CHAPTER III
Trouble With Donald
Eleanor soon found that her favorite among the Murdoch children would prove to be Jessie. Olive, the eldest girl, was not a very pleasant child, being "touchy," critical, prim, and absorbed in herself. She was fond of reading, but did not enter very heartily into the plays which entertained Eleanor and Jessie. Mrs. Murdoch was a careful housekeeper, and also a careful mother but a very indulgent one, and although she attended most conscientiously to all of Eleanor's creature comforts she did not give her any of the tenderness which she lavished upon her own children, and very soon Eleanor came to feel like an outsider in her own home.
Her refusal to give up her room to Donald won her that spoiled youngster's ill-will, and he never lost an opportunity of teasing her, to Bubbles' great distress, so that finally there was open warfare between the boy and the little colored girl.
To Bubbles was given the care of the little baby, Alma, and Eleanor was seldom allowed to have any of her old-time plays with the little nursemaid. "You have Jessie and Olive now to play with," her Cousin Ellen told her, "and I can find other things for Barbara to do." Cousin Ellen was very precise in some matters and she considered the name which Eleanor in her baby days had bestowed upon the small negro girl as a ridiculous one, she therefore called her Barbara. At first Bubbles declined to respond to this, but she soon found that she must. Sylvy took her leave shortly after Mrs. Murdoch's arrival, declaring that she would not come back till Mrs. Dallas returned. "I don't like nobody al'ays fussin' roun' my kitchen," she said, "an' I wants to res' up, anyway."
Therefore another woman was installed in Sylvy's place and Eleanor was never allowed to go into the kitchen to make patty-cakes or to help Bubbles in order that she might the sooner get through her work and come out to play with her beloved Miss Dimple.
Nevertheless, Bubbles was permitted to take little Alma down to the playhouse, on occasions, and many a good time Eleanor promised herself there, for this was specially her own, and if she wanted a quiet place of retreat she could always go there.
But one Saturday morning when she was skipping down to her little house, she was surprised to see Donald busily engaged in carrying her toys out on the small porch, and depositing them there. She stood still in amazement, and then cried out sharply, "What are you doing, Donald? Let my things alone."
"I'm not hurting your old things," Donald returned. "I'm putting them down carefully enough, silly dolls and trash as they are."
"They are not trash, and I'll thank you to put them back again."
"I'm not going to do anything of the kind; I'm going to have this for my house while I'm here."
"Where did you get the key?"
"From where it belongs, on the nail behind the dining-room door."
Eleanor was aghast, then, with a lump in her throat, which threatened every moment to be followed by a flood of tears from her eyes, she ran back to the house, and hunted up Mrs. Murdoch. "Oh, Cousin Ellen," she cried in a tumult, "Donald is taking all my toys out of my playhouse. Please, won't you make him stop?"
Mrs. Murdoch put down her piece of sewing very deliberately. "Donald asked me if he could have the use of the playhouse," she said. "I never allow him to play in the street, and his room is so small that he cannot enjoy playing there, and there is no room that can be spared for a play room in the house, besides, if there were it would be much better to let him play out there in the garden where he can make all the noise he chooses."
"But," said Eleanor, the tears beginning to rise, "that is my owny-doney house. Papa had it built e'spressly for me. It's my own, my very own, and I don't want Donald to have it. I should think he could play in the garden and the wood-shed and in such places as the other boys in the town do."
Here spoke up Olive. "I think you are very selfish. Don't you, mamma? I always give up to Donald when mamma asks me to, don't I, mamma?"
"I don't care; he is your brother and that is different," replied Eleanor.
"All the more that he is not your brother," returned Olive. "I don't think you are a bit generous about your things when Donald is a stranger here, too, and he doesn't know near so many people as you do. Mamma said that if he got acquainted with one or two nice boys that she would allow him to have them here to play if they could play in the playhouse."
Poor Eleanor looked the picture of distress. To be accused of selfishness and to be robbed of her dearly loved place of refuge, that was too much to stand, and she turned from the room without a word, scarcely hearing Mrs. Murdoch's words: "You can have Barbara, for a little while to help you move your toys. Olive will be kind enough to give a portion of her time to the baby, I am sure. Go, Olive, and tell Barbara to help Miss Eleanor to carry in her things. Your room will be quite large enough to hold them, Eleanor."
By this time Eleanor had fled to the garret and there Bubbles found her, after some searching, crying as if her heart would break. "He stole my key, Bubbles, he did, and he's moving everything out of my dear house, and——Oh, I wish mamma would come home. Nobody loves me here. I want my own mamma." Bubbles was the picture of distress, she possessed herself of one of Eleanor's hands; patting and stroking it, she begged the unhappy child not to cry, comforting her as best she could, so that after a while Eleanor, with a great sigh, stopped her sobbing and said: "I suppose I am very selfish, for mamma gave up her house to Cousin Ellen, and I ought to give up mine to Donald. Come, Bubbles, let's move the things, but I hate Donald; I just can't bear him."
They proceeded to the garden where Donald was still busy setting dolls and dishes outside the little house. Without a word Eleanor and Bubbles began picking up the things to carry them to the house. "You can just leave the books and pictures," said Donald, condescendingly. "I don't mind having them there. Most of the books are girl books, but some of them, those fairy tales and things like that, I can read."
"I shall not leave one single thing," said Eleanor shortly.
"You're a mean, selfish girl," retorted Donald, and catching sight of her swollen cheeks and red eyelids, he added: "Cry-baby, cry-baby, had to give up your house whether you wanted to or not, didn't you?"
"No, I didn't," returned Eleanor fiercely. "I gave it up because my mother was kind enough to give up her house to your mother when she didn't have anywhere else to go, and I am doing the same, but I wish my Cousin Rock were here to fight you. I'd fight you myself if I were a boy, and I wish my father would whip you till you couldn't see."
In a transport of rage Donald picked up one of Eleanor's dolls and hurled it to the ground, and then sprang at Eleanor. But Bubbles interfered between them and received the blow; then she caught the boy by the shoulders and shook him with all her might, and being a strong little creature, she managed to throw him down and began to pound him while he shouted lustily: "Mamma! Olive! Come quick! They're murdering me!"
His yells brought Mrs. Murdoch in great excitement. "Eleanor! Barbara! Stop!" she said in stern tones. "My poor boy, what are they doing to you?"
"They set upon me just because I wanted the house to play in," said Donald, scrambling to his feet, more dusty than hurt.
"Oh," cried Eleanor, "it wasn't that at all, it was because you broke my doll and tried to strike me."
"No, it wasn't, mamma," protested Donald, "they were just mad, and I didn't break the doll on purpose; it slipped out of my hand. Why didn't Eleanor come and take out her old things herself? Here I was trying to help her, and that's all the thanks I get."
Such a statement of the case amazed Eleanor, but no matter how she tried to protest, Donald was ready with his excuses, and to his tale alone would his mother listen, so that Eleanor and Bubbles were marched back to the house in disgrace, Mrs. Murdoch declaring that she would not have such a desperate character as Bubbles in the house and that she must be sent away. "I cannot imagine how Cousin Florence could keep such a creature, a perfect savage," said Mrs. Murdoch, "and as for you, Eleanor, you are a very bad example to my children: ill-tempered, untruthful, selfish; I am almost tempted to write to your mother and tell her that I will give up the house altogether, and go back to the city, for even poor rooms would be better than a spot where my children are in danger. I cannot stand such scenes. Perhaps, however, if we can remove the evil influence of that colored girl we can get along. I will see at once about her going."
At this Bubbles burst into loud weeping, and implored Mrs. Murdoch not to send her away, reiterating that she was only standing up for Miss Dimple, and that no boy had any right to hit a girl; to all of which Mrs. Murdoch was deaf, and both Bubbles and Eleanor were sent to their respective rooms in a very desperate state of mind.
From her window Eleanor could see her little house bereft of her toys. These lay on the ground outside, and Eleanor wondered whether they would still be allowed to remain there in case of rain. She stood looking wistfully out when she heard a queer noise from the garret window above, and leaning out with eyes directed to the window, she saw Bubbles making mysterious signs.
Eleanor hesitated for a moment, and then stole into the entry and up the stairs to the garret. "What are you doing up here, Bubbles?" she asked in a whisper.
"I jus' a-tryin' to git a-holt o' yuh, Miss Dimple. I gwine run away."
"Oh, Bubbles, please don't."
"Yass, m', I is. I ain't gwine let nobody boss me an' call me story-teller an' all kin' o' names."
"Oh, but Bubbles, where will you go?"
"I gwine to Sylvy. She let me come. She res'n up, yuh knows. She at her father's house in de country."
"But that is, oh, ever so far?"
"Yass, miss."
"Do you know the way there?"
"No, m', but the butterman, he do. Sylvy live jes' noways fum his house, an' when he come I gwine ax him will he tek me."
"Oh, Bubbles, and I will be left all alone."
Bubbles looked distressed. "She gwine sen' me off, anyway."
"I'll beg her not to. She has no right to do it."
"Dat don' do no good. She kaint see nothin' 'cepin' them childern o' hern, an' ef dey lies den it all right, an' ef we speaks truff we ain't all right."
"I wish I could go, too," said Eleanor mournfully. But just then came a voice. "Eleanor, where are you? I forbade your leaving your room."
"You jes' sass her," said Bubbles. "Ef she believe I'm bad, I'm gwine be bad."
And Eleanor answered flippantly, "I'm up here, Cousin Ellen."
"Come down."
"Tell her yuh won't," urged Bubbles.
Eleanor hesitated. "What do you want me for?" she compromised by saying.
"Come down, and I will tell you."
"You are not my mother, I don't have to come," encouraged by Bubbles, she said.
"You are a very bad, impertinent child. Come at once. I want you to go and bring in those toys that are lying out on the ground cluttering up the place."
"I'll do that," said Eleanor, turning to Bubbles. "I'll be there directly," she called to Mrs. Murdoch. "Tell me before we go, Bubbles, when are you going to Sylvy? I won't tell."
"Wednesday, when de butterman comes. I'll sneak out an' tek my bun'le an' git in de wagon."
"He comes in the morning when I am at school, doesn't he?"
"Yass, miss."
"All right, I reckon you'd better do that. I am sorry, but oh, Bubbles, I shall miss you."
Bubbles' fists went up to her eyes and she sat sniffling as Eleanor departed.
The latter went immediately to the garden, taking no notice of Donald, except to make a face at him as she began removing her toys. He answered with a mocking "Cry-baby!" and Eleanor longed with helpless rage to do something to punish him, but she could only toil back and forth from the big house to the little one, carrying her toys, her books, her pictures. The broken doll she took up tenderly looking down upon it with sorrowful eyes. "You were such a pretty little thing," she whispered, "and I did love you so much. Oh, that wicked boy! I'd like to see how he would feel if some big giant were to dash his brains out on the ground; you poor dear little thing. You were such a nice size to play with, and I could do all sorts of things with you that I can't do with my big dolls."
She was very tired when the last one of her possessions was removed, but she called Jessie and told her that she meant to bury her dear Florence, and Jessie cheerfully acquiesced when asked to attend the funeral. So Florence was buried under a lilac bush, and then Eleanor dragged her tired little legs into the house, feeling as if the clouds were gathering thick and fast over her usually sunny sky.
But when she went up to her room for the last time that evening she found on her table two letters, and both of them brought comfort. One was from her mother. It was full of words of love and bade Eleanor be a good girl and give her cousin no trouble. Her papa was very tired after his journey, but hoped he would begin to improve as soon as he was rested.
The other letter was from Rock Hardy, and among other things it said: "Boarding-school isn't much like home, and I'm having a pretty tough time, but I'm only telling this to you, for I wouldn't be so mean as to bother mamma about it. I guess I can stand it if the other fellows can." And these words set Eleanor thinking.