CHAPTER IIIA Quarrel
"Raining! Isn't that too bad?" said Florence, leaning on one elbow in bed, and looking out of the window.
"Hm, hm," said Dimple, sleepily, from her pillow.
Florence slipped out of bed and stood looking dolefully at the falling drops.
"What do you suppose the birds do, Dimple?" she asked, going up to her, and softly shaking her.
"Oh," said Dimple, now awake, and sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes, "I suppose they get under the leaves just as we do under an umbrella, or they go under the eaves, and places like that. I have seen them lots of times. It is raining, isn't it, Florence?"
"I said so, long ago," answered Florence; "now we can't go out of doors to play, and itis so nice outdoors. I don't see the sense of its raining in summer."
"Why," returned Dimple, sitting down on the floor to put on her shoes and stockings, "that is the very time for it to rain, or everything would dry up."
"Well, I wish it didn't have to," said Florence, coming away from the window, and sitting on the floor too. "What color stockings do you like best, Dimple?"
"I don't know; black, I think. Don't you?"
"I believe I do. My! there is the breakfast bell, and we are only beginning to get dressed. You fasten my buttons, and I will fasten yours, Dimple, so we will get dressed in a hurry."
Their fingers flew, and they rushed down to breakfast two steps at a time.
"It was so dark this morning that we went to sleep again after you called us, mamma," explained Dimple.
"I will excuse you this time, but your breakfast is not as warm as it would have been earlier," said Mrs. Dallas, "and papa had to go away without his morning kiss."
"I am sorry," said Dimple. "Cold eggs aren'tvery good," she went on, pushing away her plate. "What can we do to-day, mamma?"
"What should you like to do?"
"I don't know," returned Dimple. "My feelings hurt me rainy days, and I don't know what I want."
Mrs. Dallas smiled, as she replied, "You might make paper dolls, they are good rainy day people; that would be one thing. Then you can paint."
"I haven't but one brush, and I have used up all the books and papers you gave me to paint in."
"I can find some more, perhaps, and you and Florence can take turn about with the paint brush."
Dimple looked as if that would not suit very well, and Florence seeing her look, felt a little hurt.
Paper dolls did not amuse them very long; and when Dimple was ready to color the pictures Mrs. Dallas had found for them, Florence declined absolutely to paint at all. So they both sat with their elbows on the window-sill, decidedly out of humor.
"Florence," said Dimple, presently, "I have an idea. Do you see that hogshead down there? It is running over."
"I see it," said Florence. "What of it; it isn't anything very wonderful."
"Well, you needn't be so disagreeable," said Dimple. "What I was going to say, is this; let's make paper boats, and put paper dolls in them. We can pretend the hogshead is Niagara Falls, and the water that runs down the gutter can be Niagara river."
"We will get sopping wet."
"Oh no, we won't; it isn't raining so awfully hard. I will put on my rubber waterproof, and you can put on mamma's. We can slip around there without any one seeing us, for mamma is busy on the other side of the house. Don't you think it would be fun?"
"Ye-es," said Florence, doubtfully.
"Let's hurry and make the boats then. Which paper dolls shall we take? The ugliest, I think, because they will all be drowned anyhow; and don't let's take any pretty frocks, because we can make dolls to fit the frocks when these are drowned."
With paper boats, dolls and waterproofs they stole softly down the front stairs, and shutting the door after them very gently, ran around the house to the hogshead. The roses were heavy with rain, and the honeysuckle shook big drops on them, as they ran by.
The boats went topsy-turvy over the falls, upsetting the dolls, who went careering down the stream, to the great delight of the children.
They played till the last boat load was lost beyond all hope, and then, with wet feet and streaming sleeves, they crept back to the house.
"Now, what shall we do? It was lots of fun, Dimple," said Florence, "but I know your mother will scold, when she sees how wet our feet are, and your foot just well too, and see my sleeves. If we change our clothes she will wonder and then—What shall we do?"
"I don't think it was a bit of harm," said Dimple, determined to brave it out, "but it won't do to keep these wet frocks on. I know. We will go up into the attic, take them off, and hang them up to dry; then we can dress up in other things. There are trunks and boxes full of clothes up there, and we can play something."
"So we can," exclaimed Florence. "That is a perfectly lovely plan. Do you think our clothes will dry before supper?"
"Of course," said Dimple; "anyhow it will be funny to put on trains and things. Come on."
They raced up to the garret, and were soon diving into the boxes and trunks of winter clothing that Mrs. Dallas had packed away.
"Here," said Dimple, on her knees before a trunk, "take this skirt of mamma's," and she dragged out a cashmere skirt. "Florence, see what is in those band-boxes, and get us each a bonnet, while I hunt for a shawl or coat, or something."
After much tumbling up of clothing, she found what she wanted, and they had taken off their frocks when they heard Mrs. Dallas calling,
"Children, where are you?"
Both were silent for a moment, and stood with quickly beating hearts.
After a second call, Dimple mustered up courage to answer, "Up here, mamma."
"Where?"
"In the garret."
"What are you doing?"
"Just playing."
"Well, don't get into any mischief," came from the bottom of the stairs, and then Mrs. Dallas went off.
Presently there came another fright: a footstep on the stairs.
"Who is that?" asked Dimple, fearfully.
"Me," came the answer, as Bubbles' woolly head appeared.
"It is only Bubbles," said Dimple, much relieved. "Come up, Bubbles; we are dressing up, and you shall too; but if you dare to tell on us—off you go to the orphan asylum."
"I wouldn't tell fur nothin', Miss Dimple," said she, as Dimple threw her an old wrapper.
"I am going to be Lady Melrose, and Florence Lady Beckwith. You can be—Oh, Florence, let's dress Bubbles up in a coat and trousers, and have her for a footman."
"All right," said Florence, and shaking with laughter, Bubbles was attired in coat, trousers, and tall hat.
"Oh, she is too funny," said Florence, holding her sides. "Where is my bonnet?"
"That's mine," exclaimed Dimple, as Florencepossessed herself of a bonnet with feathers in it.
"No, I chose this first," said Florence.
"Well, it's my mother's, I reckon, and I have the best right to it."
"Well, I'm company, and you're very impolite."
"I'm not," retorted Dimple, getting very red in the face.
"You are. I'd have my mother teach me how to behave, if I were you, Dimple Dallas."
"You horrid, red-headed thing!" cried Dimple, now thoroughly angry. "I'd like to know how you would look in a garnet velvet bonnet anyhow. You'd better take something that's not quite so near the color of your hair."
"My hair isn't red, it's auburn," said Florence, bursting into a sob, "and I'm not going to stay here another minute. I'm going straight home to my mother." And she tore off the clothes in which she had decked herself, leaving them in a heap on the floor. She snatched up her wet frock and ran downstairs.
Dimple sat quite still after Florence left her. She did not dare to go downstairs for fear ofencountering her mother, and yet, suppose Florence should really mean to go home. How dreadful! She considered the question till she could bear it no longer, and, slowly putting on her own clothes, she crept downstairs, hoping as she went from room to room that she would find Florence. She even peeped cautiously in upon her mother, busy with her sewing, but no Florence was to be seen.
"Perhaps she has started to go home," Dimple said to herself, in real alarm. "Oh, dear, I hope there hasn't been any train along that she could take." She put on her hat, seized an umbrella from the rack, and sallied forth. It was still raining hard, and as she splashed along, the little girl was very miserable.
It was quite a walk to the railway station, and Dimple hurried her steps, fearing she might be too late to intercept her cousin. She entered the waiting-room of the station, and looked anxiously around. No Florence was there. Her heart sank and she turned to go. Florence had really meant what she said. And her aunt and cousins in Baltimore, what would they think of her? The tears began to roll down Dimple'scheeks as she looked up and down the long track. She did not know what to do next. It would be so dreadful to go home and tell her mother that she had driven her cousin away by her rudeness. She was about to turn toward home, when she bethought herself of making some inquiry about the trains; and she entered the waiting-room again.
Standing on tiptoe she asked the ticket agent. "When was the last train to Baltimore?"
"Next train leaves at 4:50," said the man, without looking up.
"Not the next train, but the last train. When did it go?"
"Last train!" the man glanced up. "Last train left at 2:15."
"Thank you." It was with a sense of relief that she heard him give the time. Florence had not left the house so long ago as that. It was now after four, and two hours had not elapsed since they were playing in the garret. So she went slowly out, but suddenly remembered that Florence was not at home. Where was she? Perhaps she was lost. She didn't know her wayabout very well, Dimple reflected, and she could easily have taken a wrong turn.
"I'll just have to look for her, that's all," thought Dimple; and the little feet pattered along in the rain, getting wetter and wetter each moment.
Up one street and down another went Dimple, but there was no sign of Florence, and the child's repentance grew stronger as she traveled on. Her imagination saw Florence in a dozen different plights, each one worse than the last. Accidents of various kinds, disasters of every possible nature, even the very improbable idea that she had been stolen by gypsies, rose to the child's mind, till, terror stricken, she flew along, scarcely knowing which way she went.
She was conscious of steadily pursuing footsteps behind her, but she did not turn to look until the feet came nearer and nearer and a soft plaintive voice called, "Oh, Miss Dimple, stop, please stop." Looking around, she saw that Bubbles had followed her.
It was a relief to see the familiar face, and Dimple forlornly dropped into her little maid'sarms crying: "Oh, Bubbles! Oh, Bubbles, Florence is lost."
"No 'm, she ain't," replied Bubbles, with confidence.
"Oh, how do you know?"
"'Cause she come in de front do' jis' as I was gwine th'ough de yard. I never stopped to ast her nothin', fo' I seen yuh a kitin' down street, an' I put after yuh, lickety-split. All of a suddent I los' sight of yuh, an' I been a standin' on de cornah waitin' fo' yuh to come back. I know yuh 'bleedged to cross to git home, an' I been a waitin' fo' yuh."
"Oh Bubbles! Oh Bubbles! I'm so glad, but I'm so tired and so wet, and—oh dear—I'm afraid to tell mamma, and I'm so miserable. I never was so miserable."
Bubbles looked as sympathetic as the occasion required, and trotted along by Dimple's side, holding the umbrella over her, and trying to suggest all manner of comforting things.
"Hit'll all be ovah befo' yuh is twict married, Miss Dimple, and hit mought be wuss. S'posin' Miss Flo'ence was los' sho 'nough, den yuh might tek on. She safe an' soun'. Jes' yuh come inde back way, an' I'll git yuh some dry things. An' Sylvy won't say nothin'. I jes' know she wont, an' yuh can git dry by de kitchen fire. I reckon Miss Flo'ence mighty 'shamed o' herse'f, kickin' up all dis rumpus 'bout nothin'."
But Dimple shook her head. "It wasn't about nothing. I behaved just as mean as could be, and I'm the one to be ashamed. I'll go straight to mamma; it will be best, for she would find out anyhow, and besides, I'd feel a great deal worse if I deceived her about it."
Bubbles was not to be convinced that her beloved Miss Dimple was at all in the wrong, but Dimple would not change her mind, being in a state of great humility and penitence, and finally Bubbles gave up trying to dissuade her.
Florence had reached home long before. Indeed she had not gone very far before her anger cooled, although she was still very much hurt; but she concluded it would not be right to start off for her own home without a word to her aunt, who had been so kind to her. This thought added to her unhappiness, and shewent to Dimple's room, throwing herself on the floor, crying bitterly.
The sound of her sobs brought Mrs. Dallas from the next room.
"Why, Florence," she said, seeing the little girl prone upon the floor. "What is the matter? Why have you taken off your frock?"
"Oh! auntie," sobbed Florence, "please let me go home; indeed, I can't stay."
"Are you homesick?" asked her aunt, as she took her up on her lap, and pushed back the damp hair from her face. "Poor little girl!"
A fresh burst of tears was the only answer.
"Where is Dimple?" asked Mrs. Dallas.
But Florence only cried the harder, and her aunt was forced to put her down with an uncomfortable sense of there being something wrong. She went directly up to the attic, but it was silent. Dimple was not there, neither was Bubbles, and no amount of search revealed them. She went back to Florence, who dried her tears and unburdened her heart, and then in her turn became alarmed about Dimple, since no amount of hunting disclosed her whereabouts.
Mrs. Dallas was, herself, becoming much worried, when the door slowly opened and a disheveled little figure stood before them, with soaking garments and sodden shoes.
For a moment Dimple stood, then ran forward and buried her head in her mother's lap.
"Mamma," she sobbed, "it was all on account of the weather. I coaxed Florence out to the hogshead, and then we got wet, and didn't know how to get out of it, and we went up into the attic, and I felt naughty all the time, and we got mad, and oh dear! I wish the sun would shine."
"I am afraid from all I hear, that you have been the one to set all this mischief astir," said her mother. "I thought I could trust my little girl. Think, Dimple, what a day's work. You have tempted your cousin to do wrong, first by going out in the wet, and again by meddling with the clothing upstairs; then you hurt her feelings, and quarreled with her, and now you blame the weather for it all, besides setting a bad example to Bubbles. Where have you been, my child?"
"Trying to find Florence, mamma. I walkedand walked, and I was so worried, and—oh, mamma, I thought all sorts of dreadful things. I went to the station, Florence, and I found out there that you hadn't really gone home; then I thought you were lost, or that the cars had run over you, or the gypsies had stolen you, or that—oh I'm so miserable," she caught her breath, and shivered with cold and excitement.
Her mother was unfastening her wet garments. She felt that Dimple's naughtiness had brought its own punishment. "I think Florence has changed her mind about going home," she said, quietly.
Dimple raised a tear-stained face. "Oh, Florence, have you?" she exclaimed. "I'm so glad. I don't want you to think I don't love you, for I do. I love you dearly, dearly, Florence, and I think your hair is lovely."
This was too much for Florence's tender heart, and she sobbed out, "It was my fault too, Dimple. I said hateful things, and I couldn't forgive myself when I thought you had gone, I didn't know where. I had no business to scare you so. Please, Aunt Flo, kiss us and forgive us, and please, for my sake, don't scold Dimple."
Mrs. Dallas gathered the two little penitents into her loving arms. They were so truly sorry, and had suffered really more than they deserved. "I think Dimple sees her fault quite plainly, dear," Florence was told, "but I am afraid you will both be ill, and so I think I must put you to bed, not for punishment, but because you must be kept warm, and must have something hot to keep you from taking cold. Where is Bubbles, Dimple? Wasn't she with you?"
"Not all the time, mamma, but she came after me, and found me on the corner. Please don't punish her. She only went out because she wanted to find me."
"I understand that, and I know she did not mean to do wrong. She did what she felt to be her duty to you. I'll not scold her, nor punish her, daughter."
Dimple gave a sigh of relief, and pressed her wet cheek against her mother's. "Please kiss me, mamma," she whispered, "and then I'll know you forgive naughty me."
Mrs. Dallas immediately consented, and when she left the room, two very contrite little girls cuddled up close to each other, and took withouta murmur the hot herb tea which Mrs. Dallas brought to them. And the next morning when they woke, lo! the sun was shining, and not an ache nor a pain did either little girl feel to remind her of the dreary yesterday.
CHAPTER IVHousebreakers
Despiteall this unpleasant experience, it was only about a week later that Dimple and Florence came near getting into trouble again. This time, however, it was Florence who set the ball rolling. It was not exactly from a spirit of mischief, but because her fancy was appealed to, and because she did not see any harm in what she proposed.
The two little girls had been to take a note to Mrs. Hardy, and on their way home they passed a pretty house and grounds which greatly attracted Florence.
"Oh, do let us stop and look in," she said. "I think this is the very prettiest place here, don't you, Dimple?"
"Yes," was the reply, "I like it best. The grounds are so lovely. See those roses."
The two pressed their faces against the ironrailing, and let their eyes wander over the lawn and to the garden beyond.
"How very quiet it is," Florence remarked, presently. "We can't hear a sound except the wind among the trees, and the robins singing. There doesn't seem to be a soul about. Who lives here, Dimple?"
"The Atkinsons. Mamma and papa know them."
"Are there any little children?"
"Not now; there used to be a little girl named Stella, but she died two years ago, and now there is only their eldest son living; he has just gone abroad with his mother. That is why it's so quiet. They are all away. You see the house is shut up."
"Ah, I wonder if they would mind if we went in and looked around. Do you think they would mind? I should love so to go and sit on that porch for a few minutes."
Dimple hesitated. She wasn't quite sure that it would be right for them to go in, especially when no one was at home.
"You know," Florence went on, "it would be just exactly the same as if we went there to call,and they should happen to be out. It won't hurt anybody or anything for us to walk around and look at the grounds."
At last Dimple consented. So they lifted the latch of the gate and shut it behind them very gingerly.
"Do you often come here?" asked Florence, when they had made their tour of the grounds and were sitting on the porch in the shadow of the vines.
"Not so very often, but I have been here with mamma when she came to call. I remember Stella very well. She died of diphtheria, and they have a lovely portrait of her. She was such a pretty little girl, and the portrait shows her with a great big dog she used to have."
"How I should like to see the portrait. Wouldn't it be nice if the door should suddenly open, and we could walk right in?"
Dimple laughed. "I'd be scared if that should happen. The house is beautiful inside. I never saw so many pretty things. Mrs. Atkinson's father was a naval officer, and she has curiosities from all over the world."
"I wish Mrs. Atkinson had said, 'Dimple,here are the keys, come in as often as you like while we are away; in fact, I wish you would try to come in and look around once in a while to see if everything is all right.'"
"Maybe she would have said that if she had thought of it," returned Dimple, "for she is always so nice and pleasant."
Florence cast wistful eyes up and down the side of the house; then she went out on the lawn, at the side, and looked up. "Dimple, come here," she called, and her cousin obeyed. "We could get in as easily as anything," said Florence. "See, that's a very easy tree to climb, and that long branch goes right over the upper porch. We could reach that; then we could go in by raising the window."
"If the window is not fastened down. Maybe there is some one in the house, after all. I shouldn't think they would leave it with no one ever to look after it. We might go around to the back door and see."
"Let's try climbing the tree anyhow. It will be easy enough to do that, and won't do a bit of harm. See, I'm going," and Florence put her foot against the rough bark, and swung herselfup, reaching the porch without difficulty. But Dimple would not follow and her cousin climbed down again, not, however, as easily as she had gone up.
"It was nothing at all to do," she declared. "I think you might try it, Dimple. I'll tell you what we'll do: let's bring our dolls to-morrow, and go up there and play. I'm sure if I had a pretty place like this, I should be glad if two little girls, like us, could come and enjoy it. Ah, Dimple, you don't know how fine it is on that upper porch. It would be the finest place in the world to play in."
The idea took such possession of her that the next morning she broached the subject again.
"I'll ask mamma," said Dimple, at last consenting with this proviso. But Mrs. Dallas had gone out to spend the morning with a friend, and finally Florence's persuasions overcame Dimple's scruples, and with Celestine and Rubina they set forth.
At first Florence was contented to play on the corner porch, but the memory of the day before was too much for her, and she again climbed to the upper porch. "Do come up, Dimple," shecoaxed. "You've no idea how fine it is, with the tree all around. It's just like a nest," and Dimple decided that she would try it too.
"Wait, we mustn't leave the dolls," Florence said. "I wish we had a piece of string. See if you can find a piece, Dimple."
After much searching Dimple hunted up an end of rope, which she found by the kitchen shed, and brought around. "Will this do?" she asked.
"Finely. Can you throw it so I can catch it?"
"I don't know. Maybe I could if I tied a stone to it. Don't let it hit you, Florence."
After several attempts the rope was landed, and when the dolls were fastened to it, they were drawn safely up, and then Dimple made her ascent successfully.
"It is nice," she declared. "Isn't it fun to be here, where no one can see us? I wonder if that window will open." She gave the shutters a little shake and lo! they offered no resistance, but opened easily, and, the latch being out of order, the window, too, yielded to their efforts, and before they knew it, they were inside.
"Now we're here, we might as well go through the house," said Florence. "And you can show me the portrait."
They proceeded stealthily through rooms whose furniture was swathed in sheets to keep away the dust. It all looked rather bare and desolate upstairs in the dim rooms, but it was better below, especially in the dining-room, where a big bay window let in a flood of light when the inside shutters were opened.
"Let's pretend it's our house, and keep house really," Florence exclaimed. "Here is a broom and a duster. I'll sweep and you can dust. Then if we can find some dishes, we'll set the table. I wish we had brought something to eat. Oh, Dimple, you haven't shown me the portrait yet; where is it?"
"In the library. Come, we'll go there now."
"My, but it's dark in here!" Florence exclaimed, as they entered the room. "Let us open the shutters a little so we can see the picture."
This they managed to do, shutting the window carefully.
"It seems dark still," Dimple remarked. "I wonder what makes this such a dark room." Justthen they heard a mighty crash and both started, then clung to each other, whispering, "What's that?"
"It is thunder," said Dimple, when a second peal was heard. "Oh, how dark it is. Come, Florence; we must hurry. Open the window and shut the shutters as quick as you can and I'll go to the dining-room. We must leave everything as we found it."
"Don't leave me," Florence implored. "I can't bear to be alone when the lightning flashes so." And together they fastened the shutters and the windows, then ran to the porch, where they had left their dolls.
An angry gust was blowing the dust about furiously. The trees swayed and creaked, lashing their branches about in a very terrifying way. The thunder growled and muttered, while sharp flashes of lightning zigzagged across the sky almost incessantly.
"We would never dare to go down the tree while it is blowing so," said Florence, after they had surveyed the scene for a moment in silence.
"But it is beginning to rain. Oh, dear! What shall we do? It's coming down a perfect torrent.Come back, Florence; we'll have to go inside," cried Dimple. And snatching up their dolls, they retreated into the house in no enviable state of mind, between fear of the tempest and alarm at being obliged to stay alone where they were.
"We might as well make ourselves comfortable," Florence said at last. "Suppose we go down to the library or the dining-room. We can open the inside shutters, and it won't seem so gloomy. I'd rather see the lightning than stay up here in the dark."
"Oh, dear! I wish we hadn't come at all," sighed Dimple. "I wish we were safe at home. Mamma will be so worried, for she won't know where we are. I do wish we hadn't come."
Florence was very uncomfortable, but she tried to brave it out. "Anyhow," she said, "it's a great deal better than to be out in the storm. I am sure auntie will be very glad when she knows we were safe here, and it isn't as if you had come to a perfectly strange house. The Atkinsons are your friends, and they won't mind a bit our coming here for shelter. I know they won't. They'd be very hard-hearted if they did mind."
"Yes, I s'pose so," returned Dimple, somewhat comforted.
"Very likely your mamma isn't bothering at all about us," Florence went on. "She probably hasn't gone home herself, on account of the storm."
They had been conversing together at the top of the stairs, and now made their way to the dining-room, where, after opening the shutters, they stood looking out at the rain. The peals of thunder had died away into distant mutterings, but it was still raining hard.
"Somehow we always get into trouble when it rains," Dimple remarked.
"Don't let's talk about that," returned Florence. "See how the raindrops dance up and down. Little water fairies they are. Don't they look as if they were having a good time?"
"Yes; but I'm getting hungry. I wonder if it isn't most dinner time. Do you suppose it will rain all afternoon, Florence?"
"I don't know. If it holds up we'll have to run between the drops."
"But how can we get out? We could never climb down that sopping wet tree, and we wouldbe very wicked to leave any part of the house down here unfastened. Some one might see us and try to get in."
They lapsed into a grave silence which was presently broken by a startled "What's that?" from Dimple. She heard a sound like the click of a key turning in a latch. They listened fearfully, as the sound was followed by the shutting of a door, and the noise of footsteps along the hall. The two girls looked at each other. "Let's hide," whispered Florence, but before they had decided what to do, a man was seen standing in the doorway. It was Mr. Atkinson.
"Well, well, well," he exclaimed, "where did you little girls come from? You came in out of the rain, I suppose, but how did you manage it? Why, Eleanor, is it you? I declare, I didn't know you. It is fortunate you managed to escape the storm; it was a hard one."
Dimple stood very much confused, her color coming and going, and her eyes very bright. But she summoned up courage to make the confession: "We did come in out of the rain, Mr. Atkinson, but no one let us in, and we didn't happen to come here on account of the storm."
"You didn't! Come here, then, and tell me about it." He drew her to his side and looked down at her very kindly.
She dropped her eyes and hung her head in confusion, but she went on, "We,—we thought it was so pretty here, and—and we thought you wouldn't mind if we came and brought our dolls and sat on the porch a little while; we didn't think you'd care if we were very good and didn't touch anything. Then it was so easy to climb the tree and get on the other porch, and when we got there,—why I wanted to show Florence the portrait of your little girl, and we did not have to force the shutter at all; it opened just as easy, and so did the window; and we went downstairs, and while we were looking at the portrait the storm came up and we were afraid to climb down the tree; it was blowing about so, and we didn't like to go out any other way and leave the windows downstairs unfastened. So—we stayed."
Mr. Atkinson listened quietly. "So you were housebreakers. Don't you know that's a prison offence? Burglary is a pretty serious crime." He looked very serious, and Dimple did not seethe twinkle in his eyes. Her own grew round with horror.
"Oh!" she gasped. "Oh! we didn't mean—" The tears began to gather, and the child's lips quivered. She was overcome with dismay. "I am so sorry, so dreadfully sorry," she quavered.
Mr. Atkinson put his hand on her sunny head. "There, dear, never mind," he said, "you were a very innocent pair of housebreakers, and you are a very brave and honest little girl to tell me the truth about it, when you might easily have allowed me to think it happened another way. Of course, on general principles, it isn't right to break into any one's house, but I think you may have done me a good turn by letting me know about that weak place upstairs, and you may have prevented a real thief from breaking in. You see, I come down from the city every Saturday to look after things while my wife and son are away, and I am glad I happened to be here just now. Let us forget all about the unpleasant part of this, and make ourselves comfortable. You are my guests. Who is your little friend?"
"My cousin Florence."
"Ah, yes. I am glad to see you, Florence. Now don't you think it would be wise, Eleanor, if I were to speak to your father over the 'phone, and let him know you are safe?"
"Oh, yes, thank you. Is there a telephone in the house?"
"Yes, and I can call up your father at his office. You can speak to him yourself, if you like. What time does he go home to dinner?"
"About half-past one o'clock."
Mr. Atkinson consulted his watch. "We shall catch him, I think." And in a few minutes Dimple, listening, heard her father's voice in reply to Mr. Atkinson's "Hallo! is that you, Dallas?"
"Don't you want to speak to him yourself?" asked Mr. Atkinson, when he had told Mr. Dallas that Dimple and her cousin were safely housed. He lifted the little girl up so she could call her father. "I'm safe here, papa, and so is Florence," she said; "please tell mamma."
The answer came, "I will, daughter; I'm glad you are in good hands. I'll tell mamma to send Bubbles for you when it has stopped raining."
"Let them stay till I take them home," spoke up Mr. Atkinson. "I can take care of them,and it will be a great pleasure to have them here."
"Very well, if you like. I shall be satisfied to have them in such safe hands. Good-bye," came Mr. Dallas's parting words.
"Good-bye," and Mr. Atkinson hung up the receiver, and turned to his guests. "Now, young ladies, I suspect you are hungry. I am, for one. Suppose we see what we can find to eat." He took out his keys and unlocked the pantry door. The girls looked at each other. There were delightful possibilities before them.
"I'll forage in here," continued Mr. Atkinson, "while you set the table. You'll find dishes in there." And he pointed to a china-closet.
This was such an unexpected outcome of the morning's affair, that the two little girls retired behind the door and hugged each other, and then briskly went to work to set the table, upon which Mr. Atkinson placed various articles.
"I keep a lot of such truck in here," he told them. "So, in case I get hungry, I can find a bite to eat. Do you like sardines or canned salmon best?"
"Sardines!" exclaimed both the girls.
"That settles it. We haven't any ice, or we could have some lemonade. We'd better have chocolate. What do you say?"
"It would be very nice, but we have no fire."
"Fire enough. See here." He turned on the gas, and lighted a little stove over which the chocolate was made, condensed milk being at hand for use.
"Now, let me see. I've some ginger-snaps somewhere, and some marmalade. This is rather a mixed meal, I am thinking, but it will keep us from starving."
"I should think so," said Florence, surveying the table. "I think it is fine."
"And we can wash the dishes afterward. Will you let us?" asked Dimple.
"I shall be charmed to have you," Mr. Atkinson assured her. "It was one of the points upon which I felt uncertain. I confess to disliking, very much, that part of the business; and now you relieve my anxiety."
They made a merry meal of it, and became very well acquainted with their host before it was over. He told them funny stories and kept them laughing so that they were a long timegetting their appetites satisfied, and as it had become much cooler, Bubbles appeared with wraps for them before they had finished with the dishes.
"We have had such a lovely, lovely time," said Dimple, as she raised a beaming face to Mr. Atkinson. "You know just what to do to make little girls have a good time, don't you?"
He stooped and kissed her. "I had a little girl once," he replied, gravely.
Dimple put her two arms closely around his neck. She felt so very, very sorry when she remembered pretty little Stella. "I'd like to be your little girl, if I had to be any one's but papa's and mamma's," she whispered.
"Thank you, dear child, I appreciate that. It is a very great compliment," he answered, slowly. "I want you two little girls to come over whenever you can. I am always here on Saturday afternoons. Will you come to see me often?"
"If mamma will let us. I'm afraid maybe she will not, because we were naughty about coming when we had no right to."
"Well, we'll see how we can manage it. Iwill tell your father about it, myself, or, better still, I will walk home with you, and you can tell your story to your mother, and let me beg pardon for you. How will that do?"
Dimple's eyes spoke her thanks, and she turned to Florence who answered with a satisfied smile.
And so by Mr. Atkinson's kind request the culprits were forgiven, and were promised that they should go again since Mr. Atkinson really wanted them. "And you must feel at liberty to play about the grounds all you choose," he told the girls. "They can run about, and sit on the porches and do as they please, so long as they do not trample the flower-beds, or get into any mischief," he said to Mrs. Dallas.
"We wouldn't hurt anything for the world," put in Florence and Dimple, eagerly. And they bade their good friend farewell, feeling very humble and thankful that matters had turned out so well for them.
"We don't deserve it, and I feel dreadfully ashamed of myself," said Florence, meekly.
"I think Mr. Atkinson put our heads in the fire," said Dimple, soberly.
"What do you mean?" her mother asked.
"Why, isn't that what the Bible says when any one does something very kind to you after you have been mean to him?"
Mrs. Dallas laughed. "You mean he heaped coals of fire on your head; that is the expression the Bible uses."
"It's a funny one," Dimple responded, thoughtfully. "Anyhow, mamma, I shall never, never try to break into any one's house again."
"I hope not."
"I really meant to ask you if we could go over there, mamma, but you had gone out. We were in a dreadful trouble for a while."
"Yes, I know, dear. One very little wrong beginning sometimes leads to a great deal of trouble; even grown people find that out."
"Do they? It always seems as if you must know everything, mamma."
She smiled and shook her head. Thus ended this incident, but neither Dimple nor Florence ever forgot it.
CHAPTER VRock
Florence and Dimple with Rubina and Celestine were on the back porch, when they heard some one whistle, and looking up they saw Rock coming around the corner of the house.
"Good-morning," said he, "I am glad you have your dolls here; I want to measure them."
"Why, are you a tailor?" asked Florence.
"No," he said, laughing, "only a cabinetmaker. I came over with a message from my mother to Mrs. Dallas, and a message from myself to yourselves."
"Have you given mamma her message?" asked Dimple.
"Yes," said he, "and mine is that I want you to come to tea with me to-morrow evening, you and Florence and the dolls."
"Oh, the dolls?"
"Yes, the dolls. I will come for you, if you like, at half-past four."
"Did mamma say we might go?"
"Yes, so it is all settled."
"Now," said Florence, "wemustmake the dolls new frocks. Do tell us, Rock, what they ought to wear."
Rock turned over the bits of stuff in Dimple's box. "White, I think," said he; "that dotted stuff is pretty."
"Oh, yes," said Dimple, "and I have plenty of that. We can trim them with this lace, Florence, and they will look so cool and nice. Now if mamma only had time to make hats for them!"
"I'll make them hats," said Rock.
"You! Whoever heard of boys making hats for dolls?"
"Did you never hear of a man-milliner?" asked Rock. "And men dressmakers? I have. You stay here. I am going to ask your mamma for something to make them of."
"Isn't he a funny boy, Florence?" said Dimple, as Rock disappeared; "but I think he is real nice. Just hand me the scissors, won't you? Which way does this go, so, or so?"
"So, like mine. Are you going to make a wide or a narrow hem?"
"Wide, if the stuff is long enough; it isn't so easy, but it looks nicer. I wonder if mamma will give us fresh ribbons for sashes for the dolls; it will set them off so."
"Here comes Rock," exclaimed Florence, "and what has he in his hand? An old bonnet, I declare."
"Now," said Rock, "if you will tell me where I can get a basin of water, I will make the hats."
"With water?"
"I shall need water. Don't get up—Bubbles will get it for me," as Dimple was about to put down her work.
Bubbles brought the water, and Rock began to rip the straw bonnet to pieces; then he dampened it a little and sewed it into shape, once in a while dampening it more to give it the right turn. "Will you have a wide or a narrow brim?" he asked.
"Oh, just a between brim. Don't you say so, Florence? Isn't it going to be lovely? Did you ever?" as Rock handed her a cunning little straw hat.
"Now for the other one," said he, and he soon had that done too.
A little narrow ribbon and one or two flowers made the hats perfect.
"Oh, Rock, I wish you were my brother," sighed Dimple, as she held her doll off at arm's length to admire her. "Rubina, you are a darling! blue issobecoming to her."
"I almost wish I had trimmed mine with blue," said Florence, regretfully.
"Oh, I think pink is just as pretty," exclaimed Rock, "and it is nicer not to have them both alike."
"Now what are you making?" asked Dimple, as Rock went on sewing straw.
"Baskets."
"Baskets, for the dolls?"
"Yes, for the dolls, or you either."
Dimple put her chin in her hands, and leaned on the arm of her chair to watch him.
"How clever you are," she said, "I wish you were my brother, really and truly, Rock."
"Well, we will pretend I am," said he. "What shall I put in your basket, sister?"
They all laughed.
"I don't think it will hold much, but Rubina can put her work in it. See, if I pin her arm upso, she can hold it nicely. There! I must go and show it to mamma. I'll tell her to adopt you," she called back, as she ran off.
"Now I must clear up my scraps," said Rock, as he put the finishing touches to the other basket.
"Mamma says I may gather you some flowers," said Dimple, coming out again with a pair of shears in her hand, "and she says you are a very nice boy, a very nice boy indeed."
Rock laughed. "She wouldn't think so sometimes," said he. "I don't believe she wants to change children with my mother."
"I hope she doesn't want to," said Dimple, then added quickly, "Not that I don't think your mother is real nice, Rock, but you know I am so used to mine, and she is so used to me."
"Of course," said Rock, laughing again. "I didn't mean they would change, or even think of it."
"Now let's get the flowers," said Dimple; "you are to choose just which you like best, Rock," she said, leading the way to the flower-beds. "The pansies are almost gone, but there are plenty of roses yet, and verbenas, and mignonette, and lots of things."
"Now, Rock," she said, as they went along the paths, "you are not choosing the prettiest ones at all. I believe you are picking out the mean ones on purpose; I am going to choose myself. You tell me, Florence, whenever you see a real pretty one."
Florence promised, and Rock looked on, secretly pleased that they had taken the matter into their own hands.
"What lovely ones you have chosen," he said, as Dimple gave the bunch into his hands. "Thank you so much."
"And thank you, so much," said the girls, "for the hats, and the baskets, and the invitation."
"You will be sure to be ready," he said, at the gate.
"Yes," they cried.
"At half-past four?"
"Yes."
"Good-bye sister; good-bye Florence; go in out of the sun."
"Good-bye, brother, keep in the shade."
Then they laughed and ran in.
"Mamma," cried Dimple. "Auntie," cried Florence, "where are you?"
"Upstairs," she answered.
Up they ran. "Aren't you glad Rock is such a nice boy? Did you know boys could be so nice?" asked Dimple.
"I knew they could be, if they would."
"What makes Rock so gentle and kind and good?"
"Well, you see he lost his father when he was a very little boy, and as he had no brothers or sisters, he has been almost constantly with his mother, who is a very gentle, sweet woman."
"He doesn't seem silly, like some boys, either," said Florence. "I know a boy, we call him 'sissy,' he is so like a girl, and he is always whining, and afraid of cold, and afraid of sun, and afraid of everything."
"I shouldn't like that kind of boy," Dimple said. "Mamma, I call Rock my brother, and he calls me sister."
"Do you?" said her mother, smiling. "Now it is nearly dinner time, and if I am not mistaken, two little girls have left their new dolls, and all their scraps and things out on the porch."
"So we have!" they exclaimed, and ran down to bring them in.
The dolls were laid away in state for the next day, and at the sound of the dinner bell, the girls went into dinner.
Since the arrival of Florence, Dimple had not cared so much for Bubbles' society, and sometimes objected to her joining in their plays; but Bubbles, by the gift of Floridy Alabamy, did not lack amusement, and could be seen almost any afternoon happy with her doll.
She was singing, "Oh Beurah lan', sweet Beurah lan'," when Florence called her.
"What are you singing, Bubbles?"
"Beurah lan'," answered she.
"What does she mean, Dimple?"
"Beulah land. She does get things so twisted. We are going down to the woodshed to play till mamma calls us. Bubbles, do you want to go?"
Of course Bubbles did, and off they all went.
The woodshed was at some distance from the house, out in a shady place. Sometimes the children took to the roof, which could be reached by a ladder, and it was the scene of many a bold adventure.
"What shall we play?" said one to another.
"Injun," suggested Bubbles.
"No Indian for me, since my foot was cut," said Dimple.
"Let's play house afire and climb from the roof by the ladder," said Florence.
"No. I tell you," said Dimple, "let's be cats and get on the roof and meow like they do at night."
They all laughed at this, but finally concluded to be birds, and build nests, but why they should take leaves in their mouths and climb up and down the ladder no mortal could tell, and indeed this proved too tedious a play, and they all sat on the roof to decide what should be done next.
Suddenly Dimple cried out, "What is that sticking out of your pocket, Bubbles?"
Bubbles quickly thrust whatever it was back into her pocket, and was about to get down from the roof, when Dimple held her.
"Pull it out, Florence," she cried. "I believe it is a piece of my dotted swiss."
And so it was. Bubbles had been consumed with envy ever since Rubina and Celestine had been dressed in white, and wanted her doll to look as well.
"You wicked girl! where did you get it?" asked Dimple, fiercely.
"Found it."
"You didn't. You've been stealing. You stole it from my box that I left on the porch yesterday. What were you going to do with it?"
"Make a frock for Floridy Alabamy."
"Why didn't you ask for something, instead of taking what didn't belong to you?"
Bubbles was silent.
"You told a story too, when you said you found it; you knew it was mine. Now you shall be punished."
"Don't send me to the orphan asylum," said Bubbles, beginning to cry.
"No, I promised mamma I wouldn't say that any more, but I shall do something. The idea of your doing such a thing. I really used to think you were nearly as nice as a white girl, Bubbles, but I never shall any more."
Bubbles cried harder than ever at this.
"What shall I do with her, Florence?"
"Take her doll away," suggested she.
"No! no! no! please, Miss Dimple, I'll never do so no mo'," cried Bubbles, "'deed an' 'deed, Iwon't. Don't take my doll away. Yuh can whup me, or anything, but don't tek my doll away," and she hugged it tightly, rocking herself to and fro.
Dimple thought a moment, and then she said, "I know, we will leave her here on the roof, and take the ladder away; then when mamma calls us to come in to dress we can put the ladder up again, and she can get down."
This was agreed upon, and Bubbles was left a lofty prisoner.
The girls concluded to play under the big tree, and became so interested, that when Mrs. Dallas called them, they forgot all about Bubbles, and went into the house without ever putting up the ladder.
"What am I to wear, mamma?" asked Dimple. "One of my white frocks, I suppose."
"Yes," said her mother.
"And Florence too? Yes, Florence, then we will all be in white, the dolls too. Mamma, may we carry our parasols?"
"I don't think you will need them. Now, girls, I will send papa for you at half-past eight. I hope you will be little ladies, both of you, because Iparticularly want Mrs. Hardy to be fond of you."
"Oh, we will, mamma," replied Dimple. "Why do you want Mrs. Hardy to like us?"
"I have two or three reasons. I will tell you when we have more time. Hurry, Florence, and put on your frock; it is nearly half-past four."
"I hear a carriage stopping," said Dimple, running to look out of the window. "Florence, Florence, do hurry; Rock and his mother are out there in a carriage; where are the dolls? Oh, here they are. No, I have yours," she exclaimed, excitedly. "Do, Florence, get your hat."
"Don't get so excited, Dimple," said her mamma. "There is no need of such a very great hurry as all that. I will go down and you can come. You have forgotten your handkerchief; it is there on the bureau."
"Oh Dimple, do get me a handkerchief too," said Florence, "I don't know what does make me so behindhand."
"Perfume, Florence?"
"Oh, please, just a wee drop, not too much."
"Cologne or violet water?"
"Which have you?"
"Cologne."
"Then I will take the other. Now I'm ready. Do you suppose we are going anywhere? It is such a little way to drive only to the house."
"I don't know," returned Dimple. "We'll soon see."
"We thought it was so early," said Mrs. Hardy, "that we could take a short drive before tea, if these little girls would like it."
"Indeed we should," said they.
"Then help them in, Rock," and they were soon seated, driving off in great style, dolls and all.
Meanwhile, Bubbles sat on the roof, waiting for their return. As the time passed and they did not come, she made desperate efforts to get down, but there was no way. The tree that shaded the woodhouse was just too high to reach, and she crept to the edge of the roof, making up her mind to jump, but when she saw the distance her heart failed her, and she went back.
"Leave me hyah all night I s'pose," she said, "mebbe I'll ketch cold and die; 'most wisht I would."
Then she heard some one call "Bubbles, Bubbles," but though she answered, no one came.
It grew later and later, the sun went down, and the sky sent up little puffs of pink clouds overhead.
Bubbles lay down on her back, and looked up at the sky. After a while a little star peeped out, then disappeared again, like a baby playing "Peep-bo."
"Angels, I reckon," thought Bubbles. "S'pose I won't git to see 'em. I reckon stealin's awful," and she lay there in a very humble frame of mind, till she went to sleep.
"I cannot imagine what has become of Bubbles," said Mrs. Dallas to her husband when he came in. "I have looked the house over, and called her in every room. She cannot have followed the children. I never knew her to stay away before."
"Hasn't Sylvy seen her?"
"Not since early in the afternoon. She has looked all over the place." And so she had, but Bubbles asleep on the roof did not hear her, and a limb of the tree on that side hid her from view.
"There is no reason for her running off, is there?" asked Mr. Dallas.
"No, unless Dimple has threatened her with the orphan asylum once too often. She has such a horror of it, but I told Dimple not to do so again, and she is not apt to disobey."
They sat down to tea, and it was not till an hour later that Bubbles was rescued. Mr. Dallas was walking about, smoking his cigar, when he heard a doleful voice saying,
"Lordy, Lordy, I'm awful bad, just as well go to the orphan asylum. I'll die hyah, plum sho'."
He listened, and walked a few steps further.
"Wisht I was a bird, I'd get up in that tree. Wisht I had a raven to bring me my supper—s'pose I'll starve and die too."
"Bubbles, where are you?" called Mr. Dallas. He heard a scrambling overhead, and a delighted reply.
"Hyah, sah, hyah I are."
He looked all around, but did not see her.
"Where are you?" he asked again.
"On de roof, sah."
"Well, why don't you get down?"
"Ain't no way, sah; done tucken de ladder away."
Mr. Dallas found the ladder and put it up, and Bubbles scrambled down.
"Have you been up there all this time?"
"Yas, sah," said Bubbles, scraping one foot with the bare toes of the other.
"How came the ladder down?"
"Miss Dimple done did it."
"What for?"
Bubbles hung her head, and began scraping the other foot.
"What for?" again asked Mr. Dallas.
"I done stole," said Bubbles, solemnly.
"And she did it to punish you?"
"Yas, sah."
Mr. Dallas could not avoid smiling, but he said, "Go along into the house, and tell Mrs. Dallas about it. By the way, didn't you see any one looking for you?"
"No, sah. I was clean tuckered a waitin', and I went to sleep. 'Specs they came then mebbe."
"Well, go along," he said, and Bubbles started for the house, while he went to bring home the girls.