diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/66091-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/66091-0.txt | 7018 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 7018 deletions
diff --git a/old/66091-0.txt b/old/66091-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d2c5ec3..0000000 --- a/old/66091-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7018 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Eunice and Cricket, by Elizabeth Westyn -Timlow - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Eunice and Cricket - -Author: Elizabeth Westyn Timlow - -Illustrator: Harriet R. Richards - -Release Date: August 20, 2021 [eBook #66091] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Richard Tonsing, Louise Davies, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The Internet - Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EUNICE AND CRICKET *** - -[Illustration: AT THE PARTY.] - - - - - EUNICE AND CRICKET - - - BY - ELIZABETH WESTYN TIMLOW - - AUTHOR OF - “CRICKET: A STORY FOR LITTLE GIRLS,” “CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE” - - - =Illustrated by= - HARRIET R. RICHARDS - - - BOSTON - ESTES AND LAURIAT - PUBLISHERS - - - - - _Copyright, 1897_ - BY ESTES & LAURIAT - - - =Colonial Press:= - Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. - Boston, Mass., U.S.A. - - - - - TO - ELMA AND SYLVIA - AND - THE GOAT - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - CHAPTER PAGE - I. TWO AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHERS 11 - II. A DISCOVERY IN FILMS 25 - III. A “MUMPFUL” PARTY 37 - IV. IN QUARANTINE 59 - V. AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 68 - VI. A PHILANTHROPIC SCHEME 83 - VII. MOSINA 99 - VIII. A BEDFELLOW 110 - IX. CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS 120 - X. THE BOY 139 - XI. A VISIT TO MOSINA 152 - XII. KEEPING HOUSE 165 - XIII. THE DIAMOND RING 187 - XIV. SCHOOL THEATRICALS 211 - XV. A DAY IN THE NURSERY 234 - XVI. A GOAT EPISODE 253 - XVII. A SCRAPE 268 - XVIII. AN EXPEDITION 279 - XIX. THE RESULT 292 - XX. OLD MR. CHESTER 299 - XXI. BREAKING UP 307 - - - - - LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. - - - PAGE - AT THE PARTY _Frontispiece_ - - GETTING READY FOR THE PARTY 49 - - AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 79 - - THE LOST BABY 85 - - KEEPING HOUSE 173 - - THE DIAMOND RING 191 - - IN THE NURSERY 239 - - A SUDDEN DOWNFALL 259 - - - - - EUNICE AND CRICKET - - - - - CHAPTER I. - TWO AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHERS. - - -Two eager heads bent over a small, square, black object that stood on -the stone post at the foot of the doorsteps. - -“‘Hold the camera steady and push the lever,’” read the brown-eyed girl -with the long, dark braid, from the little pamphlet she held in her -hand. “Look down in the little round hole, Cricket; you can see the -picture perfectly. Isn’t it the _cutest_ thing?” - -Cricket squinted down critically. - -“It’s going to be perfectly _jolly_,” she cried enthusiastically. “Now -stand still as mice, children, while I count three.” - -“Stand still as a mice, Helen,” immediately admonished the small girl in -the dark red coat, giving a great pinch to the little golden-haired, -brown-clad lassie who stood beside her, by way of emphasising her older -sister’s words. “Stand still as a mice, Johnnie-goat,” giving the third -member of the group a tickle on the back that made him drop his curved -horns for more. - -“Keep still ‘as a mice,’ yourself,” said Cricket, tapping Miss Red-coat -briskly on the head. “All ready, Eunice. ‘You push the button, and we’ll -do the rest,’” she quoted, clapping her hands in her favourite fashion. -“Hooray! there she goes! Oh, I hope it will be good! That’s all, Zaidie -and Helen. You stood _beautifully_. Run along now. Can’t you go around -to the stable and take Johnnie-goat back, ’Liza?” - -Eunice swept the trio a low bow. - -“Thank you, Mr. Johnnie-goat, for standing still so long,” she said, -addressing the horned member of the party. “I hope your picture will be -_very_ good,” she added, picking up the camera with a highly -professional air. - -“Take me again,” demanded Zaidie instantly, when Cricket told her once -more that they were through with this wonderful process, and that they -might go. “I like having my picture tooken. Don’t you, Helen? Let’s sit -on Johnnie-goat, and be tooken again,” and Zaidie tried to climb upon -the goat’s white back. This, however, was a familiarity which Johnnie -could not think of permitting, even from his best friends. He instantly -sidled off, not wishing to hurt her feelings by a direct butt. Zaidie -unexpectedly sat down on the ground. - -“No, we don’t want any more pictures of you now, thank you,” said -Eunice, examining her Kodak, while Zaidie demanded a view of the one -already taken. - -“She thinks it’s like putting a penny in the slot and a picture drops -out. This isn’t that kind, my dear. There’s a lot of hard, hard work -before you see that picture,” said Cricket importantly. - -The day before had been Eunice’s birthday, and this Kodak, which had -been a long-desired possession, was a birthday present. As it was given -to them entirely ready for use, they had literally nothing to do but -“press the button.” - -Papa had been too busy that morning to explain the mysterious little -affair very particularly, but he told the children to study the pamphlet -carefully, and follow directions closely. Eunice and Cricket promptly -sat down and read the pamphlet from title-page to _finis_. - -Both looked a little blank when they had finished. _Could_ they ever -remember all those instructions? - -“It’s all _plain_ enough,” said Eunice meditatively, “but the question -is, how are we going to remember it all at important times? Now, for -instance, about the stops. Listen: ‘Snapshots can only be made when the -largest stop is in the lens.’ Will you remember that, Cricket?” - -“We might just sit down and learn the whole thing off by heart,” -suggested Cricket, wrinkling her forehead thoughtfully. - -“Horrors, no!” returned Eunice. “Learn all that? Let’s just carry the -pamphlet around with us all the time. If we take the camera anywhere, we -can certainly take the book, too. Now let’s go and take a picture.” - -“It’s easier to take them out doors, everybody says,” answered Cricket, -jumping up. “There’s ’Liza starting out to walk with the twins. Let’s go -and take them sitting on the front doorsteps.” - -The twins, of course, were perfectly delighted at the idea of having -their pictures taken. Zaidie straightway sat herself down on the lowest -step, with her hands firmly folded in her lap, and her feet out straight -before her, trying vainly to keep the smile out of her dimpled face. - -“I don’t want you that way,” said Eunice, laughing, as she turned -around. “You must get in some romantic attitude. No, I don’t mean -romantic, but picturesque.” - -“Couldn’t I be sliding down the railing?” suggested Zaidie eagerly, -thinking she saw a chance to indulge in her favourite amusement. -“Wouldn’t that be pick-chesk?” - -“You can’t slide down no railings, pick-chesk or no pick-chesk,” put in -Eliza, promptly. - -“You couldn’t, anyway,” said Cricket, “because you have to sit still, -Zaidie. You can’t hop around when you have your picture taken. Don’t you -remember?” - -“Zaidie, you stand up by the post,” began Eunice, when Cricket -interrupted her. - -“Look! There’s Johnnie-goat trotting up the street. Do let’s have him -in. He _would_ be picturesque.” - -“S’pose he’d stand still?” asked Eunice doubtfully. “I don’t want to -spoil my picture.” - -Johnnie-goat was a very celebrated character in the neighbourhood. He -belonged to a livery-stable that was on the square back of the Wards. He -was famous for eating off his rope and running away. He was a big white -goat, with unusually long horns, and a very inquiring disposition. He -was such a ridiculous fellow, too, sometimes munching sedately at a -stray banana-skin or orange-peel, then kicking up his heels as if an -invisible imp had tickled him, and walking off on his forefeet. He was a -very discerning goat, also, and knew perfectly well his friends from his -enemies. He had goodwill for the one, and butts for the other. One way -that he knew his friends was that they always wore dresses, while his -enemies were clad in trousers. That was one invariable mark. Then, his -friends gave him apples to eat, and scratched the sensitive place -between his horns that he couldn’t possibly reach himself, and which, -therefore, was seldom properly scratched. His enemies usually saluted -him with stones, and offered him tin cans to eat. Now Johnnie-goat was -perfectly willing to acknowledge that he _could_ eat tin cans on -occasions, but they were not his favourite diet, and he didn’t care much -for them. He regarded it as something of an insult to be constantly -offered them. It was one thing, if he chose occasionally to pick one up -himself and see if he liked the brand, but he decidedly objected to -having them so often forced on his attention. - -The result of all this was, that Johnnie-goat’s disposition was somewhat -mixed. Like some people whom we have known, when he was good he was -_very_ good indeed, but when he was bad he was simply terrific. He -seemed to know no middle course. - -I do not know why he was not called Billy, in accordance with all -traditions. His full title was John O’Rafferty, Esq., and on many -occasions he got the whole benefit of it. - -He was great friends with all the Ward children, who, from having so -many pets of their own at Kayuna, had a special predilection for any -stray animal. Johnnie-goat perfectly understood this fact—for any one -who thinks that a goat is not a highly discriminating creature, is not -acquainted with his peculiarities. - -On this particular morning, Johnnie-goat was quite willing to be treated -to some banana-skins, which the cook brought out to tempt him with. He -fully realised that it was a very solemn occasion, for he stood like a -sentinel, and only blinked once. - -“We must take all sorts of things, Cricket,” said Eunice, when the -children had trooped away down the street, with Johnnie-goat marching -sedately behind them, with now and then a sudden frisk of his hind legs -in the air, and then such an instant return of his composure, that you -doubted the evidence of your eyes. - -“There are only a dozen pictures on one roll, you know, and we want a -good variety. Aren’t you just wild to develop them? I am. It sounds so -grown-up to talk of the chemicals and the ‘hypo.’” - -“What _is_ the ‘hypo?’” asked Cricket, as they went down the street in -search of a good subject. - -“Why, just hypo, I suppose. I don’t believe it’s anything in -particular,” said Eunice vaguely. - -“Donald said Marjorie had the hypo yesterday,” said Cricket -thoughtfully, “when she was sort of dumpy all day. But I suppose it -isn’t the same kind.” - -“No, of _course_ not, goosie. The hypo is that white powder that comes -with all the things. Didn’t you notice it? Perhaps Donald meant that -Marjorie had been taking some. Oh, look! wouldn’t that corner of the -little park make the _sweetest_ picture? Let’s take it!” - -“Yes, let’s! and that’s two,” added Cricket, when the picture was -secured. “_Isn’t_ this exciting? Can’t I take the next one, Eunice? Just -let me look at the pamphlet a moment to see something.” - -Cricket buried herself in the book of instructions for a moment, then -darted tragically at the camera. - -“Oh, _Eunice_! See! the pamphlet says that after you take a picture, you -must turn the key around three or four times, till the next number -appears before the little window, and that will put a new film ready; -and we never did it! What do you s’pose it will be?” - -The two girls stared at each other in dismay. - -“Oh, dear! dear!” exclaimed Eunice. “Then we’ve taken another picture -right on top of Johnnie-goat and the twins, and they _were_ so cunning!” - -“There isn’t any way to _un_take it, is there?” asked Cricket, in real -Mrs. Peterkin fashion. - -“I’m afraid not. I wonder what it _will_ look like! It will be a -composite photograph, I suppose, like Marjorie’s class picture.” - -“Perhaps it won’t be bad,” said Cricket, the hopeful. “You see, this -last picture is trees and shrubbery, and there may be a glimpse of -Johnnie-goat and the twins behind them. It may look as if we did it on -purpose. I shouldn’t wonder if it would be lovely. Perhaps we’ll want to -take more that way.” - -“Perhaps,” assented Eunice, doubtfully. “It makes me think of Kenneth -this morning. I was in mamma’s room while you were practising, and -Kenneth was there too. He brought a piece of paper to mamma and asked -her to draw a man, and she drew the side face of one—and Kenneth asked -her where the other side of his face was, and if it was on the other -side of the paper. Mamma told him the other side of the face was there, -but he couldn’t see it; and then she turned him _her_ side face to show -him. Well, Kenneth took the paper and ran off, but came back in a moment -with some straight lines across it, and told mamma that that was a kitty -and a fence, and mamma said she saw the fence, but where was the kitten? -And _what_ do you think the baby said?—that the kitten was behind the -fence! That it was really there, only she couldn’t see it. _Wasn’t_ that -cute?” - -“He’s just the dearest, smartest baby that ever was!” cried Cricket, -always enthusiastical over her beloved small brother. “We’ll just tell -people, then, that the children are behind the trees, even if they can’t -see them. There, now, I’ve turned the film ready, this time. See! -there’s the figure 2 in the little window at the back. Now, we are all -ready. What shall we take?” - -“Let’s take each other,” suggested Eunice. “I’ll stand here by the park -fence. Am I all right?” - -The picture-taking went on merrily after that. They got a fine snap at -papa just getting out of his buggy, and one of mamma, as she came home -from market. They got another dear little picture of the twins as they -came down the street hand in hand. It did not take long to use up all -the films at this rate, and at luncheon they were able to announce, -triumphantly, that they were ready to develop their pictures that -afternoon. - -“But you don’t know how,” objected papa; “and I have to be out all the -afternoon and can’t help you.” - -“Please let us try it by ourselves,” pleaded Eunice. “We can read the -directions, and they’re _terribly_ plain. A cat could use them. Do let -us!” - -“Better not do it alone, youngsters,” advised Donald. “I’d show you, -myself, if I were going to be home, but I can’t wait.” - -Donald was in college this year, but, being so near, he often came home -to lunch on Saturday, and sometimes spent Sunday there also. - -“Of course we can do it,” returned Cricket, confidently. “We’ve read the -directions a million times already, and I pretty nearly know them by -heart. Listen: ‘Open one of the developer powders, then put the contents -(two chemicals) into the beaker and fill it up to the brim with water. -Stir, till dissolved, with wooden stirring spoon. Next take—’” - -“Spare us,” begged Marjorie. “We’re willing to take your knowledge for -granted.” - -“We can use the linen closet for a dark room,” said Eunice. - -“By no manner of means,” put in mamma promptly. “I don’t fancy having -every sheet and pillow-case I own deluged with chemicals. You can have -the bathroom closet, though, if you’ll promise to put everything you -take out of it back very carefully. But children, I decidedly think you -should wait for papa or Don to show you how.” - -“Do let them, mamma,” advised Marjorie. “Of course they will make a -frightful mess, and ruin the whole roll, but they will have the -experience.” - -“The idea!” cried Eunice, much injured. “We’ve done everything right -thus far—or almost right,” with a sudden, guilty recollection of the -double exposure of the first film. - -“_Almost_ everything!” laughed Donald. “Considering you only have to aim -the thing and press the button, it would be strange if you hadn’t. Did -you aim the wrong end of it and try to take something out of the little -back window?” - -“Of course we didn’t,” said Eunice and Cricket, in an indignant breath. -Then they exchanged guilty, conscious glances. - -“We’ll promise about the closet,” said Eunice hastily, to prevent -further inconvenient questions. “We’ll take the things out carefully; -and may we take the little nursery table to lay our trays on? It’s just -large enough to fit.” - -These matters being settled, the two girls, as soon as luncheon was -over, eagerly began their preparations. They had a free field, for mamma -and Marjorie had gone to a matinée, and Eliza had taken the children to -the park for the afternoon. The housemaid’s closet in the bathroom was -soon cleared of its brooms and dustpans, and the small, low table from -the nursery was brought in. The little trays that came with the outfit, -the bottles of chemicals and “hypo” were duly arranged on it. - -“There!” said Eunice, surveying the preparations with a professional -eye. “Everything is ready, I _think_. Let me see,” consulting the -pamphlet. “‘Also provide a pair of shears, a pitcher of cold water, and -a dark room having a shelf or table’—yes, all here. Trays, stirring rod, -chemicals, and when we shut the door we have our dark room—why, -_Cricket_!” with a sudden exclamation of dismay. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - A DISCOVERY IN FILMS. - - -Eunice’s exclamation was caused by the fact that when she suited the -action to the word, and shut the door, they were, of course, in total -darkness. - -“I should say so,” returned Cricket, blankly. “Not being cats, we can’t -see in ’Gyptian darkness. Do open the door. We’ll have to get a lamp.” - -“No, we mustn’t,” answered Eunice, opening the door, and consulting the -pamphlet. “It says, ‘neither daylight nor lamplight.’ It ought to be a -red light, like this one in the picture.” - -Although the children did not know it, such a lamp had come with the -outfit, but when Donald unpacked the things he had left it in his own -room. - -“We might get a lantern from the kitchen,” went on Eunice, “and wrap it -with a red cloth. That will do. Will you go for the lantern while I get -the red cloth?” - -Cricket flew off, and returned in two minutes with the lantern. - -“Cook says,” she announced, breathlessly, “that if we put anything over -it, we must be careful not to cover up the breathing-holes at the top.” - -“Isn’t this fine for the cover!” said Eunice, displaying a small -turkey-red laundry-bag. Its contents lay on the floor under the table. - -“_Now_, we’re all ready,” announced Eunice once more, with much -satisfaction. “What do we do first?—where’s the book?” when the lantern -was carefully covered, with a due regard for the breathing-holes. - -“The book? why it’s—I _do_ believe we left it in mamma’s room. No, here -it is. And—goodness gracious! Cricket, we’ve forgotten to take the roll -of pictures out of the camera!” - -“Aren’t we lunatics?” exclaimed Cricket, with her bubbling laugh, as she -threw open the door. “How do we get the things out, anyway? Everything -is so _tight_,” she added, turning it upside down. “I can’t see where -anything comes out. Where _does_ it come to pieces?” - -“I’ll read the directions. ‘No dark room is required to take out the -spool of films, but you must take your position as far from the window -as possible.’ So glad we needn’t stay in this dark closet to do it! Read -the directions very slowly, Cricket, and I’ll do the things.” - -“All ready,” said Cricket. “‘Unclose the catch at the bottom, holding -the camera _taut_.’ What in the world is _taut_?” - -Eunice knit her brows. - -“Can’t imagine, unless it means carefully,” she said, thoughtfully. - -“Shan’t run any risks,” cried Cricket, jumping up and flying away. “I’ll -look it up in the dictionary.” - -She came back in a moment, looking rather disgusted. - -“It only means ‘tight,’ ‘firmly.’ Why in creation didn’t they say so?” - -Fortunately, the remaining directions were sufficiently simple, and in a -few minutes the roll of exposures was in Eunice’s hand. The children -went back into the closet, to make ready the chemicals. - -The careful measuring and mixing of the powder with the required amount -of water went on. The trays were arranged in due order, and Eunice -announced, for the third time: - -“Everything is positively ready now, so we can begin to cut apart the -pictures,” taking up the roll of thick, black paper. “How can we tell -where to cut them? Oh, here are little white lines on the back. Can you -see to cut, Cricket?” - -“Yes. What’s all this white stuff between for? It looks like paraffin -paper something, only it smells like fury.” - -“It’s just to keep the other paper from rubbing when it’s rolled over -the spool,” said Eunice, sniffling at the paper, which, you all know, -was really the film, on which the picture had been taken. “I should say -it _does_ smell. Throw it on the floor after you have cut off the black -pieces.” - -“Here’s one,” said Cricket. “Oh, I’m _so_ excited, Eunice. Listen: ‘Put -it in the water, _edge_ down, to prevent air bubbles.’” - -“Done,” said Eunice. “Next.” - -Cricket read on under the dim red light, till she came to “In about one -minute the film will begin to darken in spots.” - -“There, we have not any watch,” interrupted Eunice. “Cut out and get the -nursery clock, Cricket. Cover the roll all up, because you know the -_leastest_ bit of light will spoil it.” - -Cricket obediently “cut out,” and then resumed her reading. - -“‘The films will begin to darken in spots, representing the lights.’ -Isn’t that the _funniest_! how can black paper darken in spots, I’d like -to know?” - -“Can’t imagine; but I know that chemicals make things do all sorts of -queer things,” answered Eunice, lucidly. “Cut some more to be soaking -while these go into the developer.” - -“That first one’s been in more than a minute. Hold it up, Eunice, and -let’s see it darken in spots. It hasn’t changed a bit, yet,” she added, -disgustedly, after a moment. “Isn’t this waiting going to be slow work?” - -The waiting did prove tiresome. Again and again the children took the -thick, black squares of carbon paper from their bath in the developer, -eagerly scanning the opaque substance, which naturally showed no trace -of change. - -Five—ten—fifteen minutes ticked slowly away. - -“Goodness gracious me!” groaned Eunice at last. “I should think we had -been here for five hours. Isn’t this poky?” - -“This black paper can _never_ darken,” cried Cricket, despairingly. -“There’s some mistake. If it was that white lining paper there would be -some sense.” - -There was a moment’s pause, and then both girls exclaimed, in a breath: - -“Eunice!” - -“Cricket!” - -“We’ve gone and—” - -“Soaked the _wrong thing_!” - -“We’ve soaked the _carbon paper_—” - -“And thrown away the _film_!” - -“Of course that white paraffiny-looking paper was the film!” - -“Of course this thick stuff is the carbon paper to wrap around the other -and keep out the light.” - -“Aren’t we _geeses_?” - -“We just are! Don’t let’s _ever_ tell. Now, where are the films?” - -“Just dropped around anywhere,” said Cricket, dolefully. - -“Scrabble around carefully, and we’ll find them. Oh! aren’t we the -_idioticest_ girls?” - -“We’ll have to mix some more developer, and change the water in the -first tray, too. It’s all black, for the colour in that old carbon paper -leaked out. Have you found all the films?” - -“I had only cut six, and here they are. I’ll cover them up while you -open the door and fix some more developer.” - -At last, everything was under way again. - -“Four o’clock,” said Eunice, soberly, “and to think that we haven’t -developed a single one yet!” - -“But, oh, see!” cried Cricket, joyfully, holding up the film, after a -moment. “It really is beginning to darken in spots. Hooray! See, Eunice, -that actually looks like an arm sticking out there! What is it, do you -suppose?” - -“I don’t know. Looks like a ghost’s arm, doesn’t it? Put it to soak -again. Let’s look at this one.” - -“Nothing here. Eunice, what makes all these scratches across it?” - -“Probably we stepped on them. You know you threw them down any way. -Probably the scratches won’t show through. Oh, I do believe this is -mamma! Isn’t that her bonnet that begins to show?” - -“Yes—no—I think it’s the one where we tried to take that runaway horse. -Seems to me that looks like a leg down there.” - -It was a curious effect to watch the films as they eagerly held one -after another up, for the different parts came out in a ghostly, -unattached way. Here one lonely-looking leg was plainly to be seen. Then -a head, and again a branch of a tree or an arm. - -“But look at this one,” cried Cricket, surveying one in deep disgust. -“Isn’t this the smallpoxiest-looking thing?” - -It was pretty liberally sprinkled with dark spots, but one of them was -unmistakably Johnnie-goat’s head and horns. - -“This must be the one we took on top of Johnnie-goat and the twins, -shouldn’t you think? I do believe it is them—it is they—which _is_ -right?” - -“I do believe it is,” answered Eunice, ignoring the grammatical appeal. -“It’s spotty enough to be anything. It’s certainly like Kenneth and his -cat, for I can see Johnnie-goat behind the trees.” - -“So we can. Look at this one, Cricket. What we thought was mamma’s -bonnet or a runaway horse isn’t either. You held it upside down. See! -it’s this one where papa was getting out of his buggy. What we thought -was mamma’s bonnet is papa’s foot. I guess they are ready for the last -tray now. Go on with the directions.” - -Long after five o’clock, two very sober and tired-looking children -emerged from the bathroom closet, and proceeded to set things to rights. - -“Do you know,” said Eunice, breaking a long silence as they cleared -trays and wiped off the table, “the book says it only costs five cents -apiece to get the things developed at a photographer’s. Don’t you -_really_ think it would be worth while to save up our money for a time -and have some done? Of _course_ we could learn to do it all right after -a time, but—” - -“Yes,” broke in Cricket emphatically, “I do. I don’t vote to stay in -every Saturday afternoon and develop smallpoxy pictures, with smelly old -chemicals and nasty, sticky films, and put my eyes out with red calico -lamps. This picture of papa is the only single one that is going to be -half-way decent; and the horse looks more like the ghost of a rhinoceros -than anything else. That post sticks up by his nose just like a horn.” - -“Cricket, don’t let’s _ever_ tell that we soaked the carbon paper and -thought it was the film that the pictures were taken on,” said Eunice, -scrubbing with much soap and energy at the dull yellow stains on her -hands that stubbornly grew brighter, instead of fading. “We’d never hear -the last of it; and we _were_ geeses,” she added thoughtfully. - -“_Indeed_, I’ll never tell,” returned Cricket with emphasis. “Papa and -Donald would tease us out of our boots.” - -But at dinner-time there were many inquiries concerning the success of -the amateur photography. - -“It was a little tiresome,” confessed Eunice. “Marjorie, was the matinée -good?” - -“Yes, very. How many pictures did you develop?” - -“Only one really good one. Papa, don’t you think you could drive us out -to Kayuna next Saturday?” - -“Yes, if it’s pleasant. So only one picture developed?” - -“Oh, they all _developed_,” put in Cricket, “only we couldn’t always -tell exactly what they were meant for. Marjorie, wasn’t May Chester at -the matinée? I thought I saw her going.” - -“But we want to know about the pictures,” persisted papa, much amused at -the children’s fencing. “When will the gallery be opened? The twins said -you took them with Johnnie-goat.” - -“Yes, we did, and it would have been fine, only we took another picture -on top of it,” said Cricket, regretfully. “We should have turned the -little key around every time we took a new picture, but we didn’t, and -they got a little mixed up.” - -“We took some trees on top of Johnnie-goat,” broke in Eunice, “and we -hoped that it would look as if he and the children were behind them. -Really, I think that would be a pretty good plan, any way, if they would -only develop right.” - -“So they didn’t, eh?” - -“Papa, you needn’t tease us. Developing pictures isn’t a bit of fun, and -I’m not going to do it any more,” burst out Cricket desperately. “It -isn’t right to take money from the photographers anyway, for it’s their -business, and they lose so much if we do it ourselves.” - -“I think so, too,” chimed in Eunice. “We staid in all this lovely -Saturday, shut up in a hot, smelly closet, and wasted a lot of stuff, -and got our hands all stained, and spoiled a whole lot of films.” - -“But had your experience,” put in papa. “Experience is a hard school, -but wise men learn in no other way. How’s that, my Lady Jane? And now -about Kayuna on Saturday,” he went on, kindly changing the subject. - -“Cricket, don’t _ever_ tell about the film,” whispered Eunice as they -left the table. “Don’t ever tell _any_ one.” - -And they never have told but one person, and she has never told till -just now. Don’t _you_ tell, will you? - - - - - CHAPTER III. - A “MUMPFUL” PARTY. - - -Certain dainty blue billets were causing a wild flutter of excitement -among the ranks of Miss Lyon’s school, for every girl in “our set” -received one of the fascinating things. - -“Miss Emily Drayton requests the pleasure of—” How deliciously grown up! -Emily’s parties were always simply perfect. Emily did not go to school -with the others, for she was a delicate little girl, and had her lessons -with a governess at home. Her friends rather envied her at times, since -she had short hours and not half the Latin and arithmetic to do that -they did, and an entire holiday whenever she did not feel quite well; -but, in her turn, Emily often looked wistfully at the others, and longed -with all her heart for the dear delights of school life. She always felt -“out of it” when her little friends laughed and chattered and compared -notes over school doings that she knew nothing of. They would kindly -explain the jokes and references, but when she did not know dear Miss -Bates and cross Miss Raymond and slipshod Susie Dane and stupid Jessie -Moore, the things that the girls laughed over till their sides ached did -not seem very funny to her. It made her rather a lonely little girl, -and, for this reason, her mother was always getting up some simple -little party or company for her, and having Emily’s friends to luncheon. - -But this special party was to be a particularly fine affair, for it was -not only Emily’s birthday, but Hallowe’en as well, which double event -Mrs. Drayton always celebrated more elaborately than any other. - -Such an excitement among the children, then, when the blue notes began -to circulate! Such jabbering at recess, such comparing of notes, such -arrangements for going, such questions about each other’s dress! Alas! -the party was a whole week off. Could breakfast, and luncheon, and -dinner, and going to bed and getting up, and school and lessons, ever -fill up this long stretch between? - -“I suppose there are new gowns for this important occasion,” said -Donald, who had strolled in to dinner, one night. The family were all in -the back parlour. - -“No,” said mamma. “Their organdies are fresh and nice, fortunately, and -new sashes are all they need.” - -“Fortunately! _Un_fortunately, I say,” said Donald, teasingly. “I was -going to bring Cricket a dress of porcelain,” referring to a joke of -last summer, when Cricket had arrayed a heroine in flowing robes of -white porcelain. - -Cricket coloured, but answered serenely, as usual: - -“If I was a great big boy, eighteen years old, and a Freshman, too, I’d -be ashamed of an old chestnut joke like that. I described to auntie what -I meant, and she said I meant chiffon—that gauzy, filmy stuff, you -know.” - -“_Filmy_ stuff would be appropriate,” murmured Marjorie. “With a sash of -black carbon ribbon you would be very swell.” - -“This family is absolutely disgusting,” said Eunice, looking aggrieved. -“Mamma, I should think you would be ashamed of such perfectly impolite, -teasy children as Donald and Marjorie.” - -“I ’xpect God picked out the bestest children he had around then,” piped -up Zaidie, who always put her oar in. - -“Indeed, he didn’t,” said Cricket emphatically. “The good ones were all -gone, and mamma was in a hurry, and He just sent any He had on hand.” - -“Good for you, Cricket!” cried Eunice approvingly, thumping her sister -on the back. “Now, Mr. Donald, who has come out the little end of the -horn?” - -“Eunice, your slang is simply disgusting. Of course, we men talk it, but -girls should never think of it.” - -“Hark, oh, hark, to the lordly Freshman!” chanted Eunice, clasping her -hands and rolling up her eyes. - -“Notice everything he says, Eunice, so we’ll know how to behave when we -go to college, and are dear, cunning little Freshmen,” chimed in -Cricket. - -“No more words of wisdom to-night,” announced Donald, getting up. “I’m -off.” - -“The supply exhausted so soon?” murmured Marjorie, beginning a new -corner in her embroidery. - -Donald kissed his mother, ignoring Marjorie. “I’ll order you a Dresden -China gown, my Lady Jane,” he said, twisting Cricket’s brown curls as he -passed her. - -On the eventful Tuesday morning, Cricket awoke bright and early—or -rather, I should say, early but by no means bright. She had had a most -unpleasant dream of having exchanged heads with an elephant, and her -neck was, consequently, so much larger, that she could not fasten her -collar around it. Eunice suggested they should make a new collar of the -sail of the _Gentle Jane_, which she said would be just large enough. -That seemed a good suggestion, but as they went to get it, they saw the -_Gentle Jane_ being taken out to sea by some playful seals. - -“Dear! dear!” said Cricket in her dreams. “Now I’ll have to go to the -party without anything around my neck, because there isn’t anything else -big enough to make a collar of, and my throat is getting bigger all the -time.” Just then she awoke, clutching her neck. Sure enough, it did feel -queer, and was very stiff on one side. She swallowed, experimentally. - -“I don’t like that pretty well,” she announced to herself as the result -of her attempt. “I wonder if I have the lumbago in my throat,—and -to-night is Emily’s party! I _won’t_ have a sore throat. I never did in -my life before, and I won’t begin to-night—provoking old thing!” - -She swallowed vigorously several times, and winked back the tears. - -“There! that didn’t hurt much. Wonder if it’s swollen.” She hopped out -of bed quickly, and ran to the glass. She opened the neck of her -night-dress and examined her round, white throat critically. It -certainly was a trifle larger on one side, and was sore, as she pressed -it a little. - -“Oh, my patience, if it should be lumbago!” she groaned tragically. She -hadn’t the faintest idea what lumbago is, but the name sounded to her as -if it might be something that could come in the throat. “Wonder how long -it would take lumbago to come on. I _won’t_ have it begin till after -to-night, anyway. How queer my head feels! I guess I’ll look inside my -throat.” - -Cricket turned quickly to draw up the shade, that she might see better -what inroads the “lumbago” had already made. The quick movement made her -aching head dizzy. She stumbled forward, tripped over her long -night-dress, and sat down, hitting the water pitcher which she had left -the night before standing by the wash-stand. Over went the pitcher, and -out came a deluge of water, almost setting bewildered Cricket afloat, as -she lay huddled up on the floor. - -“Cricket, what an awful racket you’re making,” said Eunice sleepily, -from her bed. “Don’t get up yet. It isn’t time. It isn’t light enough.” - -“Don’t get up? Do you think I’m going to lie here and _drown_?” asked -Cricket indignantly, getting rather weakly on her feet. “I’ve knocked -over the water pitcher.” She pulled the towels off the rack, and began -mopping up the flood that crawled in every direction. “I’m wet through -to my bones, I do believe, and there isn’t a dry inch in my -night-dress.” - -“Put on another one, and get on your bedroom slippers. Don’t hop around -there another minute with your bare feet,” ordered Eunice, sleepily, but -sensibly. - -Cricket mopped dejectedly. “The water tipped straight into my slippers. -There! That will do till Jane gets at it. Ugh! my feet are as cold as -chopsticks. I’ll change my night-dress, and then I’m going to get into -bed with you, Eunice, and get warm.” - -By breakfast time, Cricket felt very queer indeed. At any other time her -mother would have noticed her lack of appetite and flushed cheeks; but -just now it was, of course, put down to the excitement of the coming -event. Her throat was stiffer than ever. She managed to slip down a -little oatmeal, but the other things hurt too much to attempt. - -“I _won’t_ have lumbago in my throat till after this party,” Cricket -repeated grimly, to herself, as she went up-stairs to get ready for -school. “Only—I do wish the party was last night, and I could go into -mamma’s room and lie down all day, instead of going to school. My throat -gets sweller and sweller. Do you suppose it could swell up so that I -couldn’t eat anything, and would starve to death?” - -At this cheerful thought, Cricket groaned so deep a groan that Eunice -looked around in amazement. - -“Was that you, Cricket? Did you hurt yourself?” - -“No, I was only thinking. _Do_ you know those irregular French verbs? -Aren’t they awful?” - -“I should think they were. They are enough to make a cow groan. Ready? -Come on. Why, aren’t you ready?” - -Cricket swallowed an unhappy lump in her throat, and winked back a tear. -How her throat did hurt, and how her head ached! - -“I’m not quite ready. I didn’t have ’Liza brush my hair out, and it’s -all full of bones, as Zaidie says. Upsetting that water pitcher, and -mopping it up, took up so much time. There! that must do. Where are my -books? Oh, here. I’m ready. Come on,” and Cricket ran out first, lest -Eunice should see her face. - -The keen, fresh air seemed to do her head good, and by the time she -reached school, she felt a little better. All the girls were chattering -so hard about the party that night, that, for the time being, Cricket -forgot her throat. - -Under any other circumstances her manner and appearance would have -attracted notice and comment. But it must be confessed that from a -school point of view, the day was a general failure, and among the many -flushed faces, hers passed unnoticed. She was sometimes languid and -dull, and then excited and inattentive, making all kinds of queer -blunders. She finally distinguished herself by announcing in her history -class that Tecumseh, the Indian chief, died of a severe attack of -lumbago, exclaiming as he fell, “Don’t give up the ship.” - -“Really, Jean, it is fortunate that parties do not come every day,” said -her long-suffering teacher, rather surprised that it should be Cricket -who said this, for the child’s quick memory rarely failed her. Cricket -sat scarlet and mortified, and did not recover even when that stupid -Mary Blair wrote on the board in the grammar class, “Troy was concord by -the Greasians.” - -However, the day slipped away. By dinner-time, her throat felt as if a -good-sized potato had taken up its residence there. Her head ached and -her bones ached, and down in one corner of her heart she began to wish -that some one would say positively that she could not go to the party. - -Meantime, after luncheon Eunice had begun to feel heavy-headed and -stiff-necked herself. Like Cricket, she carefully concealed the fact, -and resolutely put on a bright face and a very “smily” smile, if any one -looked in her direction. Each child was so absorbed in concealing her -own feelings that neither noticed the other. - -At dinner, both being rather exhausted by such unusual exertions, they -were so silent that papa asked them finally whether this was the night -they were going to Emily Drayton’s party, or the night they were going -to be hanged. He himself had forgotten, he said, and he couldn’t tell by -their faces. - -“They have been going to this party every day and night for a week,” -said mamma, looking rather anxiously at each flushed face. “No wonder -they are all tired out beforehand. I had them both lie down for an hour -this afternoon, also. My chickens, you _must_ eat a little more dinner -than that, if you _are_ excited.” - -“I positively _can’t_, mamma,” said Cricket, feeling every moment that -the tears _would_ come if she forced another morsel past that awful -lump, that now felt the size of a watermelon to her. Eunice resolutely -choked down another bit of mashed potato. - -“I’m too excited,” she remarked, with a great assumption of -cheerfulness. “Mamma, will you excuse Cricket and me, and let us go -up-stairs now? I don’t want any dessert, do you, Cricket?” - -Cricket jumped up briskly. - -“No, indeed. Please ’scuse us, mamma,” and equally glad to escape, the -two children flew up-stairs. Each began to make conversation as they -dressed. Eliza was there, waiting to help them. - -“Lawks, how hot your face is!” said Eliza, her hand touching Cricket’s -cheek, as she brushed the brown curls till the gold light in them shone -out. - -“It’s excitement,” said Eunice. “Mine’s hot, too; just feel. Ouch!” with -an undignified exclamation, as Eliza’s hand touched the lower part of -her cheek rather heavily. - -Cricket suddenly flashed a quick glance at her. - -“Eunice,” she said hastily, as Eliza left the room for a moment, “does -your throat feel queer?” - -“Yes. How do you know?” answered Eunice, surprised. - -“’Cause mine does, awfully. It has all day. And my head aches.” - -“So does mine!” - -“And I’m _so_ hot—” - -[Illustration: GETTING READY FOR THE PARTY.] - -“So am I.” - -“And I feel so queer all over.” - -“So do I. What _can_ be the matter? It can’t be the party!” - -“A party we haven’t been to can’t make us sick. No; I’m afraid we’re -going to have the lumbago in our throats, and I think _that’s_ something -dreadful.” - -“Lumbago? It sounds dreadful. Why, I never heard of it. What is it?” - -“Oh, I’ve heard of it. I heard papa telling mamma that May Chester’s -grandmother had it, and you know how sick _she’s_ been this fall.” - -“This lump in my throat is bad enough for anything,” sighed Eunice, -putting her hand to it. “But let’s stand it till the party is over, -Cricket.” - -“_I’ll_ stick it out,” said Cricket, with grim determination. - -Mamma came in just here and put the finishing touches to the dainty -dresses, and then they went down to the back parlour to exhibit -themselves in all their bravery to papa and Marjorie. - -Donald sauntered in as they were being duly admired. - -“Hollo, kids! What giddy-looking girls! I am proud of you. Be sure and -be good girls. Don’t forget to ‘open your eyes and look very wise, -although you feel very silly.’” - -“But we _don’t_ feel very silly,” returned Eunice with dignity. “_We’re_ -not Freshmen in college.” - -“Been polishing your wits for the party, I see. Good plan, my Lady -Greasewrister, and Madame Van Twister, your ladyship’s sister.” - -“You always did call us names, and I s’pose you always will,” said -Cricket tolerantly. “But it amuses you, and we don’t care—do we, Eunice? -Isn’t it time to go, mamma?” - -“Yes, the carriage is waiting. Put on my cloak for me, Donald. Thank -you, dear. All ready, my little maids.” - -It was some distance to Emily Drayton’s, and during the drive the -children were so silent that mamma was a little worried. So little -excitement of this kind was allowed them, that generally they were as -merry as grigs. - -“What is the matter, girls? I never saw such sober little faces bound -for a party. Is anything wrong?” - -Cricket longed to confess that her throat felt like a boiled pudding, -that the skin of her neck was queer and stretched, that the lights -danced confusedly before her eyes, and that she wanted to turn around, -go home, and go to bed. However, since she had borne it all day, she did -not exactly like to sacrifice so much resolution, and giving Eunice’s -hand a tight squeeze, she said: - -“No, it’s nothing much; only a joke we’re going to tell you after the -party.” - -“A joke,” said mamma suspiciously. “Hadn’t you better tell me now?” - -“No, really,” said Cricket earnestly. “It doesn’t have anything to do -with anybody but ourselves, truly, mamma,” quite believing her words. - -“I don’t like jokes that make you look so sober, my chickens. Cricket, -are you very warm, dear? Your cheeks are so red that they are almost -purple.” - -“It’s warm in the carriage. Don’t you think so?” struck in Eunice. And -then mamma, to take up their minds, began to talk brightly about some -funny occurrence that she had seen that morning while she was marketing, -and the children almost forgot their respective woes. - -When they arrived at the Drayton’s, most of the children were already -there. The lovely house presented a gay scene. Emily greeted Eunice and -Cricket rapturously. - -“I was so afraid that something had happened, and you weren’t coming,” -she said. “We are just going to play ‘Quack,’ and Cricket is always so -funny in that. Come over here.” - -The classic game of “Quack” was started. All of you know it, do you not? -A large circle is formed, and one person, blindfolded, stands in the -middle with a cane in her hand. The circle moves slowly around till the -person in the centre thumps the cane as a signal to stop, and then it is -pointed at some one. This person takes the other end of the cane, and -the blindfolded one asks any question, which must be answered by the -word “Quack,” uttered in a disguised voice. The one in the centre must -guess the speaker, and is allowed three questions. - -Cricket was always in demand for the centre, because her quick wits -supplied her with funny questions. To-night, however, she rather lost -her reputation, for her tired little brain could concoct nothing more -original than, “What is your name?” “Do you like butter?” and all the -other stupid questions that everybody asked. One game succeeded another, -but somehow nothing went very briskly. Presently Mrs. Drayton drew Mrs. -Ward aside, anxiously. - -“What is the matter with these children? It is so hard to get them -started at anything. They don’t seem to be having a good time.” - -“I’ve noticed something wrong,” said Mrs. Ward, looking about her. “I -never knew it so before, especially at this house. I’ve been watching my -own two pretty closely, and something is certainly wrong.” - -“See!” said Mrs. Drayton, “that is the eighth child that has dropped out -of that game, and it is so with everything we have started.” - -“There is something in the air,” Mrs. Ward said to her friend. “And -look! there is Cricket actually sitting all alone behind that palm, with -her head in her hand. I asked her a few minutes ago what is the matter, -but she insists there is nothing. Why not hasten supper?” - -“That’s always a good suggestion,” answered Mrs. Drayton. “Will you set -them to playing ‘Going to Jerusalem,’ then they will be all ready to -march out. Mrs. Fleming will play for them.” - -Even “Going to Jerusalem” was not a brilliant success. Most of the -children marched rather listlessly around, dropping into chairs when the -music stopped, without the usual scramble. Many of the little faces were -flushed a dark red, and eyes were heavy-lidded. The announcement of -supper was a relief, but Mrs. Drayton’s quick eyes noticed, to her -perplexity, that many of the dainty dishes were passed by untouched, and -that on many a plate the luscious creams and ices were scarcely tasted. - -Directly after supper Cricket sought Eunice. - -“Eunice, I can’t stand it any longer. The party is most out, and I -_must_ tell mamma that I have lumbago in my throat. If I don’t, it may -get so bad it can’t be mended. I mean cured. Do you mind _very_ much if -I ask mamma to take us home? The party isn’t half as nice as I thought -it was going to be.” - -“I don’t mind a bit,” said Eunice, with an unexpected readiness. “I feel -too queer for anything. Do you suppose it’s something awful we’ve got, -Cricket?” - -“I don’t know. I feel as if I were two persons plastered together. -There’s so much of me. My eyes are pulled sideways down to my ears. I -feel so queer and big,” finished Cricket, dolefully. - -So a few minutes later Mrs. Ward heard a dilapidated little voice behind -her: - -“Mamma dear, we’re ready to go home whenever you are.” - -Mamma was absolutely paralysed by this unexpected remark. - -“Cricket! is it you? What is the matter, dear? Are you ill?” - -“No-o. At least I think not. But—well—my head aches a little and my -throat is stiff and hot, and my eyes are leaky and I’m sort of dizzy, -and—” - -“My darling child! your throat is sore? Why didn’t you tell me before? -Where’s Eunice? We will go immediately. Find Eunice, and both of you -slip away to the dressing-room without speaking to any one. I’ll say -good-by for you to Emily and Mrs. Drayton.” - -“Eunice is ready, mamma. She feels queer, too.” - -Mrs. Ward’s heart, mother-like, jumped into her mouth. Cricket’s -description of her feelings might mean any one of so many things! -However, she kept a calm face, and hastened to explain matters to Mrs. -Drayton. - -“Do you know, I almost believe that all the children are coming down -with something,” said Mrs. Drayton, anxiously. “That would account for -their all being so heavy and dull, and hard to amuse. Poor little Emily -is in despair. She has looked forward to this so long!” - -The next day, seventeen of the children who had been at the party were -down with the mumps. - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - IN QUARANTINE. - - -“So it’s only the mumps!” sighed Cricket, with much relief, after papa’s -visit to their respective bedsides the next morning. “Papa, do you know -I was _dreadfully_ afraid that I had lumbago in my throat all day -yesterday, when it was all swelly-feeling and hurt so to swallow. That -would have killed me, wouldn’t it?” - -Papa laughed hard. - -“It might be a serious matter if you had it in your throat, but you are -in no more danger of its getting there than you are of having toothache -in your toes, my Lady Jane. Will you take a look at yourself this -morning?” and papa held up a hand mirror. - -All resemblance to Cricket had totally disappeared from the -swollen-faced little maid on the bed, and the child stared in blank -astonishment. - -“Is that _me_?” she gasped. - -“It is you, grammar and all,” laughed papa, turning to Eunice, who lay -in her cot on the other side of the room. “Admire each other to your -heart’s content, for you are just alike, my blooming little beauties.” - -“It’s bad enough to be sick without being such frights,” said Eunice -dolefully. “Cricket, you look _so_ funny. I want to laugh at you all the -time, and I can’t laugh for my face is so stiff that I can’t seem to -manage it.” - -“I’ve been wanting to laugh at you ever since we woke up, but I didn’t -want to hurt your feelings,” said Cricket, politely. “I didn’t know I -looked just as worse.” - -“You look ‘just as worser,’ if anything, little Lindley Murray,” said -papa, rising to go. - -“But I don’t feel so _very_ sick to-day, excepting my head. Couldn’t I -get up by-and-by, papa? My legs feel so kicky.” - -“Yes, you may get up, but don’t leave this room, remember. Here comes -mamma now. Have you given Eliza directions about the children, dear?” - -“Yes, she will keep them on the nursery floor. So these two can get up? -That’s nice. Mumps may not be very comfortable, my chickens, but it is -nothing dangerous, if you don’t take cold. Think of you two going to the -party last night in that condition!” - -“I guess it was the mumpfulest party there ever was,” said Cricket -musingly. “I don’t believe there was a single unmumpful child there. -Good-by papa; be sure and stop and see if Emily has the mumps—and if she -hasn’t, I’ll send her some.” - -“It might be a good plan to have an auction sale of them,” laughed papa, -as he left the room. - -The day was a long and weary one, and in spite of mamma’s company and of -many amusements, Eunice and Cricket were glad to creep back into bed -again early in the afternoon. Cricket was much the sicker of the two -children, for she had taken a little cold from her unexpected plunge the -morning before. - -Just before dinner Donald came in, and went directly to his father’s -office. - -“Father, I feel confoundedly queer,” he said. “I wish you’d give me -something. My throat is thick and I can scarcely swallow, and I’ve a -splitting headache, and a toothache around my entire jaw. Please patch -me up, for I have to go to a society meeting to-night.” - -Doctor Ward lay back in his office-chair and looked up at his tall son -with a quizzical smile. - -“H’m! lumbago in your throat too, eh? Sit down here, old boy, and let me -have a look at you.” - -Donald sat down, while his father asked him a question or two. Then -Doctor Ward burst out laughing. Donald looked injured. - -“I presume it is nothing serious then,” he said, with so precisely the -same air of dignity that the younger children often assumed when he -teased them, that his father laughed harder. - -“It’s serious or not, as you take it,” he said. “For my part, I think -it’s decidedly serious. My dear fellow, you have the mumps.” - -Donald jumped about two feet. - -“Mumps!” he ejaculated. “That baby-disease at my age! Great Cæsar’s -ghost! how the fellows will guy me!” He dropped down in a chair, with -his feet straight out in front of him—a comical picture of despair. - -“It was considerate of you to come home to have them,” said Doctor Ward -comfortingly. “Eunice and Cricket are just down with them. We’ll -quarantine you all together, and then you can amuse each other.” - -“The kids, too?” groaned Donald. “See here! Did they give ’em to me? -I’ll wallop them!” - -Doctor Ward laughed harder. - -“I don’t know where they came from, yet. I’ve had twenty cases to-day. -Most of the children at the Drayton party are down. ‘A mumpful affair,’ -as Cricket says. _You_ may have picked them up on the street-cars. You -could not have gotten them from our children.” - -“Then I’ll stay home till the confounded things are over,” said Donald, -rising. “I suppose I mustn’t go to dinner? Are the kidlets down? No? -Well, I’ll go to my room and stay there. Since Eunice and Cricket are -next door to it, that’s all right. Is mother with the kids? I’ll look in -on them.” - -So, just as mamma was cudgelling her distracted brain for more stories -to tell her two forlorn children, a knock was heard at the door, and -Donald’s curly head poked itself in. - -“Hollo, Lady Greasewrister, and Madame Van Twister, her ladyship’s -sister! How are your noble mumpships?” - -“Go ’way, Don,” called Cricket dolefully. “We’re all mumpy in here. -You’ll get them.” - -But Donald boldly advanced. “Your humble servant, Madame Van Twister. -Your gracious majesty was pleased to smile on me last night, and your -native generosity shares even your ailments with me. Behold, thy servant -also is mumpy.” - -“You, too, Donald,” shrieked Eunice delightedly. “Oh, don’t make me -laugh,” holding her hands to her throat. “Isn’t it funny, mamma? I -didn’t know _Freshmen_ ever had mumps and things.” - -“Are you going to stay here with us, Don, really?” said Cricket -interestedly. - -“Yes, Miss Scricket, I am. Any objections? That is, in my cell next -door. And as we are jointly quarantined from the rest of the family, I -foresee we’ll have some high old times. Oh, how they’ll wish they had -the mumps!” - -“Poor boy!” said Mrs. Ward, sympathetically. “What a nuisance for you!” - -For a week the mumps held high carnival at the Ward’s. Imagine, if you -can, the effect of all those swollen faces in a group. If Eunice and -Cricket looked funny, they were nothing to lordly Donald, whose face was -extended to the funniest possible proportions, for he had the affliction -only on one side. - -“We’ve a regular fat man’s picnic,” said Cricket the day that Zaidie -joined the up-stairs party. For by the usual law of contraries, Zaidie, -who was always strong and well, succumbed after two days, and delicate -little Helen, as well as Kenneth, entirely escaped. - -After Zaidie was promoted to the third floor, the original occupants had -all the delights of a bear-garden. It was fortunate for her -long-suffering family that Zaidie was seldom ill, for she was the -hardest possible child to take care of when she was. When she was well, -she was sunny-tempered, like the rest. She was harder now than she would -have been otherwise, for really the poor little thing was dismally -homesick for her little twin, her other self, from whom she had scarcely -ever been separated an hour in her life. - -After two days of Zaidie’s confinement up-stairs, Eunice and Cricket -were in such a state of exasperation and excitement over the poor little -thing’s constant wailing and fretting for Helen, her refusing to be -comforted or amused, that it was plain she must have a room to herself. -Marjorie was detailed to look after her especially. - -Marjorie, it fortunately chanced, had had the mumps when she was small. -Moreover, Zaidie was passionately attached to this eldest sister of -hers. When the little twins were born, Marjorie, aged nine, had eagerly -begged that, since mamma had two babies now, she might have one of these -to “call hers.” Mamma let her choose, and her selection instantly fell -upon the big, black-eyed baby, which appealed to her childish heart much -more than the tiny, violet-eyed one, that was so delicate that for a -year it was scarcely out of its mother’s or its nurse’s arms. - -Marjorie had always petted Zaidie after that, and made much of her and -called her “her baby,” and the strong-willed little maid obeyed Marjorie -better than any one but her father and mother. Marjorie delighted in -her, because she was such a fine, noble-looking child, with her erect, -firmly-knit little figure, her short, silky black hair, her great, dark -eyes, and peachy complexion. She loved to take her to walk, for -strangers would turn and look after her, or perhaps stop and ask whose -child she was. - -Helen, with her dainty beauty, her fluffy golden hair, and tiny figure, -was not nearly so striking-looking, though, after all, her caressing, -lovable little ways made her rather the family pet and baby, even more -than Kenneth, with his sturdy boy-ways. It is very apt to be the case, -however, in a large family, that each one of the older ones takes a -younger one under his or her special charge. Thus, as Marjorie had -adopted Zaidie, Eunice laid claim to Helen as her baby. In this same -way, Cricket felt that Kenneth was her particular property. - -Therefore, it came about that Marjorie was quite willing to undertake -Zaidie’s amusement, but she soon discovered that a “mumpy” Zaidie tried -her resources to the uttermost. Mamma was with her also, all she could -be, but with the other girls needing her also, and with Helen down with -an unusually bad attack of the croup and fretting for Zaidie quite as -much as her little twin did for her, poor mamma said that she needed to -be three people, in order to satisfy all the demands upon her. Donald, -in spite of his own mumps, came bravely to the rescue, but Zaidie -managed to keep them all busy. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR. - - -On the fourth day of imprisonment, Doctor Ward came up after luncheon -and carried mamma, somewhat against her will, off for a drive, as she -had not been out of the house for a breath of fresh air since the -Drayton party. Marjorie was left in charge. Zaidie, just in the state -where she wanted whoever she didn’t happen to have with her, wailed -disconsolately, as she stood at the window watching her father and -mother drive off. - -“I want something to ’muse me with, Margie. Mamma’s gone and I -can’t—see—Helen, and I hasn’t anything—to ’muse me—with,” she sobbed, -flattening her nose against the window-pane. - -“You ungrateful little wretch,” said Donald, trying to make a face at -her, but not succeeding in twisting his features much more than they -were already. “Here are two people devoting their days and nights to -keeping your highness serene—though I must say that I prefer to be paid -according to my efforts rather than my success.” - -“If we were paid according to our success, we wouldn’t go to Europe on -the proceeds,” sighed Marjorie. “See, Zaidie, there’s Johnnie-goat -trotting down the street—I do believe his tail has grown a little -longer. Don’t you think so?” - -Zaidie dried one eye and peered out. Instantly she conceived an idea. - -“I want to see Johnnie-goat. I hasn’t seen him for seventy-ten years, -Marjorie. I want him to come up here and see me.” - -“You can see him out of the window, pet. He couldn’t come up here—goats -don’t know anything about houses, you know.” - -Zaidie instantly shrieked. Three days of immediate obedience to her -demands had spoiled her. - -“I want him! I want him! My throat’s hurted me drefful, an’ I want -Johnnie-goat. I want him—up—here!” - -“Great Scott, Zaidie! stop howling. Let’s have him up, Meg. Anything for -a diversion.” - -“But, _Don_! the goat up _here_? We can’t.” - -“In the bright lexicon of youth, there’s no such word as ‘can’t.’ I’ll -whistle down the speaking-tube to Sarah to entice him into the area, and -I’ll go down and bring him up somehow. He can’t do any harm, and if it -quiets the kidlet for a moment, it’s worth trying. Hollo, there, Sarah!” - -Sarah responded, and the order was given. Zaidie stopped sniffling, and -watched the proceedings eagerly from the window. - -Sarah—much amazed, but too well trained to question any order of Master -Don’s, however peculiar—ran out to induce Johnnie-goat, by every -blandishment in her power, to enter the basement door. But wary -Johnnie-goat, much more accustomed to being driven away from doors by -the application of broom-sticks than being politely entreated to enter, -suspected treachery, and backed off, moving his lowered head from side -to side. - -The whole “mumpy” tribe eagerly watched the manœuvres from above. Sarah -would approach him with an indifferent, abstracted air, as if she didn’t -see him at all, and then would suddenly make a grasp at his horns. -Johnnie-goat would stand with an equally abstracted gaze as she came -nearer; then, at the last instant, up would go his heels skittishly, and -off he would go, to a convenient distance, and again await Sarah’s -approach. She displayed banana-skins temptingly, and drew him, by means -of them, almost to the area door, when the same performance would be -repeated. All the time she kept up an uncomplimentary tirade under her -breath, mingled with her enticing words to him. - -“Come, Johnnie! Johnnie! good Johnnie! Oh, yer dirty blackguard! yer -wretched spalpeen, you! It’s a clubbin’ with a big shillaly I’d be after -givin’ you! Come here, yer good goaty! Come and see the purty little gal -what’s waitin’ fur ye! Oh, the capers! takin’ that son-of-a gun -up-stairs! You murtherin’ wretch, I’d drown yer fur a cint! Come here, -good old goaty! come to Sarah! Ach, murther, howly saints! git yer evil -eye off me!” as Johnnie suddenly reared and waltzed around on his hind -legs, in a way peculiar to goats, presenting a low-bent head -threateningly in her direction. - -“Get hold of him now, Sarah,” shouted Donald, throwing up the window for -a moment. “He won’t really hurt you. Grab his horns!” - -Here Marjorie slammed down the window indignantly. Sarah, quaking with -terror, but feeling she must obey Mr. Donald though the heavens fell, -made a desperate rush and really grabbed the threatening horns with a -heavy hand. She was big and strong, and as soon as she actually touched -him, her Irish blood was up for a scrimmage. Even Johnnie-goat, to his -own intense surprise and indignation, was as wax in her hands. Tucking -his head well under her arm, by main strength she dragged him along, -protesting with all his legs, to the area door. By that time Johnnie had -recovered his presence of mind, and then ensued a tremendous racket that -brought the waitress to the rescue. - -Johnnie-goat, of course, was filled with amazement at these strange -proceedings, and his shrill “ba-a’s” went all over the house. Sarah and -Jane dragged him, struggling fiercely, along the basement hall to the -stairs. Then Sarah, getting him by his wrathful horns, and Jane pushing -from behind, wherever she could get hold, puffing and panting, they -propelled bewildered Johnnie-goat remorselessly up the stairway, his -sharp little hoofs beating a strongly rebellious tattoo as he went, -bleating like a whole ranch of goats. - -Over the stair-railing, on the upper floor, hung five eager faces, each -of the older ones calling out different suggestions, while Zaidie, her -mumps all forgotten, shrieked hoarse applause to them all. As Eliza was -out with Helen and Kenneth, they missed all this exciting time. - -Arriving on the second floor, panting Sarah was obliged to sit down on -the stairs to rest. She threw her apron over Johnnie-goat’s head, -thereby reducing him to a still wilder state of amazement, and hugged -his neck tightly under her arm to keep him quiet. - -“Hould on to his hinder-legs, Jane,” she directed, and Jane immediately -got hold of each wildly kicking hind leg. As Johnnie-goat was obliged to -use his fore legs to stand on, he was, for the first time in his life, -reduced to a condition of ignominious surrender. His vociferous cries -filled the house. - -The children, up-stairs, were in shrieks of laughter. Sarah looked as -grimly determined as if she were attacking a tramp. She strongly -disapproved of the whole proceeding, but, as is often the case with the -servants in a large household of children, she was absolute devotion to -the whole tribe, and if they had ordered it, would have attempted to -walk up the side of the house. Jane was doubled up with laughter, and -with difficulty held on to her end of the captive. Sarah kept up a -running comment. - -“Be still, you slathery spalpeen; stop kickin’ me. Ye’ve kicked me till -the futs uv me is black till the knee, I’ll be bound. Rest yerself the -while; nobody’s going to hurt yer. Come, then, if yer wants to go, we’ll -be off wid yer now. Take another h’ist, Jane. Shure, Masther Don, it’s -hopin’ ye’ve got a rope up there I am, else it’s tearin’ yez all to -pieces he’ll be.” - -“Come on,” shouted Donald, boyishly; “bring on your plunder. I’ve got a -trunk-strap to fasten him with.” Donald dived into the trunk-room, and -reappeared with a long strap. - -“Oh, my goodness, how he wiggles!” cried Zaidie, clapping her hands -ecstatically, as the procession started up-stairs again. “Johnnie-goat! -Johnnie-goat! keep still, and let Sarah carry you, there’s a good -goatie!” - -And thus, pushed and pulled, Johnnie-goat, bewildered and indignant, was -delivered into Donald’s hands, and the hot and panting maids returned -down-stairs. - -Donald fastened the long strap to his collar, and then to the -balustrade. Being released from durance vile—that is, from his enforced -retreat under Sarah’s strong arm,—he shook himself vigorously, and then -straightway executed a war-dance, first on his hind legs and then on his -fore legs, and then, apparently, on one at a time, alternating the -performance with a succession of dives and butts that sent the children -shrieking and laughing in all directions out of his way. - -“Oh, my throat!” sighed Cricket, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I’ve -certainly split my mumps! _Don’t_ make me laugh so, Johnnie-goat. Don’t -you know your friends?” - -Apparently Johnnie didn’t, for he instantly butted fiercely in Cricket’s -direction. - -“I do b’lieve he’s hungry,” said Zaidie, hospitably offering him a -newspaper. In the midst of his wrath, Johnnie-goat recognised this -familiar object, and, after eying it a moment, he suddenly dropped his -warlike demeanour, accepted the paper as a peace-offering, and fell to -chewing as placidly as if he stood on his native heath—that is, the -livery stableman’s back yard. Under the calming influence of this -familiar occupation, he soon dropped every appearance of resentment, and -finally ducked his head in his usual friendly fashion, to let Zaidie -scratch him between the horns. - -One of Johnnie-goat’s accomplishments was jumping over a rope held a -foot from the ground. Cricket now proposed to make him do it, as the -hall was long enough to give him a good run for it. As they did not dare -to let him go entirely, Donald tied a long, stout cord to each side of -his collar, so that somebody could drive him and jump the rope with him. -Of course that somebody was Cricket. When the reins were ready, and -Cricket had them well in hand, Donald unfastened the trunk-strap, and -Eunice and Zaidie each held an end of it in place, so that Johnnie-goat -could jump over it. - -He knew the programme perfectly well, and stood quietly while the -arrangements were being made. - -“All ready,” cried Donald, as much a boy at heart as ever, in spite of -his eighteen years and his Freshman dignity. “Let him go, Gallagher!” - -“Get up, sir!” cried Cricket, shaking her string reins. Johnnie-goat -stood provokingly still, gazing abstractedly out of the window. - -“Get up, sir,” repeated Cricket, giving him a gentle push in the rear -with her foot. - -The touch gave Johnnie-goat the excuse he had been waiting for. He gave -one of his sudden darts, dragging the strings from Cricket’s hand, and -was free. He pranced forward, escaping Donald’s hands, knocked down -Zaidie, who promptly howled, and dashed into Eunice’s room. There he -encountered a small table, the contents of which were instantly strewed -over the floor, while the children ran screaming after him. - -“My work-basket!” shrieked Eunice, darting forward to rescue it, as -Johnnie-goat stopped, with one foot through the pretty straw cover, and -nibbled inquisitively at a tape measure. He kicked out behind and butted -in front when the children tried to catch him, and then turned his -attention to a little silver-topped emery. - -“Oh, Don! do get it!” cried Eunice, clasping her hands tragically, as -the emery went into the capacious mouth, and Johnnie-goat meditatively -rolled it over with his tongue, to get its full flavour. - -Don deftly seized Johnnie-goat’s horns with one hand, and bent back his -head with the other, pulling at the silk cord that drooped gracefully -out from his mouth—thus rescuing the emery from its Jonah-like retreat. - -“Oh! oh!” wailed Eunice, taking the wet and dirty object daintily by -thumb and finger, “it’s all spoiled! You bad Johnnie-goat! Box his ears, -Don. Look out, Cricket, there he goes at your new shoes. Do get him down -stairs now. Ow! there goes my Dresden pin-tray!” with a shriek of -despair. Johnnie-goat, whisking from side to side of the room, in search -of new excitement, had swept his bearded chin over the low -dressing-table, among the array of pin-cushions, trays, bottles, -photographs, and brushes. Smash went the dainty Dresden pin-tray on the -floor as Eunice spoke, and Johnnie-goat danced off. - -“Come, you young bull in a china shop, we’ve had enough of you,” said -Donald, diving after him, and catching him by whatever was nearest. It -happened to be his tail, which was a short but firm handle. Johnnie-goat -whipped around indignantly, and Donald grabbed at his horns. - -[Illustration: AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR.] - -“Whistle down the tube for Sarah to take him, Meg,” he called. “No, -stop; I’ll take him down myself, the kids are out of the way. Come this -way, young chap,” and Donald pulled and hauled Johnnie, vigorously -rebelling, to the top of the staircase. As Johnnie looked down to the -floor below, possibly he regarded the stairs as some curious kind of -mountains, which his inherited instinct made familiar, for he suddenly -plunged headlong down them so fast that Donald lost his balance, and -went heels-over-head after him, goat and Freshman arriving at the bottom -at the same moment, in an inextricably mixed-up condition. Overhead the -excited girls watched and screamed. - -Donald unwound his long length slowly. He and the goat had mutually -broken each other’s fall, and nearly each other’s necks. As it happened, -neither was hurt. At least, Donald discovered that he was not, and as -for Johnnie-goat, he seemed as much alive as ever, but in such a state -of amazement at all the strange experiences that he was going through, -that he quietly submitted to let Don lay hold of his collar, and escort -him at a slow and dignified walk down the next flight. - -They were half-way down when there was a quick click of a latch-key, and -the front door opened. Doctor Ward and a stranger entered. Both stared -in amazement. - -“How under the canopy—” began Doctor Ward; but Donald interrupted him, -explaining calmly: - -“Goat ran away from the Odd-Fellow’s Lodge, over there. The poor -creature is nearly starved; I’m taking it back.” - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - A PHILANTHROPIC SCHEME. - - -One morning, when the mumps were a thing of the past, Eunice and Cricket -walked along to school arm-in-arm. Cricket swung her books, as usual, by -the long strap, and Eunice had hers snugly tucked under her arm. Both -were chattering as fast as their busy tongues could wag. As they turned -around the corner into a quiet street, the sound of a crying child -attracted their attention, though at first there was nothing to be seen. - -“There it is,” said Cricket. “See that mite up there.” - -The “mite” was a funny-looking little thing about three years old, -poorly dressed, bareheaded, with a little flaxen pig-tail sticking out -behind each ear. The child stood at the top of some steps, wailing -steadily, and beating its little blue fists against the door. - -“It’s been shut out, poor little thing,” said Eunice, running up the -steps and ringing the bell, vigorously. “Wait a moment, Cricket, till -someone comes to the door.” - -The baby stopped crying and surveyed her new friend with a pair of -staring, pale-blue eyes. - -It was certainly a very dirty baby, and Eunice wondered at its belonging -to such a nice-looking house. Then a trim maid opened the door. - -“I found this baby, here, trying to get in,” began Eunice, civilly, “so -I rang the bell for her, and waited till you came to take her in.” - -The trim maid surveyed the baby in indignant scorn. - -“It don’t belong here, miss, for sure. The likes o’ that!” - -“Doesn’t belong here? The poor little thing! Then she must be lost. She -was pounding on your door and crying dreadfully. What shall I do with -her?” - -“’Deed, I don’t know, miss,” answered the maid, backing away and partly -shutting the door, as if afraid that Eunice would insist on leaving the -interesting infant there. It had immediately adopted Eunice as its -protector, apparently, for it grasped her skirt with one hand, and with -a thumb tucked deep into its mouth, it stood passively staring from one -to the other. Somebody must do something, that was clear. - -[Illustration: THE LOST BABY.] - -“Come on,” called Cricket, who had walked slowly on. “Won’t she go in?” - -“Come back a minute. The maid says she doesn’t belong here. What shall -we do with her? I suppose she’s lost. Can’t I leave her here? I have to -go to school,” added Eunice, turning to the girl, who had now left only -a crack of door open. - -“’Deed, no. _We_ didn’t find her,” said the girl, impertinently. “It -doesn’t belong anywhere about here. Take her to the police station. We -can’t take care of beggar’s brats,” and with that she shut the door, -leaving Eunice staring as blankly at the door as the baby did at her -dress. - -“What a horrid, cross girl!” said Eunice, indignantly, at last, -descending the steps slowly to accommodate her steps to the short, fat -legs beside her. The child still clung closely to a fold of her dress. - -“What shall we do with it? We’ll be dreadfully late for school.” - -“Let’s take it to school,” suggested Cricket. - -“How could we? Baby, what is your name, and where do you live?” - -Baby uttered a gurgle that doubtless meant volumes, but which the girls -could not interpret. She was a Dutchy-looking little thing, with a wide, -chubby face and squat little figure. Her little flaxen pig-tails were -about an inch and a half long, and were tied with white string. - -“Shall we take her to the police station? Let’s hurry, whatever we do. -It’s ’most nine.” - -“The police station? and have the poor little atom locked up in a big, -black cell?” exclaimed Eunice, indignantly. “Never!” for her ideas as to -the exact advantage of taking a lost child to a police station were -somewhat vague. - -“Let’s take her to the little bake-shop woman by the school, and leave -her there for the morning, anyway. I’m sure she’ll take care of her. -We’ll take her home after school, and papa will see about her.” - -Eunice assenting to this proposal, they now took up the line of march. -People glanced and smiled at the funny, dirty baby, with the -handkerchief that Eunice tied over its head, and the two well-dressed -children, but _they_ did not notice it. - -“Eunice, we might adopt it!” cried Cricket suddenly. “Wouldn’t that be -fun? It could play with Kenneth, and ’Liza wouldn’t mind one more child -to take care of.” - -“What fun!” exclaimed Eunice. “And if ’Liza didn’t want the trouble we -could do it ourselves. It could sleep in a crib in our room. I’d wash it -one morning, and you could the next.” - -“Yes, and we’d spend Saturday mornings making its clothes.” - -“And we’d take it to walk when we got home from school—” - -“And we’d teach it its letters—” - -“And put it to bed—” - -“Would we have to spank her if she was naughty?” - -“Oh, do let’s _beg_ them to let us have it for our very own, and bring -it up ourselves. Would you like to live with us, baby?” - -The possibility of a distracted mother, searching around for the child, -somehow never occurred to the girls, in their planning about the little -waif, and they chattered on, in their eagerness, till they reached the -shop of the little baker, with whom they meant to leave the child. - -The good-natured little woman, who knew the children well by sight, was -quite interested in their story, and was entirely willing to take charge -of the lost baby till one o’clock. She was an ignorant little German -woman, and she never thought of telling the girls to send it to the -police station to be kept till its friends could look it up. - -The thought of the baby kept the girls excited all the morning. After -school they started off immediately, without waiting, as usual, for -their friends. The baby recognised Eunice as soon as she appeared, and -pulled her dress delightedly. - -“Could you lend us something to put on her head?” asked Eunice, eyeing -the flaxen pig-tails doubtfully. “My handkerchief makes her look so -queer, and I’m afraid she’ll take cold without anything over her head.” - -The little bake-shop woman good-naturedly produced a very -remarkable-looking cap of her own baby’s, and tied it on the little -waif’s head. - -“I haf ask her the name,” she said, as she tied the strings, “but I no -unnerstan’ her. She try to talk, but she yust—” - -“Jabbers,” said Cricket. “I should say she did. Good-by! Thank you ever -so much for taking care of her for us.” - -When the girls arrived at home they found a free field. Mamma had gone -to Marbury to spend the day with grandma, and had taken Kenneth with -her. Marjorie was out to lunch with a friend; and papa, Jane said, had -been unexpectedly called out of town an hour ago, and would not be back -that night. They took the baby up to the nursery, and introduced their -prize to astonished ’Liza and the twins. - -“But you can’t _keep_ it,” said ’Liza. “I jest guess its poor mother is -running all around the streets looking for it.” - -“Oh, do you think so?” said Eunice surprised. “Why, I never thought of -her. Well, of course, papa will advertise the baby, and do everything -about it, but if we _don’t_ find anyone belonging to her, we are going -to keep her, Cricket and I.” - -Whereupon ’Liza pretended to faint away. - -The twins were perfectly delighted with the addition to the family. - -“It’s just like the little boy we finded once,” piped up Zaidie, “only -it’s a girl. Auntie wouldn’t let us keep it.” - -“This is a really, truly, losted baby, though, and Phelps wasn’t,” -explained Helen. “He had only runned away.” - -The “losted baby” here took its thumb out of its mouth, and suddenly -began to cry. - -“It’s hungry!” announced Cricket, with the air of one discovering -America. “What do you s’pose it can eat, ’Liza?” - -“’Most anything it can get, I rather guess,” said ’Liza. “That kind -generally does, and is glad to get it, too.” - -“She isn’t ‘that kind,’” said Cricket indignantly, resenting the tone. -“Come, baby; we’ll go down-stairs and get some bread and milk. You -’ittle tunnin’ sing!” as the baby stopped in its howl as suddenly as it -had begun, and trotted away contentedly with the girls. - -Cook duly exclaimed over “the find,” but she reiterated the advice of -the cross maid, and recommended them to take the baby to the police -station. - -“Why does _every_body want to send this poor little mite to the police -station?” cried Eunice. “It hasn’t done a thing, only got lost, and -prob’ly it didn’t want to do that; and everybody wants to shut it up in -a big, black cell. Papa can advertise it when he gets home, if he likes, -and if anybody comes for it they can have it. If no one _does_ come, -we’ll keep you ourselves; won’t we, baby? Drink the milk, now.” - -“Wish we knew its name,” said Cricket. - -“Let’s name it something ourselves,” suggested Eunice. - -“To be sure. Don’t you know when Pharaoh’s daughter found Moses she -named him Moses, herself? Oh, Eunice, let’s call her _Mosina_!” - -“Oh, _Cricket_, how lovely! Just the thing! We didn’t find her in the -bulrushes, but we did find her on some steps. Oh, you darling Mosina! I -_hope_ your mother won’t come for you!” - -When the new arrival had finished her luncheon, and the children had had -theirs, they carried Mosina off to their room. Zaidie and Helen -immediately came toiling up from the nursery, to help entertain their -guest. Fortunately she was not at all shy, and jabbered and gurgled in -her unintelligible baby talk, showing the greatest readiness to be -amused. - -“La! she’s awful dirty,” said Eliza, looking in on them presently. “I -wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole.” - -“Let’s wash her, and dress her up in Kenneth’s things,” cried Cricket, -straightway catching hold of Mosina, who speedily stood arrayed only in -her own rosy skin; for the dirt which ’Liza had exclaimed at, was really -chiefly on her hands and face. - -Eunice drew the water in the bath-tub, and all four, with great laughing -and excitement, superintended a very thorough scrubbing process, to the -infinite amazement of the small child, who had probably never been so -scrubbed before since she was born. - -There was a small bruise on one side of the round, dimpled thigh, that -presently caught Zaidie’s attention. - -“Here’s another dirt-spot, Eunice,” she said, with an air of much -importance at the discovery. It was so delightful to be the scrubber -instead of the _scrubbee_. She seized the nail-brush, and squeezing in -under Eunice’s arm, began vigorously applying it to the baby’s soft -flesh. That small person instantly howled again. - -“Stop, Zaidie! that isn’t dirt, it’s a bruise,” said Eunice, taking the -nail-brush away. “Can’t you tell the difference?” - -“Not unlets I poke ’em,” said Zaidie, looking surprised. “When I have -one I always poke it, and if it hurts I know it’s a bruise. If it -doesn’t I guess it’s dirt. I couldn’t tell it on the baby, could I?” - -“You had better experiment on yourself,” said Cricket, laughing. “There, -Miss Mosina, you’re pretty clean now, I think. Let’s take her out, -Eunice. Put down the big bath-towel, Zaidie.” - -Baby had endured the process in awed silence thus far, but when she -stood dripping like a little cupid on the bath-towel, she patted her -round, fat legs with every appearance of delight, and even attempted to -climb back into the tub. It was probably her first experience of a -plunge. - -“You _cunning_ thing!” cried Eunice, as rapturously as if she had never -seen a small child tubbed before. “Cricket, won’t you run and ask ’Liza -for some of Kenneth’s clothes? I don’t want to put her dirty ones on her -again.” - -Cricket ran off and presently came back, laughing. - -“’Liza says she couldn’t dress such little beggars in gentlemen-folkses’ -children’s clothes, but finally she let me have these old ones, that -mamma had put by to give away. Let me see; where do you begin?” - -“I know,” said Zaidie; and by the united efforts of all four, Mosina was -presently arrayed. - -This process had taken up a great part of the afternoon, and at this -moment, Marjorie, who had just returned, came running up-stairs. - -“Oh, have mamma and Kenneth come back so early?” she said, catching -sight of a tiny figure in a familiar blue dress. - -“No, but this is our new baby, and we’re going to adopt it, if its -mother doesn’t come for it; and I don’t much believe she will, for it -was pretty dirty, and probably she doesn’t care for it much, so Eunice -and I are going to keep it,” poured out Cricket in a breath. - -Marjorie dropped against the newel-post. - -“_Adopt_ it? What, in the name of common sense, are you talking about, -Cricket? Where did the atom come from?” - -“We found her in the street this morning,” explained Eunice, “and we -couldn’t find anybody that belonged to her, so we _had_ to bring her -home, Marjorie. We couldn’t leave her to starve, could we? Poor little -mite! she was freezing cold.” - -Mosina, quite aware that she was under discussion, clung to the dress of -her first friend, sucking her thumb, and staring from one to the other -with her solemn blue eyes. - -“But, my dear children,” began Marjorie, in a very superior, -elder-sisterly tone, “that is perfectly absurd. With all the raft of -children we have now, we can’t adopt a whole orphan asylum. Besides, her -mother will be looking for her; probably she is nearly frantic. You must -send her to the police station.” - -“There!” cried Eunice, aggrieved, “that old police station again! -Everybody says that. As if I would have this cunning thing, that loves -me so, shut up in a horrid old black cell. Why, she’d be as afraid as -anything.” - -“They don’t put lost children in cells,” began Marjorie, and then -stopped, not quite certain what they did do with them. “At any rate, you -ought to take her there. People always do.” - -“I shan’t do it,” said Eunice, stoutly. - -“And, Marjorie, she’d be frightened to death among all those big men,” -expostulated Cricket. “We have just _got_ to keep her.” - -“Then I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” compromised Marjorie. “I’ll send Jane -around to the police station, and tell them she’s here, and describe -her, and leave our address. If any one comes, they can send here.” - -Just then the door-bell rang. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - MOSINA. - - -In a moment, Jane came up with a telegram from mamma, saying that she -would stay in Marbury all night, as it looked like rain, and Kenneth had -a slight cold. - -The children looked at each other in blank dismay. Mamma’s absence, for -one night, really made no difference at all, but they felt as if the -bottom had dropped out of the house. Of course mamma had not known of -papa’s absence for the night, as he had been telegraphed for after she -had left in the morning. - -Conscientious Marjorie looked as if the affairs of the nation rested on -her shoulders. - -“Oh, dear me!” she sighed. “And this baby on my hands.” And then she -explained to Jane about the police station, and what she wanted. - -“Now, if the child is to stay here to-night, we must arrange about its -sleeping,” she added. - -“In Kenneth’s bed,” piped up Zaidie. - -“I’ll see ’Liza about it,” said Marjorie, turning to the nursery. “Take -her up-stairs, Eunice, do, and keep her amused till dinner.” - -“I’ll tell you, Miss Marjorie,” said ’Liza in confidence, “them children -have the notion of adopting that baby. Of course it’s all nonsense, but -you let ’em have her in their room to-night, and they’ll get off the -notion. Tell ’em I can’t have the bother of it here. ’Course I’ll sleep -with one ear open, and if they get into trouble, I’ll go up.” - -“Very well, ’Liza, I’ll do that,” said Marjorie, turning away. - -Eunice and Cricket proclaimed themselves perfectly _delighted_ with the -arrangement. It was just what they meant to do, anyway. - -“Of course, Marjorie, if _we_ adopt the baby, we’d expect to take all -the care of it, you know,” said Cricket. “’Liza has enough to do with -the younger ones; ’course she’ll sleep here. Eunice, you can have her -half the night, and I’ll take her the other half.” - -“I may forget to wake up,” objected Eunice. “Suppose I take her to-night -into my bed, Cricket, and you take her to-morrow night. There’s the -dinner-bell. She can stay in the nursery with ’Liza and the twins, and -get her supper, while we’re at dinner.” - -“Come, Mosina,” said Cricket. “Oh, Marjorie, I forgot to tell you, we -named her Mosina, after Moses.” - -“You are the most ridiculous children about names,” said Marjorie, -laughing. “Come to dinner now. After dinner let us try that duet, -Eunice.” - -Marjorie and Eunice were both musical, and each played exceedingly well -for their respective years. Although Cricket loved music, she had no -aptitude for the piano, and her lessons had been discontinued. Instead, -her talent for her pencil was being cultivated. But all the children -were more or less musical. Marjorie and Eunice both had very good -voices, and, with Donald’s aid, they often practised trios, as well as -duets by themselves. - -After dinner, Marjorie and Eunice played duets for a time, but Eunice -was so impatient to get back to her adopted baby, and made so many -mistakes, that presently Marjorie, in disgust, sent her off. The two -younger girls immediately flew up to the nursery. - -’Liza was getting the twins ready for bed, and gave Eunice some -night-things of Kenneth’s for her charge, together with a shower of -instructions for the night. Then the children carried off the baby, -nodding and heavy-eyed, but quiet and stolid still. - -With much giggling and fun, and a feeling of immense importance, the two -girls finally had Mosina undressed and ready for bed. By this time she -was almost asleep on their hands. - -“Just see this room!” exclaimed Eunice, looking about her, after the -infant was safely tucked away in her cot. “Doesn’t it look as if a -cyclone had struck it? It’s more mussed up than the nursery ever gets -with all three children there.” - -“We’ll put it in order to-morrow, for it’s Saturday, and we’ll have -plenty of time,” said Cricket, gathering up the baby’s things with a -sweep of her arm, and putting them on a chair. “Come on down-stairs -again. Doesn’t it seem grown-up and motherly just to turn down the gas -and go down and leave the baby asleep? _Won’t_ mamma be surprised when -she comes home?” - -“We must listen to see if she cries,” said Eunice, beginning to feel the -responsibility of a family. - -The children went down-stairs again, to the back parlour, where Marjorie -was deep in to-morrow’s trigonometry. They each took a book and -pretended to read, but each found herself starting up at every sound, -and asking each other if that was the baby’s voice. A dozen times Eunice -tiptoed to the front hall and stood listening at the foot of the stairs, -with a queer feeling of the necessity of keeping very quiet, although -she certainly had never felt that necessity with the twins or her small -brother. A dozen times Cricket started up, fancying she heard a little -wail from above. - -“Dear me!” sighed the latter, at last, “I know now what mamma means by -saying she sleeps with her ears open. I have one ear up-stairs, and the -other on my book, and I’ve read this page six times, and I have -forgotten to turn over.” - -“It shows your distracted condition, if you are trying to read with your -ears,” Marjorie stopped her studying to observe. “Don’t bother about -that infant, girls. She’s all right. _I’m_ only thinking about her poor -mother. Jane said there had been no inquiries at the police station.” - -“Everybody’s been firing that police station at our heads all day,” said -Eunice, “but I couldn’t bear to have the poor little thing put in a -cell.” - -“But they don’t put lost children in cells, goosie,” said Marjorie. “I -suppose they have a woman to take care of them. They send to the Central -Office and tell them they have a lost child there. Then anybody who has -lost a child goes to the nearest station and tells about it. Then they -send to the Central and ask if a lost child has been reported there, and -then they telegraph back if it has, and the parents go and find it, -wherever it is. You know I sent to the station to say it is here.” - -“How very simple,” said Eunice, thoughtfully. “I wish we had known that -this morning. I didn’t think about the mother’s part of it, as I do now. -How we would feel if Kenneth was lost for even an hour.” - -“Come, Eunice,” said Cricket, shutting her book with a slam. “Let’s go -to bed. I’ve had such an exciting day that I’m just _reeking_ with -sleep. Good night, Meg.” - -“Good night, and take care of your infant.” - -The children tiptoed into their room, and turned up the gas a very -little. - -“Do look at that child,” said Eunice, stopping short. - -Certainly if Mosina was quiet by day she plainly made up for it at -night. She had twisted, and wiggled, and kicked, till the clothes were -lying in every direction, and she herself was curled into a little ball -at the foot of the bed, with her beloved thumb tucked into her mouth as -far as it would go. - -“How shall we get her back again without waking her? Would you dare lift -her?” - -“We’ll have to. You can’t sleep without any clothes over you, can you? -Come up here, you rascal,” and Cricket lifted the small round ball -gently in her arms and laid her, right side up, at the other end of the -bed. Baby settled down with a gurgle. - -After the girls were in bed, and silence and darkness had reigned for -ten minutes, Eunice suddenly remarked: - -“Do you know, Cricket, I never realised before how small this cot is. -This midget seems to take up all the room. She slips right down into the -middle.” - -“Sleep on the other side,” murmured Cricket, drowsily. - -“I can’t very well sleep on both sides of her at once; I’ll move her -along once more.” - -Silence again, broken by a sudden grunt from Eunice. - -“Ugh! she’s planted her feet whack in my stomach. Cricket, she flops -just like a little fish. I never know where she’s going to land next; -and she’s a regular windmill with her arms. There she comes, whack, on -my nose again.” - -“Tell—her—to—stop,” advised Cricket, in far-away tones. - -“Much good that would do! Now, you midget, get over on your own side, -and stay there;” and Eunice, having lost all fears of awakening her -protegé, placed her with much firmness back on the other side. - -Poor Eunice! As the cot was only three feet wide, and as she was -entirely unaccustomed to sleeping with any one, much less a wriggling, -squirming baby, she naturally found her present experience rather a -trying one. She listened enviously to Cricket’s even breathing, which -showed that she was safe in the Land of Nod; but when she herself was -almost there, a tiny foot or hand was suddenly planted on her, or the -soft, round little body came rolling over, and landed plump upon her. - -“_Oh_, DEAR!” cried Eunice at last, in despairing capitals, “how do -mothers ever sleep at night, if their babies sleep with them?” - -She stretched herself on the outermost limit of her cot, after pushing -Mosina well along to the other side. For a time quiet reigned, and -Eunice’s heavy eyelids fell. She was peacefully sailing away to -dreamland, when suddenly a thud and a roar awakened them. Of course -Mosina had fallen out of bed. - -“Cricket! Cricket! do get up and light the gas! I’m afraid to get out -for fear I’ll step on her. Do hurry, Cricket!” - -Cricket tumbled sleepily out of bed and groped for the matches, which -hung in a little swinging receiver on the gas-jet. She hit it -accidentally, and every match went flying to the floor. Meanwhile Mosina -steadily roared. Eunice leaned over the edge and felt around for her. - -“Where have every one of those plaguey matches gone?” demanded Cricket, -with emphasis, groping around on her hands and knees, and hitting every -kind of object save a match. Just at that moment Eliza, aroused by the -uproar, appeared, carrying a candle. - -“The baby fell out of bed,” explained Eunice, somewhat unnecessarily, -springing out of bed herself as the welcome light appeared. Mosina lay -sprawled on her back, kicking her fat legs, and screaming lustily. - -“’Tain’t hurt, by the way it cries,” said Eliza, picking up the baby -with a practised hand. “It’s mad. There now! ’sh! hushaby! Where was it -sleeping, Miss Eunice?” - -“Here in my bed. Cricket, perhaps it _would_ be better to take half a -night apiece instead of every other night. I want _some_ sleep. She -thrashes like a whale. I’m all black and blue where she has punched me.” - -By this time Mosina, hushed in Eliza’s arms, had gradually ceased crying -and was shutting her sleepy eyes again. - -“Yes, give her to me,” said Cricket, hopping into bed, and holding out -her arms. “Isn’t she soft and warm, though. She’s just like a little -hot-water bag. I’ll put you on the side next the wall, you cunning -thing, so you can’t fall out again.” - -Eunice jumped into bed and drew up the blankets with a perfect groan of -relief, and Eliza departed, leaving them in darkness and quiet again. - -“If she kicks _very_ hard, Cricket, I’ll take her back, after I’ve had a -little—snooze—but—I’m so—” and Eunice dropped off, even as she spoke. -Cricket cuddled the baby in her arms, where it actually lay still for a -minute or two, and Cricket improved the opportunity to go to sleep -herself. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - A BEDFELLOW. - - -Two or three hours passed, and the household were all asleep; Cricket, -in the intervals of her disturbed dreams, had fished her little charge -up from her feet, and extricated her from an amazing tangle of sheets -and blankets. She had awakened from an oppressive dream of drowning to -find the baby sprawling over her chest, with both legs around her neck. -She had patiently restored her each time to her own corner. At last, -thoroughly tired out with this unaccustomed wakefulness and -responsibility, she fell into a sleep much heavier than usual, -regardless of Mosina’s continued antics. - -At last a strange, new sound slowly penetrated her consciousness, and -she gradually awakened to the fact that there had been a queer, wheezing -noise close to her ear for some time. Still dazed with sleep; she lay -bewildered for a moment or two, till it suddenly dawned on her that the -queer noise came from the small atom at her side. Mosina was wheezing -and choking in a way that became more alarming every moment. - -“Eunice! Eunice!” cried Cricket, suddenly realising that something was -seriously wrong; “for goodness sake, wake up! Something’s the matter -with the baby!” - -“In a moment,” answered Eunice, sleepily, thinking that she was being -called to breakfast. - -“_Eunice_, get up! Run for ’Liza! Baby’s _dying_!” - -“What?” cried Eunice, startled into full wakefulness. “Oh, Cricket! What -is it? What awful noises!” - -“I don’t know what’s the matter,” said Cricket, feeling her way to the -gas again. “Oh, _do_ hurry! Here, you light it, and I’ll go.” And -Cricket flew away barefooted. - -In a moment she was back again, and directly after ’Liza appeared, in a -trailing flannel wrapper and felt shoes. - -“Croup!” she had exclaimed to herself, as she heard the wheezing noises -away down-stairs. “A bad case, too,” she added to herself, as she -entered the room. - -Eunice had the gas lighted, and the two shivering, frightened little -girls hung over the cot, where the baby lay fighting for breath, with -that dreadful, whooping noise that mothers know and dread. Eliza came -forward quickly; although she had not much head for any emergencies out -of her own line, she was a good and efficient nurse where children’s -ordinary ailments were concerned. - -“Put on your dressing-gowns and slippers,” she ordered the children, she -herself flying to the wash-stand, and wringing out a towel in cold -water. “Run up-stairs, Miss Eunice, and wake Jane, and tell her to go -for Dr. Townsend. Pass me a flannel petticoat out of your drawer, -Cricket, please. I dasn’t wait to go to the nursery for things.” - -The children flew on their respective orders, and in a twinkling Eliza -had a cold compress on the baby’s chest, well protected by Cricket’s -blue flannel petticoat. - -Jane appeared a few moments later, ready to go for the doctor, and -Marjorie, aroused by the voices and general commotion, came flying -up-stairs. - -“Them big, fat children always has croup dretful,” said Jane cheerfully. -“Like as not she’ll die.” - -“Die!” echoed ’Liza, scowling at her. “You get along, Jane Lackett, and -bring that doctor, and tell him Doctor Ward’s away; and don’t let the -grass grow under your feet, neither.” - -“Oh, ’Liza, will she die?” whispered Cricket, clinging to Eliza’s hand. - -“Oh, lawks! I guess not, honey; but she’s fair to middlin’ sick. Helen -ain’t nothin’ to her. Never heard a worse wheezin’. S’pose she’s took a -fine cold this morning, runnin’ round without any hat on.” - -It was dreadful to the girls, who had never seen a bad attack of croup -before, to stand there helplessly, and watch the little creature -fighting for breath, every respiration coming with a long whoop that -seemed to tear the little frame apart. - -“Can’t you do anything, ’Liza?” begged Marjorie. “It’s dreadful to see -her suffer so. Aren’t there any medicines to give her?” - -“Yes, Miss Marjorie; there’s syrup of squills. It’s in your ma’s -medicine chest. No; it’s all out, I know. I’ll give her some vaseline, -if you’ll get some.” - -“Make her _eat_ that stuff!” exclaimed Cricket. “Why, it will choke her! -Don’t do it. It’s cruel!” - -But Eliza, unheeding, took a spoonful of vaseline, and opening the -baby’s already gasping mouth still further, put the soft, slippery mass -down the poor little throat. - -Presently the doctor came, and to the children’s amazement, he nodded -approvingly over the vaseline. Then he ordered them all off to bed. - -“Go and finish the night in mamma’s bed, you and Cricket,” suggested -Marjorie. “’Liza, I’ll be on the lookout for our children, since my room -is next to theirs, and you must stay here. Is the baby very sick, -doctor?” - -“It’s a pretty bad attack, but nothing to be frightened about,” said the -doctor cheerily. “But who in the world is the youngster?” - -While Marjorie explained, Eunice and Cricket crept off to mamma’s room, -and tucked themselves into her wide bed, feeling as if they had been -through a lifetime’s experience since nine o’clock that night. How -delightfully peaceful and care-free it seemed to settle down without -anyone to look after but themselves. - -“Really, Cricket, it may sound funny to you,” said Eunice, squeezing her -sister, “but I feel as if I had had babies in my bed for _years_. It -actually seems funny not to feel her squirming around.” - -“And I’m very sure, for my part, that adopting babies is not what it’s -cracked up to be,” returned Cricket, decidedly. “Eunice, don’t let _us_ -adopt her, even if her mother doesn’t come for her. Mamma can, if she -wants to, or papa can find somebody else to. I think we have enough -children, anyway.” - -“She would take a lot of time,” asserted Eunice. - -“Yes; and think of dressing her every morning!” added Cricket. - -“And having her sleep with us, and kicking us black and blue every -night!” said Eunice feelingly. - -“Yes, and keeping us awake. Wonder how the poor little thing is.” - -“The doctor and ’Liza will take care of her. Listen, Cricket! There’s -the clock actually striking two o’clock! Mercy! were we ever awake so -late before?” - -“Never. I feel forty-six years older than I did last night, don’t you, -Eunice?” - -But a grunt was Eunice’s only answer, and Cricket speedily followed her -to the Land o’ Nod. - -The doctor and Eliza had a busy hour over the baby, and at the end of -that time it was sleeping quietly, and the night was finished in peace -and quiet. - -It was very fortunate that Eliza was the most patient, long-suffering -nurse imaginable, for she accepted Mosina as a temporary inmate of the -nursery the next day as a matter of course, and looked after her as -carefully as after the other children. Jane made another visit to the -police station, after breakfast, but only brought back the information -that no lost child had yet been reported. - -Papa returned about luncheon time, and to his great amazement, was -presented to the new member of his family. - -“We thought at first we’d like to adopt her, but we’ve come to the -conclusion we don’t care much about it,” confessed Eunice frankly, at -the end of her tale; “at least, we don’t if she has to sleep with us.” - -“Because, papa,” chimed in Cricket, “you see, she’s the restlessest, -squirmiest child you ever saw. Oh, yes; she looks mild enough now, but -if you felt her wiggle just one night, you’d believe it.” - -“You both of you look as if you had been on a prolonged spree,” said -Doctor Ward, pinching the rather pale cheeks of his two -ex-philanthropists. “Never mind, I’ll look out for the baby. Somebody -will be sure to turn up for her.” - -And somebody did. About seven o’clock that evening, the somebody marched -up the steps and rang the bell furiously. It was a distracted little -Dutch woman, who in broken English demanded her baby. Mosina was brought -down, but after the first little gurgle of pleasure at seeing her -mother, sucked her thumb as placidly as ever, while her mother hugged -and kissed her rapturously, pouring forth a stream of mingled Dutch and -English. It was some time before she was calm enough to explain the -situation. - -She went out to work by the day, when she could, and, when she was at -work, would often leave the baby at her married sister’s for two days at -a time, as the sister lived at a distance, and she would sometimes be -too tired to go for her at night. The day before, she had taken her -there as usual. However, the little thing must have slipped out and run -after her, and the sister thought the mother had taken her, after all. -She had to go to work at a place on the other side of the city for two -days, and so had not gone for the child the night before, thinking, of -course, she was safe, as usual. She was wild with terror when she went -there and found that her sister thought she had the child with her. They -went immediately to a police station, and soon had the necessary -information of the baby’s whereabouts. - -The little Dutch mother was overwhelmed with gratitude at the kindness -and care her baby had received. She said that the little thing often had -croup, and very bad attacks, too. - -Mamma, who had returned from Marbury just before dinner, began to talk -quietly to the excited little woman, and learned her story. It was very -short and very simple. They had come over to this country two years -before, and did well till her husband was killed by an accident a few -months previous. She spoke so little English that it was hard for her to -get work, and their little savings slipped away quickly. Now she was -anxious for all the work by the day she could get. - -Mrs. Ward listened sympathisingly, promised to speak to her friends -about her, and gave her a bundle of Kenneth’s clothes to take home, -besides the ones that Mosina was then arrayed in. - -“So you don’t want to go into the orphan asylum business?” said papa, -pulling Cricket’s curls, when the excitement was all over, and Mosina -and her mother had departed, laden down with bundles. - -“I think I _might_ like it,” said Cricket, meditatively, “if only I -didn’t have to sleep with the orphans.” - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. - - -Christmas time was approaching, and the Wards’ house was to be full to -overflowing of young people for a week or two. Donald was to have a -college friend of his with him for several days. Eunice and Cricket were -to have their little Kayuna friends, Edith Craig and Hilda Mason, to -visit them; and, at the last moment, Mrs. Somers had written, begging -that Will and Archie might be taken in, if possible, as Edna had just -come down with scarlet fever, and they had to go away. Five extra people -in an already rather full house made a great deal of planning and -arranging necessary, but I almost think that the children enjoyed the -bustle it all made as much as the expected visit. - -Donald had an extra bed put up in his room for his friend. Eunice was to -share the spare room with Edith Craig, and Hilda was to have Eunice’s -cot, according to the first plan; but when Will and Archie had to be -arranged for, mamma could think of nothing else to do but to give them -the girls’ room, and put up two more cots in the spare room—fortunately -a large one—so that all four girls could sleep there. The children were -ready to stand on their heads with delight at this arrangement. - -“So boarding-school-y!” beamed Cricket, surveying the room, when the -beds were all ready. It looked, for all the world, like a hospital ward. -“_Oh_, what fun we’ll have! You were such an _angel_, mamma, to arrange -for us all to be together.” - -“I hope I won’t regret it,” said mamma, laughing, but looking a little -dubious. - -“Indeed, you won’t,” promised Eunice. “We’ll be good, truly. Only it -will be such fun to plan jokes on the boys; and they can’t do much to us -when we are all together, you see.” - -“Remember, I don’t like practical jokes, dear,” said mamma. “They are -dangerous things.” - -“Oh, we’ll tell you all the things we do,” promised Cricket, “and we -truly won’t do anything you think we’d better not. _Please_ don’t say we -can’t play any jokes.” - -Christmas fell on Thursday, and the guests were to arrive the next day. -Christmas itself was the gala day it always is in a house full of happy -young people. It began, of course, with the usual excitement over the -stockings, big and little, that hung on the back-parlour mantel. Then -there were the presents that were too big to go into stockings to be -oh-ed and ah-ed over. Then came the church service and the Christmas -dinner, and in the evening, a little party at a neighbouring house. - -The girls from Kayuna arrived Friday afternoon. Doctor Ward took Eunice -and Cricket to the station to meet them, and in due time four broadly -smiling girls walked into the house, where the little guests were warmly -welcomed by mamma and Marjorie. - -Edith Craig was a tall, fine-looking girl, a year older than Eunice, -and, being the eldest of five children, she was very mature for her -years. She was really very companionable for Marjorie as well as for -Eunice. Cricket she regarded as a mere infant, and her motherly ways -towards that young lady were very amusing. All the family were very fond -of Edith, however; she was a bright, jolly, sensible girl, who seemed -equally happy whether she was exchanging confidences with Eunice, or -sitting with Mrs. Ward and chatting over her embroidery, or romping with -Cricket, or giving Doctor Ward intelligent attention when he was talking -of some late medical discovery, or playing duets with Marjorie, or -frolicking with the children in the nursery. A well-bred, adaptable girl -is always charming. - -Cricket thought that Hilda had grown very much in the four months since -she had seen her, but her bronze curls were as smooth, and her clothes -as trim, and she was as plump and pretty as ever. - -The little hostesses had planned enough for the ten days’ visit to fill -a month, as children generally do; but that was very much better than -not having enough to do. Saturday, the first day, was a lovely -beginning, for Mrs. Drayton had planned one of Emily’s pleasant little -matinée parties. Ten children, including the four of the Ward party, -were invited to lunch with Emily and go to the matinée afterwards, to -see “Robin Hood.” This was an especially great treat for Eunice and -Cricket, for they were seldom allowed to go to the theatre, and their -little guests rarely had the chance. The lunch was perfect; Mrs. Drayton -and Emily were as delightful as they always were; “Robin Hood” was -charmingly given, and the day was a perfect success. - -They found when they reached home that Will and Archie had just arrived, -and as Donald’s friend had come also, the whole party collected around -the dinner table. - -Doctor Ward looked around beamingly on the flock, as he flourished his -knife over the big turkey. - -“Cricket, this is an improvement on your orphan asylum, I think,” he -said. “How is it? Do you prefer the babies?” - -“I really think, now that I’ve had experience,” said Cricket -reflectively, “that I like middle-aged people, like ourselves, better. -We aren’t so much trouble, I’m sure.” - -There was a shout at Cricket’s “middle-aged people.” - -“I mean people who aren’t little things, like Zaidie and Helen, or grown -up, like mamma,” explained Cricket defensively. “Just scattered along, -like all of _us_, I mean.” - -The days flew by on wings. Edith was sufficiently companionable to -Marjorie for the latter to be included in many of the little doings that -mamma planned for the younger girls. Will and Archie sometimes -accompanied them also, and sometimes were off on their own account. - -Archie was as much of a tease as ever, and with the four girls right -under his thumb, so to speak, he had a most congenial employment in -tormenting them. Indeed, the various tricks on both sides formed a large -part of the entertainment. - -The second night of his arrival, Archie carefully made apple-pie beds, -in which he was an adept, for the occupants of the spare room, and the -girls soon found it wisest not to go to bed on any night without -carefully examining everything in the room. One night all the sheets -were thickly strewn with salt, which, being white, did not show at a -casual glance, but was painfully apparent when they lay down. Again, he -cut up the splints of a number of whisk brooms, and the straws he -scattered on the mattress under the sheet. Did you ever go to bed under -the same circumstances? It is not comfortable. Another night, he lined -the pillow-cases with white paper, carefully basted on the ticking. -Once, by an ingenious arrangement of some nails tied together with -string and hung outside the window one windy night, a weird sound, like -a clanking chain, was made, and the girls had a lively hunt for the -mysterious noises that kept them all awake. - -Mamma watched the fun carefully, but let them go on, as long as it was -all good-natured. And indeed, the girls found many a way to repay their -ingenious tormentor. They sewed up the sleeves of his night-shirt -securely, not only of the one he was wearing, but of all he had with -him, and Will’s also, lest Archie should borrow. They filled his -tooth-powder bottle with soda, and stuffed the fingers of his best -gloves with cotton. - -One night, when Archie had been particularly bad all day, Cricket took -her revenge by creeping stealthily into his room after he was -asleep—having been kept awake herself, for the purpose, by the united -efforts of the other three—and very cautiously pasted postage stamps -over his eyelids. Like most boys, when once asleep, he rivalled the -“Seven Sleepers,” and he never stirred during the performance. Adorned -with the stamps, he peacefully slept on all night, while Cricket -jubilantly crept back to bed. By morning, the stamps stuck as tightly as -if they had been nailed there. - -When Archie awoke, to his horror, he could not open his eyes. He felt of -them, but the stamps stuck so close that he could not imagine what was -the matter, and called out in alarm to Will. Will, of course, when he -once opened his own sleepy eyes, was nearly in convulsions of laughter -over the blue one-cent stamp adornment on Archie, but, in pretended -fright, advised him not to touch his eyes till he could call his uncle. -He summoned Doctor Ward in hot haste. Archie, really much disturbed in -mind over this strange disorder, was lying perfectly still when his -uncle entered. The doctor, entering into the joke, told him that it was -nothing serious yet, only a strange growth that had come during the -night—perhaps from cold—and he would get his surgical instruments and -remove it. Archie groaned at the sound, but his uncle assured him that -it would not hurt him much, if he kept perfectly quiet and did not touch -his eyes, while he got his instruments. Then the doctor stepped to the -bathroom, and came back with a sponge and warm water, and, after much -preparation, he began swabbing Archie’s eyes, talking all the time, till -Archie was nearly frantic. - -“By Jupiter, uncle! How long will I have to keep my eyes bandaged after -this operation? What ails the confounded things, anyway? They _feel_ all -right, now, if only I could get them open.” - -“There!” said his uncle at last, “now try, _very_ carefully, if you can -open your eyes. Slowly, mind.” - -Archie raised his eyelids, and looked about him. - -“Why, they’re all right,” he cried in great surprise. “They don’t hurt a -bit. Did you _cut_ something off, uncle? Didn’t it bleed? Here, you -idiot,”—to Will, who was rolling on the floor in convulsions of -laughter,—“what’s the matter with you?” - -“Oh! oh!” gasped Will. “Did it bleed, uncle? That’s too much! The dear, -brave little boy! He never whimpered.” - -Archie, in a state of raging indignation, flung a pillow at him. - -“You old lunatic!” - -Doctor Ward held up one of the stamps by a pair of nippers. - -“A nocturnal visit of a certain household insect, usually harmless, is -plainly the cause of your trouble, my boy,” he said, “but as I told you, -I do not consider it serious. Bathe your eyes in warm water. Also, I -recommend temporary seclusion, and the cultivation of a calm and -forgiving frame of mind.” - -Another pillow went whack at Will, as a partial relief to Archie’s -helpless rage. He only wished he dared throw one at his uncle, as Doctor -Ward went out, laughing. - -No remarks were made at breakfast time relative to the situation. Archie -gazed haughtily past Cricket, and devoted himself ostentatiously to -Hilda, whom, usually, he rather snubbed. Like most people who love to -tease, he could not easily endure a joke on himself. So he scorned -Cricket’s overtures of peace, and even meditated refusing to join the -skating party planned for that day. The skating party, however, had been -in prospect for several days, and as even Donald and his friend, Mr. -Herrick, were to join it, Archie could not quite make up his mind to -this sacrifice, even for the sake of punishing Cricket. In this trait -Zaidie and Archie were comically alike. Both usually took revenge by -making themselves thoroughly uncomfortable. - -“I suppose Archie will treat me with an air of cold familiarity all -day,” said Cricket, in confidence to Will, as he took her skates, and -Archie walked on ahead with Hilda. Hilda was delighted. Archie had -usually so little to say to her. - -Will went off in a shout of laughter at Cricket’s remark. She thought it -was at the memory of the morning. - -“I don’t think he ought to mind just a little joke like that, when he -just _piles_ jokes on other people,” went on Cricket, in an injured -tone. “Look at all the things he’s done to us, and we smile at him just -the same.” - -The skating party was a grand success. They went out of town, on the -street cars for several miles, to the lake, which was a glittering sheet -of ice. The day was clear and not too cold. Everybody skated well, but -Archie particularly excelled. He was up in every kind of fancy figure, -and in the delight of showing off, his wounded feelings were gradually -soothed—at least outwardly. - -“But I’ll get even with that little minx,” he said, grimly, to himself. -“She’s altogether too fresh,” forgetting, as practical jokers generally -do, that he had had the first innings. - -They returned home in time for half-past one luncheon, with the -appetites of anacondas. No one noticed that Archie whipped into the -dining-room, instead of going up-stairs with the others, when they first -came in, chattering, and laughing, and glowing with exercise. In ten -minutes time the luncheon-bell rang. - -“Waffles! hurrah!” cried Will, boyishly, as Jane brought in his -favourite dish. - -“Auntie, you’re a brick!” chimed in Archie. “Miss Scricket, don’t you -take all this syrup on yours, for I want some myself, and there isn’t -much in the syrup jug,” and Archie peered in. - -“You don’t need any, being so sweet yourself,” returned Cricket, pouring -out a liberal supply of the clear, delicious-looking syrup from the jug -that stood by her plate. - -The next instant the family were startled by a most unmannerly gulp from -Cricket, who clapped her hands over her mouth and bolted from the table -without the ceremony of an “Excuse me” to mamma. Everybody looked after -her in surprise; then mamma, excusing herself, hastily followed her to -the butler’s pantry, whither she had retired. The sickest, -forlornest-looking child imaginable held up a white face. - -“It was—the—syrup,” she managed to say “It’s sour or something. Oh, I’m -so sick at my stomach!” - -Not waiting to investigate the matter at that moment, mamma called -Sarah, who carried poor little Cricket up-stairs in her arms. A very -unhappy hour followed. As soon as mamma could be spared, she flew -down-stairs to the dining-room. - -Archie stood by the window, drumming on the window-pane. He turned -around as his aunt entered. - -“Yes, I did it,” he said. “It’s castor-oil. I slipped in and emptied the -syrup jug just before luncheon, and put some castor-oil in, out of a -bottle in uncle’s office. It won’t hurt her, will it? I didn’t think -she’d get more than a taste of the stuff.” - -“It’s nothing serious, only you’ve given poor little Cricket a pretty -bad quarter of an hour, my boy. It chances that oil of any kind, even -salad oil, makes her deathly sick. She never eats salad or lettuce, if -it is dressed; but of course you did not know that.” - -Archie looked uncomfortable. - -“Of course I didn’t, auntie, or I wouldn’t have been such a brute.” - -“Surely not. It was just the ‘chances of war.’ It is always so with -practical joking. Each goes a step farther than the other, till some -one—generally the weaker party—gets the worst of it. Suppose you drop it -now, dear?” - -“See here, auntie,” said Archie, awkwardly, “I—you know—well, Cricket -really owes me one now. Let her go on and do me up, if she wants to. I’d -a jolly lot rather she would; and I won’t do another single thing after -that. Did she bluster much?” - -“No,” said Mrs. Ward, smiling. “Cricket is always ‘game,’ as you boys -say, and would not let me blame you. But let me say one more word, my -lad. Since you love to play jokes and tease people, as well as you do, -don’t you think you might be a little generous, and let them have the -same sport with you, without losing your temper? Turn about is always -fair play, my boy.” - -Archie looked slightly shame-faced—a most unusual state of affairs for -him. But, as Mrs. Ward never nagged the children, a few words from her -always had their due weight. - -In a couple of hours, Cricket was ready to join the girls, who were -clustered about the cosy open fire in mamma’s room, laughing and -chattering over their embroidery. Now that the violent nausea, which the -least taste of oil always gave her, was over, Cricket was rather -disposed to look upon the whole thing as very funny, after all. She was -really rather amazed when the girls sympathised with her and -energetically heaped abuse upon Archie. - -“It wasn’t anything,” she insisted. “I’d have done it myself, if I’d -have thought of it. Of course it isn’t very pleasant to have your -stomach sick at itself; but he didn’t know I don’t like oil. But, oh, -mamma, I’ve thought of _such_ a nice little trick to play on him now!” - -“It’s time to stop, dear,” said Mrs. Ward. “Don’t let’s carry it any -further.” - -“Please, mamma, it’s such a _little_ joke, and it wouldn’t hurt him a -bit; and I do think he deserves a good taking-down,” pleaded Cricket. -“He’ll crow over me, always, if I don’t; he’ll call me ‘’fraid cat,’ and -I’m _not_ a ‘’fraid cat;’ I’ll leave it to anybody.” - -“Let’s hear the joke,” said mamma judicially, remembering Archie’s own -words; and Cricket unfolded her little scheme. - -“I thought of that when I was sickest,” she finished triumphantly. And -mamma said she might do it. - -That evening the boys had planned to go and make a formal call on May -Chester. Formal calls were rather a new experience for both of them, and -each felt as important as a little dog with a new collar. They went -up-stairs, to get ready, directly after dinner, and were gone an -unconscionably long time. - -“I know those boys will try to sneak down-stairs, and get out without -being seen,” said Eunice, getting impatient for their appearance. - -“They can’t do it. I’m on the lookout with my little eye,” chirped -Cricket, from the portières. “Isn’t it funny how ashamed boys always are -of being dressed up! ’Sh! there they come now. Edith, you know you’re to -go out and ask them to come in a moment. They won’t suspect you.” - -“Slip out in the hall as if you were looking for something, and meet -them by accident,” advised Eunice. - -Edith obediently sauntered out into the hall, and met the boys as -directed. After a moment’s conversation, she succeeded in coaxing them -into the parlour, for approval from the family. Archie came in with a -lofty expression, as if making formal calls on young ladies, with pale -yellow kid gloves on, was an every-night affair. Will looked somewhat -conscious. - -“Is that your new suit, Archie?” asked Mrs. Ward. “How well it fits!” - -“_Seems_ to me,” said Cricket, screwing up her face critically, “it sort -of wrinkles across the shoulders,” patting his back patronisingly. - -Archie wheeled around to a mirror hastily. - -“Wrinkles, Miss Scricket! You ought to be wrinkled yourself! It fits -like a—a house-afire,” he said indignantly, nearly twisting his neck -off. - -“And we all know how perfectly a house-afire fits,” observed Marjorie. - -Cricket continued patting Archie’s back, and smoothing out imaginary -wrinkles. By the time he had reached the doorway she had succeeded in -what she was trying to do, for as he went out, after waving a light -yellow hand patronisingly to the girls, there was pinned across his back -a broad slip of paper with good-sized printed letters on it: - -“I’m such a little boy; please to send me home early.” - -“There!” remarked Cricket with much satisfaction, as the front door -shut, “I think Archie will be pleased to have May Chester see that. I -winked at Will—he won’t tell; and he helped him on with his overcoat -_very_ carefully. I peeked to see.” - -“I’d like to see his face when he finds it out,” said Hilda. - -“Oh, _wouldn’t_ I!” cried Cricket fervently. “And, mamma, Archie can do -anything he likes to me now—I won’t pay him off again. I’ll tell him -so.” - -Half an hour later, Donald came in. - -“Here’s something I picked up on the doorstep,” he said. “Probably a -circular or something thrown down. Why, what’s this?” - -He held it up. A burst of laughter from the girls greeted it. It was -that identical paper, which had probably been rubbed off by the -overcoat, and had worked down. - -Cricket looked perfectly blank for a moment, and then joined in the -laughter. - -“If Archie only knew it,” she cried, “_wouldn’t_ he crow! Joke’s on me -now, for sure!” - - - - - CHAPTER X. - THE BOY. - - -Mrs. Ward came to the luncheon table the next day, holding up three pink -tickets. - -“A treat for the musical ones,” she said, gaily. “Mrs. Chester has just -sent around these tickets for the matinée performance of that little -musical wonder, this afternoon. For some reason they are unable to use -them.” - -“Hurrah!” said Marjorie, clapping her hands in true Cricket fashion, -“I’ve been dying to hear him. Oh, Edith, people say he’s the greatest -_dear_!” - -“I thought you and Edith and Eunice could go, dear,” said Mrs. Ward. -“You will enjoy it better than the younger ones.” - -“But don’t you want to go yourself, mamma?” asked Eunice, quickly. - -“No; for you know papa and I heard him, two weeks ago, when we were in -New York. He certainly _is_ a wonder, Edith. I don’t care much about -prodigies, as a rule, but _his_ playing is very wonderful. New York was -wild over him.” - -“I’ve wanted to hear him _so_ much,” said Edith, enthusiastically. “It’s -perfectly lovely!” - -“Then I’ll take you two down-town with me,” said Mrs. Ward to Cricket -and Hilda. “Will it be too cold for ice-cream?” - -The three matinée girls got off in good time. As they entered the lobby, -they encountered Mrs. Drayton. - -“I’m so glad to see you, girls,” she said, in her cordial way. “I came -early, and have been waiting here in hope of seeing some of you. I am -going to the dressing-room, to see the little pianist, during the -intermission, and I thought if I could find any of you, you would like -to go too.” - -The girls fairly gasped. To go behind the scenes into that wonderful, -mystical dressing-room, and actually see and touch a real, live -individual that came out on the stage and played! Could it be true? - -“Oh, Mrs. Drayton!” they all cried, breathlessly. - -“I have seen him several times,” Mrs. Drayton went on. “The little -fellow, with his father and some others, lunched with us yesterday. He -is a perfect little dear. Just as childlike and sweet as if he never had -been before the public at all.” - -Mrs. Drayton’s husband, though a prominent lawyer, was a fine amateur -violinist, and he kept closely in touch with all musical matters. His -house was always a centre for amateur musicians, and he often -entertained professionals. - -“How lovely of you, Mrs. Drayton!” exclaimed Marjorie, enthusiastically. -“It will be just delightful to see that cunning thing off the stage!” - -This bit of thoughtfulness was just like Mrs. Drayton. - -“I have a little box of toys for him,” she went on, showing the corner -of a white paper parcel under her long cloak. “We will take them in to -him during the intermission. Where are your seats, Marjorie? Let me see -your tickets. Oh, yes. Fortunately, they are near mine. You can get up -and come out into the aisle when I do.” - -In due course of the programme, the marvellous ten-year-old came forward -to take his place at the piano, looking ludicrously tiny among the big -German musicians. The grand piano seemed to swallow him up as he stood -by it for a moment, bowing in a grave, self-possessed, yet childlike -manner, in response to the applause that greeted him. He had a sweet, -serene little face, with dark brown hair falling over his forehead. His -broad lace collar made him look still younger than he really was. - -He turned, after his bow, and climbed upon the piano-stool, settling -himself with his small hands folded in his lap. Then he awaited the -signal to begin, as composedly as if no large audience listened -breathlessly for his first notes. - -When the number was finished, he turned sidewise on the stool, and bowed -to the audience, with his little feet swinging. At the renewed applause, -he slipped down, bowing with a funny, quaint little gesture of his -hands, and then turned and climbed to his perch again. Some one had -started to lift him up, but he had put him aside with a dignified little -motion. After the third number, his last in the first part, he slipped -down again, made a hasty little bow, and scampered away like a flash, -amid mingled laughter and applause. - -At last came the intermission. Mrs. Drayton, followed by the girls, made -her way to the dressing-room. She was well-known to the attendants, so -she had no difficulty. - -The Boy, the marvellous little musician, sat on the floor playing with a -little train of cars that went choo-choo-ing over the carpet, propelled -by steam made from real water in the tiny boiler. - -“Look out for my cars there,” he exclaimed, with a funny, foreign -accent, as his visitors entered, not even glancing up at them in his -absorbed interest. The lad’s father stood by the door. - -“Get up, my son, and greet these gracious ladies,” said the father, in -German, as he turned and spoke to Mrs. Drayton, himself. The Boy got up -lingeringly, with a most bored expression, but his face changed and -brightened as he recognised his kind friend, with whom he felt quite -well acquainted. He sprang forward quickly, and, throwing his arms about -her neck, he kissed her repeatedly in his pretty, foreign fashion. The -girls looked on, amazed enough that he proved to be just an ordinary, -every-day little boy. - -“I thought we’d find him reading Beethoven’s life, or, at least, -studying the score,” whispered Marjorie to Edith. “Just imagine that -genius sitting down on the floor and playing _cars_!” - -“I’ve brought these young ladies to see you,” said Mrs. Drayton, putting -the little fellow down. “Will you kiss them, dear?” - -Marjorie and Edith and Eunice, all awe-struck at the idea of kissing a -genius, bent down to the dear little boy, who dutifully kissed each one -of them, first upon one cheek and then upon the other, in foreign -fashion, as if it were a performance he was very used to. - -“What have you brought me?” he demanded, in German, of Mrs. Drayton, -standing before her in boy fashion, with his small feet somewhat apart, -and his hands deep in his pocket. - -“We all spoil him by always bringing him something, I suppose,” said -Mrs. Drayton to the girls, laughing at his tone, as she laid the box she -had brought in his hands. He eagerly tore off the paper and the cover. -The box contained a curious mechanical toy, which the Boy seized with -delight. He immediately sat down on the floor to examine it. - -Just at this moment, the strains of the violins sounded again, and the -call-boy came to say that he must go in a moment. - -The Boy uttered an impatient exclamation that was equal to “Oh, bother!” -in English, but he paid no other attention to his summons. His father -was talking to Mrs. Drayton, and did not hear the call-boy enter or -leave. - -In a moment, the call-boy came again. - -“Can’t they wait a minute?” the Boy demanded impatiently, in English, -which he spoke very well. “I _must_ get this together. It’s almost -done.” - -The applause of the audience came to their ears. The call-boy repeated -the summons in great impatience, knowing that he would be scolded for -presumably not having given long enough notice. - -“Very well,” said the Boy, getting up reluctantly. “Please go not till I -return, gracious ladies. I will play fast. I do so much wish to see this -strange thing together,” and off the child scampered, leaving the three -girls staring in amazement at the remarkable manners of a prodigy. - -“He’s a real little boy,” said Edith, drawing a long breath of surprise. -“To see him playing with these toys, and then imagine what he can do -with those wonderful little fingers of his! Listen!” as the wonderful -strains floated in. - -“Isn’t he a _darling_?” exclaimed Marjorie enthusiastically. “He isn’t -spoiled a bit!” - -The boy’s father had left the room, and Mrs. Drayton joined the girls. - -“He is very carefully managed and trained,” she said. “He is allowed to -see very few people, on the whole, and as he has played before an -audience ever since he was five years old, it is nothing to him. They -want to keep him simple and unspoiled.” - -If the girls had been in their seats, they would have been amused to see -the Boy come half running on the stage. He made a funny little sidewise -bow, and climbed upon the piano-stool. He had already kept the audience -waiting a full minute, but he placidly took up a programme that lay on -the piano, ran down it with his finger, found the place, creased the -paper across, laid it down, and instantly was the inspired little -musician again. It was a magnificent concerted piece, and the programme -announced that the child had seen it, for the first time, the day -before, but his tiny fingers interpreted the large, grave measures in a -way that held the great audience breathless. In a long, elaborate bit, -that belonged to the first violin, he would soundlessly follow the notes -with the fingers of one hand, as if in pure enjoyment of the swift -motion. - -The selection came to an end at last, with a grand succession of chords. -The instant the last notes had died away, the child slipped down, and -ran away without his bow, before any one could stop him. He darted into -the dressing-room. - -“Are you here yet, gracious ladies?” he said, breathlessly. “I’m so -glad! Now I want to get this together; I don’t play next time. Do you -hear the clapping? They want me to come back and play again, but I -_shan’t_ till it’s time. See! this is the way it goes!” - -Just then, amid the prolonged applause of the audience, some one came to -lead him back to make his acknowledgments, and play again. - -“I don’t want to, now, and I _shan’t_,” he said, positively. “It isn’t -my turn. Let the next one play.” - -Another messenger arrived, here, with orders for him to come at once, as -the applause renewed itself, growing still more insistent. - -“I’m busy,” the Boy said, sitting still. Just then his father came in, -and bade him go at once. Reluctantly he put down his plaything, and went -off to the stage. He made his way down the centre, between the -musicians, bowing this way and that, and making his funny little foreign -gestures with his hands. The applause redoubled at the sight of him, and -a shower of flowers fell about him. He picked up a big bouquet of roses, -that fell at his feet, and then saying perfectly distinctly to the first -violin: - -“There! that’s all I’m going to do,” he marched off again. Everybody -laughed and applauded, although, of course, only the nearest musicians -heard what he said. The conductor gave the signal for the next number, -and the performance went on. By this time, Mrs. Drayton had taken the -girls back to their seats. - -After the last regular number of the programme, some musician was -invited to come from the audience and give the Boy a simple theme for -him to improvise upon. At this request, a well-known amateur musician, -an old resident of the city, came forward, and went upon the stage. He -was a tall, peculiar-looking man, with long hair lying on his shoulders. -He sat down on the piano-stool with an odd little mannerism, which he -always had while playing, bending his head forward in a funny, rather -affected way. For a theme, he played “Home, Sweet Home,” very slowly. -The Boy listened, with his head on one side, in his little, bird-like -manner. When Professor Sands had played the air through once, he -repeated it more rapidly. As he began, the boy put out his hand -impatiently to stop him, but the professor played on. Whereupon, the Boy -gave the pedal a petulant little kick, as if to say: - -“What in the world is he playing that easy thing over again for? How -many times does he think I need to hear a theme?” - -But the professor finished it, and then resigned his seat to the child. -As soon as he was seated, he placed his fingers stiffly on the keys, -with his head bent forward, in an irresistibly funny imitation of the -professor’s manner, and played the theme through just as slowly as he -had; then he straightened up, and darted through it again at lightning -speed. Next he wove it into the most elaborate improvisations, recurring -constantly to the theme. Whenever he played, even a dozen notes of it, -he instantly dropped into Professor Sands’s mannerism. The audience were -soon in convulsions of laughter, and even the professor himself, -recognising the joke, laughed till the tears rolled down his cheeks. Not -a muscle of the Boy’s face moved. At last he flashed into “Yankee -Doodle,” slipped again to “Home, Sweet Home,” playing it so swiftly that -it was only a ripple of melody, dropped, then, into his imitation of -Professor Sands again, and finished with a series of chords so rich and -full that it seemed scarcely possible those tiny fingers could evoke -them. - -Between laughter and applause the audience made the roof ring. The Boy -stood, still grave and demure as always, with his folded hands hanging -in front of him, but those nearest caught the wicked little twinkle in -the dark eyes. Of course, the three girls clapped their gloves into -rags. - -“Did you ever see such a perfectly fascinating darling?” sighed -Marjorie, in pure delight, as the child was finally allowed to leave the -stage. - -“Marjorie, _do_ you feel that you can ever touch the piano again, when -you think of that little mouse sitting up there and playing like that, -without half trying?” said Edith mournfully. “It’s just—just -presumptuous to try!” This was said as they were coming down the steps, -on the way out. - -“Indeed, that is never the way to feel after listening to a genius,” -said Mrs. Drayton, cheerily. “Certainly you cannot expect to rival -playing like that, but it should be an inspiration to you, to lift you -up, and make you do your very best yourself.” - -“But one’s very _bestest_ is poor and weak after that,” said Marjorie, -earnestly. “I’m simply ashamed to look at a piano.” - -“Do not feel that. Do your best faithfully, and be patient with -yourself. One need never be ashamed of one’s _best_. Fortunately, it’s -no disgrace _not_ to be a genius, which is a great consolation for all -of us commonplace people. You need only be ashamed of a low standard. -Aim high, and keep your eyes fixed on your goal, my girls. That’s the -secret of success.” - - - - - CHAPTER XI - A VISIT TO MOSINA. - - -“Mamma, may I take Hilda to see Mosina this morning?” asked Cricket, the -next day at breakfast. “The girls are going to the Museum, and we don’t -want to go very much, and I do want Hilda to see our cunning Mosina.” - -“Oh, I’m rather afraid, dear,” hesitated mamma. “You’ve never been there -alone, you know. I’m not quite sure that it’s perfectly safe for you to -go by yourselves. Is it, papa?” - -“Down in——Street? Why—yes—I think so. Are you sure you know the way, -Cricket?” - -“Perfectly sure, papa. What harm could come to us? _Do_ let us! I know -Mosina is just wild to see us. Oh, Hilda, she is the _cutest_ thing! -She’s just like a little roll of butter, with blue buttons for eyes; -they’re so round.” - -“Hilda, if you ever feel any inclination to adopt a little sister—” -began Doctor Ward, with twinkling eyes, but Cricket went straight on: - -“She’s the fattest thing you ever saw. She’s all creases. She looks just -as if she had strings tied around her legs and arms—regular _corduroy_ -arms.” - -“I’d love to see her. Do let us go, Mrs. Ward. We’ll be very careful and -not get lost.” - -“I think I will let you. Keep your wits about you, Cricket, and don’t go -wandering off anywhere. And I’ll send a little bundle of things down to -Mosina’s mother. By the way, tell her to come up on Saturday, and I’ll -have a big bundle ready for her. You can carry a few cookies down in a -little box, couldn’t you, Hilda, if Cricket carries the parcel?” - -The children set off on their expedition, in great glee, about ten -o’clock. To be sure, Cricket had never been there alone before, but the -way was very direct and simple, and the neighbourhood where Mosina’s -mother lived, though poor, was perfectly respectable. Mrs. Ward had -fulfilled her promise to little Mrs. Brummagen—had given her work, and -told her friends about her, and moreover, had been to see her, herself, -several times. The children still called the baby “Mosina,” and the -child had already learned to use the name herself. As the children -walked along, Cricket rehearsed, for the third or fourth time, the story -of the finding and the temporary adoption of Mosina. - -“She’s awfully cunning, but I’m _glad_ we didn’t adopt her,” concluded -Cricket. “She would have been a lot of work. Children always are, I -guess. I’ve thought, ever since that night, that I wonder how mothers -stand it.” - -“Oh, mothers are made so!” said Hilda, comfortably. - -“I wonder if that makes it really any easier for them,” meditated -Cricket, thoughtfully. “Mamma says that I had colic just steadily till I -was about six months old, and cried all the time, and would scarcely -stay with the nurse at all. Mamma was up with me most every night. Think -of it! And one night just used me up.” - -“Mothers don’t mind,” repeated Hilda. “Mamma just _loves_ to do things -for me, so I always let her,” she added, superbly. - -Cricket knit her brows a little, but as they were already at Mosina’s -home, she put the question away, to think over at her leisure. - -Mosina and her mother were delighted to see their visitors. Mrs. -Brummagen was hard at work, washing, and Mosina was tied to the -door-knob by a string. This, at first sight, did not seem a necessary -precaution, for she was sitting perfectly still, upon the floor, staring -into space, when the girls entered. This one little room was the whole -of Mrs. Brummagen’s residence. Here she slept and washed clothes and did -her bit of cooking, but it was all clean and tidy as Dutch neatness -could make it. The girls delivered the box of cookies and the other -things, and gave Mrs. Ward’s message. - -Hilda stared about her. She had never, before, been in the home of the -very poor. - -“Why, that’s a bed! Does she sleep in the kitchen?” she whispered to -Cricket, as Mrs. Brummagen went back to her washing, and Cricket lifted -Mosina in her arms. - -“This isn’t the kitchen; it’s all she has,” responded Cricket, in an -equally low voice. “Lots of people have only one room.” - -“Do they _like_ it? Don’t they want more room?” said Hilda, amazed; for -she always found it difficult to realise that people occasionally did -things that they did not like to do. Her own experience, in that way, -was very limited. - -“They have to do it, goosie,” said Cricket, who had often been with her -mother to see her poor people. “I like to come here. Isn’t it -story-booky? See this cunning thing? Isn’t she clean?” - -“She _is_ awfully fat. Can she talk?” - -“Just jabbers; you can’t understand her. Say ‘How do you do?’ baby.” - -Mosina was a fine plaything, for she was exactly like a big wax doll. -The children could do anything they pleased with her. - -“You wouldn’t think this child could be such a torment at night,” said -Cricket, feelingly. “In the daytime she is just like a lump of dough. -She stays just where you put her. But at night—oh, goodness! she was -just as if she had yeast in her. I was black and blue for a week after -she slept with me that night. Oh, _weren’t_ you bad!” addressing Mosina, -with uplifted finger. - -Just then a sharp knock came at the door, and Mrs. Brummagen, drying her -hands on her apron, hurried to open it. A messenger stood there, saying -that she was wanted immediately for a little extra work at the house of -one of her regular employers. Some servant had unexpectedly left, and -company was expected, and Mrs. Brummagen was requested to come back with -the messenger for a few hours’ work. - -“Ach, himmel!” cried little Mrs. Brummagen, uncertainly. “What I do? -Mine vash in ze wassa iss, und mine leetle babby alone vill be. I -cannot.” - -“But you _must_,” said the boy, impatiently. “She tole me not to come -back widout yer. Leave de kid wid de naybors. Yer’ll be back at four -o’clock, she said.” - -“Oh, Mrs. Brummagen,” said Cricket, eagerly, “you go, and I’ll stay with -the baby. I can as well as not. Mrs. Whitby lives near us, and you just -stop and tell mamma about it, please. We’d like to, wouldn’t we, Hilda?” - -Poor little Mrs. Brummagen, overwhelmed by the thought of the young -ladies staying and taking care of her baby, and distracted by the boy, -who instantly urged the plan, hardly knew which way to turn. Cricket and -Hilda both insisted loudly, the boy announced that she must go anyway, -and so, before she really knew what she was about, she had on her bonnet -and shawl, and was borne away triumphantly by the boy, protesting, all -the time, that she mustn’t leave the clothes in soak. - -Hilda and Cricket looked at each other, with broadly smiling faces, when -they were left in possession. - -“Isn’t this fun?” beamed Cricket. “I’ve always wondered how it would -seem to live in one room. Just like a baby-house, isn’t it?” executing a -war-dance around the solemn little Mosina, who watched the proceedings -with calm interest. - -“Lots of fun!” assented Hilda. “What will we do about lunch?” - -“Lunch!” replied Cricket, blankly, at this practical suggestion; “I -forgot about lunch. Oh, I guess there’ll be something to eat in the -ice-box. Why, there isn’t any ice-box! Well, in the cupboard then! We’ll -find something and cook it! Oh, ‘wot larks!’ as Archie says;” and -Cricket danced gaily around Mosina again. - -“Let’s play we live here all the time,” she added, stopping, with one -foot up. “I’ll be Mrs. Brummagen. No, I won’t; I can talk Irish better -than Dutch, so I’ll be Mrs. O’Flanagan, sure. You can be—let me see—you -can be my daughter or my sister.” - -“No, I won’t be either,” said Hilda with dignity. “I’ll be your mother, -and wear a cap, and say ‘Arrah go bragh,’ and all those things.” - -“Oh, splendid! you always do the old lady parts so well,” said Cricket, -approvingly. “Let’s see what we can find for a cap. See! here’s a little -white skirt of Mosina’s; guess it’s her best one. Have you any pins? We -can pin the belt together and double the skirt, and here’s a beautiful -cap with a ruffle and all, and so becoming!” adjusting the big cap, -admiringly, and tucking up Hilda’s long curls. - -“Now pin this funny little shawl around your shoulders. What a lovely -grandma you always make!” - -No wonder Hilda got on so well with Cricket, who always made things easy -for her, and loved and admired her with all her unselfish little soul. - -“You must pin up your skirts like a washerwoman,” said the old lady, -quite delighted with her own appearance. “Now roll your sleeves up. -Mosina is your baby, you know, and I’m her grandma. Now, what let’s do?” - -“I wonder what Mrs. Brummagen does when she isn’t washing? Do you s’pose -she reads? Why, _Hilda_, there isn’t a book around! Don’t you s’pose she -ever _reads_?” with the greatest astonishment. - -“Probably she gets books from the public library,” suggested Hilda. -“Anyway, I dare say she hasn’t much time to read. I shouldn’t think -washerwomen people would have. Perhaps she sews.” - -“There isn’t a sign of a work-basket,” said Cricket, looking around with -increased astonishment. “Do you suppose _this_ is all she sews with?” -pointing to a spool of coarse white thread with a big needle sticking in -it, and a brass thimble standing by it. - -“It must be. No books and no sewing! What do you suppose she does in the -evening?” exclaimed Hilda. - -“It’s very queer,” said Cricket, thoughtfully. - -Neither child, of course, had much more idea of the life of the very -poor than they had of the habits of a kangaroo. - -“But we must do something. We can’t sit around all day,” added Cricket -briskly. “Oh, let’s finish the washing!” - -“Do you think that’ll be fun?” asked Hilda, doubtfully. “The clothes are -all wet.” - -“Well, Hilda, of course they are! Who ever heard of washing clothes in -dry water? Come on! We needn’t splash much, if we’re careful. Yes, I -really think we ought to do it. You know she didn’t want to go and leave -her clothes in the water. Perhaps they would get rancid, or mildewed, or -something.” - -“I don’t believe I want to,” objected Hilda. “Ugh! think of putting your -hands into that messy water! I wouldn’t do it for anything!” peering -into the tub disgustedly. - -“It doesn’t look very—appetising,” said Cricket, hesitating for a word. -“But see! here’s the wringer on this tub. She was ready to wring them -out. That’s fun, anyway. We can fish up the things with this stick, and -poke them in, and turn the handle and they come out dry. Then we could -iron them, and they’ll be all done when she comes home.” - -Hilda still looked doubtful about this form of amusement, and, with her -ruffled cap very much to one side, she silently watched Cricket -experiment with a stick. - -“These clothes are the funniest! They don’t seem to have any ends; -they’re all muddly,” she said, fishing, vainly, to bring something out -of the wet mass. “Oh, I see! They’re sheets,” bringing one up slowly. -“Shouldn’t you think it was for a giant’s bed? Look!” raising the sheet -on the stick as far up as she could stretch, while some of its slippery -folds still lay in the water. “Doesn’t it make a good banner?” waving it -slightly, to and fro. - -“Look out, Cricket! you’re spattering me! Ow! look _out_!” and Hilda -dodged hastily, for the big banner overbalanced itself, and the heavy -sheet fell, with a splash, outside the tub on the floor. - -“Just like me!” lamented Cricket. “Oh, Hilda, pick up the baby! she’ll -be drowned in all this water. How can I get this thing up?” struggling -with the stick to raise the unwieldy mass. This proving impossible, she -picked it up in her arms, getting herself delightfully wet, and bundled -it back into the tub. - -“Your dress is a perfect mess,” remarked Hilda, who had put the baby on -the table, and was sitting on a chair beside it, with her feet tucked -under her, to get out of the way of the water. - -“I know it,” said Cricket, cheerfully. “Can’t help it. Hilda, you’ll -have to sit there till the water dries on the floor, for there isn’t -anything to wipe it up with. Anyway, I’ve found the end of this sheet, -now, and I’m going to wring it. Isn’t this fun! It’s just like a -hand-organ;” and Cricket turned the handle gaily. - -It was fun till the heavy folds were suddenly all drawn up in a bunch in -the wringer, and the machine stuck. - -“Come and help me, Hilda. Tiptoe over here. Oh, you can’t leave the -baby. Well, I’ll scatter it out a little.” - -“Scattering the sheet out” was effective, and Cricket turned the crank -with all her might, not noticing that the long squeezed end was piling -up on the floor till the last corner slipped through and fell down. - -“It’s all on the floor,” observed Hilda from her perch. “Won’t it get -all dirty and wet again?” - -“So it has,” cried Cricket, disappointedly, picking the sheet up. “Won’t -it brush off?” rubbing at the dirt that had collected on it, and thereby -making it ten times worse. “I should have put something there to catch -it. Why do I always think behindhand better than beforehand? How _can_ -people think of everything at once? Never mind; I guess it will come off -when I iron it. I’ll squeeze another; there’s a pan for it to go into. -Don’t you want to come and help me? Tie Mosina to that chair over in -that corner; it’s dry over there.” - -Fishing out the ends of the sheets and turning the wringer was really -great fun, and in their zeal the children quite forgot Mosina for a -time. Suddenly a roar, behind them, startled them. Mosina seldom cried, -but when she did it was with a ponderousness that was quite in keeping -with her plump body. - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - KEEPING HOUSE. - - -Poor little Mosina had crawled around her chair till her length of -string had given out, and then, endeavouring to crawl between the -chair-legs, had fallen forward on her face, and lay sprawled out like a -little turtle. The girls flew for her, and rescued her by drawing her -out by the heels. She refused to be comforted, however, and continued to -roar. - -“I suppose she’s hungry,” said Cricket, at last, in a tone of despair. -“Hilda, please look in the closet and see what there is for her -luncheon. Mosina, _do_ hush, baby! What, Hilda?” - -“I said that there isn’t a thing in the closet but two plates and a -stone mug, and such things,—not a single thing to eat.” - -“Look in that little cupboard by the chimney, then. Shouldn’t you think -she must have _something_ to eat around? What _shall_ we do if there -isn’t anything to eat anywhere?” in deeper despair. - -“There _is_ something here,” announced Hilda, joyfully, having climbed -upon a chair to look in the little chimney-closet. After a moment she -got down, soberly, and proclaimed the contents of the larder to be two -dried herrings, a half loaf of stale bread, some doubtful-looking -butter, and a piece of very dry cheese. - -The children looked at each other in dismay. Luncheon to them seemed a -very serious and pressing matter, especially as Mosina was still -roaring, and they knew she was hungry. - -“What shall we do?” said Cricket, mournfully; “I feel as hungry as a -bear, myself. Oh, Hilda, those cookies!” - -Hilda flew across the room for them, with her cap flopping. - -Cricket popped a big piece of a cookie into Mosina’s open mouth, and put -another in her hand. - -“Sit down on the floor now, and be a good baby,” she said, putting her -charge down. “It’s dry enough. Now, Hilda, what will _we_ eat? I want -something more than cookies.” - -“I can’t eat dried herring,” said Hilda, decidedly, her fastidious nose -going up in disgust. - -“We might toast the bread, I suppose,” said Cricket. “_Do_ you think -they don’t ever have anything but dried herring? I’ve always wondered -why mamma is always sending things to eat to poor people, and now I -know.” - -“Can’t they cook, do you suppose, or do they spend all their time -washing?” wondered Hilda. “Don’t you think they ever have anything to -eat except what people send them?” in an awe-struck tone. - -“I don’t believe they do. Can you cut bread, Hilda?” - -“Of _course_. Anybody can cut bread, I should think; where’s the knife?” - -“I can’t find any regular bread-knife,” said Cricket, rummaging in the -cupboard. “Here’s one, take this; it’s awfully dull, though. While -you’re cutting it, I’ll look for a gridiron to toast the bread on.” - -Hilda took the loaf and the knife confidently, but soon discovered that -cutting bread is a fine art, and not by any means so easy as it looks. - -“What _is_ the matter?” she said in despair, at last. “Well, nobody -could cut bread with this old knife, that’s as dull as a hoe,” she -added, surveying the jagged, uneven wedges, which were all she could -manage. “Have you found the gridiron?” - -“No. She doesn’t seem to have _anything_ except a teakettle and a -saucepan. And here’s a flat thing like what cook fries potatoes in, and -here’s a tin pan, and that’s every single thing I can find. What do you -suppose she cooks with?” asked Cricket, with increasing surprise, and -with a vision before her eyes of the quantities of shining utensils that -lined the kitchen closets at home. - -“Toast the bread on a fork, then,” said Hilda; “and can’t we cook the -herring in some way? I’m getting hungry enough to eat nails now.” - -“I suppose we might fry them. Then we could toast the cheese. I know how -to do that.” - -“All right! we’ll fry the herring in the spider,” said Hilda, -brightening; “I believe it will be real good. But what will Mosina eat? -Ought she to have herring and toasted cheese?” - -“Oh, here’s some milk out on the window ledge!” cried Cricket, joyfully. -“We can crumble some of this dry bread in it, and feed Mosina with it. -That will be fine for her. Bless the child! she’s as good as a lamb -now.” - -“Isn’t she! I’ll toast the bread, and you can set the table, Cricket.” - -Cricket assented; but after rummaging a while, asked Hilda where she -supposed Mrs. Brummagen kept her table-cloths and napkins. - -“In that cupboard drawer, probably,” said Hilda, trying to make the -uneven chunks of bread balance on the two-tined steel fork which she had -found. - -“I don’t suppose we ought to look in her drawers, even if we _do_ want a -table-cloth. Well, I’ll just peek in. No; there’s nothing there but a -dress of Mosina’s,” after a hasty “peek.” - -“I can’t eat off that faded pink thing on the table,” said Hilda, with -decision. “At least, I don’t believe I can,” she added, more doubtfully, -as the empty place in her stomach began to protest against waiting much -longer for something to put in it. “Ow! there goes the bread into the -fire again!” - -She prodded the scorched wedge of bread with the fork, and brought it up -successfully. She was growing quite expert in rescuing the pieces and -blowing off the ashes. - -“Cricket, this bread is simply roasted, instead of toasted.” - -“It does smell pretty scorchy,” said Cricket, looking at it anxiously. -“We can’t waste it, though, for there isn’t much of it. Hilda, I can’t -find a single thing to put on for a table-cloth, excepting a sheet. -Wouldn’t you rather have the pink cloth? It looks clean, anyway. -Probably her white cloths are all in the wash.” - -“I’d eat it on the floor now,” said Hilda, with a decided change of -base. “The bread’s done. Now for the herring.” - -Cricket proceeded to set the table, by putting the knives and forks and -the two plates on. - -“There’s the table set. Looks sort of bare, though. What will you do -with the herrings? Put them in the spider and let them frizzle?” - -“I _think_ so,” said Hilda, doubtfully. “I never saw any cooked, but how -else could we eat them? This fire doesn’t seem very hot, Cricket. Can’t -we do something to it?” - -Considering that the stove lids had been off for fifteen minutes during -the bread-toasting, it was not surprising that the top of the fire was a -mass of gray ashes. - -“Put on coal,” said Cricket, with the air of the lady from Philadelphia. -“But do let’s cook the herring first. I’m hungry enough to eat Mosina. -Oh, you fatty! aren’t you happy with your cookies!” - -“Oh, Cricket, here are some cold boiled potatoes,” cried Hilda, as -joyfully as if she had discovered a gold mine. “They were back in this -corner. Can’t we fry them?” - -“We can,” returned Cricket, promptly. “I’ll fry them in the saucepan -while you do the herring. I’ll cut them up.” - -Ten minutes later, the two little cooks stood looking at each other in -despair. The thin iron of the spider and saucepan heated immediately, -even over the dying fire, and the potatoes and herring being put in -without any lard, or fat of any kind, naturally stuck fast to the bottom -of the pan, and scorched. Most unpleasant odours filled the air. - -“Did you ever imagine it was so hard to cook?” sighed Cricket. “That -toast was stone-cold long ago. Look at these messy things!” - -“The worst of it is that we can’t eat the burned parts,” said Hilda, -hungrily, “and there’ll be so little left.” - -“Hilda, let’s eat what we can of it right _now_,” proposed Cricket. “If -we cook any more we’ll _never_ get anything to eat.” - -“I could eat fried boards,” said Hilda. “Yes, let’s scrape out what of -the potatoes isn’t burned tight down, and eat it up _fast_;” and Hilda -picked up the saucepan. - -“Oh, Hilda, I forgot about Mosina! Aren’t you the _bestest_ baby! She -ought to have her milk, Hilda, and I’ll give her some while you’re -fixing luncheon on the table.” - -Cricket poured some of the ice-cold milk out into a bowl, and crumbled -some dry bread in it. - -Mosina received each mouthful with a series of solemn smacks. - -“I’m ready when you are, Cricket,” announced Hilda at length, surveying -the somewhat scanty board with a hungry eye. - -“There goes the last mouthful, Mosina,” said Cricket, stuffing the spoon -so hastily into Mosina’s open mouth that the baby choked. - -“There! never mind, baby! it didn’t hurt. Now I’m ready, Hilda. Oh, just -think! we’ve been so busy with washing and cooking that we’ve forgotten -to play for ever so long.” - -[Illustration: KEEPING HOUSE.] - -“Yes, but don’t let’s play now, for goodness sake! I’m too starving -hungry! Sit down and begin.” - -Cricket and Hilda drew up their chairs to the delicious banquet. On one -plate lay a curious-looking heap of what Hilda called toast. It -consisted of wedges of bread an inch and a half thick on one side, and -nothing at all on the other, burnt crisp on the thin edges, and scorched -on the thick ones, with the dust of the ashes which it had collected in -its numerous descents into the fire still sticking to it. It was -perfectly cold, so that the small lumps of white butter stuck to it -unmelted. Two herrings, burnt perfectly black on one side, and, of -course, as hard as a piece of coal, reposed side by side on a saucer. -Potatoes cut in little chunks, each very black as to one side and very -white as to the other, were heaped up on another saucer. These dainties -comprised all the meal. - -Cricket and Hilda looked at each other a moment in silence, then Cricket -said briskly: - -“Isn’t this fun? Let’s play this is roast turkey. Shall I carve? or -perhaps I’d better give you a whole turkey, seeing we are wealthy enough -to have two,” transferring one of the herrings to Hilda’s plate. “Will -you have some scalloped oysters?” passing the potatoes. “They’re done by -a new recipe,” she added, laughing, and attacking her herring with knife -and fork. Hilda followed her example. Of course they might as well have -tried to cut their stone plates. - -“I’m desperate! please excuse me,” cried Cricket, lifting her herring, -head and tail, with her fingers, and attacking it this time with her -teeth. She desisted after a vain effort. - -“It’s no use,” she sighed. “I got off a few splinters, but they are not -so _very_ good. They do taste burned, and if there’s one thing I hate, -it’s _burn_. Well, let’s have some toast.” - -“That’s burned a little, too,” said Hilda, apologetically. “Perhaps we -can scrape it off where it’s thicker and eat the inside. Cricket, -these—these oysters seem to need something. They don’t taste like fried -potatoes a bit.” - -“Of _course_ they don’t, for they’re oysters. How could oysters taste -fried potatoes? But they do taste queer, even for oysters,” said -Cricket. “The toast is a little burned, isn’t it?” nibbling first around -one scorched place and then around another. Finally she laid the piece -down in despair. - -“Hilda, the more I eat, the hungrier I get! I think I’ll try some plain -bread.” - -“There isn’t any more. I toasted all I cut, and the rest you gave to -Mosina.” - -The two girls sat hungrily surveying the remains of their luncheon. The -herring had been abandoned as hopeless. The white top of each little -chunk of potato was eaten, though every one knows that scorched potato, -without either salt or butter, is not exactly appetising. The inside of -the thick ends of the bread had been devoured also, but their fragments -were not very satisfying to hearty little appetites. - -“There are the cookies,” said Hilda, suddenly. - -Cricket sprang for them eagerly, at the suggestion. - -“It seems sort of mean to eat the very things we brought,” she said, -hesitating a moment. “Oh, well, mamma will send some more things down -to-morrow, when I tell her how we eat up everything Mrs. Brummagen had -in the house. _Don’t_ these taste good? I feel as if I were at home -again now,” attacking a thin, crisp ginger-snap, and making way with it -almost in one mouthful. In a minute there was nothing left but the -crumbs of the whole supply. Mosina sat staring wistfully at them. - -“The poor dear!” said Hilda. “We’ve eaten up every single thing now, and -she looks hungry still.” - -“There’s a little more milk,” said Cricket, getting it. “Drink this, -baby. Hilda, do you suppose the burned bread would hurt her if we -crumbled it into the milk for her? Perhaps she won’t taste it.” - -Apparently Mosina did not mind it, for she eat it eagerly. - -“What let’s do now?” asked Hilda. “When will Mrs. Brummagen be home, do -you think?” - -“I don’t know. Let’s clear the table and iron these sheets. You know we -were going to get them all done.” - -Flat-irons had been standing on the stove all the morning, though the -girls had pushed them back in their attempts at cooking. Hilda looked -resigned at Cricket’s proposal, but said nothing. The two cleared the -table of the remains of their banquet, and piled up the scanty array of -dishes. - -The sheets were still lying in damp, flattened coils in the basket, -where they had put them. Cricket found the ironing-board and put it -between the table and a chair, as she had seen the laundress do at home. -They unfolded a sheet and spread it out carefully, wrinkled and wet, -over the board, not noticing that half of it lay on the floor behind. - -Cricket, with a professional air, tested one of the irons, again -imitating the laundress. - -“Pretty hot,” she said. It was really barely warm, for the fire was fast -dying, but to her unaccustomed finger it felt hot. - -“Now, I’m really Mrs. O’Flanagan. We mustn’t forget to play. You take -care of the baby, mother, and I’ll iron. And—Hilda!” with a sudden -change of tone, “Look here!” for the half-warm flat-iron on the damp -sheet had left a long, black smooch. “What in the world is the matter? -It keeps doing it;” for Cricket tried different places, with the result -of producing a smallpox of black spots. “Did you ever?” - -“Perhaps the iron is too hot, and scorches it,” suggested Hilda, -surveying the places critically. - -“I never want to hear the word ‘scorched’ again,” said Cricket, setting -down her iron with a thump. “If it’s being scorched, I shan’t iron any -more. That’s one thing sure;” and Cricket hastily bundled the sheet back -into the basket. Between lying on the floor and the smooches from the -iron, the colour of the sheet was fast becoming African. - -“It’s the queerest thing! I thought that ironing was as easy as falling -off a log,” using her favourite comparison, which long experience had -shown her was very easy indeed. - -“When Sarah irons, she leaves smooth streaks everywhere the iron -touches. I thought _any_body could iron.” - -“_I_ thought anybody could fry potatoes. Cricket, what time do you -suppose it is? I think it must be nearly dinner-time. Don’t you feel as -if you’d been here a week?” - -“Yes, a month. Don’t eat that string, Mosina. You’re as bad as -Johnnie-goat.” - -“And, Cricket, just _suppose_ she shouldn’t get home before dark!” - -“Oh, papa would send for us,” said Cricket, securely. “He knows we’re -here. But I _do_ wish Mrs. Brummagen would come home. I’m getting -dreadfully tired of playing I’m poor. What do you want, Mosina?” picking -up the plump baby that crawled up to her, pulling at her dress. She sat -down on the floor, taking her little charge in her arms. - -“What you get fat on, Mosina, _I_ don’t know, unless it’s fattening not -to eat much. Mosina, I used to think it would be fun to live in one -room, and get your own meals, and play housekeeping, but I’ve changed my -mind. When you have to live on burnt herring—” - -“And stale bread,” burst in Hilda. - -“And burned potatoes—” - -“And iron with irons that won’t iron—” - -“And have messy washing around all the time—” - -“And nothing to sew with—” - -“And nothing to cook with, and nothing to cook in it—” - -“And only wooden chairs to sit down on—” - -“And nothing to read—” - -“Oh, goodness, gracious me! I do believe I won’t ever scold again at -home, and say I hate things,” said Hilda, drawing a long breath. “I -never thought before how perfectly horrid it would be _never_ to have -anything nice. I wonder if poor people mind it.” - -“Oh, dear, I hope not!” said Cricket, looking troubled. “When I’m rich, -Hilda,”—with the confidence of childhood that such a time is surely -coming,—“I’ll give everything I have to poor people, so they won’t have -to work so hard, and can get books to read.” - -“But you couldn’t do that,” objected Hilda, practically, “for you would -not have anything left for yourself, and _you’d_ be poor. And if nobody -was poor, who’d do our cooking, and all those things?” - -This problem was too deep for Cricket’s troubled little brain. - -“It’s a puzzle,” she sighed; then she added, brightening, “I’ll ask -papa; _he’ll_ fix it, when he’s rich. But—I don’t see _why_—” she -pondered, struck by another thought, “why _I_ should have a nice home -and such a dear family, and books, and everything I want, and Mosina -have only this little room and not much to eat. Suppose _I’d_ happened -to be Mosina, and Mosina had been _me_! Oh, dear! it gets worse and -worse!” - -And Cricket, with a sigh of puzzlement over this problem of all ages, -dropped a kiss on Mosina’s placid cheek. - -But Mosina, herself, suddenly put an end to the consideration of all -hard questions, by setting up one of her unexpected roars, as she -doubled herself up like a little jack-knife. Poor little thing! the -ice-cold milk had naturally given her a severe attack of colic. - -“What is the matter, baby?” cried Cricket, in dismay, cuddling Mosina in -her arms, in her motherly little fashion. Mosina roared on, alternately -doubling herself up and straightening herself out. Cricket and Hilda -began to get thoroughly frightened. - -“Cricket, she isn’t dying, is she?” whispered Hilda, trembling. Not -having any brothers or sisters, she was perfectly helpless with -children. - -“I don’t know, but I guess not,” said Cricket, feeling rather disturbed, -herself. “There, baby! hush, dear! What shall I do for you? Mercy, -Hilda, she’s getting black in the face! Do go for somebody.” - -“Where shall I go?” asked Hilda helplessly, wringing her hands. - -“Anywhere—down-stairs—in the next room. Find somebody quickly.” - -Hilda flew for the door, and ran plump into Mrs. Brummagen, who rushed -in breathlessly. In a twinkling, the baby was in her arms. Mosina was -holding her breath, and was purple in the face. Her mother promptly blew -down her throat, and thumped her on the back, and in a moment the roar -began again, but rather less vehemently. The colic was evidently passing -over. - -Poor little Mrs. Brummagen was in a state of excitement and apology -bordering on distraction, at the idea of the young ladies staying there -all day long, and taking care of Mosina all that time. - -“An’ you eat—vat?” she demanded, tragically. “Der vas noding to eat. An’ -you been here—four—five—six—hour!” - -“We couldn’t find much to eat,” admitted Cricket, honestly. “We tried to -cook the herrings, but they were rather tough, and we fried potatoes, -only they wouldn’t fry. They seemed to burn, somehow.” - -Mrs. Brummagen poured out a string of mingled German and English -ejaculations, expressive of her distress. - -“And, Mrs. Brummagen, we thought we’d help you a little and get your -sheets all washed and ironed, but somehow it didn’t go right, and we -made a dreadful mess of it. I guess you have to know how, if you wash -and iron. It looks so easy, I thought any one could do it. The sheet is -dreadfully dirty—the one we did, I mean,—and it’s all smoochy, too. Will -it come out?” and Cricket shook out the damp sheet from the basket, and -anxiously displayed it. - -Mrs. Brummagen was more overcome than before. - -“Ach, the dear chilt!” she cried. “Ya, it vill come out, ven I vash him -mit soap.” - -“I’m so glad,” said Cricket, greatly relieved. “Of course, mamma would -have given you another one, though. Now, we must go, I think. Oh, Hilda! -we forgot your cap! Mrs. Brummagen, we dressed up to play keeping house, -but we were so busy _doing_ it, that we forgot to play much.” - -Mrs. Brummagen helped them on with their things, talking all the time, -in her broken English, and telling them how she ought not have gone at -all, and how she hardly knew what she was doing, and how she couldn’t -get away sooner, and how she had worried all day about their getting -something to eat. - -“Never mind,” said Cricket. “We enjoyed it ever so much. Good-bye, -Mosina. Bring her up on Saturday, when you come for the bundle, won’t -you? Good-bye.” - -It was getting well into the dusk of the short winter day, when the -children arrived at home. Cricket flew into her mother’s arms and kissed -her as if she had been gone six weeks. - -“My little girl, where _have_ you been, and what have you been doing? I -was just sending Eliza down for you. Somebody left word at the basement -door that you were going to stay at Mrs. Brummagen’s all day, but I -expected you home long ago.” - -“Mamma, we’ve been playing poor, and I don’t—like—it—one—bit,” said -Cricket, slowly, with her head on her mother’s neck. “I always thought -it would be rather fun to be poor, but it isn’t. It’s just perfectly -horrid. And I’m so hungry, you can’t think! And oh, mamma dearest! -suppose—just _suppose_—that I’d been Mrs. Brummagen’s little girl, -instead of yours!” - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - THE DIAMOND RING. - - -The short days of the girls’ visit flew by on wings. - -“Only till to-morrow!” sighed Cricket, as they got up from the luncheon -table. “This time to-morrow you’ll be gone, and we’ll be left forlorn! I -wish people who come here to visit would stay for always, and never go -away.” - -“What an India-rubber house you’d have to have,” said Archie, sweeping -all her curls over her face with a nourish of his arm, as he passed her. - -“Archie, when you get to heaven, you won’t be happy unless you can muss -my hair up,” said Cricket, resignedly, shaking it back. - -“Don’t get riled, Miss Scricket,” returned Archie, whirling her around. -“That’s only a love-pat.” - -“A love-pat!” said Cricket, scornfully. “I shouldn’t like to feel one of -your _hate_-pats, then. Mamma, what can Hilda and I do this afternoon?” - -“We girls are going to the museum again,” said Eunice. “Come with us.” - -“No, we don’t want to. You like to see such _dis_interesting things. -Mummies and all that. I only like the pictures and marbles, anyway.” - -“We want something _very_ nice,” put in Hilda, “because we kept house -all day yesterday, and did very hard work.” - -“Yes,” sighed Cricket, “I’ve learned two things lately. I don’t want to -adopt a baby and have it keep me awake at night, and I don’t want to be -poor and not have any books to read. Mamma, what _can_ we do?” - -“There is one thing I want you to do,” said mamma, promptly, knowing by -long experience that when children are begging for something to do, -nothing seems very attractive, if offered as a choice. The same thing, -given as something from which there is no appeal, will be done -cheerfully. - -“I want you both to go and see Emily Drayton for a little while this -afternoon. It is Hilda’s last chance. Eunice and Edith went yesterday. -Go about three o’clock. She’ll be delighted to see you, if she is at -home.” - -“That will be jolly. I hope she’ll be in. Must we make a regular call, -mamma, or can we plain go and see her?” - -“‘Plain go and see her,’” said mamma, smiling. “Only go and put on your -Sunday dress. It will be more polite to dress especially for it,” added -wise mamma, knowing the process of dressing would help fill up the -afternoon. Papa had planned to take all the children for a long drive -this afternoon, but as he was unexpectedly called away, it had to be -given up, and the girls were thrown on their own resources. - -At three, the two younger girls, in their Sunday best, started in high -feather for their call. It was a long walk to Emily Drayton’s, but the -children enjoyed the crisp, cold day and the brisk exercise. -Unfortunately, when they arrived at their destination, they found that -Emily was out with her mother, and would not be home till late in the -afternoon. Therefore there was nothing to be done but to turn around and -travel home again. - -“This isn’t very exciting, after all,” said Cricket, mournfully. “Here -it’s nearly four o’clock, and most of your last afternoon is gone -already. What let’s do next, Hilda?” - -“Oh, I don’t know. I wish we’d gone to the museum with the girls. What’s -the matter, Cricket?” - -Cricket had suddenly stopped, and was poking at a crack in the sidewalk. - -“I thought I caught a glimpse of something shiny in that crack. I _did_! -See, Hilda!” and Cricket extricated something, triumphantly, and held it -up. - -Her own amazement grew as she looked. - -“_What?_ Not _really_, Cricket?” cried Hilda, and the two heads clashed -over the treasure-trove. - -It was a ring with a fairly good-sized diamond. - -Cricket whooped, there and then, in her excitement. Fortunately the -street was a quiet one, and no one was near. - -“A diamond ring, Hilda! A really, truly diamond! Hooray! It’s as big as -the one papa gave mamma on her birthday. I wonder if he’ll let me wear -it.” - -“But somebody has lost it,” said Hilda, in her practical way. “You’ll -have to find the owner.” - -[Illustration: THE DIAMOND RING.] - -“Why, so I will! How silly of me. I suppose papa will advertise it. It’s -just like our finding Mosina; we never thought that somebody owned her. -Let’s hurry home and show papa.” - -The children skipped home briskly, in the excitement of so great a -discovery, and burst into Doctor Ward’s office eagerly. He had just come -in for something he needed, and was on the point of going out again. - -“Found what? A diamond ring?” he asked, putting down his hat, and taking -the ring that Cricket put in his hand. - -“H’m. Where did you find this?” he asked, turning it to the light. - -Cricket told him about it. Doctor Ward, as he listened, took down a tiny -vial from one of his shelves, and put a drop of its contents on the -ring, watching the effect. - -“It’s gold, but I’m a little uncertain about the diamond,” he said. -“It’s not worth advertising, if it’s not real,” he said, putting back -the bottle. “You may take it to the jeweller’s, if you like, and get his -opinion.” - -“_Not_ a diamond?” cried the disappointed children, in a breath. - -“I think it’s only paste, my dear. However, you can run around to the -jeweller’s and find out. I must go now.” - -“Oh, dear me!” sighed Cricket, sorrowfully; “I thought we surely had -found some excitement. Well, come on, Hilda; let’s go to Spencer’s and -find out. If it isn’t a real diamond, may we have it, papa?” - -“Yes,” answered Doctor Ward, absentmindedly, turning to find something -else he wanted. - -At Spencer’s the clerk took the ring with a smile. - -“No, it isn’t a diamond,” he said, after giving it a careless glance. -“Found it? No, it isn’t worth advertising.” - -The two girls, who had still clung to the hope that they had found a -diamond, looked immensely disappointed at this decision. They took the -ring and walked slowly homeward, discussing the affair. - -“If it isn’t a real diamond, and if it isn’t worth advertising, we might -sell it for what it is worth,” suggested Hilda, brilliantly, at last. -“Let’s go into the first jeweller’s store we come to, and ask him to buy -it.” - -“Could we?” said Cricket, doubtfully. “Is it ours enough for that?” - -“Of course, goosie. Your father said we might have it, didn’t he? Of -course we have a right to sell it and keep the money. He wouldn’t care,” -urged Hilda. - -“No, I s’pose not,” returned Cricket, hesitating. “How much do you -suppose we’d get for it?” - -“Oh, twenty or thirty dollars, I suppose, or something like that. Rings -cost a lot,” answered Hilda, vaguely. “What shall we do with the money?” - -“Buy a bicycle,” said Cricket, promptly. “Let’s each buy one. I’m crazy -for a ‘bikachine,’ as Kenneth says.” - -“So am I. What kind would you get?” - -“They say the Humber is a pretty nice wheel,” said Cricket, -reflectively; “but I guess that they cost too much, for I heard Donald -say that he wanted one but couldn’t afford it. Perhaps we couldn’t get -one of them, but we might each get a Columbia. Archie and Will have -Columbias. Do you know how much they cost?” asked Cricket, who never had -any more idea of the value of things than a cat. She had probably heard -the price of a good bicycle mentioned scores of times, without its -making the slightest impression upon her. Hilda, who, living alone with -her mother and grandmother, never heard bicycles talked about, really -did not know. - -“I think the Columbias would do for us to learn on,” she said, -patronisingly. “You can’t ride, can you?” - -“Yes, I learned last fall on some of the girls’ wheels at school. It’s -just as easy as pie. It’s so funny that people make so much fuss about -learning. I like a boy’s wheel best, though. Wish I was on one this -minute,” said Cricket, with a little skip. - -“Now what else shall we get with the rest of the money?” asked Hilda. - -“A bicycle for Eunice,” answered Cricket immediately. “Of course, mine -would be part hers, but we couldn’t both ride at a time, unless I hung -on behind, somehow. I suppose I might get a tandem.” - -“Then you _never_ could ride without somebody on behind,” said Hilda, -sensibly; “and you might not always want it. No, I’d get a single wheel, -if I were you. I think I’ll get a gold thimble with the rest of my half -of the money.” - -“I want a lot of new books,” said Cricket, characteristically. “I wish -somebody would invent a book, that as fast as you read it would turn -into another book that you haven’t read. Then you’d always have a new -book to read. Will you get anything else?” - -“I want a lot of things more, but I guess I’ll put the rest of my money -into the savings bank. I’ve got three hundred dollars in the savings -bank already.” - -“I tried to make money, once, to buy a bicycle,” said Cricket, -meditatively. “I had a store on the dock at Marbury for one day. Sold -peanuts and lemonade. It was pretty tiresome though, and I didn’t make -very much. Auntie said I didn’t make anything, but I never could -understand it, somehow. I had twenty-one cents to put in my bank at -night. I had fifty cents in the morning, but we spent it buying things -to sell. Business is so queer. I should think men’s heads would _burst_, -finding out whether they are making money or losing it.” - -“It’s a great deal nicer not to make money, but have somebody leave you -plenty, then you don’t have to bother,” said Hilda. “Here’s a store; -let’s go in here.” - -The two little girls marched up to the first clerk they saw. - -“We want to see if you’ll buy this ring of us,” said Cricket, holding it -out. “We want to sell it, please, and please give us all you can for -it.” - -The clerk stared and smiled. - -“I’ll have to see the old gentleman about buying the ring,” he said. -“You wait here a moment,” and with that he went off with the ring, -leaving the children looking after him hungrily, and a little uncertain -whether they would see their treasure again. However, the clerk returned -in a moment. - -“Mr. Elton says he can’t buy it unless you bring a note from your father -or somebody, saying it’s all right about your selling the ring, for he -doesn’t want to be let in for receiving stolen property.” - -The clerk meant this for a joke, but the horror-stricken children did -not understand this kind of humour. - -“I said I _found_ it,” said indignant Cricket at last, finding her -voice. - -“Oh, it’s all right, I dare say,” said the clerk carelessly; “you run -along and get a note from somebody, and that will do.” - -The children walked out of the store in a state divided between -indignation and bewilderment. - -“I _said_ I found it,” repeated Cricket. “I don’t see what he wants a -_note_ for.” - -“Let’s go somewhere else and sell it, and _then_ they’ll be sorry,” said -Hilda, tossing her head. - -“Yes, we’ll go somewhere else, but first we had better go home and get a -note from papa. Somebody else might ask for one,” returned Cricket, -learning wisdom by experience. “You see, papa said we could have it if -it wasn’t a real diamond, and it isn’t.” - -They rushed up to the library and to the office, but papa was still out, -and would not be back until dinner-time, the waitress told them. Then -they went for mamma, but she had not returned either. - -“Let’s write a note ourselves,” said Hilda. “Any kind of a note will do, -I suppose. You see, it’s really ours. Your father said so.” - -“Yes, I suppose it is. What shall we say? Let’s make up something.” - -“All right! You take the ring,—now give it to me, and I’ll put in the -note that a friend gave it to me, and I don’t like it, or something, and -that we want to sell it. That will be regularly story-booky.” - -After much writing and giggling and rewriting, the following note was -concocted: - - _Dear Sir_: I received this ring from a friend and it’s too big for - me, and I send my daughter with it; and what will you give me for it? - - Your friend, - J. JONES. - -The “J. Jones” was actually a flight of fancy on Hilda’s part. She -thought it would be still more “story-booky” to sign an assumed name, -and Cricket finally consented. - -“It looks very well,” said Cricket, surveying the effusion with much -pride, when it was neatly copied in Hilda’s pretty writing on mamma’s -best note paper. “And ‘J. Jones’ might be anybody, you know. Oh, Hilda! -I _hope_ we’ll get lots of money for it!” - -“We _ought_ to. The gold is worth a good deal, I suppose.” - -“When we get the money, we might go straight down to the bicycle place, -and buy a bicycle right away, this very day,” proposed Cricket, with a -skip of delight, as the children went out again. “Just think of calmly -walking into the house at dinner-time, with a bicycle under our arms! I -mean, of course—well, you know what I mean.” - -“Wouldn’t everybody be surprised? Where will you keep your wheel, -Cricket?” - -“In the basement hall, probably. What shall you name yours, Hilda?” - -“_Name_ it?” queried Hilda. - -“Yes. I don’t see why they shouldn’t be named as well as a horse. Don’t -you think Angelica is a good name? Oh, bicycle, so nice and dear! I wish -you were this minute here! Why, that’s a rhyme, isn’t it?” - -“Here’s a jeweller’s,” said Hilda, glancing at the window of a store -they were passing. “It isn’t very big, but it looks pretty nice.” - -A clerk with very black hair and a very big nose came forward to wait on -them. - -Cricket produced the ring for his inspection. - -“It isn’t a really-truly diamond,” she said, lifting her honest eyes to -his face, “but we’d like to sell it for what it’s worth. And here’s a -note,” she added, producing it with a fluttering heart. Would he just -say it was a joke, and not do anything about it? They waited -breathlessly. - -“Not a diamond?” said the clerk, taking it carelessly. He turned it over -and looked at it closely, glanced at the children, read the note, and -then said: - -“No, it isn’t a diamond. I should say not. We’ll give you—let me -see—well, I’ll have to ask the boss,” and he went off. - -“They always have to _ask_ somebody. Oh, Hilda, how much do you think -they’ll give?” whispered Cricket, eagerly, squeezing Hilda’s hand. - -“Probably thirty dollars, at _least_,” answered Hilda, returning the -squeeze. “Hush! here he comes.” - -“Boss says,” began the clerk deliberately, “that the diamond isn’t real, -but if it’s all right about the note,”—the children gasped,—“that he can -allow you, well, as much as seventy-five cents for the ring.” - -Two wide-open mouths was all the clerk could see as he glanced down. The -children were too amazed to speak for a moment. - -“Seventy-five cents!” faltered Cricket, at last. - -“Seventy-five cents!” echoed Hilda, blankly. - -And they turned and stared at each other, not knowing what to say next. - -“Come, do you want it?” asked the clerk, yawning. “Don’t be all night -about deciding.” - -“Is—is that _all_ it’s worth?” at last ventured Cricket, her round -little face really long with the disappointment. - -“Really, now, that’s a pretty liberal offer,” said the clerk, assuming a -confidential air. “Come, decide,” tapping the ring indifferently on the -counter. - -“Wouldn’t any one give me any more for it?” persisted Cricket. - -“Hardly think it. Why, like as not the next person you go to might not -offer you a cent more than fifty. We always do things of honour here. -Liberal old bird, the boss is,” with a sly wink that half frightened the -children. “Highest prices paid here for second-hand jewelry. Don’t you -see the sign?” with a backward wave of his hand toward a placard on the -wall. - -Hilda and Cricket exchanged glances. Hilda nodded, and Cricket said, -with a sigh that came from her very boots: - -“Very well, we’ll take the seventy-five cents, if that’s all you can -give us for it.” - -“Positively all. Fortunate you came here, or you wouldn’t have gotten -that,” said the clerk, counting out three new quarters into Cricket’s -hand. - -“Shine’s thrown in,” he said, facetiously, as the children soberly -thanked him and walked out of the store, feeling very uncomfortable -somehow. - -“What a horrid man!” exclaimed Cricket, as they reached the sidewalk and -drew a long breath. “Wasn’t he the most winkable creature you ever saw? -I suppose he thought he was funny.” - -“Greasy old thing!” returned Hilda, both children being glad to vent -their disappointment on some convenient object. “His finger-nails were -as black as ink.” - -But Cricket could not stay crushed long. In a moment the smiles began to -creep up to her eyes, and spill over on to her cheeks, and finally -reached her mouth. - -“Oh, Hilda! it’s _too_ funny,” she cried, with her rippling laugh. “We -were going to take our bicycles home under our arms all so grand! Shall -we order them to-night?” - -“_I’m_ just too mad for anything,” answered Hilda, whose sense of humour -never equalled Cricket’s. “Seventy-five cents! the _idea_! for that -_beautiful_ gold ring!” - -“I’ve another idea,” said Cricket, stopping short suddenly. “It isn’t -worth putting seventy-five cents in the bank, is it? Let’s stop at that -old peanut-woman’s stand and get some peanuts with the money. I think -we’ll get a good many for seventy-five cents.” - -And they certainly did. The old woman stared at the munificent order, -but began to count out bags with great speed, lest they should change -their minds. - -“Five cents a bag,” she said; “seven—eight—that makes quite a many -bags—nine—ten—where will I put this?—eleven—twelve—here, little miss, -tuck it in here,—thirteen—can you hold it up here?” - -“We have enough, I think,” said Cricket, rather amazed at the quantity -of peanuts you can get for seventy-five cents. - -“That ain’t but thirteen, honey. Here, put this ’un under your arm. Got -to go fur?” - -“Not very. Well, Hilda, I never had all the peanuts I wanted at one time -before, I do believe. I should think these would last a year. Oh, that -one’s slipping off! Fix it, please. Thank you, ever so much.” - -“Hollo, Madame Van Twister! Are you buying out the whole establishment?” -said a familiar voice behind them, and turning they saw Donald. - -“I guess she’s pretty glad to sell out,” said Cricket, seriously. “I -know, for I kept a peanut-stand once in Marbury; the one I was telling -you about, Hilda. It wasn’t much fun. It looks so, but it isn’t.” - -“Buying her out from philanthropic motives?” queried Donald. - -“No, we’ve been selling diamond rings,” said Cricket, carelessly, “and -we had a lot of money, so we thought we’d buy peanuts. Want a bag, Don? -we have plenty.” - -“You’re a regular circus, you kid,” laughed Donald. “Where do you get -your diamond rings?” - -Cricket told him the whole story. Donald laughed till he had to hold on -to the peanut-stand. - -“J. Jones! Well, you certainly showed great originality in the name!” he -said. “Sorry I can’t escort you home, youngster, and carry a few dozen -of those bags for you, but I’m due elsewhere,” and Donald went off, -still laughing. - -If you want to know whether the family had enough peanuts, I will simply -remark that by bedtime, that night, there were only two bags left,—and -shells. - -“After all, we girls didn’t eat so many,” said Cricket, meditatively. -“Will and Archie ate ten bags. I counted. Boys are so queer! The more -they eat, the more they want.” - -Doctor Ward was out to dinner, and did not hear the end of the story of -the ring till the next day. - -“Do you mean you actually sold it, you little Jews?” he said. “Then I -shall be obliged to go and buy it back.” - -“_Papa!_ why, we’ve spent the money!” cried Cricket, alarmed. “Besides, -you said we could have it, didn’t you? I thought we could do anything we -liked with it,” entirely forgetting that the proposition to sell it had -not come from her. - -“I believe I did say something about your having it if we couldn’t find -an owner, or if the diamond was not real. However, I want to be sure on -that point for myself. Sometimes mistakes are made. I must see about -it.” - -“Suppose they won’t sell it back,” suggested Cricket, looking -uncomfortable. - -“Perhaps they won’t, but I think I can induce them.” - -“But we haven’t the seventy-five cents,” repeated Cricket, piteously, -“and we’ve eaten up all the peanuts, so we can’t send them back and get -the money.” - -“Where are the peanuts, which we got for the seventy-five cents, which -we got for the diamond ring, which we found on the street! Now, Miss -Scricket, you’ve got to go to jail,” said Archie, cheerfully. “Where is -the jail, which holds Miss Scricket, which ate the peanuts, which cost -seventy-five cents, which she got for a diamond ring, what belonged to -somebody else! Regular House that Jack Built.” - -“You can pay for the peanuts you ate, then,” retorted Cricket. “That -will be pretty nearly seventy-five cents.” - -“That identical seventy-five cents it will not be necessary to return,” -said Doctor Ward, pinching her cheek. “I’ll supply the money, and report -at luncheon.” - -At luncheon Doctor Ward held up the ring. - -“I went, I saw, I got the ring, after an hour’s hard work. I suspected -it was really a diamond as soon as the old Jew opened his lips.” - -“It _is_ a diamond?” cried every one, in chorus. - -“I won’t keep you in suspicion, as Cricket used to say. It _is_ a -diamond, though not of the first water. The old fellow first pretended -he knew nothing about the matter. I had the clerks called up. He only -had two. One of them—” - -“Did he have a big nose?” interrupted Cricket, eagerly. - -“And greasy hair and black finger-nails?” added Hilda. - -“All those,” said Doctor Ward. “Well, it took an hour, but finally I got -it back. Then I took it to Spencer’s—” - -“The very place we went to,” interrupted Cricket again. - -“Yes, and I happened to see the very clerk. The moment I held it out he -looked surprised; I told him I wanted it tested,—not merely glanced at. -He took it off, and came back, presently, looking very sheepish, and -told me, as I said before, that it is a diamond, though not a very -valuable one for its size.” - -“Why didn’t he look at it more carefully at first?” asked Mrs. Ward. - -“He said something about thinking it was a joke that the children were -putting up, and—” - -“As if we would put up a joke on a perfect stranger!” cried Cricket, -indignantly. - -“Of course not, pet, but he didn’t know that. It was no excuse for him, -though. He should have given it the proper attention. However, we have -the ring safe now, after all its adventures, and we’ll advertise it.” - -“Papa,” asked Cricket, dimpling suddenly, “if nobody ever claims it, may -I have it for my own,—not to sell it, I mean,—but just to wear it when -I’m grown-up?” - -“Can’t promise. You’d probably pawn it the first time you wanted -peanuts,” teased Doctor Ward. - -That was several years ago, but the ring, which is still in mamma’s -jewel-box, is now called Cricket’s. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - SCHOOL THEATRICALS. - - -It seemed very lonely the next day, when Edith and Hilda had gone. The -spare room was shorn of its two cots, and was restored to its usual -dainty order. Will and Archie left also, as their school began the next -Monday, and they went to board, in the neighbourhood of their house, -till Edna was sufficiently recovered for them to be at home. She had had -a very light attack of scarlet fever, fortunately, and was already -improving. As soon as the boys left, Eunice and Cricket returned to -their own domains. College opened and Don was off. On Tuesday, the -girls’ school, St. Agatha’s, was in session again, so now they all -settled down to the busy time that lies between Christmas and Easter. - -At the close of the half-year at St. Agatha’s, early in February, came -the great excitement of the year. This was an exhibition, consisting of -a play, given in French by some of the older girls, and a short play in -English by some of the children in the junior department. As only the -girls whose scholarship was high, and deportment uniformly good, were -allowed to take part in the plays, of course it was one of the chief -honours of the year to be selected. The announcement of the favoured -girls was eagerly awaited. - -The French play was learned as class work during the fall term by all -the senior girls in the French classes. The list of those chosen to give -the plays was read on the first day of school after the Christmas -holidays. - -Much rehearsing and genuine hard work on the part of the actors, as well -as of the teachers, went into this yearly exhibition, but the honour -paid for all the extra hours, and the names of the girls who took the -parts were preserved in the school year-book. - -As Marjorie had been in the French play the year before, she could not -be in it again, this year, although her marks were well up. Since Eunice -and Cricket had only entered St. Agatha’s this year, they never thought -of the possibility of either of them being in the play. Therefore you -can imagine Eunice’s blank amazement when her name was read among the -others: - -“Miss Eunice Ward is assigned the part of Sallie, the maid.” - -“_Eunice?_” said Cricket, right out loud, her eyes shining like two -stars. “Oh, do you think she _can_?” - -Apparently Eunice’s teachers thought she could, for they had given her -the very good part of a little housemaid. The “cast” were requested to -wait after school, to be given their books and be instructed in their -parts. - -Cricket was on tiptoe with excitement when Eunice came home, trying to -look unconcerned and every-day-ish. Cricket flew at her with a little -shriek of delight, and squeezed her eagerly. - -“Eunice! _Eunice!_ think of your being given a part in a _real_ play! -What will you wear? Will it be hard to learn? When do you have to know -it? Do they begin rehearsing soon? Could I go to the rehearsals, do you -think?” - -“I don’t know _every_thing yet, Cricket. I don’t know what I’m to wear. -We must know our parts perfectly in one week, and next Tuesday will be -our first rehearsal. I don’t know about their letting you in, but I’m -afraid they won’t. I don’t think they let anybody be there but Miss -Raymond and Miss Emmet, and us actors,” with supreme importance. - -“How horrid! I’ll just go somewhere and _peek_, then. I _must_ see you.” - -“I’ll ask Miss Emmet if you can’t come, though. She knows we are always -together. But, you see, if they let in one outside girl, any number may -want to come in,” said Eunice, wisely. - -“That’s so,” said Cricket, with a sigh. “You tell them I’ll make myself -_very_ small and not get in anybody’s way. Where’s your book?” - -“Here it is. Sallie is my part, you know.” - -Cricket took the book and dropped down on the window-seat. - -“Isn’t this _delicious_? ‘Curtain rising, discloses Sallie dusting.’ Oh, -what cunning little short sentences you have to say!” After a moment’s -silence: “Eunice, this won’t be anything to learn. I just about know the -first page already,” and Cricket rattled it off. - -For a week the family had to lunch and dine on the famous play. A -stranger could not have told which was to take part, Eunice or Cricket, -for the two knew it equally well. Indeed, in a week’s time, Cricket knew -the whole play by heart, from reading the other characters, when she was -hearing Eunice. The play was short, of course, only being about -twenty-five minutes in length. The children declaimed it on the stairs; -they spouted it in the parlour after dinner, and they interlarded their -conversation with quotations from it. They talked professionally of -entrances and exits, of wings and flies and scenery and cues, till their -long-suffering family protested in a body. - -Eunice had a private interview with Miss Emmet, the principal, regarding -Cricket’s presence at the rehearsals. At first Miss Emmet said -positively, as Eunice had feared she would, that it was against the -rules for any one to be present save herself and the teacher who drilled -the girls. But Eunice’s pleading face, as she urged that she and Cricket -were always together in everything, and she could do it _so_ much better -if Cricket were there, because she could rehearse it with her at home, -finally made Miss Emmet say, smiling: - -“Well, my dear, on second thoughts, we’ll admit Jean. Only please do not -tell the girls that you asked for her to be present.” - -Eunice promised, radiantly, and flew off to Cricket with the coveted -permission. - -The rehearsals went on swimmingly for a time. Then, after the novelty -was over, the little actors began to realise that the extra time -required of them interfered, now and then, with their own plans for -amusement. There began to be absences from rehearsals. The rehearsals -themselves began to be a bore, for any one who has ever trained children -for any exhibition knows the tiresome repetition of scenes and sentences -that is necessary to ensure success in the simplest performance. - -Eunice and Cricket felt it, with the others. They wanted to go skating, -to go down-town with mamma, or made plans with their schoolmates, only -to remember, at the last minute, that there was a rehearsal that -afternoon. - -Eunice was very faithful, however, for her mother would not permit -anything to interfere with these rehearsals. Cricket, of course, was -free, but, as her father said, she would “never desert Mr. Micawber.” - -“No; you agreed to take a part in the play, dear,” said mamma firmly, -when the children begged to “cut just _once_, for the other girls did -sometimes,” since something unusual had come up; “what you agreed to do, -you must do, at any cost of inconvenience or disappointment to yourself. -No amusements, of any kind, must prevent your being punctual at every -rehearsal.” - -“Just sometimes, mamma,” begged Eunice. - -“Not even once. Your teachers are taking all this trouble for your -benefit, and the least you can do is to be depended upon for your -punctual presence. You know how provoking you say it is when any one is -absent, and how badly the rehearsal goes on then.” - -“That’s so: like a chicken on one leg,” said Cricket, thoughtfully. -“Everything hitches. But I do wish I were _in_ the play. I know all -Isabel Fleming’s part _much_ better than she does. Miss Raymond scolds -her all the time.” - -“How did she get in if she is stupid?” asked Marjorie. - -“She isn’t stupid. I believe she’s lazy. She just stumbles along, and it -makes me so mad when she gets all mixed up in her best speeches. There’s -one part, with Eunice, that she spoils entirely, every time. That about -the bonnet, Eunice, when you come in and find her trying it on. She’s -all alone before the glass first, and she has some awfully funny things -to say, and she just forgets half of them, every time.” - -“You do it lots better, Cricket,” said Eunice. “She really does, mamma. -She’s practised it with me, you know, up-stairs. Let’s do it now, -Cricket.” - -And Cricket, nothing loath, jumped up, and the children went through the -scene. Cricket was always such an enthusiastic little soul about -everything she did, that she made herself literally the character she -was acting. - -“Oh, I’m just pining away to be in the play,” she said, sinking down on -a couch and fanning herself, amid the applause of the family. - -“You look pretty healthy for one who is in that state,” said Doctor -Ward. - -They were all in the parlour for the jolly half-hour after dinner. - -“I don’t show it much, I suppose,” said Cricket thoughtfully, “but, -really, it just pines inside all the time.” - -“Do you remember, mamma,” put in Marjorie, “how Eunice, when she was a -little thing, used to like to sit up at the piano and sing, and pretend -to play her accompaniments? There was one particular song she always -tried. It had a chorus, ‘Maggie, dear Maggie, I’m _pinning_ for thee!’ -as Eunice used to say it. Cricket might sing now, ‘Oh, Nancy, dear -Nancy, I’m pining for _thee_!’” - -“By the way, what is that ghostly song you are so fond of singing about -the house, Marjorie?” asked Doctor Ward, looking up from his evening -paper. “I only can make out the chorus, ‘Repack, repack, repack my body -to me,—to me.’” - -There was a shout of laughter that nearly drowned Marjorie’s astonished -protest that she never sang anything so sepulchral. - -“You certainly do, often,” insisted Doctor Ward. “This very afternoon, -not long before dinner, I heard you and two or three of your friends, in -the music-room, singing, and one of the things you sang was that very -song, only you sang it this way: ‘Repack my body to me,—same old body.’” - -There was another shout. - -“Oh, papa, you _funny_!” cried Marjorie. “It isn’t _body_ at all. It’s -‘Bring back my _Bonny_ to me.’ It’s a girl’s name. The first line is, -‘My Bonny lies over the ocean!’” - -“That’s it,” said the doctor. “When you sang, ‘My _body_ lies over the -ocean,’ I thought it was a strange thing to mislay.” - -Whereupon Marjorie went to the piano and insisted on playing the whole -thing through, and having Eunice join her in singing it. - -The next rehearsal day, Eunice and Cricket were promptly on hand. -Presently all the girls were there but Isabel Fleming. Miss Raymond, the -elocution teacher, came in, herself, at the last moment. - -“I was unexpectedly detained. All here? Isabel Fleming isn’t missing -again to-day, is she? What a provoking child! This is the third time she -has been absent, and she really needs more drill than any one of you, -for she is so careless.” Miss Raymond’s black eyes snapped impatiently, -and the girls were glad they were not the delinquent Isabel. “Wouldn’t -she catch it the next day?” the girls’ silent exchange of glances said. - -“Here _I_ leave pressing work to come here and drill you, for your own -benefit and advantage, outside of school hours,” went on Miss Raymond, -indignantly; “I often give up engagements that I wish to make, for -ungrateful girls who are not even responsible for what they undertake. -You ought to be as ashamed to break an engagement as you would be to -tell a lie.” - -“That is very true,” said Miss Emmet quietly. “However, we won’t scold -the girls who _are_ here, on account of those who are not. I will see -Isabel to-morrow.” - -“They all need a talking-to, though,” cried irate Miss Raymond. “They -all happen to be here to-day; but I believe every one of them has missed -rehearsals, with the exception of Eunice Ward.” - -“Mamma won’t let me,” said Eunice honestly. - -“Your mother’s a sensible woman, then,” said Miss Raymond. “Now, Miss -Emmet, what are we to do? It spoils the play so, to have me read -Isabel’s part. I can’t drill them properly, and they don’t do justice to -their own parts.” - -“If you like, Miss Emmet, I will take Isabel’s part,” said Cricket, in -her bright, unconscious way, after a telegraphic despatch to Eunice, -with her eyebrows. - -“But you don’t know it, child, and it’s the reading it at all that I -object to. Not acting it, puts the others out,” said Miss Raymond, -pulling off her gloves. - -“I mean, I can say it,” explained Cricket. “I can’t act it very well, of -course, but perhaps it would do. I know all the part.” - -“Do you? Well, then, you can try it. It won’t be worse, at any rate, -than my reading it, and keeping my eye on the girls at the same time. -Stand here, and be ready for your cue.” - -The speech was ungracious, for Miss Raymond was always sharp-tongued, -but she patted Cricket’s cheek, approvingly. - -The rehearsal began. Cricket was excited, but she had her wits about -her, for this work was what she loved. - -“You are doing very well, child,” said Miss Raymond, when she went off -the stage. Cricket was so eager to fill in just right, that she never -thought of herself. The little play was rehearsed twice through, and the -second time Cricket did still better. Of course not as well as the girls -who had been drilling for two weeks already, for she did not always get -the right position on the stage, sometimes turned her back to the -imaginary audience, did not leave at the right moment, every time, and -never spoke loud enough. - -Nevertheless, on the whole, the rehearsal was very satisfactory. - -Miss Raymond said a few words to Miss Emmet while the children were -resting. Miss Emmet nodded assent. When the girls were leaving, Miss -Emmet detained Eunice and Cricket a moment. - -“Miss Raymond and I spoke of replacing Isabel Fleming two or three days -ago,” she said. “I told her, the last time she was absent, that I should -fill her place if she failed again. Now, Jean, I wish you would ask your -mother if she has any objection to your taking the part of Nancy. You -know the part already, and we can soon train you in the acting.” - -Cricket’s eyes grew bigger and bigger. To act a part in that wonderful -play! - -“Will your mother permit her, do you think?” Miss Emmet asked Eunice. -“Jean is rather younger than the girls are when they first take part, -usually, but I think she will do.” - -“Yes, indeed, I think mamma will be willing,” beamed Eunice. - -“I come to all the rehearsals now,” said Cricket, eagerly, “and I know -the part perfectly, and I am sure mamma will let me.” - -The girls almost danced down the street. - -“I’d rehearse every day in the week, and all night too,” said Cricket, -fervently, to mamma, when the latter warned her again that she must not -let anything interfere with rehearsing. “We will not ask to shirk it -once, no matter what we want to do.” - -“That’s the only condition you can undertake it on,” said mamma. “If you -do it at all, you must do it thoroughly, you know.” - -The condition seemed a very small one to the children, as only a week -remained before the eventful Friday night. The rehearsals were never -more than an hour long, and generally not more than three-quarters of an -hour at a time, but they came every other day. - -It was Monday afternoon,—the Monday before the play. A rehearsal was -appointed for three o’clock. As the girls came out into the street from -school, one of their friends joined them, begging them to come and see -her in the afternoon. Her mother, she said, had just come home from New -York, and brought her many pretty things, as well as a great box of -Huyler’s candy. She wanted Eunice and Cricket to see the things and help -eat the candy. Eunice, remembering the rehearsal, said no very firmly, -though her resolution was somewhat shaken when she learned that most of -the candy was chocolate. - -“It’s so far over there that we wouldn’t have time to come before -rehearsal, but we might go over at four, couldn’t we, Eunice?” asked -Cricket, hopefully. - -“Oh, how provoking! You see, I have a music lesson at four, and Mr. -Schwarz is _so_ cross if I’m a minute late; and I know there won’t be -anything left of that candy to offer you, after the children get hold of -it. Can’t you skip rehearsal, just once?” - -“No, we’ve engaged not to,” said Eunice. “It would be nice, but we -mustn’t, Elsie. Good-bye. Cricket, we’ll be late to luncheon if we don’t -hurry.” - -It chanced that mamma had an engagement at the dentist’s, and had to -hurry away from the luncheon table. - -“And I shan’t be home till late in the afternoon, girls,” she added, -“for, after I leave the dentist, I have several people to see on Guild -business. Be prompt with Miss Raymond, my little maids, and do well.” - -She was hardly out of sight when a group of little school friends -trooped up the steps. Eunice and Cricket, standing in the window, saw -them coming, and flew down to the hall to meet them. - -“Get your things on right away,” they cried, in a chorus. “They say -there is splendid skating on the lake, and we’re all going out there. It -will probably be gone by to-morrow, they say. Do hurry, girls!” - -“Oh, jolly!” cried Cricket, flying away. Then she stopped short, and -looked at Eunice. - -“We can’t go, girls,” said Eunice, soberly. “We have rehearsal at -three.” - -“Oh, cut for once! All the girls have cut sometime, you know. You can’t -be there always.” - -“It’s such a nuisance when everybody isn’t there, though. But I’m just -dying for a skate,” said Cricket, wistfully. “How I wish we _could_ go!” - -“Come, _do_ cut,” some one urged. “Let Miss Raymond scold. Ask your -mother. She’ll let you.” Eunice wavered. Wouldn’t mamma let her if she -only knew about this? Such a _very_ special occasion! They had been so -very punctual and regular,—not a single time had they missed rehearsal, -and they knew their parts perfectly. Indeed, this was an extra -rehearsal, appointed for the special benefit of some girl who had been -absent twice. _Could_ not they let it go for once? Eunice and Cricket -looked at each other wistfully. - -“I believe—” began Eunice, slowly. - -“Oh, goody! fly up-stairs _fast_, and get your things on. It’s getting -awfully late, now, to get off.” - -Eunice still hesitated; then she suddenly braced herself. - -“No,” she said, backing off, with her hands behind her back, as though -there were something she was forbidden to touch. Then she spoke very -fast, lest her determination should waver again. - -“We can’t possibly go. We’ve promised mamma we wouldn’t shirk once, no -matter what came up, and we can’t. We’re awfully sorry, but we can’t. -You go on, girls. It’s getting late.” - -It certainly required much resolution to say this, in the face of those -glittering skates and beseeching eyes, but Eunice’s tone was so firm -that the girls wasted no further coaxing, and went off with many an -expression of regret. - -Eunice and Cricket each drew a long breath, and looked at each other -resignedly. - -“Now let’s get ready to go straight off before anything else happens,” -said Eunice, with assumed briskness. - -“I don’t feel as if the self-denying part of me could do that again. -It’s most worn out,” said Cricket, mournfully, as they went up-stairs. -“Think! the skating will surely be gone to-morrow! It never lasts but -two or three days.” - -As they finally shut the front door behind them and went down the steps, -Mrs. Drayton’s carriage drew up before the house, and Emily’s eager head -popped itself forward. - -“Girls! girls! where are you going? I’m _so_ glad I’m in time to catch -you. I want you to go for a drive.” - -“Oh, _Emily!_” cried Eunice, despairingly. “Don’t say one word about -anything. I’m just about crazy! _Every_thing nice is happening this -afternoon, when we’ve just _got_ to go to rehearsal.” - -“_Must_ you go?” said Emily, disappointedly. “I’d made up my mind to -have a nice, long drive. I’ve had such a cold that I have not been out -for a week, but to-day is _so_ clear and bright that mamma said I might -come out and get you both, and I want you _so_ much!” - -“I’m _just_ as much disappointed as you, Emily,” sighed Eunice. “I’m -tired to death of rehearsals, but we _must_ go, because we promised -mamma we wouldn’t shirk.” - -“You can get some one else to go with you, Emily,” said Cricket, who had -waited, younger-sister fashion, for Eunice to decide the matter. - -“Of course I can get plenty of people,” said Emily, petulantly; “but I -want _you_. Oh, _do_ come! We’ll stop at the school and say I wouldn’t -let you get out.” - -Emily was very used to having her own way. Eunice opened her eyes wide. - -“Oh, we couldn’t tell Miss Raymond _that_!” she exclaimed, in great -surprise. “Please don’t coax, Emily. It makes it so hard.” - -“There’s three o’clock now,” put in Cricket, as the hour struck from a -neighbouring tower. “Rehearsal is at three, and we’ve never been late -before.” - -Emily looked ready to cry. - -“It’s too bad of you. You might come if you wanted to. You’d rather go -to a mean old rehearsal than come with me. I know you would.” - -“Emily, how silly!” cried Cricket, in despair. “As if we wouldn’t rather -go with you a billion times,—yes, a virgintillion. Don’t you see? We’ve -_promised_.” - -“Please don’t be cross about it,” begged Eunice. “You can get somebody -and have a lovely drive, and we have to miss everything and be scolded -for being late, besides. We _must_ go, Cricket, or we’ll have our heads -taken off.” And Eunice, as she spoke, sprang up on the carriage steps -and kissed her little friend, coaxingly. - -Emily sighed. - -“Can you drive to-morrow then? I’ll come early.” - -“If we don’t have rehearsal. We’ll ride with you now as far as the -school, if you’ll take us.” - -“All this trial and temptation,” sighed Cricket, soberly, as they went -up the school steps, “and probably being scolded for being late into the -bargain.” - -Fortunately, however, when they reached the room, Miss Raymond herself -was late, having been detained by some lesson. All the girls were -already there, and soon they were at work. - -“This has been a thoroughly satisfactory rehearsal,” said Miss Raymond, -with unusual cordiality. “Everybody is on hand, and you’ve all done -well. I thought last Saturday you would have to rehearse every day this -week, but now we will do no more till the dress-rehearsal on Thursday. -You’ve done _splendidly_.” - -Praise from Miss Raymond was so rare that the girls beamed. - -“_Isn’t_ it fortunate that we didn’t cut?” said Eunice, as they went -homewards. “Now we can go to-morrow with a clear conscience, and this -afternoon we would have felt guilty all the time.” - -“Yes, and had to rehearse to-morrow, too, if we’d cut this afternoon.” - -The eventful Friday evening arrived in due course of time, and an -enthusiastic and expectant audience crowded the schoolroom at St. -Agatha’s. The juniors’ play was first on the programme. Eunice, in her -part of maid, was very taking in her becoming costume, with its little -mob-cap and jaunty apron. Cricket, as saucy Nancy, who was always -listening behind doors, and getting into trouble, made a decided hit. -The other girls were all so good in their parts that it was hard to say, -after all, which was best. Everything went smoothly, as it should with a -well-trained, well-disciplined set of girls. The French play was -beautifully given by the seniors. - -The programme closed with some pretty drills and marches, for which they -had been trained by their teacher of physical culture, as part of their -school work. For this they had had no other preparation than their -regular daily half-hour in the gymnasium. - -“All this means much work on your part, Miss Emmet,” Mrs. Ward said, -appreciatively, to the head of the school, as people were congratulating -her on her beautifully trained girls. - -“And much on the girls’ part, as well,” answered Miss Emmet, cordially. -“They learn many valuable lessons, during the time we take to prepare -all this, besides their school work.” - -“Certainly lessons in self-denial and persistency and promptness,” said -Mrs. Ward, smiling. “My little girls have certainly learned the -necessity of keeping engagements, no matter what more interesting things -come up.” And she told Miss Emmet of the Monday before, and its -accumulation of disappointments. - -Miss Emmet laughed, but she looked sympathising, also. - -“That’s exactly what I mean. It all goes into character-building.” - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - A DAY IN THE NURSERY. - - -Have I said that George Washington—and, of course, Martha—had -accompanied the children to town when they returned home? He became as -much an institution at No. 25——Street as at Marbury. He had his -apartments in the nursery, and behaved himself very haughtily to the -kitchen cat, when the latter was occasionally brought up from the -regions below for a visit. - -George Washington had grown up to be a big, black, lustrous creature, -with emerald eyes, and a bit of white fur under his chin, just like a -cravat. The boys called him the bishop for his stateliness. He no longer -played with Martha, nor chased her around. Unmolested, she waved proudly -over his back in a stately curve. - -George Washington was moderately obedient, but went his own way just -often enough to assert his perfect independence. He submitted with quiet -dignity to the many performances that the children put him through, yet -if they went a step too far, he would look at them so severely with his -emerald eyes that the mere glance would immediately make them change -their minds and pretend they meant something altogether different. - -Thursday was Eliza’s afternoon out. On this particular Thursday, -Marjorie was left in charge of the nursery. Mamma was obliged to attend -some important club meeting, and Eunice and Cricket had gone to see -Emily Drayton. It was a damp, drizzling day, so that the little nursery -people could not get their usual walk, and they all missed it. Zaidie, -particularly, was always very dependent upon the out-of-door exercise, -which her vigorous little body needed. - -Marjorie, who often took charge of the nursery in Eliza’s off-days, sat -reading by the broad window, curled up on the window-seat, while the -children played about the room. As they were always used to entertaining -themselves, and were usually left, as far as possible, to their own -devices, the person in charge only needed to keep a general oversight. - -The twins were playing church, which was one of their favourite -amusements. George Washington was the minister. He was clad in a doll’s -petticoat, fastened about his neck for a surplice, and a black ribbon -for a stole. He was sitting up in state behind a pile of books that -served for a lectern. He knew his part perfectly, and sat as still as -any bishop. By pinching his tail very slightly and carefully, he could -be made to mew at the proper moments, without disturbing him much. - -Helen played the mother, bringing her child, Zaidie, to church. Zaidie, -of course, pretended she was a naughty girl, and talked out loud in -service. Kenneth played the father, who was to take Zaidie out of -church, when she grew _too_ naughty. It was also his business to pinch -George Washington’s tail at the right time,—which was whenever Zaidie -gave him orders. Just a _little_ pinch, most carefully given, was all -that was required, but now and then Kenneth forgot, and gave too hard a -squeeze. When this happened, George Washington turned and slapped at -them with his paw, with a very emphatic mew, which plainly meant, “I am -quite willing to do my part towards your amusement, but if you take too -many liberties, I won’t play.” - -On one of these occasions, Zaidie suddenly stopped in the midst of a -pretended roar at having her ears boxed by Helen,—very tenderly -boxed,—and listened. - -“I don’t think that George Washington has his usual kind of mew to-day,” -she said, criticisingly. “Don’t you think he _squeaks_ a little?” - -Helen listened, with her head on one side. - -“Pinch him again, Kenneth,” she said. “Just a little, _very_ carefully. -Yes, I think he _does_ squeak. Do you think he is getting rusty inside? -He drinks a lot of water, and it made the sewing-machine all rusty when -you poured water over it.” - -Here George Washington mewed again vigorously, in response to Kenneth’s -invitation. - -“Where does the mew come from, I wonder,” said Zaidie, thoughtfully, -surveying the cat. “Is it in his mouth, or down in his throat?” - -She poked her fingers in his mouth, and felt around a little. George -Washington rebelled. - -“Don’t scratch me, George. I aren’t hurting you a bit,” said Zaidie, -reprovingly. “I want to know where your mew is, cause, if it’s getting -rusty, I’m going to oil you, same as ’Liza does the machine.” - -“Can _cats_ be oiled?” asked Helen, doubtfully. - -“Oh, yes, I ’xpect so,” returned Zaidie, cheerfully. “Don’t you think -so? Don’t you s’pose they get dried up inside sometimes? Kenneth’s -little squeaky lamb does. I’ll get the machine-oiler.” - -Marjorie, curled up on the window-seat, did not heed the children’s -chatter. Zaidie got the little machine-can, which once, in an evil hour, -Eliza had shown her how to use. - -“Mew again, George Washington,” ordered Zaidie, “so I can find out where -it comes from. If he mews in his mouth, I can put the oil on his -tongue.” - -A slight pinch immediately brought an answer from George Washington. -Zaidie listened carefully, with her ear close at his head. - -“It isn’t in his mouth,” she said, positively. “I think it’s down his -throat. How can I oil him down there? I’m afraid I’ll hurt him if I -stick this long end down.” - -“Do you s’pose those little holes in his ears are oil-holes?” asked -Helen, brightening. - -[Illustration: IN THE NURSERY.] - -Zaidie immediately experimented with her tiny finger, much to George -Washington’s disgust. - -“They go pretty far down,” she said, soothing and petting him. - -“Never mind, I’m not going to hurt you,” she said, reassuringly. “I’m -just going to put some nice, soft oil down your little oil-holes, and -then you’ll feel so _better_, you can’t think! Your voice is all rusty. -’Liza says things won’t go if they’re rusty, and bimeby your voice won’t -go, and you’d be sorry, for you like to talk, you know.” - -As she spoke, Zaidie tried to poke the oil-can down his ears. George -Washington jerked away. - -“Here, Helen, you hold his hands, and Kenneth, you hold his feet tight. -That’s right. Don’t let go,” ordered Zaidie, getting her assistants into -place. “Now, George, I won’t hurt you much, and it’s for your own good, -you know,” with a funny imitation of Eliza’s tone. - -Zaidie tipped the little oil-can and poked it carefully down into George -Washington’s unwilling ear. It tickled him, and he shook his head -impatiently. The children held him rigidly, and Zaidie let the cold oil -trickle down. At the first touch of it, George Washington gave a wild -yelp, and with extended claws and uprising fur, he sprang from the -children’s grasp, leaving such a dig in Kenneth’s soft little hand that -he immediately set up an unearthly howl, which brought Marjorie to the -rescue. - -The astonished twins stood staring at each other. Marjorie took up -Kenneth in her arms, kissed the hurt place, and asked the children what -they had been doing to excite George Washington to such an unusual pitch -of wrath. - -“We only tried to _oil_ him in his little oil-holes in his ears, ’cause -he squeaked so, Marjorie,” explained bewildered Zaidie, “and I don’t -_believe_ he liked it. But his voice was _dreffully_ rusty,—truly it -was.” - -“_Oil_ him?” said Marjorie. “You absurd child! Animals don’t need -oiling.” - -“Yes, they _do_,” insisted Zaidie. “’Liza oiled Kenneth’s baa-lamb the -other day. The big woolly one, up there, you know. She oiled it down in -its squeaks. And she rubbed something greasy on my chest when I had the -croup. Don’t you remember how my breath squeaked? She said she oiled me. -There!” - -“Oh, you funny little things!” said Marjorie, laughing at them. “Well, -don’t try it again, anyway, on George Washington. He doesn’t like it, -you see, and you don’t want to be scratched, do you? Don’t cry any more, -baby, dear. You’re a little man, and men don’t cry for a scratch like -that, you know.” - -Marjorie set the children playing something else, and then returned to -her book. She was usually a capable and efficient guardian in the -nursery, eldest-daughter fashion, but this afternoon she was deep in a -fascinating book that must go back to the library to-morrow. In two -minutes she was absorbed in it again, to the exclusion of her little -charges. - -Zaidie looked around for pastures new. The children were not usually a -mischievous set, but now and then, like grown people, they delighted in -the unexpected. - -As Helen wanted a drink, all three trooped into the nursery bathroom, -which opened off the nursery. It was a pretty bathroom, with the walls -covered with blue and white sanitary paper, in a pretty tile-pattern, -each tile having on it a Mother-Goose figure. A big, white, fur rug lay -by the white porcelain bath-tub. A small water-cooler stood on a shelf, -low enough for the children to help themselves to water. - -After the little flock had been watered all around, Zaidie’s quick eyes -spied a bottle of vaseline on the wash-stand. It had been left there by -mistake. All those things were generally put away in a little medicine -closet, safely out of the children’s reach. It was quite a good-sized -jar, and entirely full. Zaidie took out the cork. - -“I think I’ve got a sore spot on me somewhere,” she said, feeling -carefully all over her face. “I think I need some vasling on it. Do you -see a sore spot on me, Helen?” - -Helen looked, but could not find any place that seemed to need vaseline, -even after the closest study of Zaidie’s round, satin-cheeked little -face. - -“Put it on anywhere,” she advised. “Perhaps it may get sore, and then -the vasling will be already on.” - -Smearing vaseline all over Zaidie’s face led, of course, to bedaubing -Helen and Kenneth, also, with a liberal plaster of the sticky stuff. - -“Doesn’t it stay on _beautifully_? Let’s paint the bathroom with it?” -suggested Zaidie, “and make it all pretty. We can take our -teeth-brushes.” - -This idea was an inspiration. In a moment, arming themselves with their -tooth-brushes, the children fell energetically to work. In five minutes -the bathroom was a perfect bower of vaseline, and the small workers were -sticky from head to foot. - -Meanwhile Marjorie read on, obliviously. - -“Doesn’t it make the room look _beautiful_?” cried Zaidie, rapturously. -“I guess ’Liza’ll be pleased when she sees how pretty we’ve made it. And -see the wood, too. It shines splendidly.” - -Here an unguarded flourish on Kenneth’s part left a long smear of -vaseline on Zaidie’s short, smooth locks. - -“Oh, it makes it look like mine!” exclaimed Helen, struck by the yellow -gleam on Zaidie’s black hair. - -“Does it?” asked Zaidie, eagerly. Each little girl was smitten with a -boundless admiration of the other’s hair, for Helen’s fluffy corn-silk -mop was a great trial to her quiet little soul, and she admired Zaidie’s -smooth, silky black hair, with all her heart; while Zaidie, on the other -hand, longed to possess Helen’s golden tangle. - -“Put vasling thick all over my head,” she demanded, instantly, “to make -it yellow. Perhaps mamma will let me wear it all the time, and then -perhaps it will grow yellow like yours. I’d love that.” - -“Then I wish I could make mine black like yours,” sighed Helen, -wistfully. “Couldn’t I paint it, do you suppose?” - -Zaidie clapped her hands over this delightful idea. - -“Then we would have changed hairs! What fun! Let’s find something to -paint it with, Helen. Here’s ’Liza’s shoe-blacking. Wouldn’t that do? It -makes her shoes so shiny and black.” - -At the sight of the black liquid, dainty Helen shrunk back a little. - -“It—it wouldn’t get on my face, would it?” she asked, doubtfully. “I’d -like to paint my hair, but I don’t want my face painted too.” - -“Pooh, no!” said Zaidie, drawing out the sponge. “We’ll be careful. Now -hold _very_ still, Helen.” - -The little hair-dresser drew a long dab with the dripping sponge over -Helen’s yellow curls. Helen held her breath. Zaidie repeated the dabs, -growing more reckless, till a careless flirt of the sponge sent a -liberal spatter down Helen’s face, and on her white apron. - -“Ow! ow!” wailed Helen, who could bear a scratch better than dirt, or a -stain. She instinctively put up her hands to her face, to rub it dry, -and, of course, her hands were all streaked, also. - -“There, Zaidie!” she half sobbed, “you _have_ painted my face, too, ‘n’ -I’m afraid it won’t come off, and I’ll have to go round looking like a -little nigger-girl!” - -At this tragic picture, Zaidie looked frightened, and instantly applied -her wee handkerchief, with dire results to the handkerchief, and no good -effect on the face. - -“See how her looks!” cried Kenneth, gleefully, with his hands deep in -his small trousers’ pockets. - -Helen wailed. There were large tracts of shoe-polish on her pearly skin, -and her tears chased little furrows along them. Zaidie scrubbed harder -and harder with her handkerchief, but she began to grow rather -frightened at the results of her painting. - -“It doesn’t come off _very_ well,” she admitted at last, pausing in some -dismay. “And I don’t think I like your hair painted, anyway, Helen. It -looks so _mixy_, you know.” - -Truly, poor little Helen was a spectacle. Her soft hair was plastered -down in black patches on her forehead, and big drops of blacking, -gathering on the end of each plastered lock, dropped down on her nose -and cheeks. Of course it did not stick where the vaseline had been -rubbed, so her face was well smeared with a mixture of greasiness and -shoe-polish. Her white apron was well spattered, and her hands were, by -this time, like a little blackamoor’s. - -“Her won’t ever get white any more, I ’xpect,” said Kenneth, cheerfully. -“I blacked my Noah’s Ark once, and it didn’t ever come off. Don’t you -remember?” - -Here the children’s feelings completely overcame them, and Zaidie and -Helen set up a shriek in concert that brought Marjorie to the bathroom. - -“Oh, you naughty, naughty children!” she cried, in blank despair. “How -shall I ever get you clean? _Shoe-polish?_ Oh, horrors!” - -Marjorie was really frightened lest the stain should not come out of -Helen’s hair. - -Zaidie roared louder, and Helen sobbed, while Kenneth, suddenly overcome -by sympathy, added his voice to the uproar. - -“Children, how _could_ you?” said Marjorie again, walking around Helen, -and wondering where to get hold of her best. - -“You ought to have come here and told us to don’t,” sobbed Zaidie. “We -always don’t when ’Liza tells us to. You readed and readed all the time, -and you never told us to don’t.” - -“Don’t shriek so, Zaidie; I’m not deaf,” said Marjorie, ignoring the -other point for the present. “Don’t cry so, Helen. You may get the -blacking in your eyes. Stand still, and I’ll try to strip your clothes -off. Don’t touch me, dear, or you’ll stain my things.” - -“Whatever’s the matter, Miss Marjorie?” said Eliza’s voice from the -doorway. “Oh, you naughty children! How have you been and gone and -gotten yourselves into such a mess?” - -“Oh, _’Liza_!” cried Marjorie, thankfully. “I’m so glad you’ve come! -Will this black ever come out of her hair?” - -“Land knows! Did I ever see such a place in all my born days?” casting a -hurried glance around at the sticky, shiny bathroom. - -“She readed all the time, and she didn’t ever tell us to don’t,” said -Zaidie, pointing a reproachful finger at Marjorie, and thereby easing -her own small conscience of a load. - -“I jest guess you knew better’n that yourself,” said ’Liza. “But how -_could_ you let ’em do so, Miss Marjorie?” - -“I was so interested in my book,” stammered conscience-stricken -Marjorie. “They’re usually so good, you know.” - -“When you take care of children, you’ve got to _take_ care of children,” -returned Eliza, somewhat tartly. “’Taint _all_ their badness. I dunno -what their mother will say to it all. You go on, Miss Marjorie. I’ll -tend right up to ’em now, myself. Shoe-polish, of all things! Hope to -goodness I’ll get it out of that child’s hair.” - -Eliza’s deft, experienced fingers flew while she talked. Only stopping -to throw off her out-of-door things, she had turned the water on in the -bath-tub, had taken a cloth and wiped off the sides of the tub, which -were reeking with vaseline, and had gotten hold of Helen at arm’s length -and stripped her clothes off. She plunged the sobbing, frightened child -in the tub, and began scrubbing her vigorously. - -Marjorie retreated, feeling very low in her mind, because she had so -neglected her little charges in the nursery. Mrs. Ward was always strict -about the thorough, conscientious performance of any duty, and would -never overlook any carelessness or neglect, either from children or -servants. Besides the thought of her mother’s displeasure because she -had not been faithful, she was really dreadfully worried lest the black -stain should not come out of Helen’s hair. Kenneth was only just -beginning to look like himself again, after his last-summer experience -with the fire. It would be such a shame if Helen had to lose her lovely -hair, too. - -An hour later the nursery door opened and Helen, fresh and sweet and -clean, ran joyfully across to Marjorie’s room. - -“See! I’m all un-painted, Marjie! I’m never going to try to get black -hair again,” she cried. “Look! it’s all out!” holding up with both hands -her silken topknot, which, washed and dried, was shining again like spun -gold. - -“’Liza said she scrubbed me nearly out of the roots, but it’s all dry -now, and the vasling is all off too. ’Liza doesn’t like the bathroom -that way, either. She’s scrubbing the vasling off that now. I can’t stay -any longer, ’cause ’Liza said only stay two minutes, else I’d get into -some mischief here,—but I wouldn’t, truly.” - -Marjorie winced, but there was nothing to be said. She kissed Helen and -sent her back. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI. - A GOAT EPISODE. - - -Eunice sat curled up in a little bunch on the floor. Her forehead was -very much knit, and her eyes were very much screwed up. She was fussing -busily with a piece of red ribbon and a red Tam o’Shanter. - -“What are you doing, Eunice?” asked Marjorie, looking in, in passing the -door. - -“I’m fixing my Tam,” Eunice replied, cocking her head critically on one -side, and surveying the cap as she held it up on her fist. “It doesn’t -fit my head very well, and I thought I’d poke it up on one side with a -red ribbon bow and this red quill, like May Chester’s.” - -“I don’t think Eunice has a very _Tammy_ head,” struck in Cricket, from -the window-seat. “Her Tam never stays on a minute; her hair’s so -slippery. Frousy hair like mine has _one_ advantage.” - -Cricket’s curly topknot kept her scarlet skating-cap always in the right -place, but Eunice’s satin-smooth hair did not afford a good foundation -for her hats. - -“I _can’t_ get it right, though,” said Eunice, despairingly. She was hot -and tired, and if the truth must be told, a little cross. “This ribbon -won’t go in the right place, somehow.” - -“I tried to make a rosette, but it wouldn’t _rosettate_,” said Cricket, -putting down her book and coming forward to help look on. “Let Marjorie -do it, Eunice. It looks so un-stylish the way you have it.” - -“No, I don’t want to,” said Eunice, holding on to her cap. “I want to do -it myself. Marjorie doesn’t know what I want.” - -“Yes, I do, child,” said Marjorie, trying to take the ribbon. “I can do -it in a moment. Let me have it.” - -“No, I won’t,” said Eunice, decidedly. “I can do it myself.” - -“But why won’t you let me?” urged Marjorie. - -“I haven’t any reason. I just want to _won’t_,” answered Eunice, half -laughing. “There, go away, Marjorie. I’m so cross that I want to bite -nails.” - -Eunice was always an independent little body, so Marjorie, with a pat on -her head, left her struggling with the Tam. Cricket went back to her -book, and Eunice worked on for ten minutes in silence. - -“There!” she said at last, in a tone of triumph, holding up her cap on -her hand. “It’s done. That looks all right, too, doesn’t it, when I put -it on? You see, when it’s on crooked, then it’s straight. Do you see -that quirk? That’s very stylish,” and Eunice paraded up and down before -the glass. - -“_Isn’t_ it quirky?” said Cricket, admiringly. “Let’s go down to the -library now for mamma. You know she wanted us to go before this -afternoon with those books. You can wear your cap.” - -“Exactly what I meant to do, Miss Scricket. Get the books and come on.” - -It was Saturday morning. The night before had been rainy, but it had -cleared off bright and very cold, leaving all the sidewalks covered with -a glare of ice. Ashes and sand were liberally sprinkled, but walking -was, nevertheless, a matter needing some care. - -The girls went carefully down the front steps, which were somewhat -slippery, although they had already been scraped. - -“And there comes Johnnie-goat, prancing along as if he were on his -native rocks,” said Eunice, looking personally injured, as the big, -white goat came sauntering abstractedly down the street, in the -distance. - -“I don’t think he looks as goatified as usual, though,” said Cricket, -glancing over her shoulder. “Poor old Johnnie! I haven’t seen him for -ages. Let’s get another picture of him, sometime, Eunice.” - -The camera had by no means been forgotten all winter. Many pictures had -been taken, although the girls had never developed any more by -themselves. They had taken many pretty views of different things. They -had the twins in nearly every possible attitude, and numberless pictures -of each other. Only the out-door views were much of a success, though, -and they were looking forward with great anticipation to Kayuna, next -summer, where they meant to photograph every stick and stone. - -Eunice and Cricket walked along rather slowly, swinging hands. Each had -a library book under the outside arm. Cricket was describing very -vividly something she had seen on the street, the day before. - -“It was the _funniest_ thing! Those two ladies, all dressed to kill, -came flying out of the house and down the steps, signalling to the -street-car to stop; and just at the same time a cart was going by, with -some long planks on it that waved way out behind. And the lady was -looking so hard at the car that she never noticed the planks out behind, -and as soon as the cart itself was past her, she rushed for the car, and -then she struck the planks just _plump_, and went right over them, and -hung there. Her head and arms were waving on one side—just _waving_—and -her legs on the other, and she hung over it; and the cart man didn’t -know it, and just went on serenely. I felt _awfully_ sorry for her, but -oh, she looked so funny! just like a turtle.” - -“Didn’t she hurt herself dreadfully?” asked Eunice, with interest. - -“I don’t know. Well, the car stopped, and then it went on, for I suppose -the conductor saw that the lady couldn’t get unhitched from the cart -right off, and the cart trundled on, and the other lady ran after it, -calling the man to stop, and _he_ thought they were calling to the car -all the time, and he waved too, and called out, ‘Hi, there! lady wants -yer to stop!’ and the conductor called back, ‘Stop yourself, you old -lummox, and let off your passenger,’ and all this time the poor lady -just sprawled over those planks. I was so sorry for her! but the sorrier -I got, the more I laughed, but I ran after the cart, too, and called it -to stop, and some small boys ran after it, and called to the man, too, -and the other lady kept calling—” - -But just here, without a word of warning, Cricket suddenly went down -with a thump on her knees, to her intense surprise. It was not icy just -there, and there was no apparent reason for Cricket’s sudden humility. - -“Upon my word, wasn’t that queer?” she said, getting up slowly, and -ruefully rubbing her knees. - -Eunice had gone off into fits of laughter, after a glance behind her. - -“I never saw anything funnier,” she gasped. “Talk of your lady! she -isn’t a circumstance to you. Oh, _dear_!” and Eunice fairly doubled up. - -“What _could_ have been the matter? I went down as quick as a wink, and -it isn’t icy here, either,” said bewildered Cricket. “Somehow my knees -just went forward. I should think they had hinges on them. I just—” - -[Illustration: A SUDDEN DOWNFALL.] - -And here she straightway went down on her knees again. Eunice leaned -against a lamppost, breathless with laughing. - -“Oh, oh! don’t you see? It’s only—_oh_, dear! my sides ache so! it’s—” -and Eunice went off again into a peal of laughter. - -Cricket was up by this time, more puzzled than ever. - -“Do you suppose I’ve got anything the matter with me? I declare my knees -feel cracked. Do you suppose I’ve got to go all the way to the library -bumping along on my knees? Something seemed to _whang_ into my back -knees, and I—oh, _Johnnie-goat_! was it you? Eunice, was it -Johnnie-goat?” - -Eunice nodded weakly. She had no breath left for words. Johnnie-goat -stood placidly behind Cricket, wagging his long beard socially, and -making little corner-wise motions of his solemn head, as he always did -when he was playfully inclined. - -“He just walked right up and bunted you under the knees, and down you -went. I believe he did it for a joke,” gasped Eunice. “See! he doesn’t -seem angry a bit.” - -“_He_ doesn’t seem angry?” asked Cricket, somewhat indignantly. “I -should say he’d better not. I don’t know what should have spoiled _his_ -temper. _I’m_ the one to be angry, I should say. You wretched old -Johnnie-goat! breaking my knee-pans, and making everybody laugh at -me,—only there isn’t anybody around.” - -“Yes, there are three children up in that window, across the street,” -said Eunice. “They’re laughing as if they’d kill themselves.” - -“I’m glad there’s something to amuse them,” said Cricket, cheerfully. -“Oh, Eunice! that’s the very house my lady came out of yesterday! Well, -I laughed at her, and those children are welcome to laugh at me. Tell me -how he did it.” - -“Just as I told you,” said Eunice, breaking out into a peal of laughter -again, as they walked along. “He simply came up and bunted you under the -knees, and the first thing I knew, you were on the ground, and then he -did it again.” - -“Go home, Johnnie-goat,” said Cricket, turning and shaking her finger -reproachfully at the goat, who was stalking solemnly on behind, trailing -his bit of rope, which, as usual, he had eaten through, in order to make -his escape. “You’ve distinguished yourself enough for to-day.” - -“If we wanted to, I could call a policeman and have you arrested,” added -Eunice. - -“I’m ashamed of you, Johnnie-goat, when we’ve always been such friends,” -went on Cricket, “and I’ve scratched your head between your horns lots -of times, where you can’t reach it yourself. Go straight home and think -how sorry you are, and maybe I’ll forgive you,—only you’ll have to -behave yourself pretty well, else you won’t _stay_ forgiven.” - -Johnnie-goat stood still and meditated a moment. Then, with the air of -one who is somewhat bored by circumstances, he turned and wandered -slowly back, with a meditative cock to his short tail. - -“He always means mischief when he looks mildly and meekly playful like -that,” Cricket said, turning to watch him, and to guard against another -attack in her rear. - -“Cricket, where is your library book?” asked Eunice, presently. - -“I don’t know,” said Cricket, stopping short. “Oh, that Johnnie-goat! I -dropped it when he butted me, I suppose. We’ll have to go back. It was -just around the corner. I hope nobody has picked it up.” - -The children turned and quickened their steps. As they went around the -corner they saw a knot of little gamins collected further down the -street, an evidently excited crowd, but the book lay where Cricket had -dropped it a few minutes before. - -“What are these boys doing?” asked Cricket, curiously. “I wonder if -anything has happened. Just hear them hoot!” - -“They’re up to some mischief, probably,” said Eunice. “Come on, -Cricket.” - -But Cricket lingered, with her head over her shoulder. - -“They’re certainly teasing something, Eunice,” she said, in sudden -excitement. “Some animal,—perhaps it is a cat—no, it isn’t—it’s -Johnnie-goat! Those horrid wretches!” as an unmistakable bleat rose long -and loud. “Eunice, I must stop them!” - -Bang went the book on the pavement, and off darted Cricket. - -“Come back, Cricket! Don’t go there,” called Eunice, urgently. “They -might hurt you. You can’t stop them. _Cricket!_” - -But she called to deaf ears, for Cricket flew on, and Eunice, with the -instinct never to desert Mr. Micawber, picked up the library book, and -followed in much trepidation. - -Cricket dashed into the centre of the group like a small cyclone, and -the little gamins fell back, right and left, in sheer amazement. Her -scarlet Tam was on the back of her head, her curls were rampant with the -wind, and her eyes were blazing with indignation like two stars. - -Poor Johnnie-goat was indeed in trouble. A tin can dangled from his -short tail, and on his horns were two similar ornaments, which bumped -and clattered as he made ineffective plunges at his enemies. Besides -these, stout strings were tied to each horn, so that his head could be -jerked this way and that, as he jumped about, half frantic with rage and -terror. One of the boys prodded him with a sharp stick. - -“You shameful wretches!” rang out Cricket’s clear tones. “I wish some -big giant would come and torment _you_, so! How dare you!” she snatched -the strings from the boy’s hands, and held them firmly in her own strong -little fingers. - -“Where is your knife?” she said, imperiously, to the biggest boy. - -He took it from his pocket and awkwardly held it out to her. - -“No, open it, and cut those cans off. _You_, boy, hold his head still. -_Gently_, mind. Poor Johnnie-goat!” With one hand she grasped a jerking -horn, and with the other she rubbed the sensitive little place on his -head. Johnnie-goat almost instantly stood quiet, with drooped head. - -“A fine thing for you great boys to torment a poor, helpless animal,” -Cricket said, scornfully. She flung the tin cans into the street. - -“Now, be off with you, every one,” she ordered. “I’ll take Johnnie-goat -home. _Go_, I say,” stamping her foot imperiously, as the boys showed -signs of lingering. They had actually said not a single word, so amazed -were they all at the valiant onslaught of the little maid. - -Her finger still pointed unwaveringly down a neighbouring alleyway, and -slowly the boys, one after another, slouched off. Any sign of indecision -on the part of Cricket, and they would have refused to go. But, with her -shoulders well back, and her head erect, she stood steadily pointing -down the alley. She watched them round a corner, and never stirred till -the last one, with many a sheepish glance backward, had disappeared. - -“Got my book, Eunice?” said Cricket, briskly. “I’m going to take -Johnnie-goat home myself, and can’t we go to the library round that way? -’Tisn’t much further. Gracious! how hot I am!” and Cricket unbuttoned -her long coat and threw it open. “Do you mind carrying my book for me, -Eunice? I’d better hold Johnnie-goat with both hands. He seems sort of -excited.” - - - - - CHAPTER XVII. - A SCRAPE. - - -One Saturday morning towards the end of March, Marjorie and Eunice and -Cricket were all in mamma’s room. Mrs. Ward had not come home from -market yet, and Cricket was watching for her from the window, eager to -ask permission for something she wanted to do. - -“There’s Donald!” she suddenly exclaimed. “How funny! What can he be -doing here at this time?” - -She ran to the hall, and hung over the banister, calling down a greeting -as Donald let himself in. To her surprise, he made her no answer, but -with a curt word to Jane to tell his father that he was in the study and -wanted to see him as soon as he came in, he bolted into his father’s -private room behind the office, and shut the door. - -Cricket came back and reported, with much amazement. - -“I _hope_ he isn’t going to have mumps again,” said Eunice, anxiously. -“Or, perhaps it’s scarlet fever. Did Donald ever have scarlet fever, -Marjorie?” - -“Yes, I think so. Oh, I don’t suppose he’s going to have any more baby -diseases,” said Marjorie. “There’s papa now!” - -Doctor Ward entered the house, and the listening girls heard the maid -deliver Donald’s message. He removed his coat in his leisurely way, -whistling softly in a fashion he had, and went into his office for a -moment. Then they heard him go into his study. - -The girls waited, breathlessly, but they only heard their father’s -cheery: - -“Well, my son?” and then the door closed. - -The room was directly under them, and they could hear the faint, steady -murmur of voices, but nothing more. - -Presently Mrs. Ward came home, and the children flew to meet her. - -“Donald here, and talking with his father? Well, my little maids, what -is the mystery in that? Sick? Oh, I dare say not. Probably he only wants -advice from your father about something. Whatever it is, we’ll know -presently, if it’s any importance.” - -A little later, mamma was called into the conference. She did not stay -very long, however, and she soon came out, leaving the door open. The -girls, who were now down in the back parlour, could hear their father’s -voice distinctly. - -“There’s nothing to do but stand it, my son. I’d rather you’d be -suspended for a _year_ than have you clear yourself at others’ expense. -Loyalty is paramount in this instance, and I’ll support you in the stand -you’ve taken.” - -“Jove! father, you’re a brick!” said Donald, gratefully. “I was jolly -afraid you’d cut up rough, for it’s pretty tough on you to have your son -rusticated.” - -“A trifle tough on you, my lad,” returned Doctor Ward. “But there are -worse things than rusticating for a time. One is—deserving it.” - -“The Faculty think I do,” answered Donald. - -“Never mind that. Suppose those of you who can, do clear yourselves. -That fastens the blame definitely on the few, where now it is -distributed among twenty. And the whole thing is not serious in itself, -only the Faculty had promised to suspend the next offenders and to expel -the ringleaders, if they could be found.” - -“This is the next time, as it happens,” said Donald, gloomily. “Worse -luck!” - -“Yes, worse luck for you. But you are entirely right. Don’t prove your -alibi. Do you all stand by the others; you fellows can, as you say, -stand three months’ rusticating better than the half-dozen could stand -expulsion.” - -Donald drummed his heels together. He was seated on a corner of the -library table, throwing up a paper-weight, and catching it carefully. - -“Oh, we’ll stand by the men,” he said. “See here, dad, you know I didn’t -mean to let on all this even to you. I only meant to tell you that your -promising son is suspended. But,” he added, ruefully, “somehow I forgot -you weren’t one of the fellows.” - -Doctor Ward gave his big son a crack on the shoulder that nearly sent -him under the table. - -“I _am_ one of the fellows, old boy. I wasn’t a college man for nothing; -and though it’s twenty-one years since I graduated, I haven’t forgotten -college-feeling.” - -“And yet,—I _did_ hate to have you think I’d disgraced you,” said -Donald, lifting honest eyes to his father’s. “I haven’t done wonders, I -know, but still I haven’t done so very badly. And I suppose this will -spoil my chances of getting on the team. Hang it all!” - -“I’d like to see Professor Croft casually in a day or two, and find out -the attitude of the Faculty in the matter. This morning was the sentence -read?” And here the door shut again. - -The girls looked at each other in horror. What dreadful thing had -happened to this big, handsome Donald of theirs, of whom they were so -proud? They did not understand all that had passed; and that their -father plainly sympathised with Donald did not remove the stubborn fact -that he was in some dreadful disgrace. - -Eunice and Cricket looked at each other with bated breath. Marjorie flew -to her mother. - -“Did he say he was going to be—_suspended_?” faltered Eunice. - -“Yes,—or rusty-coated,” said Cricket, her eyes getting large and dark. -“Eunice, do you suppose it hurts?” - -“I don’t know. Oh, Cricket, isn’t it _too_ dreadful! What can he have -done? But papa doesn’t seem to think he’s to blame, anyway,” added -Eunice, hopefully. “He said he’d stand by him.” - -“But—_suspended_, Eunice!” repeated Cricket, with a direful vision of a -dangling rope. “It—it wouldn’t be by the _neck_, would it? How long -would they keep him there? Oh, Eunice! my heart is all jumpy.” - -“It couldn’t be by the neck,” said Eunice, positively. “Because then -he’d be regularly—hung, and they only hang people for murder and those -things. I’m sure of that.” - -“But papa said he might be rusty-coated, and he said that wasn’t the -worst thing that could happen. What is it, Eunice?” - -“I don’t know,” answered Eunice, miserably. “Do you suppose it _could_ -be like being tarred and feathered like Floyd Ireson?” she added, almost -below her breath. - -“Eunice, I won’t let them!” cried Cricket, springing up furiously. -“Don’t let them dare to touch my brother! I’d scratch them and I’d bite -them and—oh, Eunice! papa _wouldn’t_ let them, would he?” - -“Perhaps he couldn’t help it. If the President said he had to be -rusty-coated, perhaps it would _have_ to be done,” said Eunice, -wretchedly, for she had an exalted idea of the authority of the powers -that be. Eunice was a born Tory. - -“I don’t care if five billion presidents said so,” cried Cricket, -defiantly. She was a born Radical, though her sweet temper and wise -training had saved her from any desire to revolt. Now all the love and -loyalty of her stanch little soul surged up. - -“I’d kick him and I’d bite him,” repeated Cricket, “and I’d—don’t you -remember that I made those big boys stop teasing Johnnie-goat?” - -“Yes, I know,” returned Eunice, who had been very much impressed by that -short scene. - -“What _can_ Don have done?” queried Cricket, recurring to the -starting-point. “Oh, dear! I wish Faculties would be reasonable!” With -this modest desire, she pounded viciously on the window-sill. - -“I’ll be _so_ ashamed to have the girls know,” said Eunice. “There’s May -Chester. Her brother is in the same class.” - -“Perhaps he’ll be suspended, too,” said Cricket, hopefully. Misery loves -company. “But—_suspended_, Eunice,” with a fresh wave of dejection. “And -I’m _so_ afraid it will hurt.” - -Here the luncheon-bell rang. Directly after, the study door was thrown -open, and Doctor Ward and Donald came out. The father’s arm was thrown -across his tall son’s shoulder, in a boyish fashion that the doctor -often used. - -“Don’t tell the kids more than you can help,” said Donald, hurriedly, as -they came out, not aware that the children knew anything. - -“Well, Lady Greasewrister and Madam Van Twister, her ladyship’s sister,” -he called out, as he entered the dining-room, with the assumption of his -usual teasing manner. Doctor Ward had stepped into his office for a -moment, and the others had not yet come down. To his immense surprise -and embarrassment, Eunice instantly burst out crying. - -“Hallo, Waterworks! what’s wrong?” he exclaimed, in dismay. Tears were -rare with any of the children. - -“Oh, Donald, I can’t stand it! Will it hurt you?” wailed Eunice, -completely overcome by the sight of the big, handsome fellow, and -associating him suddenly with Cricket’s image of a dangling rope. “How -long will you have to do it?” - -“Do _what_?” stared Donald. - -“And will you have to be rusty-coated, _too_?” burst in Cricket, very -red as to her cheeks and very shiny as to her eyes. “How do they put it -on? Donald, I don’t care if the President himself does it, I’ll bite him -till he’s all chewed up!” - -“Hal-lo!” whistled Donald. The others not having arrived yet, the three -were still alone. “What have you two kids got in your heads?” - -“We heard what father said when the door was open,” confessed Eunice, -honestly. “We couldn’t help it. He said you’d have to be suspended—” - -“Or rusty-coated,” put in Cricket. - -“And what is it all about? and will it hurt? Oh, Don, tell us!” and -Eunice threw a pair of imploring arms around his neck, while Cricket, -with a gush of defensive affection, hugged one of his legs. - -“_We’ll_ stand by you, too, Don, whatever it is, and papa will, for he -said so. Don, don’t go back to that nasty old college, _ever_. Go to -Princeton. It has such pretty colors. I always loved that black and -orange,” urged Eunice, tightening her clasp. - -Donald, much touched, swept both his loyal little sisters into his -muscular arms, and sat down on the window-seat. - -“See here, you monkeys, I didn’t mean to tell you, but I must now. There -was a jolly row on Wednesday night, and one of the professors caught on, -and about twenty of us were hauled up. We’re suspended for the rest of -the year,—that is, can’t go back till college opens in the fall. We’re -not going to be hung, as you evidently think, if that’s what you’re -fussing about.” - -“Oh, is _that_ all?” - -“But Don, _you_ didn’t do anything?” - -“And if you’re rusty-coated, will that hurt you?” - -“We thought maybe you’d be tarred and feathered.” - -“And suspended! I _did_ think it was some kind of hanging up.” - -“Why don’t you tell the President you didn’t do anything?” - -Donald put his hands over his ears as the girls poured out their chorus, -one on each side. Just then the rest of the family arrived. - -“It’s very nice for Donald to have a vacation again,” said mamma, -patting her big boy’s shoulder as she passed him. The younger fry fell -on him rapturously. Donald was always popular among them. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII. - AN EXPEDITION. - - -But Eunice and Cricket were not altogether satisfied yet. They were very -silent during luncheon, which was rather an uncomfortable meal, in spite -of the older people’s efforts to make it as usual. - -Whatever face he put on it, to be rusticated under any circumstances was -a hard thing for a proud fellow like Donald, to say nothing of his -athletic aspirations. - -After luncheon, Donald stepped into his father’s office for another word -or two, while the others went up-stairs. A few minutes after, Mrs. Ward -sent Cricket back to the kitchen with a message to the cook. The office -door was still open, and Donald’s voice was plainly audible. - -“Yes, this is terribly hard on Chester, for he has had the reputation of -being a regular daredevil, and the Faculty immediately put him down for -one of the ringleaders, whereas, you see, he wasn’t in it at all. A -great chum of his _was_ concerned, and the Faculty have pretty well got -hold of that, and there’s still a chance that three or four of them may -be expelled. Of course he won’t peach, for the only thing that will save -anybody is for us all to hold our tongues.” - -“And Chester was with you, you said?” - -“Yes. We were especially lamb-like that night,—calling on Miss Vassar. -It was so pleasant that we started to walk home, and met another fellow -who rooms in town, and turned in for a smoke. We left him about twelve. -We fell in with some others on the way out, who had likewise been in -town, and then we suddenly got into the crowd of the others, and were -all pounced upon together. Of course, sir, I can’t give the names of -those who were really guilty.” - -“By no means. And old Chester takes it hard, you say?” - -“He will, when he knows of it. I’m sorry for Chester. He’s a good -fellow,—first-rate stuff,—but he’s chuck-full of mere mischief. You see, -after that other row in the winter, his father swore that if he got into -any rumpus again, he’d take him out of college, and put him in the -office; and Chester hates that like poison. And old Chester isn’t like -you, dad. He never was a college man, and he doesn’t understand.” - -“I suppose not. H’m! I’m sorry for Chester. I like the lad. It would be -rough on him to spoil his career.” - -Here Cricket suddenly awoke to the fact that she was hanging on to the -banisters, listening with all her might. Much mortified, she flew on to -the kitchen and delivered her message, and then darted up-stairs to -share her story with Eunice. - -“Eunice, _something_ must be done about it. Sidney Chester is awfully in -it, and Don says he didn’t do a thing, either. They were both calling on -Miss Gwendoline Vassar, the pretty one with red hair,—what Donald calls -Tissue hair,—he’s awfully struck on her, you know,—and the boys were -both there that very night.” - -“Then they have only to tell the President so,” said Eunice, much -relieved. - -“That’s just it. They won’t say so, and some others who were caught, and -didn’t really do anything, won’t say so either, because then the -President would know just who did it, and expel those very ones.” - -“It’s all dreadfully muddled, seems to me,” sighed Eunice. “College -things are always so funny.” - -“I think they’re very unsensible, myself,” said Cricket, decidedly. “I -think they _ought_ to tell. If the other fellows did it, let them say -so, and _be_ expelled. It’s like Zaidie, the other day. I was in the -nursery, and mamma told her not to run the sewing-machine, and Zaidie -did, and mamma tied a handkerchief around her hands. And yesterday, -Zaidie got at the machine again, when ’Liza wasn’t there, and then she -went and twisted a handkerchief around her own hands, and sat down in -the corner, and wouldn’t play with Helen and Kenneth for a long time. ‘I -just _wanted_ to run that machine again,’ she said, ‘and now I’ve got to -tie my hands up, ’cause I was naughty; but it was fun, anyway.’” - -“That’s the way those boys ought to do,” said Eunice. “If they want to -go and do bad things, they ought to speak up like a man and say so. -Think of Don and Sidney Chester and the others being expelled, and they -just calling on Miss Vassar!” - -“And Don’s just crazy to get in the team!” added Eunice, almost in tears -again. “Oh, Cricket, I _wish_ the President could know about it. I’m -sure he’d do something.” - -Cricket sprang up with sparkling eyes. - -“Eunice, let’s go and tell him! Come on, straight off, and don’t let’s -tell anybody till we get back, ’cause they wouldn’t let us, I suppose. -Grown people are _so_ funny. And somebody _ought_ to tell.” - -Eunice stared helplessly at Cricket, aghast at this daring proposal. Her -younger sister’s rapidity of thought and action often took her breath -away. - -“Go to the President’s house? Oh, Cricket, would you dare?” - -“Of course I would,” answered Cricket, boldly. “He’s only a man. He -couldn’t eat us, could he? We’ll just tell him we’re Doctor Ward’s -daughters, ’cause he knows papa. Don’t you remember that papa dined with -him last week? And we’ll just tell him that Don and Sidney Chester were -calling on Miss Vassar, and that some of the others weren’t in it, too, -and ask him please to give them all another chance.” - -Cricket was flying out of one dress and into another all the time she -talked. Eunice still stared. - -“Would papa like it?” she hesitated. - -“It won’t make any difference after it’s done; and if he doesn’t like -it, why,—I’ll never do it again. I’ll have the satisfaction of doing it -once, though. Come on, you old slowpoke. I’m nearly ready.” - -“We don’t know where he lives,” objected Eunice, feebly, but getting up -and going to the closet. - -“_I_ do. Or rather, I know the house when I see it, and anybody will -tell us the way. I know what cars to take from here, and the conductors -can tell us where to change. We’ll be all right,” finished Cricket, -confidently. “Do hurry, Eunice,” and Eunice hurried, feeling as if she -were pursued by a small cyclone. - -A little later, the two girls went quietly down-stairs, and slipped out -of the front door. - -“Will mamma be anxious, do you think?” asked Eunice, suddenly, feeling -very guilty, for the girls never thought of going out for a whole -afternoon without asking permission. - -“Guess not. She’ll think we’ve gone to Emily Drayton’s. She said this -morning we might go, you know. There’s our car.” - -The two girls, with fluttering hearts and excited faces, got on the car, -feeling as if they were bound for Japan or the North Pole. Cricket’s -buoyant, hopeful nature was serenely confident of gaining her end, while -Eunice’s more apprehensive temperament made her quake at the process. - -“What shall we say, Cricket?” said Eunice, doubtfully. - -“Just tell the President all about it,” answered Cricket, easily. “I -hope we can get him to let the other boys off, too. Perhaps he could -just rusty-coat them for just a week or two. They ought to be willing to -stand _that_; for, after all, what could you expect of _Freshmen_?” with -a tolerant air and accent that amused some ladies sitting by them -immensely. - -“We change here. Come on,” and Cricket jumped up briskly. Eunice -followed more slowly. Generally, she was the leader in their joint -doings, even if Cricket was, as usually happened, the originator. To-day -both felt that Cricket was in command of the expedition. - -They reached the house at last. Eunice quaked more and more, but -Cricket, though in a quiver of excitement, was as bold as a lion. The -feeling that she was going to rescue her beloved brother from the -clutches of that hawklike Faculty, who always hovered about, lying in -wait to tear unsuspecting Freshmen to bits, gave her unbounded courage. -Donald was in difficulty, and some curious code of honour kept him from -saving himself. Somebody else must do it, then. That was very simple; -and she was the person to do it. With this small maiden, as we know, to -think and to act were always in close connection,—so close that often -there was some apparent confusion of precedent. But now she was sure she -was right, and she valiantly went ahead. - -Eunice was white with excitement. She, forming the rank and file of the -attacking army, had less to sustain her courage than General Cricket -had. Definite action is always easier than to await an issue. Then, -also, Cricket’s sublime unconsciousness that any one was particularly -interested or concerned in what _she_ did, saved her from the wonder, -“What will people think?” which so often nips one’s finest projects in -the bud. - -“What shall we do if the President is out?” it suddenly occurred to -Eunice to wonder, as they rang the bell. - -“Wait till he comes in,” answered Cricket, instantly. Having made her -plans, she proposed to fight it out on that line, if it took all summer. - -“Suppose he doesn’t get home till evening? We would be afraid to go home -alone then.” - -“He could get a carriage, and send us home,” said Cricket, -magnificently. - -Eunice gasped. The children seemed to have changed places. Eunice was -generally the one who had the practical resources. - -The maid opened the door. “Yes, he was in,” was the welcome answer to -the eager question. “But it’s afraid I am that he can’t see any one this -afternoon. He’s particular engaged.” - -Dismay filled the children’s hearts. So near to their goal and not to be -able to reach it! - -“Oh, please tell him we _must_ see him!” cried Cricket, imploringly. -“It’s dreadfully, awfully important, and we’ve come a long way; but -we’ll wait as long as he likes, till he’s quite through, but we _can’t_ -go away without seeing him.” - -The maid hesitated. Her orders were strict, but this was plainly -something out of the ordinary course. “I don’t know if I can tell him,” -she hesitated. - -“We won’t take but just a few minutes. We’ll be very quick, and -something _must_ be done, and there’s nobody else to do it. Please ask -him to let us come in, and we’ll talk very fast, and tell him all about -Donald and the others, and—and I _can’t_ go away without seeing him!” - -Cricket’s earnest voice grew almost to a wail as she ended, clasping her -hands entreatingly. - -A door in the distance opened, and a gentleman came out. - -“What’s the matter, Mary?” he asked. - -“I want to see the President _so_ much,” pleaded Cricket, twisting her -fingers in her eagerness. “I know he must be awfully busy, for I suppose -presidenting is very hard, and takes lots of time, but _won’t_ you tell -him we’ll be very quick? And it’s _terribly_ important.” - -The gentleman looked first amused, then interested. - -“Come in, my little friends. I am the President, and I will very -willingly hear what you have to say, and help you if I can.” - -At this announcement, Cricket, finding that she was really in the much -desired presence, drew a quick breath, feeling, for the first time, the -importance of what she was doing. The two girls, holding each other’s -hands tightly, followed their kindly guide to the pleasant library. - -“My legs wobble so, I can hardly walk,” whispered Cricket to Eunice, -“and there’s _such_ a hole in my stomach! It feels all gone.” - -The gentleman placed chairs for his little guests, with the utmost -courtesy of manner, and then seated himself. - -“Now, what can I do for you?” he asked, pleasantly. - -Cricket gripped her fast-retreating courage with both hands, drew a long -breath and plunged head foremost in her subject, as one might jump from -a burning steamer into the ice-cold ocean. - -“It’s about Donald, and _he_ can’t tell, because it wouldn’t be quite -honourable to the others, and I found it out accidentally, and papa says -he’ll stand by him, though really Donald wasn’t in it at all, for he and -Sidney Chester were calling on Miss Gwendoline Vassar, that very -night,—that pretty Miss Vassar that all the boys are so stuck on, you -know,—and they stopped and smoked with another man coming home, and then -they met some other men, who hadn’t being doing anything either, and -then they all got mixed up with the ones who _did_ do something, but I -don’t know what, and they were all caught together, and none of them -would say a word, ’cause perhaps the right ones would be expelled if -they were known, and so they’re all going to be rusty-coated, or -suspended, or something, and that’s _dreadful_; and poor Sidney Chester, -who didn’t really do a thing this time, may have to leave college -entirely and go into his father’s office, and he hates it so, and he -really isn’t bad, only full of fun, and papa understands things better -than old Mr. Chester does, because he was at college himself, you know, -and he says he’ll stand by Don, for he must be loyal to the others, only -now perhaps Don can’t get on the team, and he hasn’t done wonders, but -he hasn’t done so badly in his work, and he’s such a dear fellow.” - -Cricket drew a long breath here, and dashed on. - -“And you see he didn’t really do anything himself, and nobody knows -we’ve come to you, and I guess papa would take my head off if he knew -it, but I knew somebody ought to do something, and you’d feel so badly -to punish somebody who didn’t do anything, and Donald didn’t even mean -to tell papa about it, but papa always understands, and, oh, dear, if -he’s—rusty-coated—I—can’t—bear—it!” - -And here Cricket, perfectly unstrung by the nervous tension and the long -strain, suddenly surprised herself, and paralysed Eunice, by bursting -into convulsive sobs. - -In a moment she was on the presidential knees, and her head was on the -august shoulder, where she wept a perfect flood of tears into a big -collegiate handkerchief which speedily replaced her small, drenched one. -Eunice was so overcome by the astonishing spectacle of Cricket in tears -that she sat wide-eyed with amazement, staring at her with bated breath. - - - - - CHAPTER XIX. - THE RESULT. - - -But so far as any surprise or discomfiture showed itself on his face, -the President seemed to be perfectly accustomed to having strange little -girls invade his sanctum, break in on his sacred quiet, pour forth an -incoherent tale, and end up by bursting into a flood of tears, and -submitting to be taken into his arms to be comforted. He mopped away -Cricket’s tears most scientifically, and presently pulled still another -handkerchief from some other pocket. - -Soon the storm passed, and Cricket, spent with fatigue, found her curly -head nestled as confidingly against the President’s shoulder as if it -had been her father’s, with only a long-drawn, sobbing breath now and -then. - -“Now, my little girl, I want to know more about all this,” said the -kindly voice, when she was quite calm and quiet again. “You see, I don’t -know who my little friend is, yet, either,” he added, smiling down into -the gray eyes, in which all the usual mischief and light were nearly -drowned out. - -“Oh, I quite forgot,” exclaimed Cricket, apologetically, instantly -sitting up. “I beg your pardon, if you please. I meant to tell you the -very first thing that we are Doctor Ward’s daughters, and then I went -and cried, and I’m so ashamed, for, indeed, I’m not a cry-baby, truly -I’m not, and I _don’t_ see what made me cry.” - -The earnest little voice and wistful eyes emphasised the words. - -The President hid a smile. - -“I’m sure you’re not, my little friend. So you are Doctor Ward’s little -daughters.” He held out his hand to Eunice, also, who immediately found -herself within the kind shelter of his encircling arm. - -“Doctor Ward of——Street? Then I know your father very well indeed, and -am very glad to know the children of a friend I value so much; but I -wish it had been in some way pleasanter to them. But now let’s talk -business first,” with a smile. “Suppose I ask you some questions and you -answer them. That will be best.” - -Every qualm gone now, and sure that they were in the presence of a -kindly judge, Cricket, who was still spokesman, answered the few clear, -direct questions that the President put. He was soon convinced of the -fact that the children’s own impulse was at the bottom of the -expedition,—that no older person had any knowledge of it, and that the -loving, loyal little hearts had carried out their undertaking, -instinctively feeling that here was a case where weakness was stronger -than strength. - -Then came a few minutes of silence, during which the President -meditated, knitting his brow, and Eunice and Cricket gazed breathlessly -at him. What would he say? Donald’s fate seemed hanging in the balance. - -At last the President opened his lips: - -“Won’t you have a cup of tea with me? I usually take one about this -time, if I am at home.” - -That was all. The girls exchanged startled glances. - -The President intercepted them, and smiled down at the eager little -faces so tender and reassuring a smile that they felt the load roll off -their hearts. It was all right, somehow, they instantly felt. - -Cricket smiled back with such glad confidence and good comradeship that -the President suddenly stooped and kissed the sweet, upturned little -face. - -“Yes, we’ll make it all right somehow,” he said, answering her unspoken -thought; and then, gently putting her down, he went across the room and -rang a bell. The trim maid presently responded to the order given, with -a tray containing tea and fancy cakes. - -The President put his little guests in low chairs, and served them -himself, talking all the time as if he were one of their intimate -friends. They soon chattered away fearlessly in response, telling him -about their school life and the theatricals, and their mother and -brother and sisters, and repeating some of the twin’s funny sayings and -doings, as if he had no other interests than theirs. - -“Zaidie is the _funniest_ child,” said Cricket, confidentially. “She has -the queerest ideas. The other day, ’Liza said to her, ‘Don’t wiggle so -when I’m dressing you, because I can’t get on your dress.’ And Zaidie -said, ‘If you’re dressing me when you put on my dress, when God puts -skin on people, is that called skinning them?’” - -“She is young to be interested in etymology,” said the President, -laughing; “but that is certainly logical.” - -“And the other day,” chimed in Eunice, “mamma had been reading the first -chapter of Genesis to the twins, and she asked Zaidie what God made the -world out of, and Zaidie said, ‘Out of _words_,’ and mamma asked her -what she meant, and Zaidie said, ‘He made it out of _words_, because He -said, “Let there be light and there was light,” and everything else like -that, so He must have made it out of the words, ’cause there wasn’t -anything else to make it out of.’” - -“I want to make Zaidie’s acquaintance,” said the President. “She should -have a chair in a theological seminary one of these days. Now, my little -friends, it’s nearly five o’clock, entirely too late for you to go home -alone. I’ll send somebody with you—or stay—I’ll go myself. Could I see -your father a few minutes, do you think?” - -“Couldn’t you come home to dinner?” said Cricket, eagerly. “You could -see papa, anyway, for he’s always home at half-past five. He doesn’t see -any office people then, either.” - -“Some other day I shall hope to have the pleasure of dining with you, -and making acquaintance with those interesting brothers and sisters of -yours,” said the President, smiling his delightful smile, as he rose. -“To-night, however, I’ll just see your father for five minutes, as I -have an engagement, later.” - -So, escorted by the President of the great university, homeward went two -ecstatic little maids, in a perfect tumult of triumph and happiness. -Cricket could hardly keep her elastic feet on the pavement. - -“The hole in my stomach is all gone,” she confided to Eunice’s ear, “and -I’m so happy that I could walk straight up the side of that house.” - -Mrs. Ward, who was watching from the parlour window for their -arrival,—not anxiously, however, as she supposed they were safe with -Emily Drayton,—was filled with amazement at the sight of their escort. - -“Your little daughters have given me the great pleasure of a call,” he -said, courteously. “They will perhaps explain better than I can, but I -cordially hope it was a pleasure that may be soon repeated. And now, may -I see your husband for five minutes or so?” - -And then, when the President was safely in papa’s study, the eager -children poured out the story of the afternoon to mamma’s astonished -ears. - - - - - CHAPTER XX. - OLD MR. CHESTER. - - -With the clue that the children had given the President, the affair was -more closely investigated. Donald was furiously angry at the children’s -exploit at first, as it certainly compromised him, but, with a little -management, the source of information was kept entirely a private matter -between the President, one or two of the Faculty, Doctor Ward, Donald, -and Sidney Chester. Donald and some of the others whom Cricket had named -were called up at a special meeting of the Faculty, but they still -steadily refused to say a word at the expense of their classmates. At -last, by much quiet management, the whole sentence was conditionally -repealed, and private interviews were held with those now pretty well -known to be the ringleaders. They knew that they owed their escape to -some private influence, and were well warned that the next offence would -give them the weight of this one also. - -A few days later, old Mr. Chester came over to see Doctor Ward. He was a -stern old man, who had made his own way in the world, and he wanted his -son to have the education he had so sorely longed for and never had. - -He had been puzzled and distressed that Sidney did not regard his -college course as a sacred privilege, and had been cut to the heart by -some of the lad’s previous escapades. He could not comprehend that the -boy was really doing good work, and was only working off his animal -spirits by all sorts of what his father called “Tom-fool tricks.” He -scowled upon athletics, which to his mind involved only an infinite -waste of time and money. That classroom lore is but half the value of -college life he could not in the least comprehend. At the last of -Sidney’s escapades, Mr. Chester had raged furiously, and vowed that the -next time the boy was caught in anything of the sort, it should end his -college career, and land him in the hated office. - -When the old gentleman learned of the little girls’ part in the affair, -he came to Doctor Ward to express his gratitude that they had saved his -lad, as he put it. - -“The obstinate young donkey would tell me nothing about the matter,” he -growled. “He would actually have let me take him out and put him to -work, without saying a word.” - -But for all his scolding, the old man secretly felt a thrill of pride at -the loyalty—whether mistaken or not, it is not the place here to -discuss—which made this possible. - -“Now, as for your little girls,” Mr. Chester said to Doctor Ward, “I -would like to do something for them—something they will remember this -by. I thought this might do, if you have no objections.” - -“This” was a small morocco case which he slowly drew from a side pocket. -Then he produced a similar one from the other pocket, and laid them both -on the desk in front of Doctor Ward. Then he touched the springs, in his -deliberate way, first of one case and then of the other. The covers flew -back, and on the satin linings there lay two exquisite little watches. -Two little hunting-cases they were, with graceful monograms on the -respective covers. - -“For my little piccaninnies?” exclaimed Doctor Ward, in astonishment. -“Indeed, Chester, that’s too munificent altogether. Why, I haven’t quite -settled in my own mind yet but that the little witches ought to be sent -supperless to bed for such a daring performance, without consulting -anybody. The accident of its having turned out well does not by any -means make up for their having taken matters into their own hands. Under -some circumstances, they might have done unbounded mischief. It’s too -serious a matter for such small hands to meddle with the affairs of -state, so to speak.” - -The doctor laughed as he spoke, but he had been seriously in doubt, as -he said, whether to reprove or commend. He had finally compromised by a -long, serious talk with his little daughters, and they had promised -that, after this, they would duly consult the powers that be. - -“All that is your affair,” answered Mr. Chester, grimly smiling. “I -can’t undertake to say what discipline other people’s children should -have. But on my own account, and because I like pluck wherever I see it, -I would like the children to have these watches. It _was_ a plucky -performance, doctor, you must admit that.” - -“They certainly bearded the lion in his den,” answered Doctor Ward, -smiling also. “Yes, I think they _are_ plucky little women. But, my dear -Chester, some very much more trifling things will show your appreciation -just as well, and make me more comfortable.” - -“Tut! tut! This is all in the trade, you know. I know my May was crazy -for a watch like these, so I thought they would suit your girls also. -And you must remember that, since I deal in these things, they are no -more to me than a bottle of physic would be to you.” - -Doctor Ward admitted the truth of this argument, as Mr. Chester was at -the head of one of the largest jeweller’s stores in town, and he finally -agreed to accept the watches for the children, subject to his wife’s -approval. - -Everything being satisfactorily settled, and Mr. Chester utterly -refusing to deliver the watches himself, the next morning, when Eunice -and Cricket came down to the breakfast-table, each viewed with -astonishment the little morocco case at her plate. - -“Why, it isn’t our birthdays or anything,” said Cricket, wonderingly. -“Has anybody else anything?” - -“This is your special celebration,” said mamma, gaily. “Open and see.” - -The speechless children stared at what the little morocco cases held. - -“What—where—why—” stammered Eunice at last, and their mother explained, -while the rest of the family looked on beamingly. - -“A momentum!” shrieked Cricket, snatching up the golden, gleaming thing -from its pink satin pillow, and dancing around the room with a perfect -whoop of delight. “Mine? ours? that dear old duck! Eunice, let’s go and -thank him straight off. I want to hug him and kiss him, and I always -used to be so scared of him.” - -She was bolting for the door, but her father called her back. - -“He’d be ‘scared’ of you if you did. Write him a nice little note after -breakfast. He would much prefer that.” - -“Aren’t they too deliciously sweet for words?” murmured Eunice, hugging -her treasure to her heart. - -“See those dear little curly letters on the cover,” said Cricket, -rapturously examining them. “J. M. W.,—Jean Maxwell Ward. And -inside,—_oh_, Eunice! do you see? Here’s a date! It’s the day we went to -the President! Isn’t this the very loveliest momentum he could have -given us?” - -“Memento, dear,” suggested mamma. - -“Yes, memento. What did I say?” - -“And Donald wants to give you the gold pins to wear them with. He is -going to take you down-town to-morrow afternoon,—to choose them -yourselves,—if you have no previous engagements.” Doctor Ward’s eyes -twinkled. - -“Don’t tease, papa! Isn’t that lovely of Don. What fun to choose our own -pins, Eunice! And I love to go down-town with Don, anyway. He’s such a -treaty fellow. He always gives us ice-cream and candy.” - -The pins were duly selected, after much comparing, choosing, and -rejecting. Donald quietly slipped a card into Cricket’s case, and when -she reached home and displayed their final choice, she found Donald’s -inscription with it. - - To - Lady Greasewrister - and - Madame Van Twister - Her - Ladyship’s Sister. - This little “momentum” - For thanks have I sent ’em, - In closest resemblance to - Bright glaring brass; - For Brass it was took ’em - (Nor ever forsook ’em) - To give to the President - Some of their “sass.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXI. - BREAKING UP. - - -The June days had come again, and the children were beginning to look -forward to the summer exodus to Kayuna. Their school closed the second -week in June, and the flitting was to take place on the 11th. Eunice and -Cricket were to go to Marbury in July for a two weeks’ visit to their -grandmother. The Somers family were to be there, as usual, and Edna had -written imploring letters that the girls might be with her there for a -little while. Then Edna was to be with them in Kayuna the entire month -of August. - -“Doesn’t it seem six years since last June, when we were all flying -around, and mamma was getting ready to go to Europe?” said Cricket on -the last night at the house in town. “Seems to me I was such a _little_ -girl then.” - -Indeed, Cricket, as well as Eunice, had grown much older in the last -year, and was more responsible and self-reliant in every way. Both girls -had grown tall, Cricket especially, for she had shot up within half an -inch of Eunice this winter. - -Cricket was very proud of this, and was hugely delighted when people -took her to be Eunice’s twin, as they quite often had of late. But her -curly hair was getting to be a great grievance, as it still tumbled -about her shoulders, and wouldn’t grow long. - -“Do you suppose my hair will _always_ stay short and curly?” she -asked, anxiously. She was sitting perched on her father’s knee. The -younger children were in bed, and the others were all in the back -parlour. The furniture was in its summer dress of brown holland, the -pictures had retired behind mosquito nets, and everything wore a -shut-up-for-the-summer expression, except the family. - -“Just think how I’ll look when I’m eighty,” went on Cricket, in an -aggrieved tone, “going about with little flippy-floppy curls all over my -head, like old Mrs. Crazy-Beecher, round on Jones Street. Don’t you know -how her curls always jiggle up and down, because she nods all the time -like a Chinese mandolin?” - -“Mandarin, dear. Yes. You might wear a wig then,” suggested mamma. - -“Ugh! I’d hate to wear store hair.” - -“Did you hear Kenneth’s latest? He watched Eliza this morning putting on -that funny jute braid she wears, and it seemed to strike him for the -first time, so he said, ‘’Liza, what makes you wear _cloth_ hair? Mamma -doesn’t.’” - -“I don’t want cloth hair, either,” said Cricket, decidedly. “Papa, can’t -anything be done to straighten my curls out? Couldn’t you give me some -medicine for it? I’d like to put it up in plaster of Paris. Wouldn’t -that do it? It straightened out the little Smith boy’s leg.” - -“We might put your mind up in plaster of Paris, to take some of the -kinks out of _that_,” observed Donald. - -“My mind’s the best I’ve got, and you’ll please be respectful to it,” -said Cricket, with dignity. “You’re a model of sarcasticity, I suppose -you think. Anyway, I _do_ wish I had ‘plain hair,’ as Zaidie says. -Eunice just gives hers a good brushing in the morning, and braids it up -all smooth and nice, and there it stays. While mine!”—a gesture of -despair finished the sentence. - -“I don’t know what I can do for you, little Gloriana McQuirk,” said her -father, tumbling the obnoxious curls affectionately over her face. - -“There!” exclaimed Cricket. “Nobody would ever think of throwing -Eunice’s braid over her face, and it wouldn’t disturb it a bit if they -did, and nobody minds tossing mine every which way, as if I hadn’t a -feeling to my name.” - -“Cricket’s trials with her hair are like Amy March’s with her nose,” -said Marjorie. - -“Good idea,” said Donald. “Braid your hair into pig-tails, and put a -patent clothes-pin at the end of each one, Miss Scricket,” and only the -fact that none were to be found in the kitchen regions, whither Cricket -instantly repaired, prevented the suggestion from being carried out. - -“How different things will be when we come back next fall,” Mrs. Ward -said, presently, when Cricket had resumed her place on her father’s -knee. “It will seem strange to have Marjorie gone, and the little ones -in school.” - -For the next year was to see several changes. For one thing, Marjorie -was to go to boarding-school for a year. She would soon be seventeen, -and her father and mother wished her to have the training in -self-reliance and independence that a year away would give her. Marjorie -did not aspire to college life, but was eager to cultivate her musical -talent especially. Later, she was to have a year in Germany for that -purpose. - -Eunice and Cricket were to be collegians, however, and were already -planning with regard to Wellesley days. - -Next year, also, the twins were to be launched on their school career. -They had never been even to a kindergarten, for Helen had been too -delicate, and Mrs. Ward did not wish to separate the children. Now Helen -seemed to be growing stronger all the time, and Doctor Ward thought that -school would be quite feasible the next fall. Even Kenneth was to begin -at the kindergarten, and it was no wonder that Mrs. Ward, as she said, -began to feel that she really had a grown-up family. - -The girls would miss Marjorie immensely next year, but, by way of -compensation, Eunice thought she would enjoy the dignity of being the -oldest daughter at home. - -“And I think people really ought to begin to call me Miss Ward,” she -said, meditatively. - - - THE END. - - - - - THE - - “Queen Hildegarde” Series. - - By Laura E. Richards. - - -=HILDEGARDE’S HARVEST.= - - The _fifth volume_ of the Hildegarde Series. Illustrated with eight - full-page cuts. Square 16mo, cloth, $1.25. - -A new volume in the “Hildegarde” series, some of the best and most -deservedly popular books for girls issued in recent years. This new -volume is fully equal to its predecessors in point of interest, and is -sure to renew the popularity of the entire series. - - -=HILDEGARDE’S NEIGHBORS.= - - Fourth volume. Illustrated from original designs. Illustrated by L. J. - Bridgman. Square 16mo, cloth, $1.25. - - -=HILDEGARDE’S HOME.= - - Third volume. Illustrated with original designs by Merrill. Square - 16mo, cloth, $1.25. - - -=HILDEGARDE’S HOLIDAY.= - - Second volume. Illustrated with full-page plates by Copeland. Square - 16mo, cloth, $1.25. - - -=QUEEN HILDEGARDE.= - - First volume. Illustrated from original designs by Garrett (292 pp.). - Square 16mo, cloth, $1.25. - -“We would like to see the sensible, heroine-loving girl in her early -teens who would not like this book. Not to like it would simply argue a -screw loose somewhere.”—_Boston Post._ - - -=THE HILDEGARDE SERIES.= - - as above. 5 vols., square 16mo, put up in a neat box, $6.25. - -⁂ Next to Miss Alcott’s famous “LITTLE WOMEN” series they easily rank, -and no books that have appeared in recent times may be more safely put -into the hands of a bright, intelligent girl than these five “Queen -Hildegarde” books. - - - - - Other Books by Laura E. Richards. - - -=LOVE AND ROCKS.= - - Tall 16mo, handsome cover design, etching frontispiece, $1.00. - -A charming story of one of the pleasant islands on the rugged Maine -coast, told in the author’s most graceful manner. - - -=WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE.= - - Quarto, cloth, gilt top. Illustrated, $1.25. - -A series of papers which has already delighted the many readers of St. -Nicholas, now revised and published in book form, with many additions. -The title most happily introduces the reader to the charming home life -of Dr. Howe and Mrs. Julia Ward Howe during the childhood of the author, -and one is young again in reading the delightful sketches of happy child -life in this most interesting family. - - -=GLIMPSES OF THE FRENCH COURT.= - - Sketches from French History. Handsomely illustrated with a series of - portraits in etching and photogravure. Square 12mo, cloth, neat - cover design, gilt top, $1.50. - - -=SAME.= - - _Handsomely bound in celluloid, boxed_, $2.00. - -The History of France, during the eighteenth century, is a -treasure-house of romantic interest, from which the author has drawn a -series of papers which will appeal to all who care for the picturesque -in history. With true literary touch, she gives us the story of some of -the salient figures of this remarkable period. - - - =Estes & Lauriat, Publishers, Boston.= - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in - spelling. - 2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed. - 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. - 4. Enclosed blackletter font in =equals=. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EUNICE AND CRICKET *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this eBook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that: - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |