remembered +some of the terrible things I had read of these animals. I shouted +again, and again beat the door. I cannot tell the horror and agony of +those hours. I felt myself going mad. + +I was aroused at last, after hours,--it seemed to me,--by the whining +and crying of my dog, my pet, who was my constant companion. He was a +clever little fellow and, I used to think, knew as much as some folks. +He was now at the small, grated window of the cellar, crying and +scratching at the earth, evidently trying to dig his way in to me. + +His presence--even outside--comforted me, and a thought came to me. He +had been taught to go to Uncle Will and others of the family, and +perhaps he might be able to bring help. I called to him, and he +responded joyfully. Then I gave him his order. + +"Call Uncle Will!" + +The faithful fellow did not want to leave me; he whined and cried, +but I repeated the order in as stern a voice as I could manage. + +"Call Uncle Will!" I ordered again and again, and at last he ran off. + +Then I took hope and began to listen. If Uncle Will came near, I meant +to call and scream to attract his attention. + +But hours passed; no one came--not even my dear Tony--and I heard +noises and went mad again. I was getting exhausted, sitting +uncomfortably on the top step of the stairs, and suffering such +violent emotion. + +Meanwhile there was excitement at Uncle Will's over the strange +conduct of the dog. He barked, and howled, and cried at the door, till +Uncle Will got out of bed to quiet him. But he would not be quiet, nor +go into the house for all the coaxing. He insisted on barking, running +towards the gate, and then back in the most frantic way. + +At last, after he had kept the family awake all night, when daylight +began to dawn, Uncle Will decided to follow him to see if he could +find what was the matter, though he was sure the poor fellow was +raving mad. + +The dog led him at once to the cellar window, where he dug at the +earth, and whined and cried harder than ever. At first I did not hear +him,--I think I had become unconscious,--but at last I did rouse +myself enough to utter a scream which Uncle Will heard. He did not +recognize my voice,--indeed he said afterwards that it sounded like +nothing human,--but he resolved at any rate to see what it was. + +He went to the kitchen door to unlock it, but the dog went wilder than +ever, seeming to think I was behind that window. However, Uncle Will +came in, and on his unlocking the cellar door, I fell on the floor in +a heap, as if dead. + +Uncle Will was awfully frightened; he took me up in his arms--big as I +was--and ran with me back to his house, which was not far away. + +It was hours before I was fully myself, months before I recovered from +the illness caused by the cold I had taken, and years before I got +back my courage and could bear to be alone--especially at night, when +all the horrors of that time would come up before me as vividly as on +that dreadful night. + + * * * * * + +"How dreadful!" said Kristy in a low tone, as Mrs. Wilson paused. + +"I needn't point the moral to you, Kristy," Mrs. Wilson said, "but I +assure you I learned my lesson well; and that's why I keep my dear +little dog's body in a glass case. I cherished him beyond everything +as long as he lived, and couldn't bear to give him up when he died at +a good old age. + +"Now," said Mrs. Wilson, "I must really go. It has stopped raining, +Kristy, and I have paid mamma's debt." + +"No, indeed!" cried Kristy. "You have told me lovely stories, and +mamma owes me two to pay for them!" + +"That's a curious way of calculating," said Mrs. Wilson, laughing; "do +you expect to be paid twice for everything?" + +"Yes; when it's stories," said Kristy. + +"Kristy'll soon have to write stories for herself, I think," said her +mother, smiling, "when she has exhausted the stock of all her +friends." + +Kristy blushed, but did not confess that that was her pet ambition. + +"Now, mamma," said Kristy that evening after supper was over, "some +more rainy day stories, please!" + +"Will you have them all at once?" asked mamma, taking up some fancy +knitting she kept for evenings, "or one at a time?" + +"One at a time, please," answered Kristy. + +"Well; get your work. How much did you do this afternoon?" + +Kristy looked guilty. "You know I just _can't_ remember to knit when +I'm listening to a story. I--I--believe I did not knit once across." + +Her mother laughed. "The poor Barton baby'll go cold, I'm afraid, if +he waits for his carriage robe till you finish it. How would you like +to knit him a pair of stockings? Shall I set them up and give you a +daily stint?" + +"Ugh!" said Kristy. "Please don't talk of anything so dreadful! You +told me yourself how you hated it." + +"It's a very good plan, nevertheless," said Mrs. Crawford. "Perhaps it +would have been wiser not to tell you about that." + +"Now, mamma!" said Kristy reproachfully. + +"I think," mamma went on, "that I shall have to make up for that story +of a girl who didn't like to work,--at least that kind of work,"--she +corrected herself, "by telling you about a girl who worked enough for +two." + +"Oh, oh!" cried Kristy, "I'm afraid that'll not be very interesting." + +"Well, you shall see," said mamma, "for I'm going to tell you how she +got up a whole Christmas tree alone, and made everything on it +herself." + +"Oh!" said Kristy relieved, "that'll be good, I know; begin." + +"Well, I'll begin where the story begins, as I have heard May tell it, +with a talk between her sister and herself. One morning a little +before Christmas the two girls got to talking about that happy time +and the way it is celebrated, and May listened eagerly to Lottie's +description of a tree she had at her aunt's the year before." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +LOTTIE'S CHRISTMAS TREE + + +"There's no use wishing for anything away out here in the woods," said +Lottie fretfully, rocking violently back and forth by the side of the +bed. + +"No, of course we couldn't have one, but I should like to see a +Christmas tree before I die. It must be splendid!" + +And poor, sick May turned wearily on her pillow. + +"You're not going to die, May," said Lottie impatiently, "and I hope +you'll see lots of Christmas trees--if you don't this year. It's your +turn to go to Aunt Laura's next." + +May sighed. + +"I'm too tired, Lottie. I never shall go." + +"Of course you're tired," said Lottie in the same fretful tone; +"nothing to do, nothing to see, nothing to read--just lying on your +back, week after week, in this old log house. It's enough to make +anybody sick. I s'pose it's awful wicked, but I think it's just too +bad that we two girls have to live in this mean old shanty, with +nobody but stupid old Nancy!" + +"Oh, Lottie," said the sick girl anxiously, "don't forget father, and +what a comfort we are to him." + +"You are, you mean," interrupted Lottie. + +"No, I mean you. I'm an expense and care to him; but what could he do +without you? And remember," she went on softly, "how he hated to bring +us to this lonely little place, and wanted to put us in school, and +leave us, but we begged him"-- + +"Yes, I remember," said Lottie regretfully, "and I am wicked as I can +be to talk so; but thinking about Aunt Laura's tree, it did seem too +bad you couldn't have one, too. You have so few pleasures." + +"Oh, I have lots of pleasures!" cried May eagerly. "I love to lie here +and look out into the woods,--the dear, sweet, quiet woods,--and +remember the nice times we used to have before I was sick; and I +like"-- + +"You like some dinner by this time, I guess," said Nancy, coming in +with her dinner nicely served on a tray. + +Lottie got up, went into the next room, threw an old shawl over her +head, and stepped out of the side door into the woods, for the house +had not been built long, and all the clearing was on the other side. + +Though it was winter, it was not very cold, and the woods were almost +as attractive as in summer. + +Walking a few rods, Lottie sat down on her favorite seat, a fallen +tree trunk covered with moss. + +"I declare, it's too bad!" she began to herself. "I believe May is +dying because it's so stupid here. I could 'most die myself. I wonder +if I couldn't do something to amuse her. Couldn't I buy something, or +make something," she went on, slowly turning over in her mind all her +resources. "Let me see,--I have two dollars left. I wish I could buy +her a set of chessmen! She and father play so much. Wait! wait!" she +cried excitedly, jumping up and dancing around; "I have it! I can make +her a set like Kate Selden's, or something like it, I know! Oh, dear! +won't that be splendid! How delighted she will be! But where'll I get +the figures?" + +She sat down again more soberly, and fell into a brown study. + +"My two dollars will buy enough china dolls, I guess, and I'll get +Aunt Laura to send them to me by mail." + +This was a bright thought, and the more she thought of it, the greater +grew her plan. She remembered several things she could make, and +before she went into the house, she even ventured to dream of a tree. + +That night a mysterious letter was written, the two dollars slipped +in, sealed, and directed, ready to give to the postman, an old man who +passed every day with mail for the village. + +Never did ten days seem so long to Lottie as that particular ten days +which passed before she got her answer. Every day, at the postman's +hour, she ran up to the road and waited for him, all the time planning +the wonderful things she would do. At last, one day, the old man +stopped his horse, fumbled in his saddlebags, and brought out a +package directed to her. + +She seized it, and ran off to open her treasure. What did the package +contain? Nothing but twenty-eight china dolls, some silver and gilt +paper, and some bits of bright silk. + +"Auntie has got everything!" she exclaimed joyfully; "and now I can go +right to work." + +Now the log house had but four rooms,--the living-room, where they +ate, and where old Nancy cooked at a big cave of a fireplace, in which +logs were burning from fall to spring; the girls' room, where May lay, +which was also warmed by a big fireplace; father's room, and a room in +the attic for Nancy. + +Lottie could not work in the cold, nor in May's room, so she +established herself in a warm corner of the living-room, far enough +from Nancy's dull eyes, and near a window. Day after day she worked, +making excuses to May for leaving her so much alone, and hiding her +work before her father came in at night. + +I will tell you how she made the set of chessmen. First she hunted up +a smooth, thin board, from which she cut, with her father's saw, a +square piece about twenty inches square. The middle of this board she +laid out in blocks with a pencil and ruler, careful to make them +exactly perfect. The blocks were two inches square and there were +eight each way; in fact, it was a copy of the chessboard her father +had made. + +These squares she covered with gilt and silver paper alternately, +covering the joinings with strips of very narrow gilt bordering. The +edge of the board she covered with a strip of drab-colored cloth she +found in the piece-trunk. + +The board being finished,--and it was really very pretty,--she had +next to make the chessmen. For these she used the china dolls, the +tallest of which was three inches high. Half of the dolls were white +and the other half black; the white to wear blue and white, the black +ones scarlet and drab. + +The dressing was a work of art, for she wished to make them look like +the characters they represented. She looked through the picture-books +in the house to see how kings and queens and knights and bishops were +dressed. Pictures of kings and queens she found in a geography, +knights in a volume of Shakespeare, and a bishop in an odd number of +an old magazine. + +Then she went to work. The pawns were dressed as pages, the kings and +queens in flowing robes, with crowns of gilt or silver paper, glued +on, the knights in coats of mail,--strips of silver paper laid over +one another like the shingles on a roof,--the bishops in long gowns, +with mitre on the head,--all in the two colors of their respective +sides. The four castles were made of pieces of gray sandpaper, glued +into cylinder shape, with battlement-shaped strips around the top; +when glued on their standards, they looked like little stone castles. + +When they were all dressed,--and it took many days and much +contriving,--Lottie found that few of them would stand up, and those +which possessed the accomplishment were very tottlish, and fell down +at the slightest provocation. + +That would never do, so she set her wits to work to provide standards. + +She took an old broom handle, and sawed it into thin slices. + +When she had thirty-two of these slices, she covered them neatly with +pieces of old black broadcloth, glued on, over top, edge, and all. +Then she dipped the feet of each china personage into the hot, stiff +glue, and held it in place till the glue set. + +They would stick nicely, and stand up as straight as any chessmen. + +Then she drew the long robes into folds, just touched with glue, and +festooned to the standard so as not to get out of place. + +When the whole set was done, Lottie was delighted; and, indeed, they +were extremely pretty. + +Every night, when May and her father would get out the old set, made +of button moulds, with the name printed on with ink, Lottie would +think what a surprise there would be. + +But she was not done with plans. + +May had a picture, a delicate pencil-sketch of her mother, the only +likeness they had. It was the sick girl's treasure. Too careful of it +to allow it to hang on the wall and get soiled, she kept it in an old +book under her pillow, and to take it out and look at it every day was +her delight. Now Lottie planned to make a frame for this treasure. + +On pretense of looking at it, she took its dimensions, and then went +to work. Cutting a piece of cardboard of the right size, she proceeded +to cover it with little bunches of grasses she had dried in the +summer, standing up in vases so that they drooped gracefully. At the +top, where the stems of the grasses met, she placed a bunch of +bitter-sweet berries, the brilliant red and orange just the needed bit +of color to perfect the whole. + +It was laid away in a chest with the chessmen, ready to receive the +picture. + +And now she began to plan for the adornment of the tree. + +Candles were the greatest anxiety, but with the help of Nancy, she +made a few large ones into twenty as neat and pretty little "dips" as +you ever saw. + +Walnuts she ornamented with gilt bands and loops to be hung by; +apples, the reddest and whitest, were similarly prepared; tiny +cornucopias, made of white letter paper trimmed with bits of +gilt, filled with popped corn and meats of butternuts nicely +picked out; dainty baskets made of old match-boxes, covered +with gay paper, and with festooned handles; gorgeous pink and +white roses of paper; tiny cakes of maple sugar, delicious +sticks and twists of molasses candy; dainty drop cakes and +kisses smuggled into the oven on baking-day,--all were secreted +in the wonderful chest in the attic. + +At last came the day before Christmas, and Lottie took the axe and +went into the woods, for this woods-girl could not only bake cakes, +dress dolls, and saw broomsticks, but she could even chop down a tree, +if it was small. + +She found a beautiful spruce tree, which had evidently been growing +all these years on purpose for a Christmas tree, so straight it stood, +and so wide and strong were its branches. + +Cutting it down, and dragging it home over the snow, Lottie presented +herself at the kitchen door, to the astonished eyes of Nancy. + +"Now, Nancy, don't you say a word to May. I'm going to surprise her." + +"'Deed 'n I should think you'd surprise her, could she see you +dragging that big log into the house!" + +"Well, you help me in with it, for I don't want to break its +branches." + +"All on my clean floor!" cried Nancy, in dismay. + +"Yes, quick!" said Lottie; "it won't muss, you'll see." + +Nancy helped her, and the tree yielded to fate and four strong arms, +and went in. + +It did look big, and when Lottie stood it up in a tub, it nearly +touched the wall. Around the trunk of the tree, to steady it, she +packed sticks of wood till it stood firm. Then she covered the whole, +tub, wood, and floor around, with great sheets of green moss, which +she had pulled out from under the snow the day before. + +She got the tree in early in the morning, and every moment she could +steal from May through the day she spent in filling it, hanging on her +treasures, fastening her candles by sticking large pins up through the +small branches, and standing the candles on them. + +The chessboard stood prominently on the moss at the foot of the tree, +and the frame, with its picture, hung from one branch. + +When her father came home, he found supper served, as a Christmas eve +treat, Lottie said, in May's room, and adroitly he was kept out of the +mysterious room. + +When he was finishing his last cup of tea, and was talking with May, +Lottie slipped out, lighted a long taper, and in five minutes had the +tree all ablaze with light. + +"Father," she said, quietly opening the door, "will you bring May out +to her Christmas eve?" + +"What!" said father. + +But mechanically he took in his arms the light form of his daughter, +and followed Lottie. At the door he stood transfixed, and May could +not speak or breathe for wonder. + +That one moment paid Lottie for all her hard work, but Nancy's "Do +tell!" as she peeped over their shoulders and saw the illuminated +tree, broke the spell. + +Father broke out with tears in his eyes, "Why, Lottie!" and May cried +ecstatically: "How wonderful! how lovely! is it a dream? is it +fairies?" + +"No, May," Lottie whispered, coming up softly behind her, "it's only a +Christmas tree, and it's yours!" + +"Mine! and you made it?" exclaimed May, understanding at once Lottie's +intense occupation of the last month. + +"Who helped you, my daughter?" + +"No one, father," said Lottie. + +"Well, it's wonderful, really wonderful. How could you do it all +alone? I can't understand it! What a little, smothered volcano you +must have been all these weeks!" + +"I could hardly keep from telling," said Lottie, with happy eyes. + +But now May asked to be carried nearer, and each treasure was +examined. The ingenious chessmen were praised, and the frame brought a +shower of happy tears from May. + +Then there was a surprise for father, for Lottie had found time to +make him a nice, warm muffler, and May had knit him a pair of mittens, +which she now brought out. And Nancy was not forgotten, for Lottie had +made her an apron, and May had made her a tatting collar. Neither was +Lottie neglected, for May had netted her a beautiful new net. + +And father now drew out of his pocket a letter which he had received +from Aunt Laura that morning, on opening which, two new ten-dollar +bills were found, presents from Aunt Laura to the girls, "to buy some +keepsake with," the letter said. + +"And I was so cross, thinking I should not have any Christmas," said +May repentantly. + +"And I was so sad, thinking how different would have been my +daughters' Christmas if their dear mother had been with us," said +father softly. + +"And you, Lottie--like a dear, old darling as you are," said May, +giving her a spasmodic hug, "were all the time working away with all +your might that I might have the most splendid Christmas tree! I don't +believe Aunt Laura's is half so pretty!" + + * * * * * + +"It must be fun to dress up a tree yourself," said Kristy, when the +story was ended. + +"And still more," said her mother, "to get it up, as Lottie did, out +of almost nothing. It's easy enough to go out and buy enough to cover +a tree, but it's a very different affair to make the presents one's +self. + +"Another unusual Christmas celebration that I have heard about was +even more strange than Lottie's, though several people took part in +getting it up. It took place in a baggage-car," went on Mrs. Crawford. + +"In a baggage-car?" said Kristy. + +"Yes; attached to a train that was snowed up in Minnesota one winter. +It was the time that Ethel Jervis was ill,--you remember,--and her +mother took her to Minnesota for her health." + +"She took Harry, too, didn't she?" asked Kristy. + +"Yes; she couldn't leave him very well, so he was with them." + +"Tell me about it!" said Kristy. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +CHRISTMAS IN A BAGGAGE-CAR + + +Mrs. Jervis and her two children, Ethel and Harry, were on their way +to spend Christmas with the grandmother, who lived in a small town in +Minnesota, three or four hours' journey from Minneapolis, where they +were spending the winter. There had been a good deal of snow, but they +did not think much about it, for they were not used to Minnesota +snowstorms. + +It was getting late in the afternoon, and they were tired and anxious +to reach B----before night, when the train--after a good deal of +puffing, and backing, and jerking forward and back--stopped short. + +Several of the men went out to see what was the matter. Soon they +began to come back, and one, whose seat was next to Mrs. Jervis, said, +as he took his seat, "It doesn't look much like getting to B---- +to-night." + +"What is the trouble?" asked Mrs. Jervis. + +"Tremendous drifts in the cut," answered Mr. Camp. "Snow falling +faster than ever, and wind piling it up faster than a thousand men +could shovel it out. This cut is a regular snow-trap." + +"Can't the engine plow through?" asked Mrs. Jervis anxiously. + +"That's what has been tried," said the man; "but the snow is higher +than the smokestack, and packed so tight it's almost solid. We may be +here a week, for all I see, unless the storm holds up and we get +help." + +"Oh, mother!" wailed Ethel, "shan't we get to grandmother's for +Christmas?" + +"I hope so, Ethel!" said Mrs. Jervis soothingly. "It's three days to +Christmas, you know, and a good deal may happen in three days. +Couldn't we go back?" she asked her neighbor. "If we could get back to +Minneapolis it would be better than staying here," and she glanced +anxiously at her daughter, whose wide, staring eyes were fixed on Mr. +Camp, as if he held her fate in his hands. + +"They tried a while ago, you remember," he said; "but the cut we +passed through a mile back is now as bad as this. The fact is, we are +between two cuts, and for all I see are prisoners here till we get +help from outside." + +Mrs. Jervis heard this with dismay, and Ethel with despair. She buried +her face in her mother's lap, and shook all over with the violence of +her sobs. + +Mrs. Jervis was distressed, for her daughter was just recovering from +a serious illness, and she feared the consequences of such violent +emotion. Her mind worked quickly; if she could only get Ethel +interested in something,--but what could she do shut up in a car? She +spoke again to her neighbor. + +"Didn't you say there were some travelers in the next car not so +comfortable as we are?" + +"Yes, ma'am," he answered; "a mother and three children, one a baby, +going to Dalton, where the father has just got work. They look poor, +and are not very warmly clad. The conductor says he can't keep two +cars warm; fuel is getting scarce; and he's going to bring them in +here." + +"Do you hear that, Ethel?" said her mother anxiously; "there's a baby +coming into our car." + +Ethel was usually very fond of babies, but now she could think of +nothing but her disappointment, and only an impatient jerk of her +shoulders showed that she heard. + +At this moment the door opened, and the conductor appeared, followed +by the few passengers from the other car, among them the shivering +family with the baby. The mother looked pale and tired, and sank into +the first seat. + +Mrs. Jervis rose, obliging Ethel to sit up, and went toward the weary +woman. + +"Let me take the baby a while," she said pleasantly; "you look tired +out." + +Tears came into the eyes of the poor mother. + +"Oh, thank you," she said; "the baby is fretting for her milk; she +won't eat anything I can get for her." + +"Of course she won't," said Mrs. Jervis, as she lifted the baby, who, +though poorly dressed, was clean and sweet; "sensible baby! we must +try to get milk for her!" She turned to the conductor. + +"Isn't there a farmhouse somewhere about here where some benevolent +gentleman might get milk for a suffering baby?" and she looked with a +smile at the passenger who had been giving the unwelcome news. + +"No," said the conductor, "I think not any near enough to be reached +in this storm; but I have an idea that there's a case of condensed +milk in the baggage-car; I'll see," and he hurried out. + +"That's a providential baggage-car," said Mrs. Jervis. "How much we +might have suffered but for its fortunate stores!" + +"Yes," replied her neighbor gravely; "a fast of a week wouldn't be +very comfortable." + +"And jack rabbits are tiptop!" burst in Harry Jervis. His mother +smiled. + +"I'm glad you like them, Harry; I should like them better bounding +away over the prairies on their own long legs than served up half +cooked, on a newspaper for plates,--to be eaten with fingers, too," +she added. + +"Fingers were made before forks!" said Harry triumphantly, repeating +an old saying which had been quoted quite often in that car of late. + +"Your fingers were not, Harry!" said Mrs. Jervis, laughing. "However, +we have cause to be thankful, even for jack rabbits eaten with our +fingers." + +At this moment entered a brakeman with a can of condensed milk. "The +conductor sent this to you, ma'am," he said. + +"But it isn't open!" said Mrs. Jervis in dismay; "and I didn't think +to bring a can-opener. If I had only known of this picnic-party, I +might have provided myself." + +"I'll open it," said her neighbor, taking out a pocket knife; "I've +opened many a can in my travels on the plains." + +"Don't take off the top," said Mrs. Jervis. "Make two holes in the +cover." He looked up in surprise. She went on: "One to let out the +milk, and the other to let in the air so that it can get out." + +"Well, if that isn't an idea!" said the man, a broad grin spreading +over his face. "It takes a woman to think of that contrivance!" + +"You see," said Mrs. Jervis, "that keeps the milk in the can clean, +and it pours out as well as if the whole top was off." + +"Sure!" said the man; "I'll never forget that little trick; thank you, +ma'am!" + +Mrs. Jervis smiled. "You're quite welcome," she said, as she proceeded +to dilute the milk with water from the cooler, and to warm the mixture +on the stove, using her own silver traveling-cup for the purpose. + +While she was doing this, she had put the baby on Ethel's lap, saying +quietly, "You hold her a minute till I get the milk ready." + +Ethel half grudgingly took the feebly wailing baby; but when the milk +was warmed and the hungry little creature quietly fell asleep in her +arms, she showed no desire to give her up. Mrs. Jervis, having +procured a pillow from the porter,--for this was a sleeping-car,--laid +the sleeping infant on the seat opposite her own. + +Meanwhile, the idea she had been all this time seeking--the plan for +giving Ethel something to think of besides herself--had come to her, +and she now suggested it to her daughter, who had stopped crying, +though she still looked very unhappy. + +"Ethel," she said, "did you notice those poor children back there?" + +"No," said Ethel indifferently. + +"Well," said her mother, "I wish you'd go and tell the mother that the +baby is sleeping comfortably, and I'll look after her." + +Ethel was accustomed to mind, and though she looked as if she didn't +fancy the errand, she rose and slowly walked through the car to the +back seats where the strangers were seated, delivered her message, and +returned. + +"They don't look very comfortable, do they?" said Mrs. Jervis. + +"No, indeed!" said Ethel with some interest; "that girl had a little, +old shawl pinned on, and looked half frozen at that." + +"I don't suppose they have ever been really comfortable," went on Mrs. +Jervis. "I should like to fix them all up warm and nice for once in +their lives." + +Ethel did not reply, but she was thinking. + +"I wonder if _they_ were going anywhere for Christmas," she said +slowly. + +"They look as if they did not know what Christmas is," answered her +mother. "I don't believe they ever had one." + +"It would be fun to fix up a tree for them," said Ethel, who had +enjoyed helping to arrange a Christmas celebration the preceding year +in an orphan asylum; "but of course no one can do anything shut up in +this old car!" + +"I'm not so sure about that," said Mrs. Jervis; "a good deal can be +done by willing hands." + +"I don't see what!" said Ethel. + +"Well," said her mother, "you could at least make the girl a rag-doll +like those you made for the orphans last winter." + +"What could I make it of?" asked Ethel somewhat scornfully. + +"I have an idea," said Mrs. Jervis. "I think I can get something from +the porter." + +Like most persons who set out with determination, Mrs. Jervis overcame +all obstacles. With the consent of the conductor, who assumed the +responsibility for the Company, she bought of the porter a clean +sheet, and a towel with a gay border, and returned to her seat. Out of +her traveling-bag she took sewing implements, and in a short time +Ethel was busily engaged in fashioning a rag-doll. She rolled up a +long strip of the clean cotton for the doll's body, sewing it tightly +in place, and made a similar but much smaller roll for the arms, which +she sewed on to the body in proper position. She marked the features +of the face with a black lead pencil, and then dressed it in a strip +of the towel, leaving the red border as a trimming around the hem of +the dress, and a narrow strip of the same gay border for a sash, which +was tied in a fine bow at the back. On the head, to conceal the raw +edges of the cotton, she made a tiny hood of another piece of the red +border, and though you might not think it, it was really a very +presentable doll. + +Meanwhile the idea had spread among the passengers, and other hands +were busy with the same purpose. One elderly lady, who had been +occupying her time knitting with red wool a long, narrow strip +intended to make a stripe in a large afghan, deliberately raveled out +the whole, and, bringing out of her bag a pair of fine needles, set up +some mittens for the cold-looking red hands of the boy. + +Another lady passenger produced a small shoulder shawl, which she +proceeded to make--with the help of Mrs. Jervis's needles and +thread--into a warm hood for the little girl. Another lady made of an +extra wrap she carried an ample cloak for the baby, and Mrs. Jervis +resolved to give the thinly dressed mother a large cape she had +brought in case they should ride the last two miles of their journey +in an open sleigh in a snowstorm. + +The whole carload, with nothing to occupy them, soon caught the +enthusiasm; and before the day was over, nearly every one was doing +what could be done with such limited means to make a pleasant +Christmas for the little family occupying so quietly the back section +in the car, and feeling so out of place among the well-to-do +passengers. + +Not only were articles for their comfort made, but toys for the +children. Many a man, in the intervals of shoveling snow, at which +each man took his turn, called up the resources of boyhood, and +whittled precious things out of wood; a whistle and a toy sled for the +boy; a cradle made of a cigar box, with rockers nailed on with pins, +for the girl, and fitted with bedding from her mother's sheet by +Ethel, with a piece of the shoulder shawl for coverlid. + +Even Harry wanted to help, and begged his mother for an empty spool, +out of which he could make a real top which would spin. Mrs. Jervis +had no empty spool, but she took the largest one she had, wound off +the thread on a card, and gave it to him, and he whittled out a +beautiful top. + +All these things could be done in the same car with the family, for +they were very shy, and kept strictly to the last compartment, where +the conductor had placed them. + +As Christmas day drew near, the question of a tree began to be +considered, for Ethel could not entertain the idea of Christmas +without one. She consulted the porter, who entered into the spirit of +the thing warmly, and as he had noticed some trees not far back, near +the track, he managed to cut off a large branch from one. Shaking it +free from the snow, he set it up in a box, under Ethel's directions, +making it stand steadily upright with chunks of coal packed in the box +around it, and it really looked something like a tree, though it was +entirely bare of leaves, for it was not an evergreen. + +The baggage-car was decided upon for the celebration, and all day +before Christmas Ethel and Harry, as well as most of the passengers by +turns, were very busy there. Ethel covered the box of coal with the +remains of the sheet; candles for the tree, with all their ingenuity, +they were unable to manage, but a fine effect was produced by a +brilliant red lantern, which a brakeman lent for the occasion, placed +in among the branches. + +All the gifts--and they were surprisingly numerous--were hung about +the tree, and the bare spaces filled up with paper ladders and rings +of dancing dolls and long curling tassels and fringes, all of which +Ethel cut with the scissors out of newspapers. These last decorations +were added with locked doors, only the porter being allowed to see +them. + +It was really a very effective show, though so odd, and after the +passengers had enjoyed their evening meal of jack rabbits roasted +before the fire, with dry crackers for bread, and water to drink, they +were all invited by the smiling colored porter to proceed to the +baggage-car. + +The Grey family, for whom all this had been done, were gallantly +escorted by the porter himself, who even carried the baby, now bright +and smiling on its diet of condensed milk. + +The baggage-car presented a gay appearance, brilliantly lighted by +many brakeman's lanterns. Trunks were stowed away in one end, except +those needed for seats, and in a few moments the women and children +were seated, while all the men of the train stood around behind them, +even to the weary-looking engineer who had been working so hard these +two days and nights for their release. + +The surprise and delight of the Grey children knew no bounds; and when +they found that all these treasures were for them, their ecstasies +were beyond control; they laughed and shouted almost like other +children, as they had never in their lives done before. + +As for the mother, she was simply overcome; tears of happiness ran +down her face, and as each gift was placed in her lap, she could only +grasp the hand of the giver,--she could not speak. + +And what of Ethel! No one would have known her for the unhappy-faced +maiden who had so lamented their plight. All this time she had been +the moving spirit in the whole matter. She had worked hard herself, +and inspired others to work, too. She was rosy and happy on this +evening, her eyes bright and shining; and when her mother placed in +her hand her own Christmas gift, which she had been secretly carrying +to grace the tree at Grandma's, her happiness overflowed, and she +exclaimed:-- + +"Why! I almost forgot the party to-night at Grandma's!" + +At the close of the evening, as the party were about to return to +their car, the conductor rapped for silence, and announced--as the +best gift of the evening--that help had come from outside and cut +through the drifts, so that before morning they would be able to take +up their journey. + +It was a very happy-faced Ethel who, the next morning, jumped out of +the sleigh which had brought them up from the station, and ran to kiss +her grandmother and aunts and cousins, brought together from great +distances for the happy Christmas time. And after all, she didn't miss +the tree, either, for, although Christmas had passed, all the party +begged to defer the tree till the Jervis family arrived; and there it +stood at that moment, all ready for lighting. + +Nothing of this was told to the Jervis children, however, till after +supper was over, when Grandmother invited the whole company to go into +the room where it stood, lighted from the top twig to the pedestal it +stood on, and hung full of beautiful gifts. + + * * * * * + +"That's a nice story," said Kristy; "it was lovely of them to save the +tree for Ethel. It isn't bedtime yet," she went on suggestively, as +her mother busied herself with her work. + +"No; it isn't bedtime; but you must have had enough stories for one +day, Kristy." + +"No, indeed! I never have enough!" said Kristy warmly. + +"Well, here's another, then, and it's true, too." And Mrs. Crawford +began. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +HOW A BEAR CAME TO SCHOOL + + +One warm spring morning, near the town of A----, away off in the edge +of the deep woods, a bear awoke from his long winter sleep, came out +of his den under the roots of a great fallen tree, stretched his +half-asleep limbs, opened wide his great mouth in a long, long yawn, +and then all at once found that he was ravenously hungry; and no +wonder! for he hadn't had a mouthful to eat since he went to sleep for +the winter, months before. + +As soon as he was wide awake, and his legs began to feel natural, he +started out to find something to eat. There were no berries in the +woods yet, no green things that he liked to eat, and, in fact, there +was a very poor prospect for breakfast. + +Long he wandered about in the woods, finding nothing, and getting more +hungry every minute; and at last he started for the few scattering +houses of the village, where he had sometimes found food when it was +scarce in the woods. + +He didn't like to go near the houses of men, for he generally got hurt +when he did so; but he was by this time so very hungry that he almost +forgot that all men were his enemies. + +Shuffling quietly along on his soft-padded feet, he came to a little +house standing all by itself in the edge of the woods. All was quiet +about it, except a curious sort of humming noise, which may have +reminded him of bees and honey that he liked so well. + +Nearer and nearer he came, snuffing the breeze as he came, till he +reached the open door of the little house. Into this he thrust his +great head, and surely now he smelled something to eat. + +It was a schoolhouse, though he didn't know it. + +At this moment a little girl looked up from her book, and a wild +scream rent the air. + +"There's a bear coming in!" she cried. + +Instantly all was confusion; books were dropped, school was forgotten, +screams and shouts filled the air, while the teacher--a stranger in +that wild country--turned white. + +Some of the bigger boys ran towards the door, shouting and waving +their arms to frighten the great beast away, but he had smelled the +dinner baskets, ranged in the passageway, and he was far too hungry to +mind the shouting of boys. The next moment he was fairly in the +passage, and there was nothing to prevent his coming into the +schoolroom. + +Now there is a very wrong impression abroad about bears. Most +people--especially children--think that a bear is always roaming +around seeking some one to devour; while the truth is that, unless +madly hungry or badly treated, a bear will always avoid a human being. +In fact, hunters call them cowardly, though a more truthful word would +be peaceable. In that schoolroom, however, a bear was the greatest +terror in the world. + +There was nothing in the way of a door to keep him out of the room, +but there was a great attraction for him in the doughnuts and pieces +of pie and cake and apples and other good things he smelled in the +dinner baskets, and he set at once to turning over the contents, and +eating whatever pleased his fancy. + +After her momentary faintness, Miss Brown--the young teacher--roused +herself to see what could be done to protect her charges. There was no +door between the room and the passage, though there was a suitable +opening for one. Glancing around the room, she saw but one thing to +do,--to barricade that opening. + +Trying to quiet the screams and tears of the children huddled around +her, she spoke hurriedly to the biggest boys. + +"Boys, we must barricade the doorway while he is busy with the +baskets. Bring up the benches as quick as you can!" + +All fell to work, and soon benches were piled from the floor to the +top of the doorway; but they were so unsteady that one could see that +one good push of the big fellow would throw them all down. + +"More!" said Miss Brown; "we must brace these up." + +So other benches were placed against them in a way to brace them, and +when all in the room were used, a tolerably steady wall was made, +though of course there were plenty of openings between the benches +through which they could see and be seen. + +"If he tries to push them down," said Miss Brown with white lips, "we +must all throw ourselves against these braces to keep them firm. I +think we can keep him till help comes." + +The question of help was a serious one. The schoolhouse was placed on +the edge of a bluff where the ground dropped suddenly many feet, and +strangely enough, all the windows were on that side, so that no one +could climb out of a window, and, what was worse, those inside could +not attract attention if any one should pass. The windows looked only +into the deep woods. + +All this became plain to Miss Brown, as she looked around to see what +were their chances of escape. The only hope was that the bear would +get enough to eat and go out of his own accord. In this hope she +calmed down, and tried to reduce her pupils to order. + +Order, however, was not to be thought of. To the terror of the +children was soon added their dismay at the havoc the bear was making. +One after another basket was turned over and its contents rolled out +on the floor, while he contentedly feasted himself on the food. The +children could not take their eyes from him, and every time he turned +his eyes towards them, they screamed and tried to hide behind Miss +Brown. + +When at last Bruin had emptied the baskets, and evidently filled +himself with the good country lunches, he prepared to take a nap, and +rolling his great body over in the small space he hit the open door, +and, to the horror of Miss Brown, pushed it shut with a bang that +latched it, and made him a prisoner as well as themselves! + +Now indeed the stoutest heart turned weak. + +"Good Heavens, boys!" said Miss Brown to the two or three older +pupils, "what can we do?" + +"I don't see as we can do anything except keep him out of here till +men come to look for us," said the oldest boy, who was about fourteen, +and used to the ways of the country. + +"And that won't be," said Miss Brown, "till they are alarmed because +we don't get home." + +"Yes," said the boy; "not before five or six o'clock. We're often that +late getting home." + +This was a dreary prospect, indeed, and wails and cries began again to +fill the room. Miss Brown saw that she must rouse herself and quell +the panic before it got beyond bounds. + +She thought quickly, then said, quietly as she could, though her voice +trembled at first:-- + +"Children, shall I tell you a story?" + +Story is a magic word to a child, and in a moment the smaller ones +were camped down on the floor around her--having no benches to sit +on--while Miss Brown racked her brain to think of stirring incidents +to keep them interested. + +Story after story fell from her lips; lunch time came--but there were +no lunches. Miss Brown struggled on; words came slowly,--her lips and +throat were dry,--she sipped a little water and struggled on. + +All sorts of possible and impossible adventures she related; she told +strange facts of history with the wildest fancies of romance-makers; +fairies and pirates, and queens and beggar girls, in one mad medley. +She never in after years could recall anything that passed her lips in +those terrible hours. + +Some of the smaller children, worn out with crying, fell asleep, and +as the hours passed and twilight stole over the world, hope began to +revive; surely the fathers of the village must come to seek their +children. + +The bear still slept, but they dared not make much noise for fear of +arousing him. Twilight deepened and night came on,--still no rescue. + +Men were out seeking them; all the village, in fact, but when they +tried the schoolhouse door and could not open it, they concluded that +school had been dismissed, and turned away to search the woods,--the +constant terror of the village parents. + +Happily the little party of prisoners in the schoolroom did not know +this, or they would have despaired. + +A search was started in the woods; lanterns flashed through all the +paths and byways between the trees; men called, and women silently +cried, but of course no trace of the lost was found. + +All night this was kept up, while, on the floor of the schoolroom, all +but the two or three older ones, with the completely exhausted +teacher, slept in what comfortless attitude they might. + +Towards morning a bright thought came to Miss Brown. "They must think +we have left the schoolhouse," she thought; "and we must contrive to +let them know where we are. When the bear wakes up he will be hungry +again,"--with a shudder. Then the bright thought came, "Let us make a +fire in the stove; the smoke will be a sign." + +There was no wood, of course, it being too warm for a fire; but there +were some papers and, if need be, books--and it was the first breath +of hope. + +"But is there a match in the house?" was the appalling thought that +paralyzed her. She asked the boys. One thought he had some, and after +emptying his pockets of the miscellaneous collection that usually +fills a boy's pocket, succeeded in fishing out two worn and +draggled-looking matches which looked doubtful about lighting. + +Miss Brown took them carefully, prepared some torn paper, and drew a +match across the stove; it sputtered--and flashed--and went out. A cry +of horror escaped her lips as, sheltering it in her hand, she tried +the second. It burned and the paper was lighted, and in a moment the +stove was in a glow. + +"Miss Brown," whispered one of the older scholars, "I've heard of +bears being driven off by fire; we might light a stick and try it, if +he wakes up," nodding towards the still sleeping Bruin. + +"Thank you--that is worth thinking of," said Miss Brown. + +Now the smoke began to pour out of the chimney, and one of the tired +men who had been wandering the woods all night saw it. + +He uttered a shout, "They're in the schoolhouse!" + +Soon fifty men, on their way home in despair at finding no trace, were +about him. + +"But the door is locked," said one man. "I tried that the first +thing." + +"Well, somebody is there!" said one; "and we better break the door in, +and see who it is." + +They went to the door and knocked, and then pounded, while those +inside shouted and cried. At last they were heard, and, coming as near +the back windows as they could get, they asked the reason of this +strange performance. + +"I say!" began the man standing on the edge of the bluff, "who's in +there?" + +"We're all in here," was the answer; "and we can't get out because a +big bear is in the passageway." + +"Why did you lock the door?" was the next question. + +"We didn't. The bear rolled against it. He's there now. You can't open +it." + +The good news was quickly carried to the waiting men, and an effort +was made to burst in the door, several of the men being provided with +guns for their night in the woods. + +But Bruin was too heavy for the united efforts, and at last they +decided to shoot through the door. + +Calling directions to those inside to go close to the wall on the +north side so as not to be in danger from any stray bullet, the men +began shooting through the door. + +It was not long before the bear found it too hot for comfort, and +slowly rose to his feet and started for the barricade of benches, now +left without a guard. + +At that instant the door yielded and burst open, and men and shots and +bear and baskets and all came in a mad medley together. + +Poor Bruin's troubles were soon over; he paid for his breakfast with +his life. + +When all was ended, and the men had a chance to look around and see +the barricade, and turned to thank Miss Brown for her heroism in +protecting the children, she was found in a dead faint on the floor. + +It was weeks before she recovered her strength and her voice, after +that terrible night, and the schoolroom--put in fresh order, with a +door between it and the passage, a window cut through the side of the +building, and a big dinner bell provided to ring when help was +needed--was opened again for study. + + * * * * * + +As her mother paused, Kristy drew a deep sigh. "I'm so glad it ended +well; I love to have stories end well." + +"Well," said her mother, looking at the clock, "I'll tell you one more +that I think ends very well indeed, for it taught--but"--she +interrupted herself,--"I won't tell you the end before the beginning; +you shall decide whether it ends well." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +HOW LETTIE HAD HER OWN WAY + + +"I just wish I could do as I've a mind to for once in my life!" said +Lettie Glover crossly, when her mother refused to allow her to carry +out a plan she had made. "I never can do anything I want to," she went +on. "I've heard that stepmothers were horrid, but I believe real +mothers are just as bad!" and she flounced out of the room. + +"Letitia!" called her mother sternly, as she was about to slam the +door after her, "come back!" + +She turned. "What do you want?" she snapped. + +Mrs. Glover was very pale. Lettie had never seen her look so, and in +spite of her anger she was frightened. + +"I think you need a lesson, my daughter," she said quietly, speaking +evidently with difficulty, almost in gasps. "I will let you try your +plan; you may do exactly as you choose for twenty-four hours; I shall +not see you again till it is over," and, rising, she went to her own +room, and locked the door. + +Lettie stood as if stunned; she remembered, suddenly, what the doctor +had said, that her mother's health was precarious, that she must not +be agitated; and a feeling of dismay rushed over her; but a thought of +what her mother had refused her returned, and she hardened herself +again. + +"I don't believe what the old doctor said, anyway," she muttered; "and +I'll have a good time for once! Oh! won't I!" as the thought of what +she would do came over her. + +"In the first place," she thought, "of course I'll go on Stella's +moonlight excursion to-night; mother's objections are nonsense. I know +Stella's friends are a little wild; but they're awfully jolly all the +same, and I know we'll have lots of fun--and I do love a sail on the +river. I'll wear my new white dress, too," she went on, as the thought +of her perfect freedom grew upon her; "I don't believe I'll hurt it, +and if it is soiled a little it can be done up before Aunt Joe's party +that mother's so wonderfully particular about." + +It was now time to start for school, but she at once decided not to +go. "I'll have a good time for once," she said, "and get rid of that +horrid grammar lesson. Now I'll go over to Stella's and tell her I'm +going;" and she went to her room to get ready. + +"I won't wear this old dress," she said scornfully; "for once I'll +dress as I please; mother's so notional about street dress!" + +In her own room she threw off the scorned dark school dress and +brought from her clothes-press a new light blue silk, just made for +her to wear on very special occasions. "I'll wear this," she said; "I +shan't hurt it; and I want Stella to see that other folks can have +nice dresses as well as she." + +Hurriedly she put on the pretty dress and the ribbons that went with +it. Then, taking off her sensible street shoes, she put on the +delicate ones that belonged to the dress. + +Looking at herself in the glass, another thought occurred to her: +"I'll wear my gold beads, too; mother never lets me wear them in the +street, but other folks wear them, and I don't see any use of having +things if you can't wear them." + +From a jewel case in her drawer she took a beautiful string of large +gold beads. They had belonged to her grandmother, and had been given +to her because she was named after her, Letitia, though she had +softened it into Lettie, "and little enough, too," she had said, "to +pay for having such an old-fashioned name, when Mildred, or Ethel, or +Eva, or Maude would have been so much prettier." + +The beads she clasped around her throat, then she pinned on the little +gold chatelaine watch her mother had given her at Christmas, +and--resolving for once to wear as much jewelry as she liked--she +slipped on to her finger a ring bequeathed to her by her Aunt Letitia. +It was of diamonds; five beautiful stones in a row, worth a great deal +of money, and far too fine for a schoolgirl to wear, her mother said. +Much as she longed to wear it and show it to the girls, she had never +been allowed to do so. "Now," she exultingly thought, "now I'll have +the good of it for once!" + +To all this finery she added her best hat, which had just come home +from the milliner's, and taking a pair of fresh white kid gloves in +her hand, which she couldn't put on to cover up that ring, she started +out, feeling more elegant than she had ever felt in her life before. + +The way to Stella's was through a corner of the park, and everything +that morning was so fresh and sweet that Lettie lingered as she passed +through. There were not many people there so early in the morning, and +Lettie paid no attention to a rough-looking man she passed, sitting on +a bench and looking as if he had passed the night there. Her way lay +on the border of the wilder and more secluded part of the park, and +her mother had always warned her to avoid this part when she was +alone. She had therefore never penetrated the fascinating little paths +which led among the close-growing trees and bushes, though she had +always longed to do so. Now, on the day of her perfect freedom, the +temptation came up again. She hesitated; her mother's warning recurred +to her. + +"I don't believe there's a bit of danger," she said to herself; +"mother's so old-fashioned. Girls don't do as they did when she was +young; they can take care of themselves nowadays. I mean to see where +this little path goes; it looks so lovely and cool in there." + +She turned into the path. It was charming; birds were singing, flowers +blooming, and she walked on and on, enchanted. + +After a little, however, she was struck with the loneliness of the +place, and a thought of her mother's warning made her turn back +towards the more frequented walks. As she turned she found herself +facing the man she had noticed on the bench, and a panic seized her. +She tried to rush past him, but he barred the way. She tried to +scream, but she could not make a sound; and the man spoke. + +"No you don't, my fine miss! If you make a noise I'll brain you!" and +he flourished a heavy stick he carried. "If you behave yourself like a +lady," he went on, less roughly, "I'll not hurt you in the least." + +"Let me pass!" cried Lettie, white with terror. + +"Certainly, miss," said he gruffly, "in one minute; just as soon as +you give me those beads on your neck, and that watch; and if you hand +'em over quietly yourself you'll save me the trouble of gagging you +with this,"--dragging a filthy handkerchief from his pocket,--"and +taking them off myself; 'n I ain't no lady's maid, either," he added +grimly, "'n I might possibly hurt you!" + +Frightened half out of her wits, Lettie raised her hand to unclasp her +necklace, when the flash of the diamonds on her finger caught the +sharp eye of the thief. + +"Golly," he said, "better 'n I thought! I'll trouble you to slip off +that ring, too." + +"Oh, no!" cried Lettie, "I can't!" + +"Oh, well! I can take it off myself," he said. "If it's tight I'll +just take finger and all," and he took out and opened a great clasp +knife. + +Then Lettie saw the uselessness of protest, and with despair in her +heart she drew off the ring and dropped it into the dirty hand +extended to receive it. Instantly it followed the beads and watch into +his pocket, and he stood aside, leaving the path open for her to pass, +saying, with a horrid grin, "Now you may go, miss, and thank you +kindly for your generosity." + +Along that path Lettie flew till she reached one of the main avenues +where people were constantly passing, when she fell into a seat, +wild-eyed, and almost fainting. + +"What's the matter?" asked a gruff policeman who came near. "What you +been doing, miss?" + +"Oh, go after the thief!" she cried; "I've been robbed." + +"Which way did he go?" asked the man, evidently not believing her, the +idea of being robbed in broad daylight, here in the park, appearing to +seem absurd to him. + +"Down that path," cried Lettie excitedly, "a great rough man with a +big stick! Oh! do go! he has my gold beads and my diamond ring and"-- + +Whether the policeman did not care to encounter a rough thief with a +big stick, or whether he really did not believe her, he here +interrupted with:-- + +"I guess he has your sense, too! I think I better run you in--you'll +do fine for the crazy ward!" + +"Oh, for Heaven's sake, no!" cried Lettie, this new danger filling her +with terror. "Never mind; let him go, but don't arrest me. It would +kill my mother, and me too!" + +"Well, then, don't talk so crazy," said he gruffly. "I don't believe +your story--nor nobody won't, an' if it's true, 'n I should get him, +I'd have to lock you up for a witness. Tell me where you live, 'n I'll +see you safe home." + +"Oh, no!" she cried, tears running down her face, "I'll go right home. +My mother is sick, and it would kill her!" + +The man was evidently touched by her distress. + +"Well, miss, you just walk along, and I'll keep you in sight to see +that no more robbers get after you." + +With that she was forced to be contented, and with all the strength +left to her she hurried along the paths towards home, the policeman +following at a little distance and keeping her in sight till she ran +up the steps of her home and disappeared inside. + +Lettie ran up to her room, and, locking the door, flung herself on the +bed, where she had a long cry, partly from nervous strain from the +fright she had suffered, and partly for the loss of her treasures. + +"I was a fool!" she said bitterly. "Mother always told me it was +unsafe to wear jewelry in the streets and to go into those solitary +paths in the park; but I didn't believe her. I was a fool, and I'm +well paid for it! I'll never tell her--never! + +"And I shall never dare to let father know, either," she went on +later; "he'd scour the world to find that man, and I should have to +be locked up as a witness,"--she shuddered,--"I'd rather lose +everything." + +A good deal subdued by this experience, she almost decided to give up +the particular thing which had given her her liberty for the day,--the +moonlight sail on the river. But after hours, when she had calmed down +and decided that she would keep her experiences and her losses a +secret from everybody, the thought of the great temptation again +stirred her, and she finally resolved to carry out her plan and go. + +"It's likely," she said to herself, "that I'll never have another +chance to do as I like,--not for years, anyway,--and I'll have the +good of this one." Having come to this decision, Lettie found herself +hungry, for she had been too excited to take any luncheon at the usual +hour. She accordingly went down to the pantry where the cook had +spread out the morning's baking; there was a goodly array of pies and +cakes and other good things cooling on the shelves, and Lettie thought +herself in great luck. + +"Now I'll have a good lunch," she said to herself, "and no bread and +butter, either! I hate bread and butter!" + +She helped herself to several little cakes which cook made +particularly nice, and with them she ate part of a jar of marmalade +which she opened for the purpose; next she took a tart or two, and +then turned her attention to the row of pies on another shelf. Looking +them over carefully, she chose her favorite, a custard pie. "Now I +won't eat any old crust, as mother makes me," she said. So she took a +spoon and began on the contents of the pie, thus demolishing, I regret +to say, a whole pie. Then, calmly dipping into a pan of milk, taking +cream and all, she drank a glass of that, and, feeling fully +satisfied, she left the pantry, and returned to her room to prepare +for the evening. + +"I guess I'll wear this silk dress after all," she said to herself, +for she was invited to stay all night with Stella after the sail. +"I'll have to come home through the streets in the morning, and if the +white one gets soiled it won't look very nice; and besides, I want +mother to see that I can take care of my clothes myself." + +So, wearing her pretty silk dress and delicate shoes, and carrying +another pair of gloves,--for she had lost the white ones in the +excitement of the morning,--she started out, leaving word with the +servants that she should stay with Stella all night. + +She reached the house safely, and was warmly welcomed by Stella, and +in the excitement of planning and talking over the sail of the evening +she almost forgot, for a time, the unpleasant affair of the morning. + +"It's a pity you wore that pretty new dress," said Stella, who was +clad in a sailor suit of dark wool, for the boating; "I'm afraid +you'll spoil it,--a boat's a dirty place." + +"I guess I shan't hurt it," said Lettie. + +"I wish you'd wear one of my woolen suits," said Stella; "I hate to +see a pretty dress spoiled, and that couldn't be hurt." + +"No, indeed!" said Lettie; "I couldn't wear any one's dress, and if +that gets spoiled--why, I'll have to get another," she added proudly, +though she knew in her heart that her mother could not afford another, +that season. + +"Well," said Stella, "you must of course do as you choose." + +The boating party consisted, besides Stella and Lettie, and Stella's +cousin Maud, of Stella's brother and two of his friends. These two +young men it was to whom Lettie's mother had objected. They were +rather wild fellows, sons of rich men, and not obliged to do anything, +given up to sports and rather noisy pranks in the city. They were +intimate with Stella's brother, who was one of their kind also. + +The moon rose about nine o'clock that evening, and at that hour the +gay party took their way to the little boathouse, where they embarked +in a small sailboat which was waiting for them. + +The young men understood the management of a boat, and for a time all +went well. They talked and laughed and sang, and enjoyed the moonlight +and the rapid motion, and Lettie thought she never had such a lovely +time in her life. + +After awhile the spirit of teasing began to show itself among the +boys. They liked to frighten the girls, as thoughtless boys often do, +and after such harmless pranks as spattering water over them, to hear +their little screams of protest, they fell to the more dangerous, but +very common, play of rocking the boat, threatening to upset it. + +The girls, resolved not to be frightened, for a long time did not cry +out, and this drew the boys on to greater exertions, determined to +make them scream and beg. At last the thing happened that so often +does happen to reckless boys,--a sudden puff of wind caught the sail, +the boat lurched, and in a moment the whole party were struggling in +the water. + +Thoroughly frightened now, the boys, who could all swim, at first +struck out for the shore, which was at some distance. Then, recalled +to their senses by the cries of the girls, two of them turned back to +their aid. Whether they would have reached the shore with their +frightened and unmanageable burdens is uncertain, but, a tugboat +happening to come along, they were all picked up and carried to a dock +a mile or more below. + +There, after waiting a half hour, drenched and chilled all through, +while the boys tried in vain to get a carriage,--for by this time it +was very late,--the party took a street car, which carried them up +town, but not near Stella's, and they had to wait another half hour at +a crossing for another car. + +It was two o'clock in the morning before Lettie, with Stella and her +brother, reached the house, a wretched, draggled-looking, and very +cross party, all without hats,--for these had been lost in the +river,--and Lettie, her fine silk dress a ruin, her delicate shoes a +shapeless mass from which the water squirted as she walked. + +By breakfast time Lettie, who was a delicate girl, was in a high +fever, and the doctor, who was hastily called in, decided that she was +threatened with pneumonia. Lettie's mother was notified, and hurried +down, and, bundled up in many wraps, Lettie was conveyed in an +ambulance to her home and her own bed, where she remained for weeks, +battling for her life, delirious much of the time, and living over in +fancy the horrors of the day she had had her own way. + +Some weeks later, after her recovery, her mother, one morning, said +quietly, "Lettie, let us count up the cost of your doing as you +liked." + +Lettie trembled, but her mother went on. + +"There's your dress and hat and shoes ruined and lost in the +river--consequently the loss of your visit to your Aunt Joe; there's +your illness, which deprived you of the school-closing festivities; +and the doctor's bill, which took all the money I had saved for our +trip to the seashore this summer." + +She was going on, but Lettie, now thoroughly penitent, suddenly +resolved to make a clean breast of all her losses, and have the thing +over. + +"Oh, mother!" she cried, burying her face in her mother's lap, "that +isn't all my losses; I must tell you, I can't bear it any longer +alone," and then with sobs and tears she told the dismal story of the +robbery. + +"Lettie," said her mother, "I knew all that the very day it happened. +After you had gone to Stella's the policeman came to the house to see +if you had told him the truth. When he told me what you had said I +went to your room and discovered the loss." + +"Oh, mother!" cried Lettie, "I'll never--never"-- + +"If I had not learned it then," went on her mother, "I should have +known it later, for in your delirium you talked of nothing else; you +went over that fearful scene constantly. I feared it would really +affect your reason." + +"Oh, mother!" cried Lettie, "you never told me!" + +"We will not speak of it again," said her mother; "I think you have +learned your lesson." + + * * * * * + +"Do you think it ended well, Kristy?" asked her mother as she finished +the story. + +"Well," said Kristy hesitating, "I suppose it was a good thing for her +to find out that her mother was right,--but wasn't it horrid for her +to lose all those beautiful things!" + +"It was a costly lesson," said Mrs. Crawford; "but I think it was much +needed--she was a willful girl." + +Just at that moment the door opened and Uncle Tom entered. + +"Well," he said, "how did Kristy get through the rainy day that +spoiled her picnic?" + +"In the usual way," answered Mrs. Crawford. + +"Levying on everybody for stories?" asked Uncle Tom. + +"Yes," said Kristy; "and I've had the loveliest ones"-- + +"Kristy," said Uncle Tom, "I want to give you a birthday present, but +knowing your preference for stories, I did not venture to offer you +anything else. So, happening to hear a specially interesting one +to-day, I have persuaded the relater to come and tell it to you." + +Mrs. Crawford looked up in surprise. "Tom," she said doubtingly, "what +new pranks are you up to now? You're almost as young as Kristy +herself." + +Uncle Tom tried to look very meek, but there was a twinkle in his eye +which did not look meek at all. + +"Please, sister mine," he began, "our niece Katherine--otherwise +Kate--has just got back from San Francisco, or what is left of it. She +went through the earthquake and the fire, lost all her goods and +chattels, and found a baby, which she has brought home. She is in the +hall waiting to be received." + +Before the last words were spoken Mrs. Crawford had risen and hurried +into the hall, where, sure enough, the refugee from San Francisco, a +girl about fourteen years old, sat smiling, with a pretty little girl +of perhaps two years in her lap. + +"Uncle Tom wanted me to make my visit to you to-night," she said, +after she had been warmly welcomed and taken into the sitting-room, +"as a present to Kristy, who is as fond of stories as ever, I hear." + +"Indeed she is!" said Mrs. Crawford, "and in this case we shall all +be very much interested to hear your adventures. It must have been a +fearful experience." + +"It was," said Kate; "but now that it is over I think that I, at +least, have gained more than I lost, because I found this baby--though +what I shall do with her I don't know yet. Of course I have tried my +best to find her parents, for, if living, they must be nearly crazy +about her." + +"Surely they must," said Mrs. Crawford; "she is a darling." + +"Well!" interrupted Uncle Tom, looking at his watch, "time is passing; +is Kristy to have her story?" + +With a smile at his pretended anxiety, Kate began. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +HOW KATE FOUND A BABY + + +I had been spending the winter, as you know, with my sister in San +Francisco, going to school, and I was expecting to come home in a few +days when the thing happened. + +I was awakened by being flung violently out of bed across the room, +where all the light furniture, such as chairs and all loose things, +followed me. I tried to get up, but I could not stand, the house shook +so. It seemed like a ship in a rough sea. In a minute the plastering +began to fall, and I feared it would fall on my head, so by hard work +I dragged myself to the door, which I tried to open. At first it was +jammed so tight together that I could not stir it, but the next shake +of the house flung it wide open, and I crept into the hall, where I +found the whole family hurrying out of their rooms, all in +nightclothes, of course, and scared most to death. + +"We must get out of the house before the walls fall," said my +brother-in-law, helping his wife down the stairs, which swayed and +tottered as if they would fall, every minute. We all followed them in +such a hurry that I don't remember how I got to the bottom. I only +remember finding myself on the sidewalk in my nightdress, barefooted +and bareheaded, of course. + +We did not think how we looked; the street was full of people, many of +them as little dressed as we, and all hurrying to get out of the +streets, where any minute the houses might fall on them. Our apartment +was in a large apartment house in a street full of tall buildings, and +when I looked up at them I saw them rock and bend towards each other, +so that it seemed as if they would fall together and crush us all. + +My first trouble was getting separated from my sister and her husband, +in the confusion of the crowd. I soon found myself alone among +strangers. I tried to turn back to find them, but everybody was going +the other way and I couldn't move a step, so I had to go with the +crowd. I was pushed and hurried on with the rest towards a park at the +end of the street, feeling desolate enough, you may be sure. + +Strange things I saw on the way; none of the people more than half +dressed, and many of them just as they got out of bed, but one and +all, except myself, carrying some of their possessions. Some had +armfuls of clothes which they had snatched up as they ran, and they +kept dropping shoes and light things, so that the street was littered +with them and I was constantly stumbling over them; some had an armful +of books or papers; others carried pieces of china or silver; many had +satchels or suit-cases, and one or two were dragging trunks. + +A great many people had children; some holding one and dragging one or +two others; more than one I saw carrying sick persons unable to walk. + +It was curious to see the number of pets that were being carried; +birds, of course, many in cages, but some in the hands--such as +parrots. One woman had three cages of canaries, which she had the +greatest difficulty in holding; another had a birdcage in one hand and +a great cat in the other arm. There was no end to the small dogs in +arms--barking and howling, most of them; but the cats were struggling +as if scared out of their wits. Sometimes a bird or a cat would break +away and disappear at once in the crowd, and I wondered where the poor +things went. But many were carried safely, I am sure, for the park, +where we all--thousands of us--spent the day and night, seemed to have +almost as many animals as people. + +In the park I found the baby. She was sitting on the ground, holding +in her arms a big cat. She was smiling and talking to "Kitty," and did +not seem at all frightened by the crowd and the confusion around her. +I thought her mother must have left her for a minute, and I sat down +beside her to keep watch that no harm came to her. + +There I sat all that day and night, but no one came to claim her. She +could not tell me anything, of course, but she took kindly to me. +Indeed, she seemed to adopt me from the first minute, and she was so +sweet I couldn't bear to leave her. She never once cried except when +she got very hungry, and when she found, in the morning, that her cat +had gone. + + [Illustration: In the park I found a baby ... and I sat down beside it.] + +I had, after the first attempt, given up going about looking for my +sister. I knew she would be looking for me, and I could not bear to +leave the baby, as I said. Through that long night I sat watching the +city burn, holding in my arms the dear little thing, who slept through +it all. I was so excited that I almost forgot that I was not dressed. +Many people around me were in the same plight, but it was a warm +night, so that we did not suffer. + +But how alone I did feel! I did not know whether Belle and Harry were +alive, nor how I should ever get home. It seemed as if we should all +be burned up, anyway. The park was almost as crowded as a city; people +everywhere around me; some lying asleep, tired out, on the bare +ground; others mourning over their losses, and others guarding the +few things they had saved. One woman near me had two pillow-cases full +of things, which she sat on all night, and another had a bedquilt, +which she spread out for her four children to lie on. + +It's very queer, but I seem to forget about a good deal of the time +the next day, for I can hardly remember how long it was when, after +hours of walking, it seemed to me, I reached the place where food was +being given out, the baby in my arms, of course. And not until I had +eaten a piece of bread and seen her nibbling on one, too, did I seem +to come to myself and rouse myself to see what I could do. + +All this time baby was still mourning her lost kitty, and trying to +take every cat she saw. It was wonderful how many people had cats with +them; some held by a string, some in birdcages, but many held in arms. +When the people got food I noticed that they always seemed to share +with their pets. There were a great many dogs, but they were not so +wild as the cats; they stayed by their friends. + +There were lots and lots of canaries in cages, and parrots and other +large birds, some in cages and some held in hands or seated on the +shoulders of their owners. + +After having something to eat and getting really waked up, I began to +think what I should do. My first thought was to try to get over to +Oakland, where we had friends, so I started off towards the ferry. My +feet were blistered and sore, and it was hard to walk; my hair was +flying every way, for of course my braids had come out and I had no +comb or brush. I must have looked like a crazy creature. As I came +past a wagon in which a woman was distributing clothes, she noticed me +and spoke to me. I had not seen that she had clothes. She called out, +"See here, my girl! I think I have a bundle for you," and she put a +large package in my hands, marked, "To be given to some one girl in +need." + +"You look like the one for whom this was intended," she said kindly, +as I took the package, "and I think I can give you something for the +baby, too," she went on. + +She did not find any clothes suitable, but she gave me a white flannel +petticoat to wrap round her. Then I borrowed a knife from a man who +was cutting bread, and cut armholes, and slipped the petticoat over +her. The band came around her shoulders, and her nightgown covered her +neck and arms. She did look too cute for anything in her odd dress. + +As soon as I could find a rather quiet place under a low tree--for +I was still in the park--I opened my bundle. I wish I could know +the woman who made up that package, I should like to have her know +what a godsend it was; why, it held a complete outfit for a girl +of my size, from shoes and stockings up to a hat. Nothing had been +forgotten--underclothes--towel--soap--comb--pins--handkerchief--even +ribbons to tie the hair. Above all, a comfortable dress of some gray +goods, which fitted me pretty well. + +It didn't take me long to put them on, to comb my hair, and wash +myself and baby with the towel wet in a pond, and then I began to feel +more like myself. With both of us comfortably dressed I started again +with fresh courage for the ferry to Oakland. + +I had to go a very roundabout way, so many streets were closed because +of the fires raging everywhere. I haven't said much about the fires, +but it seemed to me the whole world was burning up. I am sure I walked +miles, and not knowing that part of the city very well, I guess I +walked more than I needed to. + +As I was passing wearily down one of the streets I happened to glance +over the other side, and saw my brother-in-law. He was hurrying the +other way, going out towards the park, looking for me. + +I cried out, "Harry!" + +He turned, looked over, but seeing only a well-dressed girl with a +child in her arms, was rushing, on when I called out again. + +"Harry! don't you know me? I'm Kate!" + +Then he hurried over, perfectly astounded. + +"Why, Kate!" he cried, "where did you get those clothes? Did you bring +them from the house? And whose baby is that? Thank God I have found +you! Belle is nearly crazy about you!" + +Of course I told my story as we hurried to the ferry. He did not +object to the baby; he fell in love with her as I had, and neither of +us dreamed of leaving her, and he carried her himself. He told me that +he and my sister, after looking in vain for me, and suffering agonies +about me, had managed to get over the ferry that first day, and were +with friends in Oakland. As soon as he got Belle safely through he had +come back to look for me. He had great trouble to get back, for people +were not allowed to land in the city. He had to hire a man who had a +small boat to bring him over. He had been roaming the streets ever +since--that was a whole day and another night, you know. + +He had brought from Oakland a raincoat to put over me, the only thing +that could be found, our friends having already given everything they +had to destitute people. Even my sister, he said, was not more than +half dressed. The raincoat, which he held on his arm, I did not need, +and when we came upon a lady not even so well dressed as I had been, I +proposed to give it to her. She took it with sobs and tears of thanks. +Learning that she had friends in Oakland, Harry offered to have her +join us, but she was looking for her family and would not go. + +You can't imagine what crowds were packing the ferry boats. We had to +wait hours before we could get on one. Such a jam I never saw. I +should never have got over alone. I had to hang on to Harry's arm with +all my strength, while he held baby up high so that she should not be +crushed. It was fearful! + +On the boat were more strange sights. I saw several women with big +hats on, and nothing else but nightclothes; but queerest were men in +similar costume with hats on their heads--they did look too funny for +anything. I saw girls with dolls in their arms, and some with cats and +dogs and parrots. A good many women had Japanese kimonos, and others +were loaded with jewelry, chains and bracelets, and there were people +wrapped like Indians, in blankets and sheets they had snatched from +their beds. Oh, I can never tell you half the strange things I saw on +that boat! + +When we got to our friends in Oakland we found the house full, and my +sister had been almost wild about me. She was surprised enough to see +me well dressed, and with baby, too. + +Of course none of us had any money, and our friends had given away all +they happened to have out of the bank at the time, so we had to stay +there a few days. The railroads carried people free to Los Angeles, +and there my brother-in-law could get money and buy clothes, but the +cars were so crowded that it was two or three days before we could get +a chance to go, and when we did get there we stayed a few days to +prepare for our journey home. Belle came with me and baby, but Harry +went back to San Francisco to see about starting business again. + +Belle wants to keep baby herself, unless her parents appear, but I +can't bear to give her pup, though I suppose it would be ridiculous +for a schoolgirl to adopt a baby, and mother such an invalid that she +couldn't have the care of her. Isn't she sweet, though? + + * * * * * + +"She's a precious pet," said Mrs Crawford, holding her closely in her +arms. "I should dearly love to keep her myself!" + +"Oh, do!" cried Kristy eagerly, "that is, if Kate'll give her up. +What's her name, Kate?" + +"Of course I don't know her real name," said Kate; "but I think I +shall call her Francesca, after the place where I found her." + +"That'll be good," said Kristy. + +But now Uncle Tom interrupted, taking the sleepy baby in his arms. + +"Miss Francesca ought to be in bed long ago, so we must say +good-night, everybody," and he started off. Kristy cried after him, +"Good-night, Uncle Tom, and thank you for the fine ending to my Rainy +Day Picnic." + + + + + By Olive Thorne Miller + + + THE BIRD OUR BROTHER. 12mo, $1.25 _net._ Postage 11 cents. + + HARRY'S RUNAWAY AND WHAT CAME OF IT. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.25. + + WHAT HAPPENED TO BARBARA. 12mo, $1.25. + + KRISTY'S RAINY DAY PICNIC. Illustrated in color. 12mo, $1.25. + + KRISTY'S SURPRISE PARTY. Illustrated in color. 12mo, $1.25. + + KRISTY'S QUEER CHRISTMAS. With colored frontispiece. 12mo, $1.25. + + WITH THE BIRDS IN MAINE. 16mo, $1.10 _net._ Postpaid, $1.20. + + TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS. With a colored frontispiece + and illustrations by Louis Agassiz Fuertes. Square 12mo, $1.00, _net._ + Postpaid, $1.08; also _School Edition_, 60 cents, _net._ + + THE FIRST BOOK OF BIRDS. With many Illustrations, including + 8 full-page colored Plates. Square 12mo, $1.00; also _School + Edition_, 60 cents, _net._ + + THE SECOND BOOK OF BIRDS: Bird Families. Illustrated with 24 full-page + pictures, eight of which are in color, after drawings by Louis Agassiz + Fuertes. Square 12mo, $1.00, _net._ Postpaid, $1.10. + + UPON THE TREE-TOPS. With 10 Illustrations by J. CARTER BEARD. + 16mo, $1.25. + + A BIRD-LOVER IN THE WEST. 16mo, $1.25. + + LITTLE BROTHERS OF THE AIR. 16mo, $1.25. + + BIRD-WAYS. 16mo, $1.25; also in Riverside School Library, 16mo, + half leather, 60 cents, _net._ + + IN NESTING TIME. 16mo, $1.25. + + FOUR-HANDED FOLK. Illustrated. 16mo, $1.25; also in Riverside Library + for Young People, 16mo, 75 cents. + + + HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY + BOSTON AND NEW YORK + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + Variations in hyphenated words have been retained as in the + original publication. + + On page 117 an open quotation mark has been added before + This is something new." + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Kristy's Rainy Day Picnic, by Olive Thorne Miller + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KRISTY'S RAINY DAY PICNIC *** + +***** This file should be named 29744.txt or 29744.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/7/4/29744/ + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Ritu Aggarwal, Joseph Cooper and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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