F
lora enjoyed the funeral very much. She had never had a dead bird to bury before, and she thought it a very nice thing; so nice in fact, that she meant to come back some day and have it over again. So she marked the spot with a stick, that she might know where to find the bird when she wanted it for another funeral. That it was hid from her sight forever she had not the least idea, or that she could not re-bury it whenever she choose. So she planted the stick, and went away with a happy heart.
When she knew that the birdy could be buried only once, and that she was not to disturb the spot, she mourned her loss afresh. But Amy told her she would plant a daisy on the little mound, and it should be her own, and she should think of her bird whenever the flowers bloomed. And Charley promised to buy a bright yellow canary, if he could ever save money enough, and it should be "a regular screamer." She wanted Bertie to make the cage at once, but Bertie thought he could not make a cage good enough for a canary. He would have a beauty on hand, however, by the time Charley got ready to purchase the bird. This was meant as a sly hit at Charley who never had any money. He fully intended to buy the bird, but canaries cost money, and Charley's pockets were always empty, so far as money was concerned.
Flora had little faith in Charley's promises.Bertie had a new idea in his head. He wanted to prepare a trap for a musk-rat. That was why he could not attend to making the cage. If he succeeded in catching one—and he thought he should, for the spring was full of them—Flora was to have all the perfumery she wanted. So she was comforted, and in time—a very short time—forgot all about the robin. Bertie set his trap, and waited. Nobody believed in the musk-rat but Flora. She had faith in the success of all Bertie's undertakings. Everybody else laughed at him for his pains. Charley said he was a "goney," whatever that may be, and Amy advised him to turn his attention to something sensible. He travelled down to the spring every morning before breakfast, and with quickly beating heart examined the trap. There was nothing in it, but there were tracks all around. He resolved to follow up those tracks, and see what would come of them. Itwas a long walk to the spring, and a lonely walk. Other traps were set thereabouts, but their owners lived near by, or came from the upper road. Of course he never asked for Charley's company. Charley had no faith, and he ridiculed the idea of going so often on a wild-goose chase. But Bertie reasoned within himself,—other fellows caught musk-rats, why should not he? His traps were as good as theirs, his bait the same. To be sure he never had caught one, but that was no reason he never should. There must be a first time for every thing. And when he did trap one, wouldn't Charley change his tune? The spring was alive with musk-rats. Oneshouldfind the way into his trap. He hoped it would be a "buster." He was on the road to the spring, when these thoughts passed through his mind. There had been a white frost, and the air was keen. He thrust his hands into his pockets, and ran along, whistling cheerfully. His spirits were light, and his hopes high. He half expected to find a musk-rat in his trap. He had made the path to it so easy and inviting, surely something must have found the way thither. Not a musk-rat, perhaps, but something. When he got there, he was surprised to find a boy examining his trap. It was not an agreeable surprise, for the boy was Jack Midnight; the very last person in the world with whom he desired to have any dealings. It was the same Jack who dishonestly made way with Charley's calico rooster. Bertie was angry. Without stopping to inquire into the circumstances, as he would have done if it had been any other boy, he at once jumped to a wrong conclusion. He thought that Jack was plotting mischief, and without waiting for his hot blood to cool, he called, quickly,
"Come out of that!"
"Do you know what you are gabbing about?" queried Jack.
"I guess I do."
"And I guess you don't. Supposing you hold your horses a minute?"
"It is a mean thing, any how, to meddle with another fellow's trap."
"It is your trap, is it?"
"Yes, it is."
"Well, who's a meddling?"
"You."
"I ain't."
"You are."
"I say I ain't; and who knows best, I should like to know?"
You may know that Bertie was angry, or he would not have stooped to bandy words with such a boy. Besides he would have been afraid, for Jack was a big boy. He was larger, stronger, and a great deal older than Bertie, and he was much better qualifiedfor fighting in every way. He had had a deal of practice. But when a boy is angry, he does not stop to consider consequences. It was fortunate for Bertie that Jack did not feel disposed to quarrel with him. He could have shaken him as easily as a dog shakes a squirrel, and resistance would have been of no avail. For once, Jack was doing nothing to be ashamed of, and he knew he was right. That helps a boy a great deal. When he knows he is right, he does not feel half so much like striking back. Perhaps you think he did strike back when he replied to Bertie's uncivil words; but you must remember that Jack was a desperate fellow, and if he had not been well disposed he would hardly have taken the trouble to strike with his tongue. And language that would sound very rough from the lips of a better bred boy, was not so bad, after all, coming from Jack Midnight. He was secretly verymuch ashamed of his conduct towards the rooster, particularly as Charley and Bertie had never taken any notice of it. They had simply allowed him to go his own way, taking care, however, that his track never crossed theirs. When they could avoid it, they did not speak to him; when they could not, they were civil in speech—never rude. This annoyed and humbled Jack. To have enemies that were not enemies, was a new experience. He looked upon all as against him who were not his avowed friends. But here were two boys who could not be friends, and, although he had deeply injured them, he could not call them enemies. He wanted to do something to show that he was very sorry about the rooster; something to show that he was not bad, clear through. Bertie's quick temper flashed, and then went out.
"It looked very much like it, as I came up," he said, in a more gentle tone.
"Somebody's been a meddling," retorted Jack; "but 'twas not me."
"Who then?"
Jack pointed to the trap. The bait was gone! Yes, somebody had been meddling.
"I should like to know who," said Bertie.
Jack laughed.
"Follow them tracks, and may be you'll find him. It is easy getting out of your trap as well as in."
Bertie eagerly examined the tracks.
"Musquash," said Jack.
"You don't mean to say that there has really been one in the trap?"
"Been in and out again. He has had one good meal, perhaps he will come for another."
Bertie was so delighted at having caught something that at first he did not mind its getting away at all; but when he cameto reflect, he was sorry to have lost such a prize. If he could only have carried it home in triumph, how Charley would have stared!
"If that was my trap," said Jack, "I'd fix it."
"What would you do?"
"Tinker that spring so that it wouldn't hold fire, you bet."
"I did not know it needed tinkering."
"It would puzzle a musquash to get out ofmytrap. I'd fix it so that it would go off if he touched it with a whisker."
"I don't know how," said Bertie.
Jack gladly offered his services. Here was a chance to make a small payment on account.
"If you would be so kind, and not mind my speaking cross just now."
"That's nothing," returned Jack, shortly."Now if I can find anything to 'couter' with."
He searched his pockets and brought up a coil of wire, some string, a file, a pair of pincers, and so many different articles that Bertie laughingly inquired if he was a travelling tool-chest.
"Pockets is handy," said Jack, "if they ain't holey. Whenever I come across anything, I jest drops it in."
And so he did. Many things went into Jack's pockets that did not belong there.
"Now hand us the trap, and we will get ready for the musquash."
"Will he come again, do you think?"
"What's to hinder? He knows what good grub is as well as you do. He will be poking his nose in again as sure as you're born."
"I hope he will," said Bertie.
"Did you ever catch one?"
"No."
"Never skun one, I suppose?"
"Never."
"I have, heaps of all kinds. Sold 'em too. That's a neat trade."
"Selling them?"
"Skinning 'em."
"I expect it is," said Bertie.
I
have been in the business, off and on," continued Jack, "ever since I was the size of a hop toad."
"It pays, doesn't it?"
"That depends. Sometimes it does, and then again it don't. It's accordin' to the critter. Mink, now, fitches a fancy price when you can catch 'em. They are a mighty scarce article now-a-days. But rabbits ain't worth shucks. It is a job to skin 'em, they are so tender; and they won't fetch nothing."
"How about musk-rats?"
"Got an eye to business, eh?"
"If I am lucky enough to catch one, I should like to sell the skin."
"Well, musquash pays if it is skun right."
"How is that? A skin is a skin, isn't it?"
"Yes; but a skin with the head on is one thing, and a skin with the head off is another, as you will find out if you ever try it on."
"I shouldn't think that would make any difference."
"It does a heap. A quarter is the most you can get without the head."
"And with it?"
"Fifty cents for a big one."
"Is that so?"
"Well, it is."
"I am very glad you told me," said Bertie.
"It is a little thing worth knowing," returned Jack. "Never caught a pole-cat, I take it."
"I never caught anything," said Bertie.
"Seen 'em?"
"I don't know that ever I did."
"Smelt 'em?"
Bertie confessed that he had no acquaintance whatever with the animal, but mentioned that once they found a skunk in Charley's chicken-house sucking eggs, and they killed it.
"Him's um," said Jack.
"Oh!"
"Didn't cook it, I suppose."
"Cook it!"
"Yes."
"What for?"
"Eat, of course."
Bertie could not conceal his disgust.
"You needn't turn up your nose athim," continued Jack. "Good eatingheis. Tender as a sucking pig, and tastes so nigh like I'd stumpyouto tell the difference."
Jack was going to say "tender as achicken," but he remembered the calico and so avoided the use of the word.
"I am sure you are joking," declared Bertie.
"Not a bit of it," said Jack. "I wouldn't ask for a better dinner. The critter is like some other folks, not half so bad as you try to make him out. He has got a bad name, and that is the worst thing there is about him."
"Except his odor."
"That's not so bad either after you get used to it."
"Ugh!"
"Musquash is no better, if they do pay a good price for it."
"Do they?"
"They do. To make scent of for the ladies. One of them little bags will make gallons and gallons, they say. I know a man that buys all he can get. There you are!A heap better off than you was before. I reckon that trap will hold a musquash next time it catches one."
"Thank you," said Bertie.
"And if the spring don't happen to kill him, just touch him on the head with a stone. A little tap will do it, for he is mighty tender about the head."
Bertie said "Thank you" again, and Jack helped him bait and set the trap, and this time a deadly snare was laid for the musk-rat. Bertie was late to breakfast. Charley looked up inquiringly as he walked in and took his seat at the table; but Bertie had not a word of explanation to offer. Charley had laughed at him so often that he meant to keep his own counsel till the game was sure; but he could not help showing in his face that something unusual had happened.
"Catch anything?" said Charley.
"No."
"Trap sprung?"
"No."
"Nothing in it, eh?"
"No."
"I thought so."
Bertie laughed as he considered howveryempty the trap was.
"What are you laughing at?"
"I was thinking," said Bertie.
"Meet anybody up there?"
"One fellow."
"Who?"
"Jack Midnight."
"What was he doing?"
"Looking round."
"Give you any of his impudence?"
"No. He was very civil and obliging. He offered to fix the spring of my trap."
"You didn't let him?"
"I could not refuse without hurting his feelings, and I did not want to do that."
"I should, plump. My feelings are not seared over yet. I have not forgotten the calico."
"And he has not."
"Do you believe it?"
"I do, Charley. I think he feels awful cheap about it."
"I hope he does."
"I know he does."
"He didn't say so?"
"No; but he acted so."
"If he feels cheap I hope he will stay so and keep his distance."
Bertie hoped so too. He was very much obliged to Jack for helping him with the trap, but he did not care to be on familiar terms with him. He was not the right sort of boy for a companion. On the whole he was sorry to have met him at the spring.
"I hope I shall not fall in with him to-morrow morning," he said, half to himself, half to Charley.
"You won't if you stay at home."
"I shall not do that."
"You intend to follow up the trapping business then?"
"I do."
"If you meet Jack Midnight every morning?"
"Certainly."
"How long?"
"Till I catch something."
"If it takes all summer?"
"Yes."
"Well, youarea goose."
"You have told me that so often, I begin to believe it."
"I wouldn't take that early walk for nothing."
"No more would I. But if you felt sure of your game, you wouldn't mind the walk."
"No," said Charley.
"Well, I am sure."
"Whew!"
"I am as sure as I can be of anything that has not really happened."
"Ho, ho! That is very well put in. I wish I had as many dollars as I know you won't catch a musk-rat. I could buy the Baby Pitcher's canary to-morrow. Couldn't I, pet?"
Flora had come in, as she did every morning, to inquire about the musk-rat.
"Buy it to-day," said Flora.
"Couldn't buy it to-day for want of money."
"You must not think anything about the bird," said Bertie, "for Charley never will have any money."
"What a prospect!" said Charley.
"Not a very bright one for Flora, I must confess."
"She has my word, and that is as good as gold."
"Mustn't tell a story," said Flora. "If you don't have any money that will be a story."
"And if Bertie does not catch a musk-rat, that will be a story."
"Yes. He said he would."
"And I will. You believe that I will keep my word?"
"I do, and Dinah does."
"Do you believe in the musk-rat?"
"I do. Is he in the trap?"
"He was not in the trap this morning."
"May be there now."
"Yes, dear, he may be."
"And then again he mayn't," said Charley. "If I were in the Baby Pitcher's place I would give up looking for that animal. Her poor little black eyes will be all faded out."
"Won't either, Charley Waters. I am going home."
"Say good by, dear."
Flora would not say good by. She did not like Charley's manner. She wished to be treated with proper respect as she informed Dinah on the way home.
"Gemplemen don't talk so, and ladies don't. Gemplemen say 'Yes, I thank you,' and 'If you please.' And I do. Charley Waters don't. But you must not mind what he says. He don't know nothing. Bertie does."
T
he next time Bertie went to the spring, he expected to find Jack awaiting him. No one was there, however; not even the musk-rat. The trap remained just as he left it, and the bait was undisturbed. He was glad not to meet Jack (who had been and gone); but he was not a little disappointed about the musk-rat. He began to cherish hard feelings towards it. It was too bad of him not to come into the trap and be caught, when such pains had been taken to receive him properly. The trap was as inviting as trap could be. It said quite plainly, "Will youwalk into my parlor?" and never dropped a word as to getting out again. What more could a musk-rat ask? He examined the tracks in the wet ground, but could not make out that any of them were fresh. He did not believe that anything had been near the trap during the night. It was quite provoking, for to-morrow would be Sunday. Of course he could not travel down to the spring on Sunday, and Monday was so far off! He declared that he could not wait till Monday. But there was no help for it. The hours were not at all disposed to humor his impatience. They moved along at their usual slow pace, and wore away minute by minute, as was their custom. But they brought Monday morning at last. He rose early, and set out in quite a hopeful mood; but as he walked, his spirits began to flag. The nearer he got to the spring, the less hope he had. He was trying to prepare himself for the veryworst that could happen—a trap with nothing in it—when somebody called "Hooray!" It was Jack, who had been waiting almost an hour. When he saw Bertie coming, he danced and threw his arms about in a manner wonderful to behold. Bertie started into a run, for he inferred from Jack's antics that something unusual had happened.
The Funeral.What have you got to say to that critter?p. 78.
"Hooray!" cried Jack again, as Bertie came up, panting and blowing equal to Jack himself, who always breathed as if he had been running.
"What have you got to say tothatcritter?"
Bertie could hardly believe his eyes, for they rested on the biggest musk-rat he had ever seen. It was a beauty, too! Such dark fur! And such a length of smooth, hairless tail! Bertie was delighted; and though the musk-rat was a large one, his eyes magnifiedit to such a degree that it looked three times as large as it really was.
"That is a sight worth looking at, ain't it now?"
"It is a buster!" said Bertie.
"It is the biggest fellow that has been trapped this season. You won't catch nary 'nother likehim. He is a whopper!"
"And it is alive, too!"
"Half and half. He is hurt that bad, it won't take much to finish him. He would show fight if he wasn't dead beat. Shall I pop him over?"
"I don't want to kill him," said Bertie.
"Have you had a fair squint at him?"
"Yes."
"I won't be long settling of his hash."
Jack tapped him on the head with a stone, and after a few shivers the animal was still.
"That killed him so sudden he didn't know what was a hurting of him."
"Why did he shiver then?"
"They always do that. They always wiggle when the heart's a-beating. They are dead all the same, though. Now you want to take his hide off."
"Not yet," said Bertie, quickly.
"Better be a doing of it while he is warm."
"I must show him up first."
As he raised the musk-rat tenderly by the long, bare tail, his heart swelled in his breast. What would Charley say to musk-rat catching now? He himself had never dreamed of luck like this, and Charley would be astounded. He was absently moving off, when Jack called:
"Here, you young trapper! Don't be a-dodging off without making ready for more of the same family!"
"I shall not set the trap again," said Bertie.
"What's the reason?"
"It is a long walk up here, and I am satisfied with my game," he added, proudly.
"Do you mind lending of it to a feller?"
"Certainly not. You can keep it as long as you wish."
"That is clever, now. I'll set it in the same place, jest for luck. I say, don't you want some help about skinning the critter?"
Bertie thought he could manage it alone.
"It will be an awkward job, if you never tried it."
"I suppose it will," said Bertie.
"And you may spile the head. I don't mind showing of you how it's done."
Bertie thanked Jack, but declined to trouble him. The fact was, he was in a hurry to get home with his prize. He could not stop to talk about anything, for Charley had not seen it. Didn't he open his black eyes when he saw what Bertie had brought?
And didn't Bertie feel proud and happy?But he did not make much ado about his good fortune, as Charley would have done under similar circumstances. He allowed the game to speak for itself. At first Charley was inclined to doubt that it was caught in Bertie's trap; but Bertie asked—with some vanity, we confess—if he could mention any boy who would be likely to give up an animal like that, and Charley could not.
Everybody came out to examine Bertie's prize, and everybody said it was a beauty. Flora clapped her hands, for now she was to have all the 'fumery she wanted. It lay at full length on the piazza, until it had been duly admired by every one on the premises, and then it was carried over to Grandma's.
"Bless me!" exclaimed the old lady, as the children rushed in and laid the musk-rat at her feet.
"Bless me! Open that window, Amydear. I never can breathe with a creetur like that in the house. Take it right out, dears."
"But we want you to look at it, Grandma. Bertie caught it."
"In the trap," added Flora.
She patted Bertie on the head, and said he was a dear boy, but she should stifle if they did not carry the creetur out. So to please Grandma they carried it out and laid it on the door-stone. Shecould look at it from the open window with a handkerchief at her nose.
"Ain't it a stunner?" said Charley.
"It is a proper large one," said Grandma. "It makes me think of your father, Amy, dear, when he was a boy. He was always fetching home some sort of a creetur. La! how natural it does seem. I remember once he took to killing black cats. He fetched home as many as twenty altogether, and their skins, stretched out to dry on the side of the barn, stared me in the face every time I went into the yard. How this creetur does carry a body back, to be sure."
"This fellow wears a pretty jacket," said Charley. "I wish we knew the easiest way of getting it off. Do you know, Grandma?"
"La, child, I never was no hand for such doings."
"What a question," said Amy. "Of course Grandma does not know."
"We had better commence operations, if we expect to get through before school time," said Bertie. "That is, if Grandma has looked at him long enough. Have you, Grandma?"
"Bless the child!" said Grandma, who had endured the creature simply to please her darlings. "Never mind staying longer on my account. But drop in as you go to school, and get your luncheon."
"Tarts?" queried Bertie.
But Grandma smiled and closed the window, to shut out, if possible, the stifling odor of musk.
"I almost wish I had taken up with Jack's offer," Bertie said to Charley, as they carried the musk-rat home.
"What was that?"
"He wanted to skin the fellow for me."
"I can boss that job," said Charley.
"And so can I?"
That was a part both understood, and it was the only part.
B
ertie sharpened his knife and prepared to commence operations, Charley, Amy and Flora looking on.
"You begin on the inside of the hind leg," said Charley.
"Oh, I know where to begin and where to leave off; but the thing is to do it neatly, without making a botch. Here goes."
Bertie flourished his knife and began to cut. He made a long slit on the inside of one hind leg.
"Treat them both alike," said Charley.
Flora, who had been watching the operation, suddenly cried out:
"Take your arms down and go away. You are a bad boy. Charley Waters says so; and I do."
Bertie turned quickly to see what, was the matter; and there stood Jack, with folded arms, resting upon the fence. He tried to call Flora off; but she flew at Jack with all the fury of a little terrier, her light curls flying and her dark eyes flashing.
"You are a bad boy, and you must go away. You cut his head off and his feet. I looked under the table. He hadn't any clothes on. Had drumsticks on. Couldn't walk with drumsticks on. Bad boy!"
Here was a revelation that made Jack feel very small indeed. He came as near blushing as was possible. The red blood actually showed through his dark, grimy skin. Bertie was sorry for him. He hastened to open the gate and bid him come in, a movement that astonished Flora. She had not another wordto say. When the boy that killed the calico-rooster was invited to walk in at the gate, as if nothing had happened, she was struck dumb.
"You were very good to look in upon us," said Bertie, kindly, trying to make Jack comfortable. "Walk right along. You are in the nick of time; we had only just started."
Jack was completely taken aback by Flora's reception, for he was sure now that the fate of the calico was well known. There had been a pleasant doubt in his mind before. He had always said to himself, "They can't prove nothing." He hung his head in an awkward way, and blamed himself for getting into a scrape.
"I thought I'd peek in and see how you were getting along," he answered, sheepishly; "and now I am here, I may as well be a-lending a hand. Give us yer knife."
"I had barely got his stockings off," saidBertie, passing the knife. Jack felt the edge and then examined Bertie's work.
"Pooty well done to begin with, I call it."
"Do you, though?"
"For a green-horn, you know."
"Oh, yes, I know."
Jack began where Bertie left off, and he worked so skilfully that in a few minutes legs and arms were free, and the warm jacket was turned and pulled over the animal's head.
"He isn't quite so much of a beauty, come to peel him," said Jack.
"He is frightful!" declared Amy. "What a net-work of blue veins! They make me shudder."
"He looks like a map, with rivers running all over him," said Charley.
"And how he shines. Ugh!"
Bertie held up the empty skin.
"He is as much beholden to dress as anybody that ever I saw, and he wears the bestof cloth too. Custom made, and no danger of a misfit. None of your slop work aboutthatgarment!"
"I hope you don't call that a garment," said Amy.
"It is a wardrobe in itself, hat and boots included. He did not carry a 'Saratoga' when he went journeying."
"Not much," said Charley.
"What is Jack doing now?"
He was detaching the little sacks that hold the musk, and he passed them to Bertie, with the remark that they were worth as much as the critter's hide.
"You don't say so!" exclaimed Charley, examining them curiously.
"Flora ought to be here. I suppose the 'fumery' belongs to her."
"To the little miss, is it?"
"Yes."
"There is scent enough in one of thembags," said Jack, "to drive the whole family out of the house."
Bertie thought if that was the case, one would be better for Flora than two; so he put one aside and gave the other to Jack, who carefully wrapped it in paper and dropped it into his roomy pocket. The skin was then stretched on a board to dry, and, after receiving hearty thanks for his timely assistance, Jack left the garden, feeling much better satisfied with himself than when he entered it. He felt that he had shown his good will, and that the score against him was partially rubbed out. And so it was. Charley and Bertie were more kindly disposed towards him than they had ever expected to be, and they concluded that he was not such a very bad boy, after all.
"I believe there is good in every one," said Bertie, "if you can only get at it."
"Of course there is," said Amy, quickly. "Have you just found that out?"
"I admit that I have always looked upon Jack as bad clear through."
"Same here," confessed Charley.
"Nobody is," declared Amy, with emphasis.
"It takes these girls to stand up for a fellow, doesn't it?"
"That's so, Charley. Girls in general, and our Amy in particular."
"She always did side with Jack; but she was down on me when the poor calico turned over her garden."
"Why, Charley!"
"It is a fact. I leave it to Bert."
"Don't ask me," said Bertie.
"You flared up and were truly eloquent on the subject."
"I never was eloquent in my life."
"And you never flared up?"
"I did not say that. But whatever I maybe, I am not a genius of any sort, not even a poet."
"There's a sly dab at you, Charley."
"I have not made any poetry lately," said Charley, dubiously.
"Perhaps the fire in your soul has gone out," said Bertie. "Can't you kindle it up again?"
"I am out of kindlings at present. Can I borrow of you, Amy?"
"It wouldn't be the first time," observed Amy, with a merry twinkle in her eye.
"Stabbed again!" declared Bertie, who knew that Charley was in the habit of borrowing.
Amy's purse being well fed, was always fat, and Charley's was ever lean and hungry. Amy was obliging, and Charley not backward in asking favors, so the lean and hungry purse often brought its pressing needs to the notice of its rich relation.
"Amy is a trump!" said Charley, penitently, "and I take it all back. I am as good a friend to Jack as she is, but I can't exactly swallow the rooster. He sticks in my throat yet."
"That will wear away in time," said Bertie.
"If the rooster troubles you, what do you think of Jack? He has a bigger lump in his throat than you have, and one that will not go down in a hurry, I'll warrant."
"And I pity him," added Amy. "He stole the poor rooster and murdered him in cold blood, but he is sorry for it, and would bring him to life again if he could. But he cannot do that. He must be haunted forever by its ghost instead."
"Ghost of a rooster!" murmured Charley, in an undertone. But Amy heard it.
"Ghost of an evil action," she said, looking at Charley, severely. "He would be rathera respectable boy, if he was not a Midnight. You cannot expect much of a born Midnight."
"No," said Charley.
It was agreed that to be a born Midnight was a serious misfortune, which might happen to anybody. It did happen to poor Jack, and so they pitied him.
F
lora did not wait to receive her perfumery. When Jack appeared on the field she left it, to express her views to Dinah on the subject of bad boys; and as Dinah had not the power of expressing her sentiments in return, she was not disturbed by the spirit of contradiction.
When she got tired of talking to Dinah, she walked over to state her grievance to Grandma, and to be on hand when the tarts were distributed. Flora was not old enough to go to school. Her troubles in that direction had not yet begun, but lunch with herwas a very important matter, and she never failed to be present when it was passed round. Grandma always had something good ready for the children. "The dear things get so hungry studying," she said. When she was young, three months schooling in the winter was enough for any one.
It was early in the day for lunch, (breakfast was a little more than an hour old), but Flora could not be put off. She did not possess the virtue of patience. So when the children happened in as they were going to school, she stood at the window eating her way through an enormous tart, which had been made expressly for her: but why the Baby Pitcher should have the largest tart, only Grandma could tell. The children came in bringing the full odor of musk in their clothes and in their hair, and Bertie had the little bag in his pocket. Grandma gaspedand opened all the windows, for she could not breathe the stifling air.
"Bless the dear things!" she exclaimed. "How they do smell, to be sure!"
"Smells good!" said Flora, holding out her hand for the "'fumery."
Bertie gave it to her, and as Grandma could not bear it in the house, she was obliged to take it out of doors.
"The air is better now, isn't it, Grandma?" said Bertie, feelingly.
It was not much better, though Grandma did not say so. The small particles were floating about, and she was inhaling them with every breath. She passed round the tarts as speedily as possible, and then the Little Pitchers were in a hurry to be off. But they did not carry all the musk away; they left enough to pervade Grandma's house for several days. But that was only a beginning. Everybody grew tired of the odor before the skin of the musk-rat was carried away and sold. There was musk everywhere, in doors and out; and wherever Flora was, the perfume was sickening. But she would not give it up. She carried the little sack, which had become dry and hard, in the pocket of her dress from morning until night, and mamma waited in vain for her to weary of it. At last it was banished from the house. Mamma decided that it could not longer be endured. Flora hid it somewhere in the garden, (the place was known only to herself and Dinah,) and every day enjoyed it as best she could, in the open air and alone. Even Charley and Bertie were tired of musk, and they tried first to coax and then to bribe Flora, without success. Finally they laughed at her, and called her a little cosset.
"I ain't that," she said to Charley, who gave her the name. She always doubted Charley. "I ain't anything but a little girl."
"And a cosset."
"No."
"You are turned out to grass, any how."
"Am I, Bertie?"
"Not exactly. We will play you are an exile."
"Well."
"She had no clear idea of an exile, nor of a cosset; but she had faith in Bertie, and she felt that an exile must be something very nice."
"You are an exile," said Charley, "because you cannot go into Grandma's house."
"Am I, Bertie?"
"Yes, dear."
It was true. She could not go into Grandma's house. She had to choose between Grandma and the perfumery. But she could stay out on the door-stone, as the musk-rat had done; and when Grandma talked to her from the window, she was not obliged tohold a handkerchief to her nose, as she did when the musk-rat was there. She well knew how to make amends to the dear child for her cruelty in keeping her out of doors; and such tempting sweetmeats passed through the window, and such wonderful shapes of gingerbread, that Flora was very happy in her banishment. The little exile was not wholly deprived of society, for it happened, fortunately, that the black baby had no sense of smell. Whether she had lost it or was born without it, Flora never knew; but she did not possess it, and so was not annoyed by the odor that troubled everybody else. It was not long before she was as highly perfumed as her mistress, and could not be tolerated in the house even for a nap. The black baby was in disgrace, and she was knocked about so roughly that her complexion was spoiled and her fine figure very much injured. Flora had serious thoughts of sending her to be repaired; but she wondered how she got so many bumps. She did not know that everybody took the liberty of tossing her out whenever she was found in doors. It was a common thing to come upon her in unexpected places. Sometimes Flora met her at the foot of the steps, sometimes at the bottom of the garden; and once, after a long search, she was discovered hanging from the bough of a tree, with arms extended as if pleading for help. Flora could not reach her, and she was brought down from her perilous position by Charley and a ladder.
"I don't blame her for trying to hang herself," said Charley, who saw the housemaid when she threw her out of an upper window, "and I hope she will have better luck next time."
"Didn't hang herself," replied Flora.
"Wanted to fly."
"Like a bird."
"She did."
"Thought she was a blackbird, may be."
"Yes," said Flora, clapping her hands and laughing, "thought she was."
"She was flying away from the musk."
"No!"
"I believe she was," said Charley, solemnly, "and if you take your eyes off I am afraid you will lose her. You must watch her closely."
"I will."
Flora held the baby tightly in her arms, to prevent her soaring out of sight.
"Can't fly now, Charley Waters."
"No, but you must hold on."
Flora held on tighter than ever.
"And I would not let her go into the house any more," continued Charley. "It does not agree with her. She cannot stay in the house."
"Keep her in the garden."
"I would."
"In the arbor?"
"Yes," said Charley, after pausing to weigh the matter, "I would keep her in the arbor."
So Dinah was forced to give up her old quarters in the house for a new home in the arbor, and Flora informed her why the change was made. For a time she was closely watched, but as she did not again attempt to fly away, Flora concluded she was contented in her new situation, and, after a while, ventured to carry her indoors occasionally. But Charley was right. Dinah could not stay in the house. She was sure to be tossed out by somebody, though Flora did not know that. She thought the black baby was pining for the outer air.