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padding-top: 1px } + + .coverpage, .titlepage, + .contents, .foreword, .preface, .introduction, .dedication, .prologue, + .epilogue, .appendix, .glossary, .bibliography, .index, .colophon, + .footnotes, + .cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 1px } + + .vfill { margin-top: 20% } + h2.title { margin-top: 20% } +} +</style> +<style type="text/css"> +.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; } +.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } +.toc-pageref { float: right } +pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 38835 ***</div> +<div class="document" id="black-eyed-susan"> +<h1 class="document-title level-1 pfirst title">BLACK-EYED SUSAN</h1> +</div> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<div class="container" id="pg-produced-by"> +<p class="noindent pfirst">Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at <a class="reference external" href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>.</p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div class="container titlepage"> +<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure" style="margin-left: 17%; width: 65%" id="figure-3"> +<img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="images/illus-tpg.jpg" src="images/illus-tpg.jpg" width="75%"/> +</div> +</div> +<div class="container frontispiece"> +<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure" style="margin-left: 17%; width: 65%" id="figure-4"> +<img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="“I’m here,” said the voice. “I’ve come. I’m Phil.”" src="images/illus-fpc.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +“I’M HERE,” SAID THE VOICE. “I’VE COME. I’M PHIL.”</div> +</div> +</div> +<div class="center line-block noindent outermost"> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line"><span class="x-large">BLACK-EYED SUSAN</span></div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">BY</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line"><span class="large">ETHEL CALVERT PHILLIPS</span></div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">AUTHOR OF “WEE ANN” AND “LITTLE FRIEND LYDIA”</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">WITH DRAWINGS BY HAROLD CUE</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">HOUGHTON MIFFLIN CO BOSTON & NEW YORK</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">BLACK-EYED SUSAN</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line"> </div> +</div> +<div class="contents level-2 section" id="id1"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title">Table of Contents</h2> +<ul class="compact simple toc-list"> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-iblack-eyed-susan-of-featherbed-lane" id="id2">CHAPTER I—BLACK-EYED SUSAN OF FEATHERBED LANE</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-iiover-the-garden-wall" id="id3">CHAPTER II—OVER THE GARDEN WALL</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-iiimadame-bonnets-shop" id="id4">CHAPTER III—MADAME BONNET’S SHOP</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-ivthe-squash-baby" id="id5">CHAPTER IV—THE SQUASH BABY</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-vdown-at-miss-lizas" id="id6">CHAPTER V—DOWN AT MISS LIZA’S</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-vithe-gypsies" id="id7">CHAPTER VI—THE GYPSIES</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-viiin-the-schoolhouse" id="id8">CHAPTER VII—IN THE SCHOOLHOUSE</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-viiisusans-present" id="id9">CHAPTER VIII—SUSAN’S PRESENT</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-ixhickory-dickory-dock" id="id10">CHAPTER IX—HICKORY DICKORY DOCK</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xthe-visit" id="id11">CHAPTER X—THE VISIT</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xihow-the-money-was-spent" id="id12">CHAPTER XI—HOW THE MONEY WAS SPENT</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xiithanksgiving-in-featherbed-lane" id="id13">CHAPTER XII—THANKSGIVING IN FEATHERBED LANE</a></span></li> +</ul> +</div> +<div class="center line-block noindent outermost"> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line"><span class="bold xx-large">BLACK-EYED SUSAN</span></div> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-iblack-eyed-susan-of-featherbed-lane"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id2">CHAPTER I—BLACK-EYED SUSAN OF FEATHERBED LANE</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">A pair of black eyes, a head covered with +short brown curls, two red cheeks, and a tip-tilted +nose—that was Susan. A warm heart, +a pair of eager little hands always ready to +help, little feet that tripped willingly about on +errands—that was Susan, too.</p> +<p class="pnext">“The best little girl in Putnam County,” +said Grandfather, snuggling Susan up so +close that his gray beard tickled her nose and +made her laugh.</p> +<p class="pnext">“My little comfort,” said Grandmother, +with a hand on Susan’s bobbing curls that +simply couldn’t be made to lie flat no matter +how much you brushed and brushed.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan herself didn’t say very much to this, +but oh, how she did love Grandfather, from +the crown of his big slouch hat to the toes of +his high leather boots that he delighted to +wear both winter and summer!</p> +<p class="pnext">As for Grandmother, who could help loving +her, with her merry smile, her soft pink +cheeks shaded by a row of little white curls, +and her jar of cinnamon cookies on the low +shelf in the pantry? Yes, her jar of cinnamon +cookies on the low shelf in the pantry, for, +somehow, in Susan’s mind, Grandmother and +the cinnamon cookies were pleasantly mingled +and together made up the love and comfort +and cheer that to Susan meant home.</p> +<p class="pnext">The house Susan lived in with Grandmother +and Grandfather Whiting and Snuff +the dog was a broad, low, white house that +stood far back from the road at the end of +Featherbed Lane.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan thought this the funniest name she +had ever heard.</p> +<p class="pnext">As she and Grandfather, hand in hand, +would carefully pick their way over the stones +that covered the road from house to highway, +she never tired of asking, “Grandfather, why +do you call it Featherbed Lane? It’s not a bit +like a feather bed. It’s as hard as hard can +be.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Because there are just as many stones in +this lane as there are feathers in a feather +bed,” Grandfather would answer gravely. +“Some day you must count them and see.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“But how many feathers are there in a +feather bed?” Susan would ask. “You must +count them, too,” was Grandfather’s reply.</p> +<p class="pnext">At the end of the lane, on the roadside, +stood a little house with three windows, a front +door, and a pointed roof with a chimney. This +was Grandfather’s law office, and here he was +to be found at work every day, coming up to +the house only at meal-time. Inside there was +one big room, not only lined all round with +books, but with books overflowing their +shelves and piled upon the chairs and tumbled +upon the floor. Grandfather’s big desk was +drawn up close to the windows, and as Susan +passed in and out of the gate she never failed +to smile and wave her hand in greeting.</p> +<p class="pnext">If Grandfather were not busy, he would +invite her in, and then Susan on the floor +would build houses of the heavy law books, +using Grandfather’s shabby old hassock for +table or bed as the case might be.</p> +<p class="pnext">One cool May afternoon Susan climbed +upon Grandfather’s lap as he sat in front of +the coal fire that burned in the office grate +every day that gave the least excuse for it.</p> +<p class="pnext">Grandmother had gone calling in the village, +and Susan was staying with Grandfather +until her return. Susan cuddled her head down +on Grandfather’s broad shoulder.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Say ‘William Ti Trimity’ for me, +please,” said she coaxingly.</p> +<p class="pnext">So Grandfather obediently repeated,</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">William Ti Trimity, he’s a good fisherman;</div> +<div class="line">Catches his hens and puts them in pens.</div> +<div class="line">Some lays eggs and some lays none.</div> +<div class="line">Wire, briar, limber lock,</div> +<div class="line">Three geese in a flock.</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">One flew east, and one flew west,</div> +<div class="line">And one flew over the cuckoo’s nest.</div> +</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Susan gave Grandfather’s cheek a pat by +way of thanks.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Sing to me now, please,” was the next +command.</p> +<p class="pnext">Obligingly Grandfather tuned up and sang +in his sweet old voice—</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">It rains and it hails and it’s cold stormy weather.</div> +<div class="line">In comes the farmer drinking up the cider.</div> +<div class="line">You be the reaper and I’ll be the binder,</div> +<div class="line">I’ve lost my true love, and right here I find her.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">This was an old favorite, and it never failed +to delight Susan to have Grandfather in great +surprise discover her as the lost true love +“right here” in his arms.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now, ‘Chickamy,’” said Susan, smoothing +herself down after the vigorous hug she +felt called upon to bestow.</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Chickamy, Chickamy, crany crow,</div> +<div class="line">Went to the well to wash his toe.</div> +<div class="line">When he came back the black-eyed chicken was gone—</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">said Grandfather in a mysterious voice.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Can’t you remember any more of it, +Grandfather?” implored Susan. “Don’t you +know who Chickamy was, or who stole the +black-eyed chicken? I do wish I knew.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, I can’t remember,” said Grandfather +regretfully. “You know all I know about it, +Susan. Only I do think Chickamy was a foolish +fellow to wash his toe just at that minute. +Why didn’t he take the black-eyed chicken +with him or leave somebody at home to take +care of him?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, it is a pity,” sighed the little girl. +“Or why didn’t he wash his toe in the tub at +home? Well, anyway, Grandfather, now tell +about the time I came to live with you.” And +Susan re-settled herself comfortably as +Grandfather slipped down in his chair and +stretched out his feet toward the low fire.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It was a cold winter night,” began +Grandfather, with the ease of one who has +told his story many times, “and the ground +was covered with snow. All the little rabbits +were snuggled down in their holes in the +ground trying to keep warm. All the little +birds were cuddled together in their nests under +the eaves. All the little boys and girls +were sound asleep tucked in their warm +beds—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“All but one,” interrupted Susan.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, all but one,” agreed Grandfather, +“and she was riding along in a sleigh, and +the sleigh-bells went <em class="italics">jingle jangle, jingle +jangle</em>, and the horses’ feet went <em class="italics">crunch, +crunch, crunch</em>, through the snow.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now, tell was I cold,” prompted Susan, +as Grandfather paused to spread his silk +handkerchief over his head to keep off the +draught.</p> +<p class="pnext">“The little girl wasn’t one bit cold,” went +on Grandfather smoothly, “because she was +dressed in fur from head to foot. She wore a +white fur coat and a white fur cap that came +so far down over her face that all you could +see was the tip of her nose.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“And that was red,” supplied Susan.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And she had a pair of white furry mittens +on her hands, and her feet were wrapped in a +white fur rug.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, by and by the horse turned in a lane +that was so packed with snow that you +couldn’t tell whether it was a Featherbed +Lane or not. <em class="italics">Crunch, crunch, crunch</em>, went the +horses’ feet, <em class="italics">jingle jangle, jingle jangle</em>, went +the bells until they were almost up to the +white house at the end of the lane.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now in that white house there sat a grandmother +and a grandfather before the fire.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Presently the grandmother laid down her +knitting.</p> +<p class="pnext">“‘I think I hear sleigh-bells in the lane,’ +said she.</p> +<p class="pnext">“The grandfather put down his book.</p> +<p class="pnext">“‘I think I hear horses’ feet,’ said he.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Then the grandmother rose and looked +out of the window.</p> +<p class="pnext">“‘I see a lantern,’ said she, peering out +through the snowflakes, for it had begun to +snow again.</p> +<p class="pnext">“At that the grandfather flung open the +door and in came—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Me!” exclaimed Susan. “And I didn’t +cry one bit. Did I?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Mercy, no,” said Grandfather, opening +his eyes wide at the very thought. “You just +winked and blinked in the light, and when I +held out my arms you came straight to me.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“And what did you say, Grandfather?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I said, ‘My little black-eyed Susan.’”</p> +<p class="pnext">“And that has been my name ever since,” +said Susan with an air of satisfaction. “Now, +tell what Grandmother was doing.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Grandmother had both arms round your +father who carried you in, for once upon a +time he was her little boy,” concluded Grandfather.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And you were so glad to see me that +night because my mother had gone to heaven, +weren’t you?” mused Susan. “And then my +father went away to build a big bridge, and +then he went to the war and he never came +back.”</p> +<p class="pnext">A silence fell for a moment upon Grandfather +Whiting and Susan as they gazed into +the fire, and then the little girl stirred and +spoke.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I think I will go and play with Flip +awhile, Grandfather,” said she.</p> +<p class="pnext">She slipped down from Grandfather’s lap, +and, leaving him to fall into a doze, proceeded +to set up housekeeping with Flip, her rag doll, +behind a pile of books in a corner.</p> +<p class="pnext">Flip and Snuff, the shaggy brown setter, +were Susan’s constant playmates, for the house +in Featherbed Lane stood a little way out of +the village and there were no children living +near by.</p> +<p class="pnext">The other side of the Lane, on a little knoll, +perched the old Tallman house, empty since +last autumn when Miss Eliza Tallman had +gone down to the village to live with her niece.</p> +<p class="pnext">Across the way and up the road stood the +deserted little old schoolhouse, long ago abandoned +for the new brick building in the heart +of the village.</p> +<p class="pnext">But, although Susan had no near neighbors +and often longed for some one her own age to +play with, still she dearly loved the lively Snuff +who could outrace her any day, who played a +skillful game of hide and seek, and who returned +tenfold the strength of her love with all +the might of his affectionate pink tongue, his +briskly wagging tail, and his faithful little +heart.</p> +<p class="pnext">As for Flip, it is hard to say what Susan +would have done without her. She was a long +thin wobbly rag doll, with a head flat like a +turtle’s, and not a single spear of hair on it. +But to Susan, her brown eyes were the tenderest +and her rosy lips the sweetest to be found +anywhere, and it was into Flip’s sympathetic +ear that Susan poured her griefs and troubles, +great or small. She was Susan’s bedfellow, +too, lying outside the coverlid where her little +mother might easily put out her hand and +touch her in the night.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan had other good friends, too. There +was the newel post opposite the front door at +home. Susan had never thought anything +about the newel post until one day, playing +“lady come to see” with a shawl on for a long +skirt, she had tripped and bumped her head +against the post. Now, this was fully six +months ago, and when Susan was only a little +girl, as she would have been sure to explain, +and so she did what other little girls have done +before. Feeling the newel post to blame for +her fall, she pounded it with both hands and +kicked it with both feet. And suddenly, in the +midst of the pounding and kicking, Susan +spied a big dent in the side of the post. Had +she done that? Oh! what a mean, a cruel girl +she was! She hurried upstairs for her new +hair-ribbon, which she tied round what she +called the newel post’s neck, and sitting down +she tried to smooth out the dent and soothe the +newel post’s hurt feelings at the same time. +Perhaps Grandmother could have explained +that dent as made by a trunk carelessly carried +upstairs, but Susan always believed that she +had made it. She rarely passed the newel post +without giving it a pat, and, sitting on the +stairs, she and Flip and the newel post often +had many a pleasant chat together.</p> +<p class="pnext">And there was Snowball, the rubber cat, +that had been Susan’s favorite toy when she +was a baby. Snowball may once have deserved +her name. But now she was a dingy gray that +not even frequent scrubbings with soap and +water could freshen. She had lost her tail, she +had lost her squeak, but Susan was loyal to +her old pet and still lavished tender care upon +her.</p> +<p class="pnext">Then, too, there was the shawl dolly. Most +of the time the dolly was a plain little black-and-white +checked shawl spread over +Grandmother’s shoulders or neatly folded on the +hatbox in Grandmother’s closet. But whenever +Susan was a little ailing, Grandmother +folded the shawl into a soft comfortable +dolly, who cuddled nicely and who never failed +to give to Susan the comfort needed.</p> +<p class="pnext">Just now Susan was playing school in the +corner. She was the teacher, and Flip and the +hassock, who this afternoon was a fat little +boy named Benny, were the scholars.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Flippy, who made you?” asked the teacher.</p> +<p class="pnext">“God,” answered Flippy promptly.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan made her talk in a squeaky little voice.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Benny, how much is two and two?” was +the next question.</p> +<p class="pnext">But Benny didn’t answer. Perhaps he +couldn’t.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Benny, how much is two and two?” repeated +the teacher loudly.</p> +<p class="pnext">Still no answer.</p> +<p class="pnext">This was dreadful, and Susan felt that she +must be severe. Shaking her finger warningly +at disobedient Benny, she went to Grandfather’s +desk to borrow his long black ruler, +and, glancing out of the window, she saw a +big red wagon toiling slowly up the road.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s the circus!” exclaimed Susan. +“Grandfather, wake up, the circus is coming.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Grandfather woke himself up with a shake +and peered out of the window, over Susan’s +head.</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, that is not the circus,” said he. +“That’s a moving-van. Somebody’s furniture +is packed inside that wagon. Hello, they’re +turning in at the Tallman place. Liza must +have rented it.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And Grandfather and Susan, with great +interest, watched the heavy van turn and jolt +along the driveway that led to the house next +door.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Here comes another van,” called Susan, +whose sharp eyes spied the red wagon far +down the road.</p> +<p class="pnext">This van bore what the movers call “a +swinging load.” On the back of the wagon +were tied all the pieces of furniture that +couldn’t be crammed or squeezed into the van +itself.</p> +<p class="pnext">The horses pulled and strained up the little +hill until they were directly opposite Susan’s +gate, and then, with a crash, something fell off +the back of the wagon.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Look, look!” cried Susan, hopping up and +down. “Look, Grandfather, it’s a rocking-horse!”</p> +<p class="pnext">Sure enough, a dapple gray rocking-horse, +with a gay red saddle, was rocking away in the +middle of the road as if he meant to reach +Banbury Cross before nightfall.</p> +<p class="pnext">“There will be somebody for me to play +with!” cried Susan, climbing up on Grandfather’s +desk in her excitement. “Maybe I +will have a ride on that rocking-horse. Won’t +there be somebody for me to play with, Grandfather?”</p> +<p class="pnext">And Susan, her eyes shining, put both arms +around Grandfather’s neck and gave him a +great hug.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It looks that way,” said Grandfather, as +soon as Susan let him breathe again. “It looks +as if that rocking-horse was about your size, +too. But here comes your grandmother. +Perhaps she has heard something about it in +the village.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Like a flash Susan was off down the road, +and by the time Grandfather had put on his +hat and shut the office door Susan had learned +all the news that Grandmother had to tell.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Grandmother knows all about it,” called +Susan, flying up the road again. “Miss Liza +Tallman has rented her house for a year. And, +Grandfather, there is a little boy as old as me +and his name is Philip Vane.”</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-iiover-the-garden-wall"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id3">CHAPTER II—OVER THE GARDEN WALL</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Philip Vane! The words flashed into Susan’s +mind as soon as she opened her eyes the next +morning, Philip Vane—the new little boy +next door! And Susan jumped out of bed and, +running to the window, peered eagerly over +at the old Tallman house.</p> +<p class="pnext">Yes, some one was already up and stirring, +for smoke was pouring out of the kitchen +chimney, but there was no sign to be seen of +any little boy.</p> +<p class="pnext">Breakfast over, Susan hurried through her +daily tasks about the house, and then ran out +to the chicken-yard, with her bowl of chicken-feed +under her arm. She waited until the fowls, +with their usual squawkings and cluckings, +had gathered about her feet, and addressed +them solemnly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’ve a piece of news for you,” said +Susan, “and you are not going to have one bite +of breakfast until I’ve told you. There is a +little boy coming to live next door, and his +name is Philip Vane. We are going to play +together and be friends. Aren’t you glad?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Old Frizzly, so named because her feathers +grew the wrong way, could no longer restrain +her impatience at this delay of her meal. She +uttered an extra loud squawk and flapped her +wings wrathfully. But Susan accepted it as an +answer to her question.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Old Frizzly is the only one of you with +any manners at all,” said she reprovingly. +“You are greedy, and you are rude, and you +don’t care a bit whether I have any one to +play with or not.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And, hastily emptying her bowl, Susan +departed to station herself upon the low stone +wall that separated the Tallman house from +her own. She saw heads pass and repass the +open windows, sounds of hammering floated +out upon the sweet spring air, rugs were vigorously +shaken on the little back porch. The +butcher’s cart rumbled noisily past on the +main road, and a slim lady, with fair hair and +a long blue apron, stepped out on the porch +and, shading her eyes with her hand, gazed +down the driveway as if she were expecting +some one.</p> +<p class="pnext">But, in spite of these interesting sights and +sounds, Susan felt disappointed, for not a +single peep did she have of the new little boy.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Did Miss Liza say there was a little boy, +Grandmother?” asked Susan, coming into the +house at dinner-time so low in her mind that +she dragged patient Flippy along by one arm, +her limp feet trailing on the ground behind +her.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, yes,” answered Grandmother, gazing +into the oven at a pan of nicely browned +biscuit. “I told you yesterday what she said, +Susan. ‘A little boy about the age of your +Susan,’ said she. Now run to the door for me +and see whether Grandfather is coming. I +want him to carry over this plate of biscuit to +Mrs. Vane to show ourselves neighborly, and +you shall go along with him if you like.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan needed no second invitation. She +skipped ahead of Grandfather as they went +through the low place made in the stone wall +for Grandmother and Miss Tallman to step +through easily. But when they reached the +doorway, and Mrs. Vane stood before them, +she shyly hid behind Grandfather’s great +leather boots.</p> +<p class="pnext">She listened to the grown-up talk with ears +wide open for some mention of a person her +own age, but it was not until Grandfather +turned to go that she felt bold enough to slip +her hand in his and give it a little squeeze as if +to remind him why she had come.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, yes,” said Grandfather, understanding +the squeeze perfectly and so proving himself +to Susan the wisest man in the world. +“This is my little granddaughter Susan, Mrs. +Vane. She was very much interested in a +rocking-horse that fell from one of your vans +yesterday.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“That was Phil’s rocking-horse,” said +Mrs. Vane, smiling kindly down into Susan’s +big black eyes, at this moment half friendly +and half shy. “Philip is my little boy, and he +will be so glad of a next-door neighbor. He +has had no one to play with in the city, and he +has been very ill, too, but I know he will enjoy +himself here where he can run and shout as +much as he likes, and I’m sure he will soon be +well, now that he can play out in this good sun +and air.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan looked all about her in search of a +little boy running and shouting as much as +he liked, but Phil’s mother met her glance +with a shake of the head.</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, he isn’t here yet,” said she. “But I +expect him any minute. His father is going to +bring him up from the city this morning.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Filled with the hope of seeing Phil arrive, +Susan hurried through her dinner, but as she +left the house and started toward the garden +wall, the sight of Snuff limping dismally +along on three legs drove all other thoughts +from her mind.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Grandfather, Grandfather, Snuffy’s +hurt,” she called, and, putting her arms +around her shaggy playfellow, she tried to +help him up the back steps.</p> +<p class="pnext">Snuff whimpered a little to gain sympathy, +but he bore the pain without flinching when +Grandfather gently pulled the cruel splinter +from his foot, and washed and bound up the +wound. Susan, remembering Snuff’s sweet +tooth, begged a bowl of custard from Grandmother, +and she was enjoying Snuff’s pleasure +in the treat when a voice fell upon her ears.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’m here,” said the voice. “I’ve come. +I’m Phil.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan sprang to her feet and faced the +thinnest little boy she had ever seen.</p> +<p class="pnext">“He’s as thin as a bone,” thought she, +borrowing an expression from Grandmother.</p> +<p class="pnext">But the thin little face owned a pair of +honest blue eyes, and a smile so wide that you +couldn’t help smiling back even if you happened +to be feeling very cross. And, as Susan +didn’t feel cross in the least, you may imagine +how broadly she smiled upon her new neighbor.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Is this your dog?” asked Phil, eyeing +Snuff’s bandage with respectful interest. “I’m +going to have a dog and a cat and maybe some +hens and chickens, too.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan related Snuff’s accident, and the invalid, +feeling all eyes upon him, dropped his +head heavily to the ground with a deep sigh +and a mournful thud of his tail. Then he +opened one eye to see the effect upon his +audience.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan and Phil broke into laughter at such +sly tricks, and Snuff, delighted with his +success, beat his tail violently upon the piazza +floor.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I brought over my Noah’s Ark,” +announced Phil, taking from under his arm +the gayly painted little house upon which +Susan’s eyes had been fixed from the first. +“We’ll play, if you like.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And Susan and Phil, with the ease of old +friends, proceeded to marshal the strange +little toy animals in line, two by two, behind +Mr. and Mrs. Noah and their stiff and stolid +family.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now you sing a song,” said Phil. “Do +you know it?” And without waiting for +Susan’s shake of the head he burst loudly into +tune:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">“They marched the animals, two by two,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">One wide river to cross—</div> +</div> +<div class="line">The elephant and the kangaroo,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">One wide river to cross.”</div> +</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">“But you see the kangaroo won’t stand up, so +I have to put the tiger with the elephant. Then +you sing it this way”</p> +<p class="pnext">And he took up the chant again:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">“They marched the animals, two by two,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">One wide river to cross—</div> +</div> +<div class="line">The elephant and the tigeroo,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">One wide river to cross.”</div> +</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">“Do you like it?” asked Phil, looking up +into Susan’s face with a smile.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan nodded with an energy that set her +curls a-bobbing.</p> +<p class="pnext">“There’s Grandmother in the window,” +said she. “Let’s go in and see her.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Grandmother put down her knitting to +welcome Philip, and bade Susan pass the cinnamon +cookies.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I know my mother likes me to eat them,” +announced Phil, silent until he had disposed of +his cooky, “because she wants me to grow +fat.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Perhaps she would like you to take +another one,” said Grandmother, hiding a +smile and passing the plate again.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I was sick,” went on Phil, whose tongue +seemed loosened by the second cinnamon +cooky. “I was sick so long I nearly all melted +away. My father calls me Spindle Shanks. But +I’m going to grow big and fat now—if I eat +enough,” he added with his eyes on the plate +of cakes.</p> +<p class="pnext">Each with a cooky in hand and an extra one +in Phil’s pocket, Susan escorted her new +friend down Featherbed Lane in the hope that +Grandfather would invite them into the office.</p> +<p class="pnext">He was writing busily, but when Susan and +Phil, clinging to the window-sill, all but +pressed their noses against the pane, +Grandfather put down his pen and motioned them to +come in.</p> +<p class="pnext">“How do you do, sir,” said Grandfather as +Phil shook hands in true manly fashion. “So +you are my next-door neighbor. I hope we +shall be good friends.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, he will, Grandfather,” said Susan, +speaking up for her new acquaintance, who, +standing speechless, allowed his gaze to travel +from the high boots up to the quizzical brown +eyes looking so pleasantly down upon him.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, neighbor, we shall have to fatten +you up a little, I’m thinking,” remarked +Grandfather heartily, observing thin little +Phil in his turn.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes,” agreed Phil, finding his tongue at +last and taking a nibble of his cooky as if to +begin the fattening process at once.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I mean to eat and grow fat. My mother +wants me to; she said so. My father calls me +Spindle Shanks,” he added, as if rather proud +of his new name.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Is that so?” said Grandfather with interest. +“Now I shouldn’t have thought of +calling you that. But I might have called you +‘Pint o’ Peanuts’ if any one had asked me.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Phil and Susan went off into a fit of laughter +at this funny name, and when they recovered +Grandfather remarked gravely:</p> +<p class="pnext">“The best thing to do in a case like this is to +build up an appetite. Susan, you go with +Philip up to his house and ask his mother if +she will let him take a little drive with Parson +Drew and you and me over to Green Valley. +Be sure to tell her it’s to work up an appetite. +Then cut across and tell Grandmother we are +going to the Green Valley Court-House and +that we shall be home by five o’clock.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Grandfather was forced to stand on the +doorstep and call the last part of his directions +after Susan. For at the first mention of a +drive she had caught Phil’s hand and started +on a run up the driveway leading to his house.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mrs. Vane hastily polished off her son with +a corner of the kitchen roller towel, snuggled +him into a warm sweater, and sent word to +Grandfather that she was very glad to have +Philip go driving, though he didn’t need to +work up an appetite she was sure.</p> +<p class="pnext">Grandmother made Susan hunt for her +straw hat which, strange to say, was not to be +found upon its accustomed nail. Grandmother +and Phil searched downstairs, while Susan ran +about frantically upstairs, so afraid they +would be late that she could only half look. +But at last she discovered her hat upside down +under the bed, with rubber Snowball taking a +nap in it, just as Susan had put her to bed the +day before.</p> +<p class="pnext">In spite of this delay the children were in +good time, and with Susan wedged tightly +on the seat between Grandfather and the +minister, and Phil standing between the +great leather boots with either hand on +Grandfather’s knee, they drove off in fine +style.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Drew was the village minister, a +young man with a pleasant manner and a +twinkle in his kind blue eyes. He and +Grandfather were special friends. They liked +to talk together, though they rarely agreed, +and sometimes became so excited in their +talk that you might almost think they were +quarreling. But of course Susan knew +better than that.</p> +<p class="pnext">Grandfather’s horse, big bony Nero, had +hurt his knee and had been turned out to grass +to rest and recover. So this afternoon Mr. +Drew held the reins and chirruped gently to +his little brown Molly as she carried them +briskly along the road.</p> +<p class="pnext">As the grown-up talk rumbled on over her +head, Susan peered out like a bright-eyed +bird, and at every interesting landmark or +familiar spot she called, “Look, Phil, look!” +until from its frequent turning there was +some danger that Phil’s head might snap +completely off its frail little neck.</p> +<p class="pnext">“There is the old schoolhouse, Phil,” +called Susan. “We can play house on the +doorstep.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And here is the row of cherry trees. By +and by we will come here with a pail.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And, Phil, the crossest old cow lives in +this field. Don’t you ever come here by +yourself. Once I only climbed up on the +fence to look at her, and she put down her +head and ran at me. And how she did moo—as +cross as anything.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’m not afraid of her,” said Phil stoutly, +as, safe behind the shelter of Grandfather’s +boots and bowling swiftly along the road, he +cast a defiant look at the surly bossy securely +fastened by a rope to a stout stake in the +ground. “Maybe I’ll take you there sometime. +I won’t let her hurt you.”</p> +<p class="pnext">But the cow was left behind them, and +Susan called Phil to look at the poultry farm, +with its ducks and geese, its hens and chickens, +cackling cheerfully and running about in +amiable confusion.</p> +<p class="pnext">Now they were nearing the town of Green +Valley, and down the hill and over the bridge +they rumbled to stop before the imposing +stone Court-House, with its parking-space +for automobiles and its row of hitching-posts, +to one of which was tied little brown +Molly.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan danced impatiently up and down as +Grandfather descended heavily to the sidewalk.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, Grandfather,” said she, catching hold +of his hand, “I want to take Philly to +Madame Bonnet’s. May I? Please say ‘yes.’”</p> +<p class="pnext">“To be sure,” answered Grandfather, +feeling in his pocket as he spoke. “It will be +a good place for you to wait. Here’s ten +cents apiece. Spend it carefully, and be sure +you don’t get lost on the way.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan laughed as she caught Phil by the +arm and dragged him off. Lost on the way +to Madame Bonnet’s! when every one in the +world knew it was just across the street from +the Court-House.</p> +<p class="pnext">Once safely over the crossing Susan stopped +and pointed:</p> +<p class="pnext">“Look, Phil,” said she. “It’s the nicest +place you ever knew. Here it is. Here’s +Madame Bonnet’s shop.”</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-iiimadame-bonnets-shop"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id4">CHAPTER III—MADAME BONNET’S SHOP</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Madame Bonnet’s shop was so small that if +you hadn’t known it was there you might +easily have walked past it and never seen it at +all.</p> +<p class="pnext">It was one story high, with a low front door, +and panes of glass in the one window so tiny +that it was difficult to see the wares that +Madame Bonnet had for sale. But if you shut +one eye and pressed the other close to the +glass, you were well repaid for your trouble, +for Madame Bonnet kept a toy shop the like +of which was not to be found anywhere, +though you traveled the world over in search +of it.</p> +<p class="pnext">It was not that the shop was large, because +it wasn’t. It was not that Madame Bonnet +had many toys for sale, because she hadn’t. +But the children said you could buy at +Madame Bonnet’s what you couldn’t buy +anywhere else. And though the grown people +sometimes stated, and perhaps truly, that +Madame Bonnet hadn’t bought a penny’s +worth of new stock in twenty-five years, the +children were well satisfied, and no doubt that +is the true test of a toy shop, after all.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, Phil,” cried Susan, pressing one eye +against the window, “do look at the china +doll carriage, and the little doll’s lamp with a +pink shade and all, and that beautiful pair of +vases that would just go on the mantel in my +doll’s house. I mean if I had a doll’s house,” +added Susan truthfully.</p> +<p class="pnext">But Phil, twisting and turning and almost +standing on his head, was calling out:</p> +<p class="pnext">“Look at the china boy rowing in the boat—with +all his bundles, too. What do you +think is in them, Susan? Do tell me. What is +in that yellow striped bundle? What do you +think is in that one?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Something for him to eat, I guess,” said +Susan sensibly. “Let’s go inside and look +around.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Madame Bonnet was comfortably knitting +in the rear of the shop, and didn’t think of +getting up to wait upon her customers.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, Susan Whiting,” said she, gazing +at the children over her spectacles. “How do +you do? Is your grandmother well? And so +your grandfather is going to call by for you. +I suppose he came in to the Court-House on +business. And this is the little boy who has +come to live next door to you, is it? Well, my +dears, I hope you will find something you like +here. Just walk around, and if you want to +know about anything bring it to me. My knee +has been so bad with rheumatism that I don’t +get up if I can help it.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And Madame Bonnet returned to her +knitting, apparently forgetting the children, +who walked about on tiptoe eyeing the toys +and handling everything within reach.</p> +<p class="pnext">Madame Bonnet had been born and +brought up in the town of Green Valley and +had never journeyed farther away than fifty +miles. People were somewhat surprised, +therefore, when, one fine day, the girl they +had always known as Mary Bonnet had +opened her little shop, and had raised over +the front door a sign which boldly read, +“Madame Bonnet.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“There is French blood in me somewhere, +I’m sure,” said she. “And I don’t see why I +shouldn’t call myself ‘Madame,’ if I like.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And now that Madame Bonnet was an old +lady with white hair and spectacles, most people +had forgotten that she had ever borne any +other name.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Phil,” said Susan, standing entranced +before a low shelf, “won’t you come and +look at this doll?”</p> +<p class="pnext">In the center of a large square of cardboard +was sewed a bisque doll, whose long +flaxen braid hung over one shoulder and +reached to the tips of her dimpled toes. Surrounding +her, also sewed on the card, was her +wardrobe, consisting of a pink dress, a pink +hat, and a pair of pink kid boots, a similar +costume in blue, a Red Riding Hood cape, +and a green silk umbrella.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan fairly held her breath before this +vision of loveliness. But Phil was spellbound +at the other end of the shop—and no wonder.</p> +<p class="pnext">In a long glass tube, full of water, was a +little red imp, even to horns and tail, and, instructed +by Susan how to press upon the rubber +top, Phil soon learned to make the imp +execute a gay dance or move slowly up and +down in his narrow, watery prison.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Come along,” urged Susan, tugging at +Phil’s arm. “There are lots more things to +see. Look at this little piano. It has four keys—<em class="italics">tink-a-link-a-link</em>! +And here’s a swimming +boy—how pretty he is!” And Susan carefully +lifted the light little figure, who lay +with rosy hands and feet outstretched all +ready for a splash.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I like the animals.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And Phil paused before a table laden with +small trays on each of which reposed a family +of tiny bisque animals. There sat demure +Mrs. Pussy and her five tortoise-shell kittens. +Four timid little lambs huddled close to the +Mother Sheep as if asking protection from a +herd of big gray elephants, who, in turn, +trumpeted silently with upturned trunks, at +the disgrace of being placed next a placid family +of black-and-white pigs. There were ducks +and chickens, camels and donkeys, cows and +horses—sitting, standing, and lying side by +side in a peaceful and united frame of mind +not often to be met with in this world.</p> +<p class="pnext">Phil carried a tray of fat snub-nosed little +animals back to Madame Bonnet to find out +what they were.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Land sakes!” exclaimed Madame Bonnet. +“Don’t you know what they are? They’re +dogs, pug dogs. Didn’t you ever see one? +Susan, didn’t you ever see a pug dog? Well, +I don’t know as they are as common as they +used to be. Ladies used to like them for pets.” +And Madame Bonnet shook her head over +the way times had changed since she was a +girl.</p> +<p class="pnext">The children wandered round and round, +entranced afresh at each table and shelf.</p> +<p class="pnext">There was a small wooden clock, like the +timepiece in Susan’s kitchen at home, whose +pendulum swung gayly to and fro if only you +helped it a little with your finger. There were +dolls’ hats made by Madame Bonnet herself, +that varied in style from a knitted tam-o’-shanter +to a strange turban-like affair with a +jaunty chicken feather in the top. There was +sheet after sheet of paper dolls that surely +belonged to the days of long ago, for the +ladies wore their hair in a way that Grandmother +would have recognized as a waterfall, +and the little girl dolls had droll pantalettes +hanging below their skirts.</p> +<p class="pnext">There was a beautiful sawdust and china +doll, whose wavy black china hair was piled +high upon her head, whose strapped china +boots gracefully took “first position” when +she was held upright, and whose rosy lips +smiled sweetly in spite of the fact that her +bright green silk dress was neatly pasted on, +so that it wouldn’t come off, no matter what +the emergency. Perhaps the fancy gilt paper +trimming on dolly’s frock kept her cheerful. +Perhaps Susan’s open admiration warmed +her chilly little china heart and helped her +to forget any discomfort she might suffer.</p> +<p class="pnext">At any rate, Susan passed reluctantly +from her side to view the doll’s furniture, and +there she entered into such a delightful wilderness +of chairs, beds, tables, and sofas as +would be difficult to describe. Parlor sets +with red and blue velvet trimmings; bedroom +sets quite complete, down to the cradle rocking +comfortably away beside the mother’s +big bed; rocking-chairs; baby’s high chair; +a bookcase filled with tiny paper books; a +stove with lids that really lifted off.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, I can’t go home!” cried Susan, +when Grandfather opened the door and, +stooping low to save his head, came into the +shop.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Five minutes more,” said Grandfather, +as he sat down for a little talk with his old +friend Madame Bonnet.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, Phil, only five minutes more.” And +in that five minutes Susan flew around like a +distracted hen, making up her mind what her +purchase should be.</p> +<p class="pnext">Phil had been absorbed for some time in a +pile of paper books with gay red-and-white +pictured covers, and he now came forward +with his selection. “The Story of Naughty +Adolphus,” read Grandfather, and gazed +with interest upon the picture of Adolphus, +to whom “naughty” seemed a mild word +to apply. For not only was Adolphus dancing +up and down in a fit of temper, and all but +striking his meek and shrinking little nurse +who stood terror stricken close by; but it was +very evident that Adolphus refused to have +his hair brushed, his face washed, or finger +nails trimmed. All this the picture showed +quite plainly, and innocent Phil gazed at it +with a virtuous air, for, in his worst moments, +he felt sure he had never even approached +“Naughty Adolphus.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“It looks interesting,” announced +Grandfather soberly. “I think you’ve made a good +choice. Susan, are you ready?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Look,” murmured Susan, faint with admiration. +“Look what I’ve found.”</p> +<p class="pnext">It was a white china egg, and, lifting off +the top, there lay a little dolly, as snug as +could be.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s beautiful,” said Susan. And bold +with gratitude, she stood on tiptoe and placed +a kiss upon Madame Bonnet’s wrinkled +cheek.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well!” said Madame Bonnet, taken +aback for the moment, but liking it nevertheless. +“If I had a good knee I’d step down +cellar for a bottle of my raspberry vinegar +to treat you all. How are your knees, Mr. +Whiting?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Young as a boy’s,” returned Grandfather, +rubbing them as he spoke. “But +here’s Parson Drew. Suppose we let him step +down. He doesn’t know that he has any +knees.”</p> +<p class="pnext">So Parson Drew, as fond as Susan of +raspberry vinegar, obligingly “stepped down +cellar,” and brought up a tall rosy bottle the +contents of which, under Madame Bonnet’s +careful eye, he poured into thin little glasses +with a gold band about the top.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well,” said Grandfather, after he had +actually turned the bottle upside down to +prove to Susan and Phil that there was not +a single drop left in it, “I’m afraid the +time has come for us to go.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And after many good-byes and messages +for Grandmother, the party moved toward +the door.</p> +<p class="pnext">Parson Drew led the way, and, as he +opened the door, something from outside, +with a clatter and clash, darted into the shop, +whirled down the aisle, and subsided with a +jangle into a dark corner at the back of +the store.</p> +<p class="pnext">Madame Bonnet, completely forgetting +her bad knee, mounted her chair in a twinkling +and stood holding her skirts about her +feet, calling—</p> +<p class="pnext">“Help! Help! Help!”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan, clutching tight to her eggshell +baby, tried to climb up into Grandfather’s +arms, while Phil, making himself as small as +possible, hid under a convenient table.</p> +<p class="pnext">Grandfather was peering into the dark +corner where the clattering object, now silent +and motionless, could be faintly seen.</p> +<p class="pnext">Suddenly Grandfather put back his head +and laughed.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s a cat,” said he; “a poor forlorn little +gray cat. And we were all afraid of a cat.”</p> +<p class="pnext">He gave a second look, and then he spoke +in a different tone.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Tut, tut, tut,” said Grandfather, as if he +were angry.</p> +<p class="pnext">He gently moved toward the trembling +pussy, but before Madame Bonnet could +step down from her chair or Phil come out +from under the table, in from the street +walked Mr. Drew, whom no one had missed +until now. He held by the coat-collar a +freckled, red-headed boy, and he was pushing +him along in no very gentle way.</p> +<p class="pnext">“This is the boy who did the deed,” said +Mr. Drew, and he sounded angry in the same +way Grandfather did. “I thought I would +catch him enjoying his fun if I stepped outside, +and, sure enough, there he was, doubled +up with laughter and slapping himself on the +knee at the joke. A fine joke,” added Mr. +Drew, giving the boy a little shake, “a fine +joke—tormenting a poor cat.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“The other boys were in it, too,” whined +the culprit, squirming, “only they ran +away.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“That doesn’t excuse you,” answered +Mr. Drew sternly. “I have a notion to tie +the tin can on you. ‘It’s only for a joke,’ +you know. That is what you told me.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, no,” whimpered the boy, jerking +and twisting about. “Let me go. I’ll give +you five cents if you do. I’ll give you ten +cents if you let me go.” And he pulled from +his pocket a handful of coins and held them +out on his grimy palm.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Is it yours?” asked Mr. Drew. “Is it +your money?”</p> +<p class="pnext">The boy nodded.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Good!” said Mr. Drew. “Then I’ll take +it.” And he coolly slipped the coins into his +pocket.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now,” said he to the boy, tightening his +grip on his collar, “you come with me, and +we will spend this money on a treat for poor +pussy. And you shall watch her enjoy it, +too.”</p> +<p class="pnext">When Mr. Drew returned with his unwilling +companion, he found Madame Bonnet +composedly knitting in her chair, the rest of +the group eyeing pussy, still motionless in +her corner.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now, Tim,” said Parson Drew cheerfully, +to his sulky, red-haired friend, “you +shall have the pleasure of giving pussy the +milk and the cat-meat which you bought for +her with your money.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Tim silently spread the feast and retreated +a few steps.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Come, puss, puss,” encouraged Madame +Bonnet in her comfortable voice, “drink your +milk.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And pussy timidly put out her pink +tongue and drank the milk thirstily.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You needn’t be afraid to leave her to +me,” observed Madame Bonnet to Grandfather, +who was looking at his watch. “I like +a cat, when I know it’s a cat and not a whirlwind. +I’ll take off the can when she is more +used to me, and I’ll keep her here a bit till I +find her a home.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Outside the shop, the party halted once +more.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Don’t play any more tricks like this, will +you, Tim?” asked Mr. Drew. “And shake +hands.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Tim nodded and thrust out his hard little +hand. He grinned cheerfully up at Mr. +Drew, and was off down the street, whistling +shrilly between his fingers as he ran.</p> +<p class="pnext">“When I get home,” confided Susan in +Grandfather’s ear, as she sat on his lap on the +homeward ride, “I’m going to tell Snowball +all about it, and about that bad boy, and then +I guess she will be glad that she has lost her +tail. Don’t you?”</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-ivthe-squash-baby"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id5">CHAPTER IV—THE SQUASH BABY</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Susan was very unhappy. She stood by her +bedroom window, kicking the wall, and at +every kick she said, “mean, mean, mean.”</p> +<p class="pnext">It was all about a little berry pie. Grandmother +had made for Susan’s dinner a saucer +pie. It was juicy and brown and had fancy +little crimps all about the edge. It looked +almost too good to eat.</p> +<p class="pnext">But instead of being pleased and thanking +Grandmother, Susan had scowled up her +face at sight of it, and had muttered,</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t like the little pie. I want a piece +of the big one.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Now, there is no telling why Susan acted +in that way. I don’t believe she could have explained +it herself. The words seemed to pop +out of her mouth, her face seemed to snarl +itself up, and, for no reason at all she suddenly +felt very angry at the poor, pretty +little saucer pie.</p> +<p class="pnext">And after this dreadful speech, nobody +spoke.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan felt Grandfather looking at her +over his spectacles. She saw Grandmother +take the saucer pie and set it aside. And +then, somehow, nobody seemed to remember +that Susan was at the table at all. She sat +there, the lump in her throat growing bigger +and bigger and with a strange prickly feeling +in the end of her nose, until the tears began +to chase one another down her cheeks. +And then Susan slipped from her chair and +ran upstairs.</p> +<p class="pnext">On the floor near the door lay innocent +Snowball. Susan pushed her to one side with +such force that Snowball flew under the bed +and struck the wall with a thump. Then Susan +threw herself on the bed beside Flip and +clasped her in her arms.</p> +<p class="pnext">First she cried until she couldn’t cry any +more, and then she whispered the whole +story into Flip’s ear. “Nobody loves me but +you, Flippy,” finished Susan with a gasp. Already +she felt comforted, for, no matter +what happened, Flippy was always on her side.</p> +<p class="pnext">After a little, she rolled off the bed, and +stood looking out of the window into the +hot garden below. There was not a breath +of air stirring. The leaves of the fruit trees +scarcely moved, the sky seemed to swim +and dance before her eyes, and the only +sound to be heard was the shrill singing of +the locusts in the trees.</p> +<p class="pnext">It was then that Susan said, “mean, +mean, mean,” and she meant Grandmother, +and Grandfather, and every one in the +whole round world except Flippy Whiting.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan twisted the shade cord and sniffed, +and tried to think of all the cross and disagreeable +things Grandmother and Grandfather +had ever done to her.</p> +<p class="pnext">But there was something strange about +those thoughts. They were as contrary as +Susan herself. For all she could remember +were the times when Grandmother and +Grandfather had been kind and patient and +good, and little by little quite a different +feeling came over her.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Grandfather always takes me driving +with him when he can,” thought she. “And +Grandmother made the new dress for Flip; +and she brought me a paint-box yesterday +from Green Valley.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And suddenly Susan began to cry again.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But this time it is sorry tears. The other +time it was mad ones,” thought she to herself, +for Susan was quite as sharp as are +most little girls to know when she was +in the right or in the wrong.</p> +<p class="pnext">Downstairs she flew, and flung her arms +about Grandmother.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, oh, oh,” moaned Susan, burying her +face in Grandmother’s neck. “Oh, Grandmother, +Grandmother.” And if she had stood +upon the church steps and shouted, “I’m +sorry,” to the whole village, she couldn’t have +said it more plainly.</p> +<p class="pnext">Grandmother understood her quite well, +and all she said was:</p> +<p class="pnext">“I couldn’t believe that my Susan would +be so rude to me.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it,” +whispered Susan, and, sealing the peace with +a kiss, she went in search of Grandfather.</p> +<p class="pnext">He sat on the porch, reading his paper, and +he must have heard all that she said, for he +opened his arms, and without a word she +snuggled down upon his lap. With both hands +she pulled his face round to hers and placed +a kiss upon what she called “my very own +spot,” none other than the tip of Grandfather’s +nose.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Promise you will never let any one else +kiss you there,” Susan had once begged.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I promise,” Grandfather had answered +with a laugh. And no doubt he kept his word.</p> +<p class="pnext">But now, he put his hand into his baggy +coat pocket and pulled out a plump summer +squash.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I thought this would make a nice dolly +for you,” said he. “I picked it up after dinner +in the garden.” And with his knife he deftly +cut eyes and nose and mouth, and handed +over the simpering orange-colored baby to +the delighted Susan.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now we will go down to the office,” said +he, “and let Grandmother have a nap this +afternoon. I have to see a man on business, +but you can play around the schoolhouse +while I’m busy.”</p> +<p class="pnext">At the roadside gate they stopped a moment +“to catch the breeze,” said Grandfather, +pulling off his hat and mopping his brow.</p> +<p class="pnext">A man, whistling a lively tune, came up +the road, and surely he felt the heat but little, +for he wore a brown velveteen jacket and had +knotted about his throat a bright red handkerchief. +His face was brown and his soft hat +showed dark curling hair underneath the brim.</p> +<p class="pnext">Grandfather eyed him shrewdly, and, as +the man passed the gate, he spoke.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Sarishan,” said Grandfather.</p> +<p class="pnext">The man stopped short and looked Grandfather +straight in the eye.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Sarishan, rye,” answered the man.</p> +<p class="pnext">Grandfather Whiting laughed and shook +his head.</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, no,” said he. “I’m no rye, and ‘sarishan’ +is all the Romany I know. But I wanted +to see whether you would answer me. There +are not many Romanies to be seen about here +nowadays. Are there?”</p> +<p class="pnext">The man shook his head and moved on. +After a pause, he began his whistling again.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What is it, Grandfather?” asked Susan. +“What were you saying? Who is that man?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“He is a gypsy,” answered Grandfather, +watching the man out of sight, past the +schoolhouse and round the bend of the road. +“I thought so when I saw him, so I spoke to +him in Romany or gypsy talk. I said, ‘Sarishan.’ +That means, ‘good-day.’ I’m surprised +he answered me. They generally pretend not +to understand.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Sarishan,” repeated Susan. She liked the +soft pretty word. “But what did he call you, +Grandfather?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“He called me ‘rye.’ That means a gentleman. +A Romany rye is a gypsy gentleman. +Some people like gypsy life, Susan, and know +and understand the gypsies better than others +do. Sometimes they slip away and live with +the gypsies for a time. And this man thought +I was one of them because I spoke to him in +Romany.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan wanted to ask Grandfather what +gypsy life was like. But the man Grandfather +was to see on business drove up just then, +so she slipped across the road to the deserted +schoolhouse, and, bringing out her own little +broom which she kept under the porch, she +proceeded to give the steps and the walk a +thorough sweeping.</p> +<p class="pnext">This housewifely task ended, she seated +herself on the steps, for she thought the +squash baby needed an afternoon nap. Tied +round the handle of the broom was a little +blue cloth that Susan used for a duster. It +was new and clean, so she fastened it round +the neck of the squash baby as a cloak, and +so rocked the baby to and fro and hummed a +little song.</p> +<p class="pnext">It was quiet on the schoolhouse steps. The +shadows crept silently across the road, so +silently that they did not disturb a little head +pillowed on the hard boards of the porch.</p> +<p class="pnext">The flowers and grasses in the neglected +yard stirred and rustled in the afternoon +breeze, just beginning to spring up, but all +they murmured was “Hush! Hush!” The +bees hummed and buzzed busily about among +the flowers, one inquisitive young fellow, +who knew no better, actually lighting on Susan’s +gay hair-ribbon, as if he thought it a +new kind of blossom. But the little mother +did not stir, for the very song the bees sang +was a lullaby.</p> +<p class="pnext">So that Susan’s nap was long and refreshing, +and when at last she woke and stretched +her stiff little arms and legs, she discovered +that she was hungry.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You stay here, baby,” said she, firmly +planting the ever-smiling squash baby upon +the steps. “I’ll be back in a minute with a +cooky for you.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan trudged leisurely up Featherbed +Lane. Near the end she halted, and, leaning +on the garden wall, stared with interest over +at the Tallman house.</p> +<p class="pnext">The sound of crying was plainly to be +heard floating out upon the air. The dismal +wails grew louder, and then the door opened +and Phil’s father appeared.</p> +<p class="pnext">He walked with a determined air to the +big lilac bush near the foot of the steps, and, +pulling out his pen-knife, carefully selected +and cut off a stout little branch.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s a switch,” thought Susan, terror-stricken. +“Oh, me, it’s a switch.”</p> +<p class="pnext">At this moment the door was flung open +again, and out upon the porch darted a little +figure. Its face was red, its arms were whirling, +it was dancing up and down and crying +all at once. But, nevertheless, as Susan +peered closely, she saw that it was Phil. +There was no doubt about that.</p> +<p class="pnext">His friend on the other side of the fence +held her breath at the sight. Oh, how sorry +she was for him! She knew just how badly +he felt. She, too, would have been dancing in +a frenzy if, a little earlier that afternoon, +she had seen Grandfather cutting a switch.</p> +<p class="pnext">But, finally, Phil found his voice. “No, +no!” he shrieked; “I’ll be good! I’ll be good! +I’ll be good!”</p> +<p class="pnext">His father turned and looked at him.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Stop crying,” said he.</p> +<p class="pnext">Phil sobbed and capered about a moment +longer, but at last his sobs died away and he +stood still.</p> +<p class="pnext">His father eyed him a moment longer. Then +he shut his pen-knife with a snap and dropped +the switch in the grass.</p> +<p class="pnext">At this welcome sight Phil vanished into the +house, and his father slowly followed him.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What a horrid day,” thought Susan. +“Poor Philly! But I won’t tell I saw. I mean +I won’t tell any one but Grandmother and +Grandfather and Flip.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Armed with her cookies, Susan traveled +back to the schoolhouse. On the little stone +walk she stopped and stared. The schoolhouse +steps were bare!</p> +<p class="pnext">Where was the squash baby? Surely she +hadn’t walked away by herself. Neither had +she rolled off, toppled over by her own weight, +for Susan searched carefully in the grass +about the steps. She shook the schoolhouse +door. It was firmly locked. She peeped in the +window. The same familiar scene met her eye: +rows of old-fashioned benches, rusty stove, +dingy maps upon the wall, tin dipper left +upon the window-sill.</p> +<p class="pnext">To Susan’s relief she saw Grandfather’s +business friend drive away, and she hurried +across the road to tell of the mysterious disappearance.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Too bad,” said Grandfather, as hand in +hand they walked up to the house. “But I’ll +make you another baby. Some mischievous boy +has passed by and taken it. There is not much +travel on this road, though, and you never lost +anything before, did you? It’s strange.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Over on the Tallman steps sat Phil alone. +He was spick and span in a clean starched +suit, his hair was brushed to a gloss, and he was +turning the leaves of a picture-book in a way +that any proper and well-behaved child might +imitate. At this moment, whatever may have +been true earlier in the day, there was not the +slightest suggestion of Naughty Adolphus +about little Phil.</p> +<p class="pnext">But he seemed dispirited, and +Grandmother, who had sharp eyes and ears as well +as a warm heart, and who had guessed something +of Phil’s unhappy afternoon, looked +from the drooping little figure on the steps to +the red-rimmed eyes of her own Susan.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Susan,” said she briskly, “it’s a long +while to supper-time. You run over and ask +Mrs. Vane to let Philip come back here with +you. Tell her I have a little treat for you two. +I hope I won’t give them bad dreams,” Grandmother +added to herself, as Susan gladly sped +over the garden wall and across the green lawn +on her pleasant errand.</p> +<p class="pnext">Back came the children, hand in hand, already +looking brighter, and when they saw the +little saucer pie, neatly cut in two, they broke +into broad smiles.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Chew it well,” instructed Grandmother, +“and when you have finished, be sure you run +around the house three times.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But I believe their pleasure is worth one +nightmare,” reflected she, “though I don’t +know that Mrs. Vane would agree with me.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s good,” announced Phil, his own +cheerful self once more, as he joyously ate +berry juice with a spoon.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s the best pie I ever tasted,” said Susan, +twisting about in her chair to smile at +Grandmother. Never, never again would she +be rude to Grandmother; of that she was sure.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But I do wish,” said Susan, looking round +at every one, “that I knew who took my +squash baby.”</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-vdown-at-miss-lizas"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id6">CHAPTER V—DOWN AT MISS LIZA’S</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">“Here is your tin pail, Susan. Try not to lose +the cover, child.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, Grandmother.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“And I’ve put your slippers in this little +bag. Be sure to bring them home again with +you.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, Grandmother.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“And tell Miss Liza she is to start you +home at half-past three.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Tell her I said so. She will have had quite +enough of you children by that time, but she +is so good-natured she would let you stay till +Doomsday if you liked.” And Grandmother, +straightening Susan’s hat, smiled down into +the expectant little face looking up into hers.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, Grandmother,” answered Susan for +the last time, and ran off to join Phil, who, +also provided with a pail and a pair of bedroom +slippers, stood waiting in the lane.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Isn’t this nice?” asked Susan as, clashing +their pails cheerfully, they moved briskly +along the road. “I do love to go to Miss +Liza’s. When she lived in your house I used to +go over every day, and sometimes when she +was baking she would let me help. She had +little wee cake pans of a fish, and a leaf, and +a star.” And Susan smiled at happy memories +of Miss Liza’s baking-days.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Will we make cakes to-day, do you +think?” inquired Phil, who, invited with Susan +to spend the day at Miss Eliza Tallman’s, +was making his first social call of the season +and was not quite sure what was expected of +him. For all he knew to the contrary, it was +customary to carry a tin pail and bedroom +slippers when going visiting for the day.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t believe so,” returned Susan doubtfully. +“Miss Liza doesn’t live alone now. She +lives with her niece, Miss Lunette. And Miss +Lunette can’t bear the tiniest bit of noise. +That’s why we brought our slippers. We +have to put them on the minute we get there, +and walk on tiptoe, and just whisper.” And +Susan’s voice sank mysteriously as she related +their programme for the day.</p> +<p class="pnext">Phil looked downcast. The prospect of +whispering and walking on tiptoe was not in +the least pleasing to him.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Is Miss Lunette sick?” he inquired soberly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, yes,” Susan assured him, “she is. I +heard Grandmother and Miss Liza talking. +No one knows just what is the matter with her, +but she must have good things to eat, and some +one to wait on her, and not one bit of noise. +And I heard Grandmother and Grandfather +talking, too,” went on the “little pitcher.” +“Grandmother said, ‘Liza’s a saint on earth,’ +and Grandfather said, ‘In my opinion, all +Miss Lunette needs is a little hard work!’ I +don’t know just what they meant. But, anyway, +we are going to fill our pails with currants +and raspberries. Miss Liza said so.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Phil brightened for a moment, but his face +clouded again and he stopped in the road.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Can’t we shout before we get there, Susan?” +he asked plaintively. “I feel just like +shouting to-day.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I do, too,” agreed Susan willingly. “Let’s +shout now where there is no one to stop us.” +And putting down their bundles so that they +might swing their arms as well, the children +opened their mouths and shouted until they +could shout no more.</p> +<p class="pnext">On either side of the road lay a dense little +wood. The noise of the shouting woke the +echoes and startled the birds who rose in the +air with a whirr of wings and then settled +down again. There was the crackling of +underbrush and the rustle of leaves, but +neither of the children saw a cautious little +figure, with brown face and tumbled black +hair, peering at them from behind a tree. His +hungry eyes traveled to their pails and +stopped there.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’ll race you!” shouted Phil suddenly. +And he was off, with Susan close behind, their +empty pails swinging as they ran.</p> +<p class="pnext">The little brown figure turned and disappeared +among the tree-trunks.</p> +<p class="pnext">Miss Eliza Tallman stood waiting for her +guests on the steps of the white cottage that +was separated from the street by an old-fashioned +flower garden, now glowing in its +prime.</p> +<p class="pnext">Miss Liza herself was as wholesome and +sweet and crisp as the row of pinks that bordered +the walk and sent their spicy odors out +upon the warm summer air. Miss Liza was +round and plump. Her crinkly brown hair, +with only a few threads of gray, was drawn +into a round little knob at the back of her head. +Her eyes, round and blue, looked out pleasantly +from behind round gold spectacles. She +stood, absently smoothing down her stiffly +starched white apron, until she caught sight +of the children, and then she waved her hand +in greeting.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’m glad to see you,” she called softly.</p> +<p class="pnext">And something in the quiet voice made Susan +remember to close the gate behind her +gently instead of letting it swing shut with a +slam.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Sit right down here on the porch steps and +put on your slippers. Miss Lunette feels right +well to-day, and she wants you to come up and +see her before dinner.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And Miss Liza smiled so warmly at little +Phil that he cheered up immediately. Going to +see Miss Lunette couldn’t be very dreadful if +Miss Liza looked so pleasant about it.</p> +<p class="pnext">Up the steep stairs they toiled softly, and +were ushered into a room so darkened that, +coming from the glare of the sun outside, it +was at first difficult to see anything.</p> +<p class="pnext">But Phil at length made out a figure, +wrapped in a shawl this warm summer day, +seated in a cushioned rocking-chair, and felt a +cool, slim hand take his own for an instant. He +looked timidly into the face above him and saw +with a lightened heart that Miss Lunette was +not dreadful at all, that she didn’t look in the +least as he had expected and feared to see her +look.</p> +<p class="pnext">And in the fullness of his heart, little Phil +spoke out.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, you are pretty,” said he to Miss +Lunette.</p> +<p class="pnext">Miss Lunette’s pale, thin face flushed with +pleasure, and she laid a hand lightly upon +Philip’s head.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I feel so well to-day,” said she graciously, +“that I want to show you children +some toys that I’ve been making. Some day I +mean to sell them in the city, but it won’t do +any harm, I suppose, to show them to you beforehand. +It is what we call wool-work,” +added she carefully.</p> +<p class="pnext">On a table, drawn close to Miss Lunette’s +chair, stood a group of animals made of +worsted. There were yellow chickens standing +unsteadily upon their toothpick legs. Lopsided +white sheep faced a pair of stout rabbits +evidently suffering from the mumps. A dull +brown rooster suddenly blossomed out into a +gorgeous tail of red and green and purple +yarn.</p> +<p class="pnext">For a grown person it would be difficult to +imagine who, in the city, would purchase these +strange specimens of natural history, but such +a disloyal thought did not occur to the children. +They admired the toys to Miss Lunette’s +complete satisfaction, and they had their reward. +For Miss Lunette took from the shelf +under the table a book, a home-made book, between +whose pasteboard covers had been +sewed leaves of stiff white paper.</p> +<p class="pnext">“As a special treat,” said Miss Lunette +sweetly to her round-eyed audience, “I am +going to show you my book.”</p> +<p class="pnext">She paused for an instant to allow Susan +and Phil to feast their eyes upon the book in +silence.</p> +<p class="pnext">“This is the cover,” said she at last, “and I +made the picture myself.”</p> +<p class="pnext">The picture was that of a rigid little boy, in +a paper soldier cap, stiffly blowing upon a tin +trumpet. The picture was carefully colored +with red and blue crayons.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, it’s pretty,” said Susan, in honest +admiration. She meant to make a book herself +as soon as she reached home.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What’s inside?” asked Philip. He felt +sorry for that little boy, who, as long as he +lived with Miss Lunette, might never make a +noise.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I think the cover ought to be bright and +gay, so that it will attract the children,” went +on the authoress. “Don’t you think so, too?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Yes, Susan and Phil thought so, too.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But what’s inside?” asked Philip again.</p> +<p class="pnext">How was that little boy going to play soldier, +and never once shout or fire off a gun?</p> +<p class="pnext">“The name of the book is ‘Scripture for +Little Ones,’” continued Miss Lunette. “I +will read parts of it to you if you like.” And +opening at page one, she began to read.</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">A is for Absalom who hung by his hair</div> +<div class="line">From a tree—How painful to be left swinging there.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">B is for Baalam—He had a donkey who spoke—</div> +<div class="line">If we heard it to-day we would think it a joke.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">C is for Cain—His brother Abel he slew—</div> +<div class="line">He was a murderer—May it never be true of you!</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">D is for Daniel who, in the lion’s den,</div> +<div class="line">Suffered no harm from beasts or from men.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">E is for—</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">But whom E stood for the children never +knew, for Miss Liza appeared in the doorway +bearing a tray.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Here is your dinner, Lunette,” said she +gently. “Children, you creep downstairs now. +You don’t want to overdo, Lunette,” she +added, as she placed the invalid’s substantial +dinner before her. “You’ve been talking for +an hour now.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Downstairs Miss Liza closed the stairway +door that led up to Miss Lunette’s room.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now you can talk out as loud as you like,” +said she, “and you won’t disturb any one. +What’s the news up at your house, Susan? +Have you and Phil found the buried ten cents +yet?”</p> +<p class="pnext">No, Susan had forgotten all about it.</p> +<p class="pnext">So, as she stepped about putting their dinner +on the table, Miss Liza told Phil the story +of the buried ten cents.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You know, Phil,” said she, “you are living +in my house,—the house I was born and +brought up in. And one day, when I was a +little girl eight years old, my uncle, who had a +farm a mile or so away, drove past our house +and saw me in the road.</p> +<p class="pnext">“‘Here’s ten cents,’ said he. ‘Five for you +and five for Jim.’ Jim was my brother. Now I +was a selfish little thing,” said Miss Liza, +shaking her head, “and what did I do but dig +a hole under the kitchen window and put the +ten cents in it. Some day, when Jim was out of +the way, I meant to dig it up and spend it all +on myself. But do you know, I never have +found that money from that day to this. I +dug, and Jim dug, and Susan here has dug, +and I suppose you will try now. If you find it, +be sure you let me know.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I will find it,” said Phil, excited. “I will. +You see.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Miss Liza nodded wisely.</p> +<p class="pnext">“That is what Susan thought,” she answered. +“Now draw up to the table. I hope +you are hungry.” And Miss Liza smiled hospitably +round at her guests.</p> +<p class="pnext">They were hungry. The good dinner disappeared +from their plates like magic, but the +crowning touch came when the little cakes +shaped like fish and leaves and stars appeared +upon the table.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I told Phil about them,” Susan repeated +over and over; “I told him, I told him.”</p> +<p class="pnext">After dinner, Susan and Phil went into the +garden to fill their pails with currants and +raspberries. It must be admitted that they +picked more raspberries than currants, and +that they put almost as many berries into their +mouths as into their pails.</p> +<p class="pnext">They were hard at work when Miss Liza +joined them.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s half-past three,” said she, shading +her eyes with her hands and looking up at the +sky. “And if your Grandmother meant what +she said, you ought to start for home. But +what I’m thinking of is the weather. It’s +clear enough overhead, but low down there are +black clouds that look like a shower to me. I +don’t know whether you ought to set out or +not.”</p> +<p class="pnext">The clouds looked very far away to the children, +and, now that their pails were almost +full, it seemed a pity not to stay a little longer.</p> +<p class="pnext">But Miss Liza took one more look round at +the sky and made up her mind once for all.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You must go right along,” she decided, +“and hurry, too. I shan’t have an easy moment +till I think you are safe at home. Here +are your hats and slippers. Miss Lunette is +napping, now, so I will say good-bye for you. +Hurry right along, children, and don’t stop to +play by the way.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And all in a twinkling Susan and Phil +found themselves walking down the village +street, with Miss Liza at the gate, waving +good-bye with one hand and motioning them +along with the other.</p> +<p class="pnext">The sun was shining as they left the village +and turned into the country road that led past +home, but there were low mutterings and +rumblings and Phil stopped to listen.</p> +<p class="pnext">“There’s a wagon on the bridge,” said he. +“Maybe they will give us a ride.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s thunder,” returned Susan, more +weather-wise than he. “Listen. It’s getting +dark, too. I wish a wagon would come along.”</p> +<p class="pnext">But there was no sound of wheels; only +rumblings of thunder growing ever louder, +the rustle of leaves in the rising wind, and the +call of the birds to one another as they +hastened to shelter from the coming storm.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s blue sky overhead, anyway,” said Susan. +“Let’s run.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s raining,” announced Phil, heavily +burdened with slippers and pail. “I hear it on +the leaves. I can’t run. Let’s sit down under a +tree.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, no!” exclaimed Susan, seizing his +hand. “Come on! It’s blue sky overhead. I +want to get home to Grandmother. I don’t like +it in the woods in the rain. Come on! Do hurry—Run!”</p> +<p class="pnext">The tiny patch of blue sky upon which Susan +had pinned her faith had been rapidly +growing smaller. Now it was altogether out of +sight. There was a sharp flash of lightning, a +loud clap of thunder, and down came the rain +like the bursting of a waterspout.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, run, Philly, run!” called Susan, darting +to the side of the road. “Come here with +me under the trees.”</p> +<p class="pnext">A flash of lightning and long roll of thunder +came just at that moment, and put to +flight all Phil’s small stock of courage. He +was frightened and tired, and he could endure +no more. He dropped his pail of precious +berries to the ground, he let fall his slippers, +and, standing in the downpour, he lifted up his +voice and wept.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Mamma, Mamma!” wailed Phil. “I want +Mamma!”</p> +<p class="pnext">Poor Susan was distracted. Her lip trembled +and her eyes filled with tears, but she +bravely ran out into the road again and caught +Phil by the arm.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Come, Philly, come,” entreated Susan.</p> +<p class="pnext">But Phil, bewildered by the dazzling flashes +of light and peals of thunder, was beside himself +with fear. He jerked his arm away and +ran screaming up the road, splashing through +puddles as he went.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, Philly! Oh, Grandfather! Oh, Grandfather!” +wailed Susan. She felt that the end +of the world had come.</p> +<p class="pnext">But deliverance was at hand.</p> +<p class="pnext">Out of the woods appeared a man and a boy. +The man easily overtook Phil and lifted him +in his arms.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Don’t be afraid, missy,” called he to Susan +above Phil’s screams. “Come along with +me.”</p> +<p class="pnext">The boy had gathered up the scattered bundles, +and he now grasped Susan’s hand, and +so, dripping with rain, the little party vanished +into the shelter of the woods.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-vithe-gypsies"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id7">CHAPTER VI—THE GYPSIES</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Susan sneezed twice, coughed, and looked +about her.</p> +<p class="pnext">She stood in a tent, round like a circus tent, +and the air was heavy with smoke from a fire +smouldering on the ground. There were no +doors or windows in the tent, and but little +light entered on this dark afternoon through a +half-dozen rents in the roof.</p> +<p class="pnext">But Susan made out in the gloom not +only the man and boy who had brought her +there, but a plump, dark woman, with gold +hoops in her ears, who was gently wiping +the rain from Phil’s face, three or four +ragged children dressed in bright reds and +yellows, staring intently at her with big +black eyes, and a dog or two, discreetly +lurking in the dim background.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan sneezed again, and the woman +turned from Phil and spoke.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s the smoke, dearie,” said she kindly. +“You’ll be used to it in a moment. Tell +your little brother not to be afraid. He is +among friends. We wouldn’t hurt a hair +of your heads. Tell him that.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I want to go home,” said Phil, with +under lip thrust out. “I want to go home.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“And so you shall,” said the woman +briskly, “as soon as it stops raining a bit, +and my man can find out where you live.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Straight up the hill,” said Susan quickly. +She, too, was eager to be at home. “I saw you +at my gate,” she added shyly, to the man. +“My grandfather said ‘Sarishan’ to you.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan knew the brown velveteen coat, +though the red tie was hidden under the upturned +collar.</p> +<p class="pnext">The man looked at her a moment, and +then he smiled.</p> +<p class="pnext">“True enough,” said he. “I remember. +I’ll take you home. I’ll harness the ‘gry’ +and take them in the van,” said he to his +wife. “It’s still raining hard. They shall +know that the gypsies are good to deal with, +and that the worst of them is not James +Lee.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And, whistling his gay little tune, Mr. +James Lee lifted the tent flap and went out +again into the rain which still pattered +musically on the canvas roof.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan began to enjoy herself. Now that +she knew she was going home shortly, she +looked about her with fresh pleasure.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It would be fun to live in a tent,” she +thought,—“so different from home. No +beds, no chairs, no table. The gypsies must +eat sitting on the ground, and sleep, +perhaps, on that great heap in the corner.”</p> +<p class="pnext">That it was not very clean, and was very, +very crowded, smoky and dark did not +enter Susan’s mind.</p> +<p class="pnext">She smiled at the children still staring +silently at her. Besides the big boy who, +with back turned, seemed busy in the corner, +there were three little girls, two of whom, +with coarse black hair and bold eyes, smiled +back at Susan and then fell to giggling and +poking one another. One of them darted +forward and jerked at Susan’s scarlet hair-ribbon. +The other stole slyly behind her and +twitched her dress. They were mischievous, +trixy children, and Susan felt uneasy with +them. She was relieved when their mother, +seeing the rough play, exclaimed, “Clear +out, you young ones,” and drove them away.</p> +<p class="pnext">The third little girl, who was scarcely +more than a baby, remained in her place, +staring solemnly at Susan. She did not look +like the other children; indeed, she did not +look like a gypsy at all. She was a slender +little creature with pale brown hair, large +gray eyes, and a tiny hooked nose that gave +a strange air of determination to her baby +face. She held something behind her back, +and suddenly she stepped forward and +showed it to Susan.</p> +<p class="pnext">It was the lost squash baby!</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan knew it instantly. It had even the +bit of blue rag tied about its neck.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, it’s my squash baby!” said she, +in surprise.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yours, is it?” said Mrs. Lee, coming +forward. “My man picked it up in the road +and gave it to Gentilla. Give it back, +Gentilla. The little miss wants it.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, no, I don’t want it,” said Susan +hastily. “Let her keep it. Is her name +Gentilla? She is a nice little girl.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Gentilla Lee, a good gypsy name,” +returned Mrs. Lee. “She is an orphan. She +is my husband’s brother’s child. You might +think I had enough to do with three children +of my own. But no, I must have one more.” +And Mrs. Lee lifted the tent flap and +moodily looked out into the still falling rain.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan smiled at Gentilla, who looked +soberly back and then moved closer to +Susan’s side and began stroking the visitor’s +dress with a tiny hand that was far from +clean. Suddenly she slipped her hand in +Susan’s, and, swinging round on it, smiled +up into her face.</p> +<p class="pnext">It seemed a good beginning of a friendship, +and Susan was sorry when Mrs. Lee +turned round in the doorway and said:</p> +<p class="pnext">“Here comes my man with the van. You +will be home in no time now.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Through the woods stepped Mr. James +Lee leading a bony gray horse, which was +drawing a gypsy van, gay with bright red +and green and black paint. He opened the door +in the back of the van and helped the +children in.</p> +<p class="pnext">“My pail,” said Phil, clutching his slippers. +“I’ve lost my pail.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Mrs. Lee disappeared into the tent, and +came out in a moment with Phil’s pail—empty! +No wonder the big boy, busy eating +Phil’s berries, had turned his back in the +corner of the tent.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Don’t cry, Phil. You shall have half my +berries. Don’t cry. We’re going home.” And +Susan waved vigorous good-byes to Mrs. +Lee and Gentilla, held back by her aunt +from following Susan into the van.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Lee carefully led his horse through +the woods to the muddy road, and then, +sitting up in front, drove his old “gry” up +the hill toward Featherbed Lane.</p> +<p class="pnext">In the meantime Susan and Phil were +looking round the van in surprise and delight.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s like a little playhouse,” said Susan, +squeezing Phil’s hand. “Oh, I wish I lived +in a gypsy van all the time.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Opposite the door, in the very front of the +van, were two beds, one above the other like +berths on a ship, and broad enough, each +one, to hold three or four gypsy children at +once, if need be, and as, in fact, they very +often did. There was a little cookstove, +whose pipe wandered out of the side of the +van in a most unusual way. And alongside +the stove was a table, hanging by hinges +from the wall. A high chest of drawers and +two chairs completed the furniture of the +van, which looked very much like a state-room +and felt somewhat like one, too, as it +swayed over the hillocks and ruts in the road.</p> +<p class="pnext">Up Featherbed Lane bounced the van, +and there on the porch stood Grandmother +and Miss Liza, both with white cheeks and +anxious faces, while Grandfather came +hurrying from the barn where he had been +harnessing old Nero with a speed that quite +upset the dignity of that staid Roman-nosed +beast.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Where were you, children?” cried Miss +Liza in greeting, twisting the corner of her +apron as she spoke. “I ran up here in all +that downpour, and I didn’t see a sign of +you on the way.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“My berries are gone,” called Phil. “The +big boy ate them. And I was afraid. And +we were inside a tent.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“They are gypsies,” said Susan in a low +voice to Grandmother, who was carefully +feeling her all over. “They live in a tent. +And, inside, that van is just like a doll’s +house. Their name is Lee. I wish I lived in +a van; it’s better than a tent, I think. And +they have the nicest little girl you ever saw. +Her name is Gentilla Lee. She likes me, I +know she does, Grandmother. I want to go +see her again.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You are wet in spots, child, and damp +all over,” was all Grandmother replied. +“Come straight in the house and let me put +dry clothes on you.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Grandfather and the gypsy had been +talking together all this time, and now +Grandfather put something into Mr. James +Lee’s hand that made his white teeth gleam +in a smile, and caused him to drive first to +the store in the village before returning to +his hungry family in their tent in the woods.</p> +<p class="pnext">Then Phil was escorted home; Miss Liza +was driven back to Miss Lunette, who might +be worried sick by her absence, Miss Liza +thought, but who proved to have slept +soundly through the storm; and Susan, her +tongue wagging, was put into a hot bath +and dressed in dry clothes from head to foot +before Grandfather returned.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I want to go back and see the gypsies,” +Susan teased the next day. “I want to see +Gentilla. Please, Grandfather, take me to +see the gypsies.”</p> +<p class="pnext">So Grandmother baked a cake in her +largest tin, and at the village store Grandfather +and Susan purchased several yards of +bright red hair-ribbon. With these offerings +they made their way to the gypsy tent, +and received a hospitable welcome.</p> +<p class="pnext">The van, with all its conveniences, was +willingly displayed, and Grandfather was +invited to test with his hand the softness of +the beds, the like of which, Mrs. Lee +declared, was not to be found in kings’ +palaces. Privately, Grandfather believed +this to be true, but, of course, he didn’t say it +aloud.</p> +<p class="pnext">To-day, with the sun shining, and the dogs +gnawing a bone at a safe distance in the +grass, the tent seemed to Susan even more +attractive than before. She thought with +scorn of her own white little room at home, and +wished with all her heart that she had been +born a gypsy child. Even the two bold little +girls seemed pleasanter, and indeed, delighted +with their new hair-ribbons and +awed by Grandfather’s presence, they were +more quiet and well-behaved, at least during +Susan’s call.</p> +<p class="pnext">The big boy silently devoured his share of +Grandmother’s cake, and then, with a +hungry look still gleaming in his eyes, gazed +so longingly at the crumbs remaining that +Grandfather took pity upon him. With a +turn of his hand he flipped a piece of money +at the lad so that, with sure aim, he struck +the boy’s bare foot.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Go buy something to eat with it,” commanded +Grandfather.</p> +<p class="pnext">Pulling at his tangled hair in a rough bow +of thanks, the boy, waiting for no second +bidding, vanished among the trees and was +seen no more by his family that afternoon.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. James Lee entertained Grandfather +as one gentleman should another. He had +many stories of adventure to tell, and he +even brought out his fiddle from under the +beds and played several lively gypsy tunes.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Shall I tell the little miss’s fortune?” +asked Mrs. Lee, with a half-sly look, and +she laughed outright when Grandfather +shook his head with a smile.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I believe in your fortune-telling just +about as much as you do,” he answered. +“My granddaughter seems perfectly happy +this moment. She doesn’t need any better +fortune than she has.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Nor did she, for she and Gentilla, still +carrying the squash baby, had become good +friends and were enjoying their play together +equally well. They walked off, hand +in hand, Susan helping Gentilla over the +rough places and mothering her to her +heart’s delight. She washed her new baby’s +face and hands in the brook and dried them +upon her own handkerchief. She told her +about Flip, and Snowball, and Snuff, to +which Gentilla listened with a roll of her big +gray eyes. She, herself, didn’t talk very +much, but Susan quite made up for this +lack, and had begun to teach her “Two little +blackbirds sat upon a hill,” when she heard +Grandfather calling and knew that she +must go.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t want to leave Gentilla,” said +Susan, as she joined the group before the +tent. “Do you suppose I can come and play +with her to-morrow?” +“Perhaps Mrs. Lee will let Gentilla come +and play with you,” answered Mr. Whiting, +who thought Susan better off at home than +in the gypsy camp.</p> +<p class="pnext">So it was settled that Mr. James Lee +would bring Gentilla to-morrow to spend +the day, and Susan went home with a happy +heart, chattering to Grandfather about her +new-found friends.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Wouldn’t you like to be a gypsy, +Grandfather?” asked she. “Wouldn’t you +like to live in a tent? Why isn’t everybody +a gypsy? It’s such a nice way to live.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, Susan, most people think it +better to stay in one place instead of +wandering over the face of the earth,” +answered Grandfather. “And among other +things, they want their children to go to +school and to church, too.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t care so much about going to +school,” said Susan, honestly. “I know I +would like to live in a tent and ride around +in that van.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“It seems pleasant enough now, while it +is warm weather,” admitted Grandfather. +“But what about cold, and rain, and snow, +and not any too much to eat?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“They were hungry, weren’t they?” +pondered Susan. “How they did like +Grandmother’s cake!”</p> +<p class="pnext">That night at supper Susan looked round +the pleasant, well-lighted room, with its +table spread with good things to eat. She +thought of the tent in the woods, the trees +standing tall and black about it, and the +near-by brook gurgling over its stones without +a pause. It seemed dark and dreary and +lonely, and with a little shudder Susan +bent down and whispered to Snuff:</p> +<p class="pnext">“I wouldn’t have us be gypsies, Snuff, +for anything in the world.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And when she went to bed, she astonished +Grandmother by saying in the midst of +her prayers:</p> +<p class="pnext">“Thank you, God, for not making +Grandmother a gypsy, because then I +wouldn’t have any apple sauce for my +supper.”</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-viiin-the-schoolhouse"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id8">CHAPTER VII—IN THE SCHOOLHOUSE</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Susan and Gentilla were at play in the +garden, walking Indian fashion up one path +and down the other between the rows of +summer vegetables. The little girls held their +arms outstretched to keep their balance, and, +now and then, with shrill little screams, one +or the other would almost, but not quite, +topple over.</p> +<p class="pnext">Occasionally Gentilla, unsteady on her +feet, made a misstep among the beets and +peas, and once she sat down upon a cabbage. +But, as she was as light as a feather, it certainly +did the cabbage no harm, and perhaps a +great deal of good for all we know to the +contrary.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Gentilla,” said Susan, struck with a +happy thought, “let’s go play on the schoolhouse +steps.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, let’s,” said Gentilla agreeably. She +did not know where the schoolhouse steps +were, but she would have gone as willingly +to the North Pole if Susan had suggested it.</p> +<p class="pnext">She and Susan had become warm friends. +Gentilla spent almost every day at the house +on Featherbed Lane, and Grandmother and +Grandfather and even Miss Liza had grown +fond of the little gypsy girl because of her +happy disposition and loving little ways. +Gentilla was not a great talker, but she +made smiles and a dimple and funny little +bobs of her head take the place of speech. +She liked to steal up behind you and place a +kiss as soft as thistledown in the palm of +your hand. She rubbed gently up against +one as a little kitten would, and by her pats +and what Susan called “smoothings” told +you how much she loved you without a +single word.</p> +<p class="pnext">“She is a good child,” said Grandmother. +“I can hardly believe that she is a real +gypsy child. She doesn’t seem like one +to me.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“She does wind herself round your +heart,” confided Miss Liza. “If I lived +alone I would almost think of adopting her, +though I don’t know whether her people +would be willing to part with her.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Mr. Whiting says they are a little jealous +because we do so much for Gentilla, and not +for their own little girls. He thinks we +haven’t been very wise,” answered Mrs. +Whiting. “And now that you have made +Gentilla these aprons, I don’t know what they +will say.”</p> +<p class="pnext">From the shady back porch, where +Grandmother and Miss Liza sat rocking and +sewing together, it looked as if two Susans, +one large and one small, were walking down +the path toward them. For Gentilla wore, +fitted to her small person, a dress Susan had +outgrown, and on her feet a pair of Susan’s +shoes, the toes well stuffed with cotton.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Grandmother, we are going to play,” +called Susan. “And I want to whisper in +your ear.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Can’t you say it out loud?” inquired +Grandmother mildly. “It isn’t polite to +whisper, Susan.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I only wanted to ask if I might pack a +lunch in my little basket for us,” said Susan. +“It isn’t a secret. I just as lief have Miss +Liza hear.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan reappeared in a moment, basket in +hand, carrying Snowball and Flip.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Let me see what you took, Susan,” +said Grandmother.</p> +<p class="pnext">In the basket were two molasses peppermints +and two lumps of sugar. “Just +enough for Gentilla and me,” said Susan +contentedly. “Phil has gone to Green +Valley with his mother.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Down the lane they started, Gentilla +carrying Snowball, Susan with Flip and +the basket of lunch.</p> +<p class="pnext">“There is no use looking in there to-day,” +announced Susan, waving her hand toward +the office. “Grandfather has gone fishing, +and Snuff has gone with him. This is good +weather for fishing. Grandfather said so, and +he knows everything.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Everything,” echoed Gentilla loyally.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, he does,” Susan chattered on. +“When I was little, I used to wonder why +he wasn’t a king. There are always plenty of +kings in fairy stories, but there don’t seem +to be any round here. Did you ever see +a king?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Gentilla shook her head solemnly, but +Susan was not looking at her.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Gentilla,” said Susan, staring at the +schoolhouse door, “it’s open!”</p> +<p class="pnext">Never before had Susan seen the schoolhouse +door unlocked. Many times had she +shaken it and rattled the knob, and all of no +avail. But now the door actually stood ajar, +and, with a push that sent it wide open, +Susan, followed by Gentilla, stepped over +the threshold.</p> +<p class="pnext">The air in the schoolroom was close and +warm, and dust lay thick upon the floor and +danced in the beams of sunlight that filtered +through the grimy window-panes.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan walked about, surveying the battered +desks covered with scratches and ink-spots +and ornamented with initials cut into +the wood. The door of the rusty stove stood +open, and within lay a heap of torn papers. +The faded maps were not interesting, and +Susan began to think the schoolroom more +attractive when peeped at from the porch +than when actually within it.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Let’s go outside,” said she to Gentilla, +who had followed her about like Mary’s +lamb. “Then we’ll sit down and eat our +lunch.” The lunch basket, guarded by Flip +and Snowball, had been left on the porch +steps.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan turned the knob of the schoolhouse +door, which had swung shut behind them, +and pulled. The door wouldn’t open. Susan +tugged until she grew red in the face.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You try, Gentilla,” said she.</p> +<p class="pnext">Gentilla obligingly gave a pull, and toppled +over backward upon the floor.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Don’t cry,” said Susan, helping her to +her feet. “We will just climb out of +the window.”</p> +<p class="pnext">But the windows, swollen and stiff, were +no more accommodating than the door.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan climbed up on the window-sill, and, +covered with dust and dirt, pushed and +pulled until she was quite out of breath.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I can’t,” she gasped. “I can’t open it. +What shall we do?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Gentilla’s face puckered up at sight of +Susan’s distress. She ran back to the door and +beat upon it with her soft little fists.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You open, you open,” called Gentilla, +in a pitiful little pipe that would have +moved a heart of stone.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan wanted to cry. There was a big +lump in her throat, and it was only vigorous +winking and blinking that kept the tears +from falling down her cheeks.</p> +<p class="pnext">But Susan was repeating to herself +something she had overheard Grandmother +say to Miss Liza that very afternoon.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Susan is a real little mother to Gentilla,” +Grandmother had said.</p> +<p class="pnext">And, at the time, Susan had thought, “If +Gentilla ever falls into the fire or tumbles +down the well, I must be the one to +pull her out.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And she had almost hoped that something +of the kind might happen, so that she might +show how brave she was, and how devoted to +her little friend.</p> +<p class="pnext">Surely now the time had come. Perhaps +they would have to stay forever in the +schoolhouse. Without anything to eat they +would grow thinner and thinner and thinner +until there would be nothing left of them at +all. At this doleful thought, one tear rolled +down Susan’s nose and splashed on the dusty +boards. But only one! For she swallowed +hard, gave herself a little shake, and then +took Gentilla by the hand.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Come,” said she, drawing her gently +away from the door. “We will stay by the +window, and when anybody goes by, we will +knock and shout and call, and some one +will let us out, I know.”</p> +<p class="pnext">So the two little girls stationed themselves +by the front window and looked longingly +out at the sunny road, the dancing leaves, +and oh, cruelest of all, the lunch basket on +the porch steps, still guarded by the faithful +Flip and Snowball.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan, her face streaked with dirt, polished +off the window-glass as best she could +with her pocket handkerchief.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Grandmother will find us,” said she +hopefully. “Or else Grandfather will. Don’t +you be afraid, Gentilla.”</p> +<p class="pnext">But in her heart she thought:</p> +<p class="pnext">“Grandfather has gone fishing, and +perhaps he won’t be home till black night. +And I didn’t tell Grandmother where we +were going; I know I didn’t tell her where +we were going.”</p> +<p class="pnext">These sad thoughts were interrupted by +the welcome sound of wheels.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Knock and scream, knock and scream!” +called Susan excitedly.</p> +<p class="pnext">And they fell to work with a will, Susan +redoubling her efforts when she saw that it +was Mr. Drew, hastening home behind +little brown Molly.</p> +<p class="pnext">But the <em class="italics">clip</em>, <em class="italics">clap</em>, <em class="italics">clip</em>, <em class="italics">clap</em>, of Molly’s +hoofs drowned all the noise they made, and +Mr. Drew, with not a glance toward the +schoolhouse, drove out of sight.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan looked blankly at Gentilla.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, what a long time we’ve been here,” +said she forlornly. “It must be nearly +night.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Nearly night,” echoed Gentilla.</p> +<p class="pnext">She sat down on the floor with her back +against the wall, leaving Susan alone on +guard. She shut her eyes, her head nodded +once or twice, and when Susan next glanced +at her she lay on the floor sound asleep.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, Gentilla, wake up! I’m afraid to +stay here alone. Wake up!” began poor +Susan, who at that moment would have +welcomed the company of even a fly buzzing +on the window-pane. But the thought of +Grandmother’s speech silenced her.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I won’t wake her up, and I won’t cry +either,” thought she. And pressing her face +against the window, she bravely watched +the empty road for a five minutes that +actually seemed to her two hours long.</p> +<p class="pnext">All kinds of dreadful thoughts began to +come to Susan’s mind. Were there bears in +the woods, and at nightfall would they come +lumbering out, and, pushing the door open, +squeeze her and Gentilla to death in a mighty +bear hug? What if Grandfather had made a +mistake and the Indians had not all gone +away years ago! Suppose they should carry +her off and stain her brown with berry juice, +like the little girl in her story book, so that, +even if Grandfather should see her, he would +never know that it was his black-eyed Susan, +but would think she was a real true little +Indian girl.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan gave a start of horror and almost +screamed out loud. Up the road this moment +there came prowling a big dark animal.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Gentilla, Gentilla, here’s a bear!” called +Susan in a frenzy. “Wake up and help me! +Here’s a bear! Oh! Oh! He’s coming after +us! Gentilla! Gentilla!—Why, it’s Snuffy! +Snuffy! Snuffy! save me!”</p> +<p class="pnext">And Susan’s cries of fright changed into +those of joy and hope as soon as she saw that +the great brown bear was none other than +shaggy, comfortable, homelike Snuff.</p> +<p class="pnext">Snuffy’s bright eyes caught sight of his +familiars, Snowball and Flip, seated in +lonely state upon the schoolhouse steps. The +little basket, which, in days gone by, had +often held goodies, as he well knew, excited +his curiosity. Up the steps tripped Master +Snuff to sniff delicately at the refreshments, +and then, to the joy of the prisoners, he saw +their faces and heard their knocks and calls.</p> +<p class="pnext">He barked furiously, and leaped up at the +window. He ran to the door, scratching and +whining to be let in, then back to the window +where he echoed their cries for help by barkings +so frantic that Grandfather, trudging +leisurely along with his string of fish, +wondered what Snuff had cornered on the +old school porch.</p> +<p class="pnext">Snuff was wise enough to know that something +was wrong, and that Grandfather was +needed to set it right.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan held her breath for fear he was +leaving them to their fate as he galloped down +the walk, but it was only to circle round +Grandfather and back again to the steps, +where he halted, waiting for his master to +join him.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You rascal,” called Grandfather. “I +suppose you think I ought to carry those +dolls up to the house for Susan. Come along +with me, sir.”</p> +<p class="pnext">But when Snuff recommenced barking +and leaping at the window, Grandfather +Whiting followed him up the walk, and a +second later the treacherous door was flung +open and Susan was in his arms.</p> +<p class="pnext">“My own Susan, what is it? What are you +doing in here?” asked Grandfather tenderly, +as a very dirty little girl clasped him tight, +and sent a hot shower of tears down the +back of his neck.</p> +<p class="pnext">“The door wouldn’t open, and I didn’t +wake her up, and I was afraid of bears and +Indians,” sobbed Susan. “But I knew you’d +come, I knew you’d come! And Snuff shall +have all the lunch, every bit, because +he saved us.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And breathing hard, and winking fast, +and holding tight to Grandfather’s hand, +Susan gladly rewarded Snuff, who devoured +his treat in two bites, and then, waving his +tail jauntily, ran on ahead to prepare Grandmother +for their coming.</p> +<p class="pnext">Halfway up the lane, the party met Miss +Liza, homeward bound.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Let me take Gentilla,” said she, when +she had heard the story. “I’ll leave her at +the camp. She is too little to understand, but +Susan has had quite a fright. They weren’t +gone from home an hour, though,” she +added, “but I suppose it seemed long +to them.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Of course it did. Susan could never be +made to believe that she and Gentilla had +not been imprisoned in the schoolhouse for +hours and hours, perhaps half a day.</p> +<p class="pnext">When she reached home, she enjoyed telling +the story over and over. Grandmother +was sympathetic, and gave Susan a lecture +upon going into strange places and shutting +the door behind her. Grandfather was concerned +with the fact that the door was open +at all, and wanted to know who had been +tampering with town property.</p> +<p class="pnext">Phil was the most satisfactory audience of +all, for he bitterly regretted having missed +the adventure, and listened again and again +to Susan’s account of it with undiminished +interest. She was able to brag and boast +to him as she could to no one else, and before +they separated for the night neither one was +quite sure whether or not real bears and +Indians had come out of the woods and +been driven away by Susan single-handed.</p> +<p class="pnext">“We’ll play about it,” said Phil, rising +slowly from the steps as he heard his mother +for the third time call him to come home. +“We’ll take turns being bears and Indians. +We can play in my woodshed and we’ll play +it the first thing—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Phil!” came his father’s voice.</p> +<p class="pnext">Phil skipped down the path toward home +with the speed of a grasshopper.</p> +<p class="pnext">“To-morrow!” he called back as he hopped +over the stone wall.</p> +<p class="pnext">Something so exciting was to happen +“to-morrow” that, for the time being, this +adventure was to be cast in the shade. But +Susan went to bed that night feeling quite a +heroine, and knowing there was no one in the +world Phil envied so much as herself.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-viiisusans-present"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id9">CHAPTER VIII—SUSAN’S PRESENT</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">The next morning early, before breakfast, +Susan ran out on the front porch to view the +new day. Grandfather had suggested that she +go look for “fairy tablecloths” in the grass, +but Susan more than half suspected that he +wanted her out of the way while he finished +shaving. She couldn’t help whisking about +the room and it did make his hand shake.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan watched two rosy little clouds grow +fainter and fainter in the pale blue morning +sky, and then disappear. She leaned over the +porch railing and stared down into the bed of +gay portulaca that Grandmother tended with +such care both night and morning.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Grandmother’s flowers,” thought she, +smiling at the bright little cups, all wet with +dew. “They are awake and I am awake. I +guess everybody is awake now. But where is +Snuff? He’s always the first one up.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan turned to go in search of her playmate +when a flutter of white caught her eye. +On one of the porch posts a slip of paper had +been fastened with a common white pin. In a +twinkling Susan was on the rail and down +again, paper in hand.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Grandfather, Grandfather, here’s a letter,” +she called, and, running through the +house, she gave the paper to Grandfather, +just settling himself at the breakfast table.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Hum,” said Mr. Whiting, when he had +read the slip and studied it backward and +forward. “This is a strange thing. It’s for +you, Susan. Look at this, Grandmother.”</p> +<p class="pnext">On a jagged slip of wrapping-paper, +printed in uneven letters that slanted downhill, +were the words:</p> +<p class="pnext">“A pressent for the little miss on the school-house +steps.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“A present for me?” said Susan, delighted, +as Grandfather read it aloud. “I’ll go +straight down and get it. Shall I?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, no. Eat your breakfast first,” answered +Grandfather, who was not nearly so +pleased at the idea of a present as Susan +thought he ought to be.</p> +<p class="pnext">In fact, over Susan’s head, he and Grandmother +exchanged glances which seemed to +say they did not altogether understand what +had happened.</p> +<p class="pnext">But Susan saw nothing of this, and, breakfast +over, she and Grandfather started at once +down the lane to see what her mysterious present +might be.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Grandfather, where is Snuff?” asked +Susan. “I haven’t seen him this morning.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No more have I,” answered Grandfather.</p> +<p class="pnext">He whistled again and again, and Susan +called, but no Snuff appeared in answer to +these familiar signals.</p> +<p class="pnext">On the school porch lay a dark bundle. It +was a large bundle, and it moved slightly from +side to side. As they drew nearer they heard a +wail, and Susan immediately recognized the +cry.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s Gentilla,” she called out. “It’s Gentilla +crying.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Yes, it was Gentilla, so securely wrapped +in a big gray shawl that had been wound +tightly about her and pinned in place that she +could move neither hands nor feet, and could +only rock herself from side to side as she lay +on the hard boards of the porch floor.</p> +<p class="pnext">Grandfather and Susan helped her out of +the blanket, and Gentilla tried to tell her +story, but all she could say was:</p> +<p class="pnext">“All gone away,—riding.”</p> +<p class="pnext">She rolled her big gray eyes and waved her +tiny hand, and that was the best that she could +do to explain her presence there so early in the +morning.</p> +<p class="pnext">There was a strange look on Grandfather’s +face, and he thrust his hands in his pockets and +pursed up his mouth as if to whistle as he +stared at the little schoolhouse. For from +every window the panes of glass had been +neatly removed, and a glance within showed +that the old stove had disappeared also.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You take Gentilla up to the house, Susan,” +said he. “I’m going down the road a +ways.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, I will,” said Susan. “But, Grandfather, +where is my present?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Perhaps Gentilla is the present,” called +back Mr. Whiting, already striding down the +hill.</p> +<p class="pnext">And half an hour later when he returned to +the house, Grandfather sank into a chair, put +the tips of his fingers together, and began to +laugh.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Do tell me what it is all about,” said +Grandmother, coming out on the porch, +duster in hand. “The children are over at Mrs. +Vane’s, and they came up here with such a +story that I don’t know what to think:—Gentilla +wrapped in a shawl, and panes of glass +gone, and I don’t know what all.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Grandfather nodded in agreement as she +spoke.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, sir,” said he. “They told the truth. +The glass is gone and the stove is gone from +the schoolhouse, and what is more, the gypsies +themselves have gone from the grove. They +have cleared out bag and baggage, and have +left Gentilla to us.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Do you mean to tell me that they have deserted +that child?” demanded Grandmother. +“What kind of people are they, anyway, to +do such a thing as that?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Gypsies,” answered Grandfather tersely. +“She wasn’t their own child, you know. And +they were always jealous of the way we +treated her. I suppose they argued that, if we +were so fond of her, we would be glad of the +chance to take care of her. I’ve telephoned, so +that people will be on the lookout for them, +but the chances are we shall never hear of them +again.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I wouldn’t want Gentilla to go back to +them after the way they have treated her,” +said Grandmother indignantly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, except that she is one of them, after +all,” answered Mr. Whiting. “Well, we will +keep the little girl for a time. We needn’t be +in any great hurry to decide what to do. At +any rate, Susan will enjoy a visit from her.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And that Susan proceeded to do at once. +She and Phil and Gentilla spent a long and +happy day together.</p> +<p class="pnext">But that night, with Gentilla tucked snugly +in the big spare-room bed across the hall, Susan +was so excited she couldn’t sleep. She +twisted and turned and tossed, and at last +pattered downstairs for a drink of water.</p> +<p class="pnext">In the kitchen, to her surprise, she found +Grandfather feeding Snuff, who had been +missing all day. Snuff ate his good supper as +if he were starving. He was covered with mud, +an old rope was tied round his neck, and he +was so stiff and lame he could scarcely hobble.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan waited until Grandfather had seen +Snuff safely at rest upon a comfortable bed +of straw in the barn. Then upstairs they went +together, and Grandfather lay down on the +outside of Susan’s bed beside her and took her +hand in his.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Where do you think Snuff was all day, +Grandfather?” began Susan. “I wish he +could talk and tell us.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“So do I,” said Grandfather heartily, +“Did I ever tell you about a dog I had when +I was a little boy—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, you did,” interrupted Susan. +“Thank you, Grandfather, but I know all +about him. His name was Nick and he was +black all over with not a white spot anywhere. +Grandfather, do you think Mr. James Lee +took the stove from the schoolhouse?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I think he did,” answered Grandfather +briefly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And the glass out of the windows?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“And the glass out of the windows.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What will he do with them?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Sell them, I think,” said Grandfather.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But they didn’t belong to him?” questioned +Susan.</p> +<p class="pnext">“No; they belonged to the town.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Then he stole!” exclaimed Susan, pulling +her hand from Grandfather’s so that she +might shake an accusing finger in his face.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It looks that way,” admitted Mr. Whiting.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But you wouldn’t steal.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I hope not,” returned Grandfather. “But +you must remember, Susan, that the gypsies +don’t go to school or to church, and so they +don’t know the difference between right and +wrong as well as the people who do.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“They ought to go,” said Susan morally. +“I go. Everybody ought to go. I’ll tell you +what I’m going to do. I’m going to teach +Gentilla Bible stories right away to-morrow. +How long will she stay here? Forever?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, not forever. I don’t know how long. +Now you must go to sleep, or Grandmother +will be up here after us.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I will,” promised Susan drowsily. “But, +you know, Grandfather, I think they took +Snuffy, too, and that is where he was all day. +Don’t you?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Grandfather nodded in the darkness. He +had been thinking the same thought, but he +tiptoed out of the room without another word, +and a moment later Susan fell asleep.</p> +<p class="pnext">Early the next morning she began to train +Gentilla. She made her say “thank you,” and +“please,” and “excuse me,” until the poor +little visitor was so bewildered that she +couldn’t answer the simplest question. She +forced her to listen to Bible stories which she +didn’t know very well herself, so poky and +long-drawn-out that, if Gentilla hadn’t had +a happy way of falling into little cat-naps +whenever the story was too dull to bear, I +don’t know what would have become of her.</p> +<p class="pnext">In her own behavior Susan was so moral +and proper, and so unlike her own lovable little +self, that Grandmother, though she didn’t +say a word, couldn’t help thinking, “If this +keeps up, I shall have to go away on a visit. +Only I know it won’t last.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And it didn’t last. It was too unnatural. Of +course it didn’t last.</p> +<p class="pnext">After dinner Grandmother asked Susan to +go to the store for two spools of black thread.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Your Grandfather has torn the pocket in +his coat,” said she. “Gentilla will wait with +me until you come back, for she walks slowly +and I am in a hurry.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, Grandmother,” said Susan, primly, +hoping they were admiring her manners.</p> +<p class="pnext">She walked quickly, and was back in a short +time with two spools of <em class="italics">white</em> thread.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But I told you <em class="italics">black</em>,” said Grandmother. +“I can’t mend your Grandfather’s coat with +white thread. I will keep these spools, but you +will have to go back for black ones. Remember +what I want it for, and then you won’t make +another mistake.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Gentilla, really enjoying herself alone with +Grandmother, sat on the shady porch, comfortably +holding Flip.</p> +<p class="pnext">The sun was hot, and the road was dusty, +and it is not pleasant when one is trying to be +an example to be told that one has made a mistake. +Susan felt aggrieved.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You said white spools, Grandmother,” +she answered bluntly. “I know you said +white.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Now this was not at all like Susan (perhaps +the strain of being an example was beginning +to tell) and Mrs. Whiting stared at her in surprise.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Do you mean to be saucy, Susan?” she +asked, after a pause. “Go on your errand at +once, without another word.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan turned on her heel and swallowed +hard. She wanted to scream, or throw something +at somebody, but she didn’t dare do +anything but walk slowly down the lane on her +errand.</p> +<p class="pnext">When she returned, Grandmother took the +spools and went into the house. Gentilla, still +cuddling Flip, looked up with a smile, but she +received a black look in return.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You can’t hold Flip,” said Susan, glowering +at her. “You may have Snowball, but +Flip is mine.” And she roughly seized Flippy +to pull her out of Gentilla’s arms.</p> +<p class="pnext">But Gentilla was not a gypsy child for +nothing. If Susan could pull and slap, she +could scratch and kick. So when Grandmother, +at sounds of the scuffle, looked out of the window, +she saw the model teacher and her pupil +engaged in a hand-to-hand battle, with innocent +Flip nearly torn in two between them.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Susan Whiting!” called Grandmother.</p> +<p class="pnext">And at the sound of her voice, with a +mighty push that sent Gentilla backward upon +the floor, Susan wrenched Flip from her +grasp, and turned and faced the window.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Put down your doll,” commanded Grandmother. +“Now, go upstairs to your room and +wait there for me.”</p> +<p class="pnext">It was a miserable Susan whom Grandmother +joined a few moments later. Without +a word, Mrs. Whiting washed the hot face and +hands, and helped Susan make ready for bed.</p> +<p class="pnext">Downstairs she put Gentilla into the hammock, +she herself lay down on the couch, and +the afternoon quiet was unbroken as they all +refreshed themselves with a long nap.</p> +<p class="pnext">When Susan woke, and saw Grandmother +standing by her bedside, she stretched out her +arms and laid her penitent head upon Grandmother’s +soft shoulder.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t know what did it,” said Susan at +last, when she had whispered for several moments +in Grandmother’s ear. “I meant to be +good. I was trying so hard.” And Susan pensively +put out her tongue and caught a tear +rolling slowly down her cheek.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, Susan, take my advice,” said +Grandmother sensibly, “and don’t try to +train Gentilla any more. It is all most of us +can do to take care of ourselves, and we think +Gentilla is a nice little girl just as she is now, +don’t we?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan nodded soberly. Much nicer than Susan +Whiting, she thought, as she remembered +slapping and pushing and knocking Gentilla +down.</p> +<p class="pnext">But she brightened when Grandmother +added:</p> +<p class="pnext">“Hurry now and dress yourself. We are all +invited over to Mrs. Vane’s for tea, Grandfather +and all. And you are going to wear +your new dress with the little pink flowers. I +put the last stitch in it for you not five minutes +ago.”</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-ixhickory-dickory-dock"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id10">CHAPTER IX—HICKORY DICKORY DOCK</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">It was a stormy autumn afternoon, and Phil +sat in his rocking-chair before the red coal fire +watching the clock upon the mantelpiece. He +hoped it would strike soon and tell him what +time it was, for he was expecting company, +and he felt that he had already waited quite +long enough.</p> +<p class="pnext">He looked round the nursery and saw that +everything was in its place, spick and span +and ready for visitors, too. The big dapple +gray rocking-horse stood in his corner, his fore +feet impatiently lifted and an eager gleam in +his brown glass eye. No doubt he was anxious +to do his part by giving the visitor as many +rides as she wished.</p> +<p class="pnext">The tin kitchen, with its gay blue oven, was +polished until it sparkled and glittered like +precious stones. The kitchen was a favorite +toy with Phil. He never tired of making +strange little messes of pounded crackers and +water, that smelled of the tins they were +cooked in, and tasted no one but Phil could +say how, for no one but he would eat them.</p> +<p class="pnext">His big electric train, running on real +tracks, a present from Great-Uncle Fred, was +nicely set up in the middle of the floor, and +looked as if it could take you to Jericho and +return in one afternoon. Little black Pompey +in a red-and-white striped minstrel suit, high +hat on head, looked anxiously from the cab of +the engine, for, as engineer, was he not responsible +for the safety of a whole family of +paper dolls who occupied an entire passenger +car and who seemed not at all concerned at +the delay in starting?</p> +<p class="pnext">The nodding donkey, the dancing bear, the +flannel rabbit with only one ear, stood stiffly +on parade. The box of tin soldiers and sailors +lay invitingly open.</p> +<p class="pnext">Yes, everything was ready, even to the big +sailboat that leaned against the wall, canvas +spread to catch the first salt breeze. And best +of all, there stood the low nursery table covered +with a spotless white cloth, a sight which +promised such a pleasant ending to what was +sure to be a pleasant afternoon that Phil +treated himself to a violent rocking as a way +of working off his emotion.</p> +<p class="pnext">For Phil had been ill in bed, and this was +his first taste of fun in two whole weeks. He +had looked forward mightily to this very moment, +and his mother’s promise that he should +have a party as soon as he was well had helped, +more than anything else, to make the big +spoonfuls of black medicine go down without +a struggle.</p> +<p class="pnext">Phil’s cheeks were white and his face was +thin, and he wore for warmth his manly little +blue-and-white checked bathrobe, since only +last night his cough had been croupy again. +Not that Phil called it his bathrobe. In admiring +imitation of his father’s lounging costume +he called it his “smoking-jacket,” and he had +even had the daring to slip a match or two into +the deep side pocket, in which he fervently +hoped no one might pry. If Phil’s mother had +even suspected such a thing, he and the +matches would have parted company speedily, +he well knew. He meant to slip them safely +back as soon as the party was over, and no one +would be the wiser or harmed in the least by +what he had done, he thought. He smiled to +himself as he fingered the forbidden objects +that nestled so innocently in his pocket and +gave him such a jaunty grown-up feeling.</p> +<p class="pnext">And, in Phil’s secret heart, there was another +reason why he was happy this afternoon. +Gentilla had gone away.</p> +<p class="pnext">It was not that Phil didn’t like Gentilla, +for he did. He had played happily with her +and Susan through the long summer days that +the little girl had spent in Featherbed Lane. +He had enjoyed, he thought, the long stay +Gentilla had made with the Whitings when +her gypsy relatives had disappeared in the +night and had never been heard of from that +time to this.</p> +<p class="pnext">But at last Gentilla’s visit had come to an +end. Mr. Drew knew of a Home for little children +who needed some one to love and care for +them. And so, one bright October day, the +good minister took the little gypsy girl to her +new home where she would lead an ordered, +comfortable life quite different from the +rough-and-tumble days she had known in +gypsy van or camp.</p> +<p class="pnext">At parting, Phil had presented Gentilla +with his treasured Noah’s ark because she +loved it so. He would willingly have given her +his express wagon, in which he had treated her +to many a ride, if his mother hadn’t explained +that it would not go into Gentilla’s tiny trunk +which her kind friends were filling for her with +a neat little outfit. He stood upon the station +platform, loyally waving his hat until the +train was quite out of sight.</p> +<p class="pnext">And it was not until then that he learned +how pleasant it was to have an undivided Susan +for a playmate once again, a Susan who +was always glad to see him, who never whispered +secrets and wouldn’t tell, who never ran +away from him, and who, in short, was to be +the chosen guest of honor that very afternoon.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It must be most supper-time,” grumbled +Phil. “I wish the clock would strike, or Susan +would come, or something would happen.”</p> +<p class="pnext">The clock on the mantel began a whirring +and creaking that caused Phil to spring to his +feet and fasten his eyes upon the little Roman +soldier in helmet and shield, who stood alert, +both day and night, atop the clock, ready to +strike the hours as they came. The whirring +grew louder. Slowly the little Roman soldier +raised his arm and loudly struck his shield +once, twice. Two o’clock!</p> +<p class="pnext">“Time for Susan,” said Phil joyfully.</p> +<p class="pnext">He dragged a low cricket to the window, +and, standing upon it, looked out at the sodden +brown lawn, the leafless trees rocking in a +late October gale, and the gray windswept +sky. Big raindrops hurried nowhere in particular +down the window-pane, and Phil amused +himself by racing them with his finger. And +presently he spied Susan.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Come on, come on!” he shouted, knocking +on the window, quite careless of the fact that +Susan couldn’t possibly hear him. “I’ve been +waiting forever. Come on!”</p> +<p class="pnext">The little figure in blue waterproof cape +and hood, Susan’s pride, hurried down to the +stone wall, through the gap, and across Phil’s +lawn. Here was a puddle, and the blue waterproof +hopped nimbly over it. Just one peep +into the empty dog kennel, and Phil heard the +side door shut, and knew that Susan would be +there in a moment.</p> +<p class="pnext">He waited impatiently, his eyes at the crack +of the nursery door, since the cold halls were +forbidden him. He heard Susan and his +mother talking, and at last up she came, a box +under her arm.</p> +<p class="pnext">“See what I’ve brought,” said Susan. +“Grandmother sent it. And your mother gave +me some, just now, too. We will each have a +long string of them.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan sat down on the hearth-rug and +opened the box. It was full of buttons, large +and small, dull and bright, white and colored, +and these she poured out in a little heap upon +the floor.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Grandmother sent a long thread for each +of us,” and Susan pounced upon a small parcel +at the bottom of the box. “She told me how +to do it, too. You string the buttons, as many +as you like, and one of them is your ‘touch +button.’ You must never tell which one that is, +because who ever touches that button must +give you one of his. Do you see?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“But won’t you even tell me, Susan?” +asked simple Phil, who wanted to share all +things with his friend, even to dark mysteries +like “touch buttons.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, yes,” said Susan generously, “if +you will tell me yours.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Phil nodded and rummaged in the button +heap.</p> +<p class="pnext">“These are good ones,” said he, ranging +them on the floor before him. “I’m going to +begin to string.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Phil’s taste was severe. He had chosen several +large, dark, velvet buttons, a brass military +button, a useful black button or two that +might have come from his father’s coat, a flat +silver disk as big as a dollar, and, as a lighter +touch, all the buttons he could find covered +with a gay tartan plaid gingham.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan uttered cries of delight as she rapidly +made her selection.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Look at these blue diamonds,” she exclaimed +rapturously over some glass buttons +that had seen better days. “And here is one +with beautiful pink flowers painted on it. Here +is a white fur one off my baby coat, and these +little violet-and-white checks are from Grandmother’s +gingham dress. I know they are.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now this is the grandmother,” she went +on, taking up a fat brown doorknob of a button. +“I’ll put her on my string first of all, so +that she can take care of the rest of them. And +next I’ll put this little green velvet one so +that it won’t be lonesome.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Which is your touch button?” asked Phil, +after working busily in silence for a whole +minute.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Shh-h-h!” warned Susan, looking +carefully about her before answering, as if a spy +might be peeping through the keyhole or even +hiding behind the one-eared rabbit. “This one. +It’s my favorite, too.” And she touched a +hard little rose-colored ball that looked uncommonly +like a pill. “Which is yours?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Phil proudly displayed the military button, +and whirled away from Susan just in time to +keep the secret from his mother who entered +the room, bearing a tray.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Are you ready for your refreshments?” +she asked, setting her burden down upon the +table. “Oh, let me see your button strings.”</p> +<p class="pnext">She took both strings in her hand to look +them over, and to the delight of the children +she touched both of the charmed buttons.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Touch! Touch!” they cried, capering +about like wild Indians. “You touched the +‘touch button.’ You owe us one now.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“So I do,” said Mrs. Vane, laughing. “I +had forgotten all about ‘touch buttons.’ I shall +be more careful after this. You won’t catch me +again. Now, Phil, there are your refreshments, +so draw up to the table whenever you are +ready. I must go look for buttons to pay my +debt!”</p> +<p class="pnext">Mrs. Vane, still laughing, took the tray and +went downstairs.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan and Phil found themselves ready for +the refreshments and made haste to set the +little table with the green-and-white china tea-set. +The dinner plates were quite large enough +to hold the sponge cakes, and if the tea-cups +seemed a trifle small, think how many more +times the brimming pitcher of lemonade would +go round.</p> +<p class="pnext">Phil set out four plates instead of two.</p> +<p class="pnext">“We will each ask one company to come to +the table,” said he. “I want the rocking-horse, +he looks so thirsty, and your grandfather +always stops to give Nero a drink when we go +riding.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And Phil dragged his steed over to the +table, where he rocked back and forth for a +moment bumping his nose against the edge of +the table each time. Indeed, with his open jaws +and bright red nostrils, he looked as if a whole +trough of lemonade would be needed to slake +his thirst.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’ll take the bunny because he has only +one ear,” said tender-hearted Susan.</p> +<p class="pnext">As she stooped to pick up the rabbit, she +uttered a scream and sent poor bun flying half-way +across the room. A small brown object, +far more frightened than Susan, sped like a +streak of lightning along the wall, and disappeared +into the big closet where Phil kept his +toys.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What is it? What is it?” cried Phil, for +Susan was jumping up and down with her +hands over her ears.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s on me! It’s on me!” cried Susan, +shuddering and shaking. “It’s a mouse! It’s +a mouse!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“It isn’t on you,” said Phil. “Don’t cry, +Susan. I saw him go in the closet. I’ll fix him, +you see.”</p> +<p class="pnext">With a bravery worthy of a better cause +Phil opened the closet door, struck one of his +precious matches, threw it into the closet after +the mouse, and firmly shut the door.</p> +<p class="pnext">“There now,” said he. “I fixed him.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What did you do?” quavered Susan, +opening one eye. “Are you sure he isn’t on +me? Look.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I killed him,” returned Phil briefly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“How?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I burned him up,” answered Phil in a deep +voice.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Really?” said Susan, awed. “But won’t +it set the house on fire?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No,” said Phil stoutly. “It won’t. I mean +I don’t think it will. Maybe we had better look +and see. You look, Susan.”</p> +<p class="pnext">On the floor of the closet stood an open +Jack-in-the-box, and it was upon poor Jack’s +hat that the match had alighted. Jack had +bushy white hair, and an equally bushy beard, +and he was blazing merrily, grinning like a +hero all the while, when Susan opened the +door.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan’s heart stood still. Oh, if Mrs. Vane +were only there!</p> +<p class="pnext">“Run, Phil!” she called. “Run for your +mother!”</p> +<p class="pnext">And then with a presence of mind that, +when he heard the tale, Grandfather considered +remarkable, she picked up the pitcher +of lemonade and emptied it over the blaze.</p> +<p class="pnext">Phil ran screaming downstairs.</p> +<p class="pnext">“The house is on fire and the mouse is +burned up! Mamma, Mamma, come quick! +The mouse is on fire and the house is burned +up!”</p> +<p class="pnext">When Mrs. Vane reached the nursery, she +found the fire out, the closet floor covered with +lemonade, Jack-in-the-box burned to a crisp, +and Susan, with shining eyes, not knowing +whether to laugh or cry, but able after a moment +to tell her story.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But, child,” said Mrs. Vane, when she had +made sure that the fire was completely out and +that the only article damaged was the unfortunate +Jack-in-the-box, “which one of you +had matches, and what has become of Phil? +Who had the match, Susan?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Ah, that was the question that Phil dared +not face, and that had caused him to hide himself +securely behind the big sofa in the parlor +where no one went in cold weather except for +a special reason.</p> +<p class="pnext">But at last he was found, and, standing before +his mother, listened with drooping head +to the truths his own conscience had already +told him.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I think you have found out for yourself, +Phil, why a little boy should never touch +matches,” said Mrs. Vane soberly. “If it +hadn’t been for Susan, our house might have +been burned to the ground. I’m sure I don’t +know what your father would say if he were +here.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Phil’s eyes grew glassy at the very thought, +but he said nothing. Indeed, there was nothing +he could say in excuse.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You have spoiled your party, and ruined +your Jack-in-the-box,” went on his mother. +“And, now, after hiding so long in that chilly +room, you will have to go straight to bed so +that you won’t take cold.”</p> +<p class="pnext">At this Phil’s tears burst forth, and Susan +was moved to pity.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, dear,” said she, with an arm about +Phil’s heaving shoulders, “he will never touch +the matches again, will you, Philly? Tell your +mother you won’t.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“N-n-no,” blubbered Phil dismally.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mrs. Vane smiled down at the small sinner’s +comforter.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It seems too bad that Susan shouldn’t +have her refreshments,” she remarked,—“especially +since she put out the fire.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And in a very few moments Susan was sitting +on the edge of Phil’s bed, and both were +drinking hot chocolate and eating the party +sponge cakes.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Hadn’t you better thank Susan for putting +out the fire and saving our house from +burning down?” asked Mrs. Vane, as, a little +later, she helped Susan into her waterproof. +She wanted to drive the lesson home, and impress +upon Phil’s mind the danger they had so +narrowly escaped.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Thank you, Susan,” returned Phil obediently. +“But I’m going to do something nice +for you to-morrow,” he added. “I’m going to +give you my ‘touch button,’ you see.”</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xthe-visit"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id11">CHAPTER X—THE VISIT</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Grandfather and Susan were going on a +visit to the Town of Banbury.</p> +<p class="pnext">They were to stay at the house of Grandfather’s +friend, Mr. Spargo, and Susan was +delighted at the thought, for once Mr. +Spargo had spent a whole week at Featherbed +Lane and with him had come his little +daughter Letty, just Susan’s age.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan remembered the good times they +had had together, and now she could scarcely +wait for the day to come when she would see +Letty Spargo again.</p> +<p class="pnext">They were going to Banbury, she knew, +because Grandfather had a “case” at the +Banbury Court-House. Susan thought of +this “case” as a big black bag something +like the suitcase Grandfather was to carry +on the visit. Sometime she meant to ask why +he kept a “case” so far away from home in +Banbury; but now that question must wait, +for she was very busy deciding just which of +her belongings she would take with her on the +journey.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan didn’t trouble her head about +dresses; Grandmother would attend to that, +she knew. Her difficulty lay in making up +her mind which of her toys to take with her, and +Grandmother looked with dismay at the pile +on Susan’s bed, a pile which, as Susan ran +blithely up and down stairs, grew larger +with every trip.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Susan, child,” said Grandmother, “what +are your washboard and tub doing on the bed +here, and this box of blocks, and your flat-iron? +Are you thinking of taking them to +Banbury? You will need a Saratoga trunk, if +you keep on.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I thought Letty would like to see them,” +faltered Susan, halting with an armful in the +doorway.</p> +<p class="pnext">“So she will, when she comes to visit you,” +answered Grandmother. “It is your turn now +to see her toys. And I should leave Flip and +Snowball home, too, if I were you. You will +be gone only four or five days, a week at the +most, you know.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I am afraid they will miss me,” said +Susan, coming forward to look wistfully at +her pile of treasures.</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, they won’t,” said Grandmother, shaking +her head with decision. “They will be all +the more glad to see you when you come home +again. And they will be company for me, too. +You don’t want to leave me entirely alone, +do you?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, Grandmother!” cried Susan, her +tender heart touched. “I don’t want to leave +you home alone at all. I won’t go. I won’t go +one step.” And she caught Mrs. Whiting’s +hand and patted it gently against her cheek.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Nonsense, Susan,” answered Mrs. Whiting, +smiling down upon her granddaughter. +“How do you suppose Grandfather would +get along without you to take care of him? And +I expect to be too busy to be lonely. I hope to +finish my braided rug while you are gone.”</p> +<p class="pnext">So Susan decided that, after all, she would +go with Grandfather, and that Grandmother +must be left in Flip and Snowball’s special +charge.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Take good care of Grandmother, and be +good children yourselves,” whispered she a +day or so later, as she ran into the little +sewing-room to bid them good-bye. Flip and +Snowball had been placed on top of the sewing-machine +so that they might easily guard +Grandmother as she braided her rug. “Kiss +me good-bye and look at my new hat.” And +Susan stole an admiring glance in the mirror +at her new squirrel cap.</p> +<p class="pnext">She felt very proud of her cap, with tippet +and muff to match, and once on the train she +sat up stiff and prim hoping some one +would say:</p> +<p class="pnext">“Who is that good little girl in the squirrel +furs?”</p> +<p class="pnext">But after waiting a whole minute to hear +the flattering comment which did not come, +Susan turned to look out of the window, and +sensibly forgot about herself and her furs as +she gazed at the world whirling past.</p> +<p class="pnext">She was so interested in all she saw that the +journey seemed a short one, and she could +scarcely believe it was over when Grandfather +folded his paper and lifted down the suitcase +from the rack over his head.</p> +<p class="pnext">But there on the platform stood Letty, +smiling shyly and holding fast to her father’s +hand, and, what seemed really wonderful to +Susan, Letty wore a little squirrel cap and +tippet and muff like her own.</p> +<p class="pnext">“We are twins!” cried Susan in an ecstasy +of joy, as arm in arm they walked up the +street behind Grandfather and Mr. Spargo.</p> +<p class="pnext">Her eyes were glancing hither and thither +as she surveyed the neat red-brick houses, +with white front door and glistening white +doorstep, each in its own spacious garden plot, +that made up street after street in Banbury +Town.</p> +<p class="pnext">“We are real twins,” agreed Letty, her blue +eyes shining and her yellow curls dancing as +she nodded eagerly at Susan. “And we are +going to sleep together; Mother said so. And +I asked Annie what was for dinner to-night, +but all she would tell me was ‘Brussels +sprouts’ and ‘Queen of Puddings.’ You like +Queen of Puddings, don’t you?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan admitted that she liked Queen of +Puddings. She had never before heard of +“Bussels sprouts,” but, if asked, she would +willingly have said that she liked them too, so +happy was she to be in Banbury and visiting +Letty Spargo.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But I haven’t told you the nicest yet, +Susan,” went on Letty, squeezing her visitor’s +arm as she talked. “There is going to be a +Fair in our church two days after to-morrow, +and there is going to be a Blackbird Pie. +Mother is going to have it, Mother and Miss +Lamb. Miss Lamb is my Sunday-School +teacher. And they are making the curtains +for it now, red curtains with big blackbirds +flying all over them. Now aren’t you glad you +came to see me?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan’s head was whirling. What was a +blackbird pie, and why should a pie have +curtains?</p> +<p class="pnext">At dinner, Susan discovered that “Bussels +sprouts” were like baby cabbages, but it was +not until later in the evening that Mrs. Spargo, +seeing Susan’s bewilderment at Letty’s talk +of the Blackbird Pie, made clear the mystery +to her.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It is not a real pie, Susan,” said she. “It +is going to be the largest dishpan we can buy, +covered with paper to look like a pie and filled +with little articles and toys that cost five or ten +cents each. You will pull a string, and out of +the pie will come something nice. And the +blackbird curtains are to drape the booth. +Do you understand?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan smiled up into Mrs. Spargo’s face. +Already she felt at home with Letty’s mother. +And she liked Letty’s baby, too, a fat, good-natured +blue-eyed baby, not quite two years +old, who poked his fingers into everything and +who never cried no matter how many times he +sat down hard on the floor with a thump.</p> +<p class="pnext">“He is a little bit banty because he is fat. +That is why he sits down so hard. But I like +babies to be banty,” said Letty loyally.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I do too,” agreed Susan. “They are much +nicer that way.”</p> +<p class="pnext">The next morning before sun-up, Letty and +Susan were awake, both very much surprised +to find themselves side by side in bed.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I knew I was here when I went to sleep,” +said Susan, rubbing her eyes and staring +round, “but when I woke up I thought I was +home.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, you are here,” said Letty, sitting up +on top of her pillow as if it were a stool and +speaking earnestly. “Now I’ll tell you what +I thought, Susan. You know the Fair is only +one day after to-morrow now. Don’t you think +we ought to begin to save right away so that +we can have lots of pulls at the Blackbird Pie? +And there will be ice-cream, too, and other +good things, I know. Have you any money?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan was as business-like as Letty.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, plenty,” she answered, slipping +out of bed.</p> +<p class="pnext">And a moment later, she and Letty were +gazing into the depths of her little green handbag +where shone three bright new ten-cent +pieces.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Good,” said Letty. “Just think how much +we can buy with that. Now I haven’t any +money at all. But Father comes home to lunch +every day, and we will be there to meet him +when he comes up the street. I will ask him for +some money then, and when he goes back to +the office after luncheon I will ask him for +more. He will never remember,” said Letty, +with a confidence born of experience. “He is a +very absent-minded man. My mother herself +says so.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan was charmed with this idea.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Shall we keep it all in my pocketbook?” +she asked. Already she could see its green +sides bulging with riches.</p> +<p class="pnext">Letty twisted a curl and pondered.</p> +<p class="pnext">“No,” she decided at last, “for you might +take it out in the street with you and lose it. +I’ll show you where we will keep our money.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And on tiptoe for fear of waking the baby, +she crept into the nursery next door and back.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Here! just the thing,” said she, displaying +a little round white jar decorated with a +bunch of scarlet holly berries and prickly +green leaves.</p> +<p class="pnext">“We can keep our money in this, because it +is mine. No one will touch it. And we will put +it on the end of the mantelpiece in the nursery, +up high where the baby can’t reach it. Shall we +do that?”</p> +<p class="pnext">In answer, Susan shook her three ten-cent +pieces into the jar, and with head on one side +admired the effect.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But if any one looks in he will see the +money, and maybe ask what it is for. Then we +can’t keep it a secret,” she objected.</p> +<p class="pnext">Letty, with finger on lip, tiptoed into the +nursery again, and returned with a doll’s +brown-and-white checked sunbonnet in her +hand.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It belongs to the baby’s doll, Lolly,” said +she. “I just snatched up the first thing I could +find. We will stuff it into the jar on top of +the money, and if people see it, they will think +we have left it there careless-like.”</p> +<p class="pnext">The sunbonnet was tucked into the jar, and +the little girls felt perfectly sure that no one +would suspect the presence of money under it.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It does look put there careless-like, +doesn’t it?” repeated Letty.</p> +<p class="pnext">She liked to use those words which she had +borrowed from Annie the cook. Many times +had she heard Annie say, “I think I’ll toss +off a pudding, careless-like, for dinner,” or, +“I’ll give the room a little dusting, careless-like, +before your mother comes home,” and +she admired the turn of expression.</p> +<p class="pnext">At noon that day, on his way home to +luncheon, Mr. Spargo was warmly greeted by +Letty and Susan halfway down the block and +escorted to his own door. Upon Letty’s +whispering in his ear, he slipped two ten-cent +pieces into her hand.</p> +<p class="pnext">“One for each of you,” said he, good-naturedly +tweaking Letty’s nose, red in the +sharp November wind.</p> +<p class="pnext">When he came out an hour or so later, he +was in a hurry, and in answer to Letty’s +murmur he dropped a handful of small coins +into her outstretched palm, and hastily +departed without waiting for the chorus of +thanks that followed him down the street and +round the corner.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Four pennies, two fives, and a quarter. As +sure as I live, a quarter!” counted Letty. “Oh, +Susan, Susan!” And flinging their arms about +one another, the little girls hopped joyously +about until Susan tripped and went down +in a heap.</p> +<p class="pnext">The girls found it hard to keep away from +the little holly jar. The money was taken out +and counted over and over each time the +nursery was found unoccupied save by placid +Johnny, who innocently played with his shabby +Lolly or ran unsteadily about the room, bumping +down and picking himself up undisturbed.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Only to-day, and then to-morrow is the +Fair,” said Letty the next morning. “We +must be sure not to miss Father at noon.”</p> +<p class="pnext">But to-day, of all days, Mr. Spargo did +not come home to luncheon at all. He and Mr. +Whiting were both busy with the mysterious +“case” at Banbury Court-House.</p> +<p class="pnext">Letty and Susan consoled themselves by +counting the money and planning what they +would buy with it.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And there is still to-morrow before we go +to the Fair,” suggested Susan hopefully. +“When are we going to tell, and show the +bowlful? Maybe Grandfather will give us +more when he hears about it.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan enjoyed having a secret with Letty, +but she wanted to share it with Grandfather, +too.</p> +<p class="pnext">“We will tell when we are ready to start for +the Fair,” answered Letty firmly, “and not a +minute before. You never can tell what will +happen.”</p> +<p class="pnext">But this plan was not carried out. Letty +little knew how truly she spoke when she said +“you never can tell what will happen.”</p> +<p class="pnext">The next day, the great Day of the Fair, +the money was counted the first thing in the +morning, as soon as Johnny had had his bath +and Mrs. Spargo had left the room.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Five tens, one quarter, two fives, and four +pennies!” Susan and Letty had said it so often +that they could repeat it backward. It had +grown to be a chant that rang in their ears.</p> +<p class="pnext">Half an hour later they stole back to +count it again.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Look,” said Susan, stooping in the middle +of the room. She held out the little brown-and-white +sunbonnet that had hidden the money so +“careless-like.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Letty ran to the mantelpiece. The jar was +gone!</p> +<p class="pnext">For an instant she and Susan stared at one +another. Then they ran wildly about the room +looking in every nook and corner for the missing +jar, much to baby Johnny’s entertainment. +He sat on the floor sucking his fingers, and he +laughed and chuckled and kicked his heels up +and down as he watched the exertions of his +sister and her friend.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Here it is,” called Letty at last. “By the +doll’s bed.” And from under the bed, where +slumbered Lolly face downward, out rolled +the little holly jar.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But where is the money?” demanded +Letty. Her first fright over, she was +growing angry.</p> +<p class="pnext">“There is something in Johnny’s mouth,” +announced Susan.</p> +<p class="pnext">With a practiced hand, Letty put her finger +into the baby’s mouth and out came the quarter.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, you! You!” cried Letty. Her face +grew pink and she gave Johnny a shake that +sent him backward upon the floor.</p> +<p class="pnext">Treated so unkindly and robbed of his new +plaything, Johnny burst into a wail that +brought his mother hurrying to his side.</p> +<p class="pnext">While she listened to Susan and Letty, who +both talked at once in their excitement, Mrs. +Spargo was feeling carefully in Johnny’s +mouth and, when at last she spoke, she said:</p> +<p class="pnext">“The first thing to do is to find the money, +for until we do I shall be afraid that Johnny +has swallowed some of it. Do you know how +much you had?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Five tens, one quarter, two fives, and four +pennies,” answered Susan and Letty in +a breath.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mrs. Spargo smiled.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Here is the quarter,” said she. “Now we +must all hunt for the rest of the money.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“How did Johnny reach up to the mantelpiece?” +demanded Letty. “We have to +stretch and stretch, and we put the jar there on +purpose because it was so high.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Mrs. Spargo pointed to a chair, and Johnny, +taking the hint, in a short time, in spite of his +bandy legs, had hitched and pulled himself up +until he stood upon the seat. He laughed and +clapped his hands and made a sudden spring +at his mother who caught him just in time to +save him from a fall.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Rascal,” said she, patting him on the +back as he clung to her. “That is how he did +it. Now we must all look for the money.”</p> +<p class="pnext">It was surprising the number of places +Johnny Spargo had contrived to hide the +money.</p> +<p class="pnext">Four ten-cent pieces were found in Letty’s +doll carriage; three pennies were under the +rug; one five-cent piece was on the window-sill; +the other in the express wagon. But one +penny and a ten-cent piece were still missing.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, Johnny, did you swallow them?” +asked Mrs. Spargo.</p> +<p class="pnext">But Johnny, not being able to talk, only +laughed and hid his face in his mother’s neck.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan and Letty were crawling about the +floor on their hands and knees when Mrs. +Spargo had a bright thought.</p> +<p class="pnext">She unbuttoned Johnny’s little brown shoe, +and there, tucked in the side, was the penny.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now only the ten cents is lacking,” said +Mrs. Spargo. “How happy I shall be if we +find it and I know he has not swallowed it.”</p> +<p class="pnext">But it seemed as though the ten-cent piece +was not to be found. Everything was turned +upside down and shaken, furniture was moved, +corners were brushed out, but no piece of +money came to light.</p> +<p class="pnext">At last Susan and Letty dismantled the +doll’s bed, and vigorously shook and flapped +each little sheet and blanket. Letty fell upon +the pillows and beat them violently, while +Susan rescued poor Lolly from under foot, +and, holding her out of the baby’s reach, +danced her up and down to Johnny’s great +delight.</p> +<p class="pnext">He stretched out his hands for his dolly, and +just then Susan gave a cry of joy.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’ve found it! It’s here! It’s inside Lolly. +Feel! Feel! It’s here!”</p> +<p class="pnext">Sure enough, through a hole in poor old +Lolly’s back Johnny had poked the ten-cent +piece, and there it lay embedded in dolly’s soft +cotton inside.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’m so glad,” said Mrs. Spargo, “and so +relieved. I felt that it simply must be found, +and now here it is. My precious Johnny! You +didn’t swallow it after all.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And Mrs. Spargo hugged Johnny as if he +had done something very wonderful indeed, +instead of turning his nursery topsy-turvy for +half an hour.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I feel the same way,” confided Letty to +Susan in a low voice, “for I didn’t know what +kind of a time we would have at the Fair to-night +if we didn’t find that ten-cent piece.”</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xihow-the-money-was-spent"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id12">CHAPTER XI—HOW THE MONEY WAS SPENT</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">It was the night of the Fair.</p> +<p class="pnext">Letty and Susan, on tiptoe with excitement +and carefully carrying the green leather bag +between them, walked to the church behind +Mrs. Spargo and Miss Lamb, whose Blackbird +Pie was all ready and waiting for customers.</p> +<p class="pnext">In the green pocketbook reposed the “five +tens, one quarter, two fives, and four pennies.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“See that star, Letty?” asked Susan, holding +tight to Letty’s arm as she gazed up at the +moon, half hidden in the clouds, and at a single +star that shone near by. “Let’s wish on it.”</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">“Star light, star bright,</div> +<div class="line">First star I’ve seen to-night,</div> +<div class="line">I wish I may, I wish I might</div> +<div class="line">Have the wish I wish to-night”—</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">recited the two little girls in chorus.</p> +<p class="pnext">There was silence for a moment, and then +Susan whispered:</p> +<p class="pnext">“What did you wish, Letty?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Will you tell me if I tell you?” was +Letty’s reply.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan nodded, and bent her ear invitingly +to her friend’s lips.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I wished that we would have a good time +at the Fair,” whispered Letty.</p> +<p class="pnext">“So did I!” cried Susan, opening her eyes +wide. “So did I! Isn’t it strange that we always +think of the same thing? We must be +really truly twins.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“We are,” answered Letty with conviction. +“I do wish you weren’t going home to-morrow. +I wish you could stay here forever.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Here Mrs. Spargo and Miss Lamb turned +in at the church gate, gayly illumined to-night +for the Fair by a colored lantern, and the +“twins” followed close on their heels down a +narrow stone walk and through a side door +into the lecture-room of the church.</p> +<p class="pnext">“This is the Sunday-School room,” whispered +Letty. “There is my seat over in the +corner. Oh, look, look! There is the Blackbird +Pie.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And, sure enough, in the very corner where +Letty sat every Sunday morning in company +with four other little girls and Miss Lamb, +stood a booth draped with scarlet curtains over +which winged a gay flight of blackbirds. And +best of all, there was the Blackbird Pie in the +midst, so enticing with its profusion of strings, +so mysterious with its hidden treasure of “toys +and small articles for five and ten cents,” that +Susan and Letty made a bee-line in that direction +determined to spend all their wealth on +that particular attraction.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Give me your hats and coats, girls,” said +Mrs. Spargo. “And if I were you, I would +walk around the room first and see what there +is for sale before I spent my money here.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, just one pull, just one pull,” clamored +the little girls, gazing at the fascinating Pie +with eager eyes.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mrs. Spargo laughed.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Red strings are five cents, white ones are +ten,” said she. “Pull away!”</p> +<p class="pnext">The green pocketbook was opened and the +bankers peered inside just as if they didn’t +already know the contents by heart.</p> +<p class="pnext">“There are the two fives,” said Letty who +thought herself quite a business woman. “Let +us spend them now and get rid of them.”</p> +<p class="pnext">So, after studying the Pie from all angles, +two red strings that seemed especially desirable +were chosen; and, grasping them firmly +and shutting their eyes, Susan and Letty each +pulled on her own string and out came two +little parcels, neatly wrapped in scarlet paper.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Look, look!” called Susan, poking a small +plaid box, that held four colored pencils, in +Letty’s face.</p> +<p class="pnext">“See mine, see mine!” answered Letty, returning +the compliment by thrusting under +Susan’s nose a tiny doll’s pocketbook, just big +enough to hold a cent.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I like mine best,” said Susan contentedly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I do too,” responded Letty.</p> +<p class="pnext">And, thoroughly satisfied, they set off hand +in hand on a tour of the room.</p> +<p class="pnext">The handkerchief-and-apron table they +passed by with scarcely a glance. That booth +might be interesting to grown people, but they +didn’t intend to spend any of their money +upon such useful, everyday articles.</p> +<p class="pnext">The fancy table came next in their wanderings, +and Susan and Letty, though admiring +the embroidered sofa cushions, the lace table-covers, +and the satin workbags, knew that they +could never afford such splendors.</p> +<p class="pnext">“They must cost a hundred dollars,” said +Letty, who, since it was her church and therefore +her Fair, so to speak, felt that she must +supply Susan with information.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Maybe we can find a little present here for +your mother and for Grandmother,” said the +country mouse to the city mouse in a low voice.</p> +<p class="pnext">The city mouse nodded in reply and stood +on tiptoe for a better view. It had been decided +before leaving home that a present should be +bought for Mrs. Spargo and one for Mrs. +Whiting.</p> +<p class="pnext">“There seem to be little things down at +this end,” announced Letty. “Come on. I’m +going to ask.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And, catching the eye of one of the ladies in +charge, she piped up:</p> +<p class="pnext">“Please, have you any presents here for +about ten cents? We want one for my mother +and one for Susan’s grandmother.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ten cents?” said the lady, shaking her +head. “I’m afraid not. But let me look about +and see.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Presently she returned with a handful of +articles which she placed before her small customers.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’ve nothing for ten cents,” said she +kindly. “But here are several articles for +twenty-five and thirty and fifty cents.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, Letty, I want that for Grandmother,” +said Susan, forgetting both her shyness and +her manners as she pointed a forefinger at an +object which she felt sure would delight +Grandmother beyond words.</p> +<p class="pnext">It was a pale-blue stocking-darner with a +little girl painted on one side and a little boy +on the other, and Susan knew in her heart that +she would never be happy again unless she +could carry it home to-morrow and place it in +Grandmother’s hands.</p> +<p class="pnext">“That is twenty-five cents,” said the lady, +and she waited patiently while Susan and +Letty put their heads together and consulted +whether they ought to spend so large a sum.</p> +<p class="pnext">At length Letty decided it.</p> +<p class="pnext">“We will,” said she recklessly.</p> +<p class="pnext">So the stocking-darner was wrapped and +tied and handed over to Susan, who, without a +single qualm, watched Letty take the precious +quarter from its resting-place in the green +pocketbook and hand it across the counter. It +was money well spent, she thought.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now we must buy something for my +mother,” said Letty. “How do you like this, +Susan?”</p> +<p class="pnext">It was a long purple box covered with +bunches of violets and scrolls of gilt. In it +were three cakes of strongly scented violet +soap.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I like it,” said Susan, sniffing vigorously. +“The box is pretty, too. Maybe your mother +will give it to you when it is empty.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I will take this, please,” said Letty, with +the air of an experienced shopper.</p> +<p class="pnext">And so easy and so delightful is it to form +the habit of spending money that Letty and +Susan didn’t even blink when they heard the +price, “thirty cents.”</p> +<p class="pnext">They moved on, laden with their bundles, +their eyes glancing hither and thither as they +missed nothing of the gay scene about them. +The Fair was now at its height. Every one was +either buying or selling or walking about, +laughing and talking, and all displaying their +purchases in such a holiday mood, that Susan, +at least, felt that she had never been in such a +festive scene before.</p> +<p class="pnext">They had halted near the despised apron +table when, glancing up, Susan spied above +her head a doll made of Turkish toweling.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Letty,” said she, pulling at her friend’s +dress, “can’t we buy that doll for Johnny? I +know he would like it, and his old Lolly has a +hole in her back.”</p> +<p class="pnext">So Letty, as spokesman and guardian of the +pocketbook, bought and paid for the soft little +dolly which fortunately proved to cost only +ten cents.</p> +<p class="pnext">Near the apron table was a half-open door +which led into the church kitchen. In the kitchen +stood the high freezers that supplied the +popular ice-cream table, and, busily washing +dishes with her back turned to the door, stood +hard-working Swedish Mrs. Jansen, who was +glad of the money that the church cleaning +and any odd jobs might bring to her.</p> +<p class="pnext">Her little girl Emmy, no older than Letty +and Susan, stood at her elbow, ready to act as +errand girl. And just at the moment that Susan +and Letty caught sight of her, Emmy was +in disgrace, for her mother turned angrily +upon her and with her hard fingers snipped +the sides of her flaxen head. Then she resumed +her dish-washing, and Emmy slunk away to +the door, where she stood rubbing her sharp +little knuckles in her eyes and peeping out at +the gay scene in which she had no part.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Did you see that?” asked Letty indignantly. +“Wasn’t that the meanest?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Wasn’t it?” answered Susan, her eyes +round with sympathy. “Let’s buy her a present.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Present-buying, if Susan had stopped to +think, seemed to be somewhat like running +downhill—not so easy at the beginning, but, +once started, the simplest thing in the world.</p> +<p class="pnext">And Letty was of one mind with her.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ice-cream,” she decided. “And we will +watch her eat it.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Glowing with patronage and generosity, +and feeling as important as if they were +treating a whole orphan asylum, Letty and +Susan led the astonished Emmy across the +room to the ice-cream table.</p> +<p class="pnext">“The best ice-cream that you have for ten +cents,” ordered Letty largely.</p> +<p class="pnext">And in a few moments they had the pleasure +of seeing Emmy devour, in luscious +mouthfuls, a large saucer of the pink-and-white +frozen sweet.</p> +<p class="pnext">“When are we going to have ours?” asked +Susan, who began to think it would be fully as +pleasant to sit down and eat ice-cream herself +as to stand with hands full of bundles and +watch some one else enjoying the treat.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Right now,” returned Letty, with an air +of authority.</p> +<p class="pnext">She opened the pocketbook as she spoke, but +after a glance inside she turned a dismal +countenance upon her friend.</p> +<p class="pnext">“We’ve spent it,” she faltered. “We’ve +spent it all but four cents.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And she held the pocketbook, now woefully +empty, so that Susan might see the sad truth +for herself.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan stared blankly from the pocketbook +into Letty’s face.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Won’t we have any ice-cream at all, +then?” she asked piteously.</p> +<p class="pnext">Resourceful Letty turned and led the way +down the room.</p> +<p class="pnext">“We will just ask mother for some money,” +said she airily.</p> +<p class="pnext">But alas for their plans! The Blackbird Pie +was so popular, and both Mrs. Spargo and +Miss Lamb were so occupied, that they did not +even see Susan and Letty, who tried in vain to +gain their attention.</p> +<p class="pnext">They wandered back to watch Emmy finishing +her ice-cream, quite innocent of the fact +that her benefactors’ feeling toward her had +undergone a change.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Greedy thing,” said Letty spitefully. +“See how she gobbles.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“She’s spilling it,” murmured Susan. +“Look at her. Even Johnny wouldn’t do +that.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Look, look!” gasped Letty. “Did you +ever?”</p> +<p class="pnext">For poor Emmy, to whom ice-cream was a +rare treat, had lifted her saucer in both hands +and was polishing it off with her little pink +tongue, for all the world like a pussy-cat.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Come along,” said Letty impatiently. +“We can buy some candy, anyway, with our +four cents.”</p> +<p class="pnext">At the candy table another disappointment +awaited them. They looked scornfully at the +two squares of fudge which was all their four +cents would buy for them.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I never knew anything like it,” scolded +Letty, with her mouth full. “You can do a +great deal better round the corner from home. +It’s only a penny a square and much nicer +than this.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Good-evening, young ladies,” said a voice +over their heads, “I hope you are enjoying the +Fair to-night.”</p> +<p class="pnext">The little girls looked up into the face of the +new minister, Dr. Steele, and Susan hastily +licked off her finger-tips so that she might +shake hands politely, while Letty choked on a +large crumb of fudge and burst into a spasm +of coughing.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I hope you are both enjoying the evening,” +repeated Dr. Steele, pulling out his +handkerchief and offering it to Letty, whose +eyes were streaming with tears and who had +left her handkerchief in her coat pocket. He +and Letty were old acquaintances, but it was +Susan who answered his question, since Letty +was unable to speak.</p> +<p class="pnext">“We did have a good time,” said Susan +frankly, “until we spent all our money. But +now we aren’t having a good time, for our +money is all gone and we haven’t had a bit of +ice-cream; not a bit.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’ll tell you what it is,” burst out Letty, +who had recovered her voice. “I think everybody +charged us too much for everything, and +that is why we haven’t any money left.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Dr. Steele’s eyes twinkled.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I have heard that complaint before about +church fairs,” said he. “Suppose you show me +what you bought, and I will tell you whether I +think you have been overcharged.”</p> +<p class="pnext">So Susan and Letty spread their purchases +out upon a bench, and Dr. Steele sat down to +look them over.</p> +<p class="pnext">“The pencil box and the pocketbook were +five cents apiece,” began Letty. “But they are +all right because Mother sold them to us. Then +Susan bought a stocking-darner for her +grandmother. Show it to Dr. Steele, Susan. +That lady in a blue silk dress made her pay a +quarter for it, and I think she asked too much. +And she made me pay thirty cents for this +present for my mother. I think she ought to +give us some of the money back.” And Letty +shook her head wrathfully at the broad back +of a placid, fair-haired lady who stood behind +the fancy table.</p> +<p class="pnext">Dr. Steele glanced at the lady and smothered +a laugh. It was his own wife, Mrs. Steele, +whom Letty had not recognized without a hat.</p> +<p class="pnext">Dr. Steele admired both presents and looked +at the price tags still tied to them.</p> +<p class="pnext">“No,” said he at last. “They are marked +twenty-five and thirty cents. I don’t think you +were overcharged here. I think you have good +value for your money. And you spent ten +cents on a doll for the baby, and ten cents to +treat a little girl to ice-cream, and four cents +on candy for yourselves. No,” repeated Dr. +Steele soberly, shaking his head, “I think you +have proved yourselves excellent shoppers, +and that you have spent your money to very +good effect. And I now invite both you young +ladies to be my guests at the ice-cream table.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Dr. Steele rose, and escorted Susan and +Letty across the room. He sat down between +them, and, though he was able to eat only one +plate of ice-cream while they easily devoured +two apiece, he seemed to enjoy the treat quite +as well as they.</p> +<p class="pnext">When they had finished, there stood Annie +in the doorway, waiting to take them home. +Mrs. Spargo would stay until the Fair closed, +and that would be too late for the little girls +to be out of bed.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Good-night,” said Dr. Steele, shaking +hands. “And remember what I told you. That +you are excellent shoppers, and that you have +good value for your money, very good value, +indeed.”</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xiithanksgiving-in-featherbed-lane"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id13">CHAPTER XII—THANKSGIVING IN FEATHERBED LANE</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">It was the morning of Thanksgiving Day, +and Susan woke, sat up in bed, and looked +about her. Beside her, on the quilt, lay the +black-and-white shawl dolly, and, if you remember +that she came out to play only when +Susan was ailing, then you will know, without +being told, that Susan had been ill.</p> +<p class="pnext">Yes, for three whole days Susan had been in +bed. But to-day she meant not only to be up +and dressed, but to go downstairs as well, for +to-day was Thanksgiving Day, and to stay in +bed on such an occasion was something Susan +didn’t intend to do.</p> +<p class="pnext">Four days ago Susan and Grandfather had +come home from Banbury. They had arrived +late in the evening, and Susan, tired out, had +fallen asleep in her chair at the dinner-table, +and had been carried up to bed without telling +Grandmother a single word about her visit or +even presenting her with the stocking-darner +which she had carried in her hand all the way +home from Letty’s house.</p> +<p class="pnext">Of the next two days all Susan could remember +was a sharp pain and a big black +bottle of medicine, with occasional glimpses +of Grandmother and Grandfather tiptoeing +about the darkened room.</p> +<p class="pnext">But yesterday Susan had felt more like herself. +She had enjoyed cuddling the shawl +baby, she had eaten a plate of milk toast for +her dinner, and she had given Grandmother a +complete history of her visit from the moment +she left Featherbed Lane until her return.</p> +<p class="pnext">She had asked to see Flip, but Grandmother +had said mysteriously that Flip, in her turn, +had gone visiting, and that she wouldn’t be +back until dinner-time Thanksgiving Day.</p> +<p class="pnext">“When is Thanksgiving Day?” Susan had +asked.</p> +<p class="pnext">“To-morrow,” Grandmother had answered, +and Susan had sprung up in bed with a cry.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Won’t I be well to-morrow?” she asked +imploringly. “Won’t I be well for Thanksgiving +Day?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Grandmother at this moment was shaking +the big black medicine bottle. It did seem to +Susan that it was always medicine time, +though Grandmother said it was marked on +the bottle “To be taken every two hours.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Mrs. Whiting smiled at her tone of despair.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I think so,” said she encouragingly. +“That is, if you take your medicine nicely,” +she added, approaching the bed with a large +spoon in one hand and the bottle in the other.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan shut her eyes and opened her mouth. +Down went the medicine, and, without a +whimper and with only a wry face to tell how +she really felt, Susan smiled bravely up at +Grandmother.</p> +<p class="pnext">“A good child,” said Grandmother approvingly. +“I’m sure you will be downstairs to-morrow.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Now to-morrow had come, and Susan, slipping +out of bed and into her warm rosy wrapper +and slippers, trotted downstairs in search +of some one.</p> +<p class="pnext">She found Grandmother quite alone, save +for a delicious smell in the air of roasting +turkey. Grandmother was busy baking, but +she stopped long enough to help Susan dress +and to answer a few of the questions that tumbled +pell-mell from Susan’s lips.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Where is Grandfather? Gone to Thanksgiving +service at church. You slept late this +morning, Susan. When will Phil be home? Not +for two weeks. They have all gone to his +grandfather’s for Thanksgiving, and they +mean to visit his Great-Uncle Fred, who gave +him his electric train, on their way back.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Is any one coming here for Thanksgiving, +Grandmother?” asked Susan, delicately eating +a bowl of bread and milk for breakfast +from one end of the table on which Mrs. Whiting +was stirring up a cake.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Miss Liza is coming,” answered Mrs. +Whiting, stopping her work and putting +down her spoon. “I may as well tell you now, +Susan, I suppose. Miss Lunette is married.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan looked at Grandmother for a moment +without speaking. How unkind of Miss +Lunette to have a wedding while she was +away!</p> +<p class="pnext">“Didn’t she save me any cake?” she asked +at length. “Did Phil go to the wedding?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“There wasn’t any wedding, Susan, or any +cake,” answered Mrs. Whiting. “No one was +invited but Miss Liza. They stood up in the +parlor and Mr. Drew married them. Then they +went off to Green Valley, where her husband +lives.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Maybe she will ask me to come to see her +there,” said Susan hopefully.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Perhaps she will,” said Grandmother. “It +may be the making of her, Susan,” she went +on, half to herself. “She certainly was full of +whims and crotchets, and would try the patience +of any one but a saint like Miss Liza. +Your Grandfather always said that all she +needed was hard work, and I think she will +have it now, for her husband was a widower +with three children and an old mother, too. It +may make a woman of her. I hope so, I’m +sure. I know things won’t be so hard for Miss +Liza, and I’m glad of that.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And Grandmother beat her batter with such +determination that her cheeks grew pink and +her little white curls bobbed up and down in +time with the beating.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Is Flip coming with Miss Liza?” asked +Susan.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Um-um,” was all Grandmother answered.</p> +<p class="pnext">So Susan put away her little bowl and went +into the front hall to call upon her friend the +newel post.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You ought to be dressed up for Thanksgiving,” +decided Susan, stroking her friend’s +bulky form. “Which do you like best, pink or +blue? Pink, did you say? Then Snowball shall +wear a blue ribbon and you shall have a pink +one on your neck to celebrate the day.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan spent some time selecting and arranging +the ribbons to suit the taste of all concerned. +She then found the table set for +Thanksgiving dinner, so she posted herself in +the front window where she could look all the +way down the lane to the gate and report to +Grandmother the moment old Nero’s Roman +nose was visible.</p> +<p class="pnext">She watched and watched, and at last they +came jogging along, Miss Liza well wrapped +up against the cold November air that had a +“feel” of snow in it, and Grandfather wearing +his fur-lined gloves for the first time this +season, Susan observed.</p> +<p class="pnext">In came Miss Liza, while Grandfather +drove on to the barn, and to Susan’s delight +Miss Liza carried a big bundle which she +placed in the little girl’s outstretched arms.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s Flip,” Susan repeated joyfully. “I +know it’s Flip. It’s my Flip.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Yes, it was Flip, but a Flip so changed, so +beautified, so transformed that only the members +of her own family would have known her.</p> +<p class="pnext">In the first place, her face and hands, which +had grown a dingy brown, had become several +shades lighter, producing a fresh, youthful +appearance heretofore sorely lacking. Her +bald head had blossomed out in a beautiful +crop of worsted hair, in color a rich garnet-brown.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Miss Lunette always used that color for +her worsted hens,” Miss Liza explained, +“and I thought it would make real pretty-looking +hair for Flip.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan was delighted with the effect. She +smiled radiantly at Miss Liza. But when she +examined her child’s complete new wardrobe, +she put Flippy down on the couch, and flung +her arms first around Miss Liza and then +about Grandmother’s neck.</p> +<p class="pnext">For Flippy wore a new set of underwear, +even to a red flannel petticoat trimmed with +red crocheted lace. She wore a brown cloth +dress, elaborately decorated with yellow feather-stitching. +But, most beautiful of all, about +her sloping shoulders was a dark-blue cape, +lined with scarlet satin and edged with narrow +black fur; upon her head was tied a dark-blue +fur-trimmed cap to match, from under which +her garnet worsted hair peeped coyly; and, oh, +crowning touch! about her neck upon a ribbon +hung a black fur muff.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan’s excitement and delight were such +that even Thanksgiving dinner seemed of +little importance compared with this unexpected +trousseau of Flippy Whiting. Susan +did manage to sit still in her chair at the table, +but she turned every moment or two to smile +happily upon Flip, who returned her glances +with proud and conscious looks.</p> +<p class="pnext">“One square inch of turkey for Miss Susan +Whiting,” announced Grandfather, when at +last her turn came to be served, “and a thimbleful +of mashed potato, one crumb of bread, +and an acorn cup of milk. And that is all the +dinner you get, if I have anything to say +about it.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And Grandfather brandished the carving knife +and looked so severe that Susan went off +into a fit of laughter in which every one joined.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Were there many out at church this morning?” +asked Grandmother. “Was Mr. Drew’s +sermon good?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, that reminds me,” said Grandfather, +“that I have to go out this afternoon. I +promised Parson Drew that I would take +something to eat down to the Widow Banks. +The Young People’s Society gave her five +dollars to buy a Thanksgiving dinner for +herself and her six children, and if she didn’t +go spend the five dollars on a crepe veil and +a Bible.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Grandfather gave a chuckle as he thought +of the surprise that the Widow Banks had +given the Young People.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t blame her,” said he stoutly. “She +probably takes more pride and pleasure in +what she bought than we can imagine. The +neighbors won’t let her starve. You fix up a +good basket for her, won’t you, Grandmother?”</p> +<p class="pnext">And that Mrs. Whiting did, though she +shook her head over what she termed “extravagance +and shiftlessness.”</p> +<p class="pnext">A little later, Susan and Mr. Whiting, who +carried a large basket, the contents of which +would mean far more to the six hungry Banks +orphans than would a crepe veil and a Bible, +started down Featherbed Lane on their charitable +errand.</p> +<p class="pnext">“The air will do Susan good,” Grandfather +declared. “And if she is tired, I will carry her +home. It isn’t far, anyway.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan enjoyed both the walk and the short +call they made at the dingy little white house +in the Hollow.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mrs. Banks, a thin, tearful wisp of a woman, +with pale-blue eyes and untidy hair, gratefully +accepted their offering; and the six +sorrowful little Banks cheered up immediately +when word went round as to what the basket +held, so their visitors made haste to be gone, +that they might be kept no longer from their +Thanksgiving feast.</p> +<p class="pnext">While Mr. Whiting talked to Mrs. Banks, +Susan gazed round the poor little room, and +eyed the Banks orphans standing in a row like +steps, who, to do them justice, quite as frankly +eyed her in return. The crepe veil was not in +evidence, but on the mantelpiece lay the new +Bible, black and shiny, and smelling powerfully +of leather.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, six of them,” said Mrs. Banks in her +melancholy voice, waving her hand at the line, +which looked more dejected than ever when +attention was thus directed to it. “And not +one of them old enough to do a stroke of work +or to earn a penny.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“This is Richie,” she went on, pointing to +the tallest son of Banks, who dug his bare toes +into the floor in an agony of embarrassment. +“He’s the flower of the family. He will +amount to something. He never opens his +mouth for a word. He’s like me.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And this is Mervin. He eats like a fish. +And his brother Claudius is not far behind +him. I gave them their names, for I do like a +rich-sounding name. Mr. Banks wasn’t of my +way of thinking. He was all for plain, commonsense +names. He named the next two,—Maria +and Also Jane.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“‘Also,’ did you say?” inquired Mr. +Whiting, who was thoroughly enjoying his +call. “That is a name new to me.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“It was a mistake,” explained Mrs. Banks +dolefully. “The two girls were christened together, +and, after Maria was baptized, the +minister turned to Jane and, says he, ‘Also +Jane Banks,’ and ‘Also Jane’ she has been +to this day, for her father wouldn’t go against +the minister’s word for anything in the world.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What is the baby’s name?” asked Mr. +Whiting, preparing to depart.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Her name is a compromise,” answered +Mrs. Banks, pulling out her damp +handkerchief to wipe the baby’s eyes which had +instantly overflowed at hearing herself called +a “mean name,” as she whimpered into her +mother’s ear. “To please me we named her +Cleopatra, but we always call her Pat, her +father was such a one for plain names.”</p> +<p class="pnext">When Mr. Whiting and Susan reached +home they found Grandmother and Miss Liza +rocking placidly before a roaring fire, and +room was made for Grandfather’s chair with +Susan on a cricket at his feet.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now, we will tell what we are most thankful +for,” said Grandmother, when the story of +the call at the Banks’ had been related, and a +way of helping Mrs. Banks support her six +children had been discussed. “You begin, +Miss Liza.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’m thankful,” said Miss Liza, without a +moment’s hesitation, “for good friends, for +health, and a home.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’m most thankful,” said Grandmother, +“for Grandfather, and Susan, and a peaceful +life. I couldn’t live in strife with any one.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Grandfather thrust his boots out toward the +fire and pulled his silk handkerchief from +his pocket.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’m thankful,” said he, carefully spreading +his handkerchief over his head, “I’m +thankful for my home, and that means Grandmother +and Susan, and I’m thankful, too, that +I have my own teeth. I mean it, I’m not +joking.” And he soberly snapped his strong +white teeth together without a smile.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’m thankful,” piped up Susan, glad her +turn had come, “for Grandfather, and Grandmother, +and Miss Liza, and Snuff, and Flip, +and Nero, and—”</p> +<p class="pnext">Grandfather caught her up from the cricket +and held her in his arms.</p> +<p class="pnext">“My black-eyed Susan,” said he, tenderly.</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan looked round with a smile.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I think,” said she,—“I think I’m thankful—why, +I think I’m thankful for just +everything.”</p> +<p class="pnext">THE END</p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 5em"> +</div> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 38835 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |