“Fritz, I’ve got a new idea,” cried Mrs. Bhaer, as she met her husband one day after school.
“Well, my dear, what is it?” and he waited willingly to hear the new plan, for some of Mrs. Jo’s ideas were so droll, it was impossible to help laughing at them, though usually they were quite sensible, and he was glad to carry them out.
“Daisy needs a companion, and the boys would be all the better for another girl among them; you know we believe in bringing up little men and women together, and it is high time we acted up to our belief. They pet and tyrannize over Daisy by turns, and she is getting spoilt. Then they must learn gentle ways, and improve their manners, and having girls about will do it better than any thing else.”
“You are right, as usual. Now, who shall we have?” asked Mr. Bhaer, seeing by the look in her eye that Mrs. Jo had some one all ready to propose.
“Little Annie Harding.”
“What! Naughty Nan, as the lads call her?” cried Mr. Bhaer, looking very much amused.
“Yes, she is running wild at home since her mother died, and is too bright a child to be spoilt by servants. I have had my eye on her for some time, and when I met her father in town the other day I asked him why he did not send her to school. He said he would gladlyif he could find as good a school for girls as ours was for boys. I know he would rejoice to have her come; so suppose we drive over this afternoon and see about it.”
“Have not you cares enough now, my Jo, without this little gypsy to torment you?” asked Mr. Bhaer, patting the hand that lay on his arm.
“Oh dear, no,” said Mother Bhaer, briskly. “I like it, and never was happier than since I had my wilderness of boys. You see, Fritz, I feel a great sympathy for Nan, because I was such a naughty child myself that I know all about it. She is full of spirits, and only needs to be taught what to do with them to be as nice a little girl as Daisy. Those quick wits of hers would enjoy lessons if they were rightly directed, and what is now a tricksy midget would soon become a busy, happy child. I know how to manage her, for I remember how my blessed mother managed me, and—”
“And if you succeed half as well as she did, you will have done a magnificent work,” interrupted Mr. Bhaer, who labored under the delusion that Mrs. B. was the best and most charming woman alive.
“Now, if you make fun of my plan I’ll give you bad coffee for a week, and then where are you, sir?” cried Mrs. Jo, tweaking him by the ear just as if he was one of the boys.
“Won’t Daisy’s hair stand erect with horror at Nan’s wild ways?” asked Mr. Bhaer, presently, when Teddy had swarmed up his waistcoat, and Rob up his back, for they always flew at their father the minute school was done.
“At first, perhaps, but it will do Posy good. She is getting prim and Bettyish, and needs stirring up a bit. She always has a good time when Nan comesover to play, and the two will help each other without knowing it. Dear me, half the science of teaching is knowing how much children do for one another, and when to mix them.”
“I only hope she won’t turn out another firebrand.”
“My poor Dan! I never can quite forgive myself for letting him go,” sighed Mrs. Bhaer.
At the sound of the name, little Teddy, who had never forgotten his friend, struggled down from his father’s arms, and trotted to the door, looked out over the sunny lawn with a wistful face, and then trotted back again, saying, as he always did when disappointed of the longed-for sight,—
“My Danny’s tummin’ soon.”
“I really think we ought to have kept him, if only for Teddy’s sake, he was so fond of him, and perhaps baby’s love would have done for him what we failed to do.”
“I’ve sometimes felt that myself; but after keeping the boys in a ferment, and nearly burning up the whole family, I thought it safer to remove the firebrand, for a time at least,” said Mr. Bhaer.
“Dinner’s ready, let me ring the bell,” and Rob began a solo upon that instrument which made it impossible to hear one’s self speak.
“Then I may have Nan, may I?” asked Mrs. Jo.
“A dozen Nans if you want them, my dear,” answered Mr. Bhaer, who had room in his fatherly heart for all the naughty neglected children in the world.
When Mrs. Bhaer returned from her drive that afternoon, before she could unpack the load of little boys, without whom she seldom moved, a small girl of ten skipped out at the back of the carry-all, and ran into the house, shouting,—
“Hi, Daisy! where are you?”
Daisy came, and looked pleased to see her guest, but also a trifle alarmed, when Nan said, still prancing, as if it was impossible to keep still,—
“I’m going to stay here always, papa says I may, and my box is coming to-morrow, all my things had to be washed and mended, and your aunt came and carried me off. Isn’t it great fun?”
“Why, yes. Did you bring your big doll?” asked Daisy, hoping she had, for on the last visit Nan had ravaged the baby house, and insisted on washing Blanche Matilda’s plaster face, which spoilt the poor dear’s complexion for ever.
“Yes, she’s somewhere round,” returned Nan, with most unmaternal carelessness. “I made you a ring coming along, and pulled the hairs out of Dobbin’s tail. Don’t you want it?” and Nan presented a horse-hair ring in token of friendship, as they had both vowed they would never speak to one another again when they last parted.
Won by the beauty of the offering, Daisy grew more cordial, and proposed retiring to the nursery, but Nan said, “No, I want to see the boys, and the barn,” and ran off, swinging her hat by one string till it broke, when she left it to its fate on the grass.
“Hullo! Nan!” cried the boys as she bounced in among them with the announcement,—
“I’m going to stay.”
“Hooray!” bawled Tommy from the wall on which he was perched, for Nan was a kindred spirit, and he foresaw “larks” in the future.
“I can bat; let me play,” said Nan, who could turn her hand to any thing, and did not mind hard knocks.
“We ain’t playing now, and our side beat without you.”
“I can beat you in running, any way,” returned Nan, falling back on her strong point.
“Can she?” asked Nat of Jack.
“She runs very well for a girl,” answered Jack, who looked down upon Nan with condescending approval.
“Will you try?” said Nan, longing to display her powers.
“It’s too hot,” and Tommy languished against the wall as if quite exhausted.
“What’s the matter with Stuffy?” asked Nan, whose quick eyes were roving from face to face.
“Ball hurt his hand; he howls at every thing,” answered Jack, scornfully.
“I don’t, I never cry, no matter how much I’m hurt; it’s babyish,” said Nan, loftily.
“Pooh! I could make you cry in two minutes,” returned Stuffy, rousing up.
“See if you can.”
“Go and pick that bunch of nettles, then,” and Stuffy pointed to a sturdy specimen of that prickly plant growing by the wall.
Nan instantly “grasped the nettle,” pulled it up, and held it with a defiant gesture, in spite of the almost unbearable sting.
“Good for you,” cried the boys, quick to acknowledge courage even in one of the weaker sex.
More nettled than she was, Stuffy determined to get a cry out of her somehow, and he said tauntingly, “You are used to poking your hands into every thing, so that isn’t fair. Now go and bump your head real hard against the barn, and see if you don’t howl then.”
“Don’t do it,” said Nat, who hated cruelty.
But Nan was off, and running straight at the barn, she gave her head a blow that knocked her flat, andsounded like a battering-ram. Dizzy, but undaunted, she staggered up, saying stoutly, though her face was drawn with pain,—
“That hurt, but I don’t cry.”
“Do it again,” said Stuffy, angrily; and Nanwouldhave done it, but Nat held her; and Tommy, forgetting the heat, flew at Stuffy like a little game-cock, roaring out,—
“Stop it, or I’ll throw you over the barn!” and so shook and hustled poor Stuffy that for a minute he did not know whether he was on his head or his heels.
“She told me to,” was all he could say, when Tommy let him alone.
“Never mind if she did; it is awfully mean to hurt a little girl,” said Demi, reproachfully.
“Ho! I don’t mind; I ain’t a little girl, I’m older than you and Daisy; so now,” cried Nan, ungratefully.
“Don’t preach, Deacon, you bully Posy every day of your life,” called out the Commodore, who just then hove in sight.
“I don’t hurt her; do I, Daisy?” and Demi turned to his sister, who was “pooring” Nan’s tingling hands, and recommending water for the purple lump rapidly developing itself on her forehead.
“You are the best boy in the world,” promptly answered Daisy; adding, as truth compelled her to do, “You do hurt me sometimes, but you don’t mean to.”
“Put away the bats and things, and mind what you are about, my hearties. No fighting allowed aboard this ship,” said Emil, who rather lorded it over the others.
“How do you do, Madge Wildfire?” said Mr. Bhaer, as Nan came in with the rest to supper. “Give theright hand, little daughter, and mind thy manners,” he added, as Nan offered him her left.
“The other hurts me.”
“The poor little hand! what has it been doing to get those blisters?” he asked, drawing it from behind her back, where she had put it with a look which made him think she had been in mischief.
Before Nan could think of any excuse, Daisy burst out with the whole story, during which Stuffy tried to hide his face in a bowl of bread and milk. When the tale was finished, Mr. Bhaer looked down the long table towards his wife, and said with a laugh in his eyes,—
“This rather belongs to your side of the house, so I won’t meddle with it, my dear.”
Mrs. Jo knew what he meant, but she liked her little black sheep all the better for her pluck, though she only said in her soberest way,—
“Do you know why I asked Nan to come here?”
“To plague me,” muttered Stuffy, with his mouth full.
“To help me make little gentlemen of you, and I think you have shown that some of you need it.”
Here Stuffy retired into his bowl again, and did not emerge till Demi made them all laugh by saying, in his slow wondering way,—
“How can she, when she’s such a tomboy!”
“That’s just it, she needs help as much as you, and I expect you to set her an example of good manners.”
“Is she going to be a little gentleman too?” asked Rob.
“She’d like it; wouldn’t you, Nan?” added Tommy.
“No, I shouldn’t; I hate boys!” said Nan, fiercely, for her hand still smarted, and she began to thinkthat she might have shown her courage in some wiser way.
“I am sorry you hate my boys, because theycanbe well-mannered, and most agreeable when they choose. Kindness in looks and words and ways is true politeness, and any one can have it if they only try to treat other people as they like to be treated themselves.”
Mrs. Bhaer had addressed herself to Nan, but the boys nudged one another, and appeared to take the hint, for that time at least, and passed the butter; said “please,” and “thank you,” “yes, sir,” and “no, ma’am,” with unusual elegance and respect. Nan said nothing, but kept herself quiet and refrained from tickling Demi, though strongly tempted to do so, because of the dignified airs he put on. She also appeared to have forgotten her hatred of boys, and played “I spy” with them till dark. Stuffy was observed to offer her frequent sucks of his candy-ball during the game, which evidently sweetened her temper, for the last thing she said on going to bed was,—
“When my battledore and shuttle-cock comes, I’ll let you all play with ’em.”
Her first remark in the morning was “Has my box come?” and when told that it would arrive sometime during the day, she fretted and fumed, and whipped her doll, till Daisy was shocked. She managed to exist, however, till five o’clock, when she disappeared, and was not missed till supper-time, because those at home thought she had gone to the hill with Tommy and Demi.
“I saw her going down the avenue alone as hard as she could pelt,” said Mary Ann, coming in with the hasty-pudding, and finding every one asking, “Where is Nan?”
“She has run home, little gypsy!” cried Mrs. Bhaer, looking anxious.
“Perhaps she has gone to the station to look after her luggage,” suggested Franz.
“That is impossible, she does not know the way, and if she found it she could never carry the box a mile,” said Mrs. Bhaer, beginning to think that her new idea might be rather a hard one to carry out.
“It would be like her,” and Mr. Bhaer caught up his hat to go and find the child, when a shout from Jack, who was at the window, made every one hurry to the door.
There was Miss Nan, to be sure, tugging along a large band-box tied up in a linen bag. Very hot and dusty and tired did she look, but marched stoutly along, and came puffing up to the steps, where she dropped her load with a sigh of relief, and sat down upon it, observing as she crossed her tired arms,—
“I couldn’t wait any longer, so I went and got it.”
“But you did not know the way,” said Tommy, while the rest stood round enjoying the joke.
“Oh, I found it, I never get lost.”
“It’s a mile, how could you go so far?”
“Well, it was pretty far, but I rested a good deal.”
“Wasn’t that thing very heavy?”
“It’s so round, I couldn’t get hold of it good, and I thought my arms would break right off.”
“I don’t see how the station-master let you have it,” said Tommy.
“I didn’t say any thing to him. He was in the little ticket place, and didn’t see me, so I just took it off the platform.”
“Run down and tell him it is all right, Franz, or old Dodd will think it is stolen,” said Mr. Bhaer, joining in the shout of laughter at Nan’s coolness.
“I told you we would send for it if it did not come. Another time you must wait, for you will get into trouble if you run away. Promise me this, or I shall not dare to trust you out of my sight,” said Mrs. Bhaer, wiping the dust off Nan’s little hot face.
“Well, I won’t, only papa tells me not to put off doing things, so I don’t.”
“That is rather a poser; I think you had better give her some supper now, and a private lecture by and by,” said Mr. Bhaer, too much amused to be angry at the young lady’s exploit.
The boys thought it “great fun,” and Nan entertained them all supper-time with an account of her adventures; for a big dog had barked at her, a man had laughed at her, a woman had given her a doughnut, and her hat had fallen into the brook when she stopped to drink, exhausted with her exertion.
“I fancy you will have your hands full now, my dear; Tommy and Nan are quite enough for one woman,” said Mr. Bhaer, half an hour later.
“I know it will take some time to tame the child, but she is such a generous, warm-hearted little thing, I should love her even if she were twice as naughty,” answered Mrs. Jo, pointing to the merry group, in the middle of which stood Nan, giving away her things right and left, as lavishly as if the big band-box had no bottom.
It was those good traits that soon made little “Giddy-gaddy,” as they called her, a favorite with every one. Daisy never complained of being dull again, for Nan invented the most delightful plays, and her pranks rivalled Tommy’s, to the amusement of the whole school. She buried her big doll and forgot it for a week, and found it well mildewed when she dug it up. Daisy was in despair, but Nan took it to the painterwho was at work about the house, got him to paint it brick red, with staring black eyes, then she dressed it up with feathers, and scarlet flannel, and one of Ned’s leaden hatchets; and in the character of an Indian chief, the late Poppydilla tomahawked all the other dolls, and caused the nursery to run red with imaginary gore. She gave away her new shoes to a beggar child, hoping to be allowed to go barefoot, but found it impossible to combine charity and comfort, and was ordered to ask leave before disposing of her clothes. She delighted the boys by making a fire-ship out of a shingle with two large sails wet with turpentine, which she lighted, and then sent the little vessel floating down the brook at dusk. She harnessed the old turkey-cock to a straw wagon, and made him trot round the house at a tremendous pace. She gave her coral necklace for four unhappy kittens, which had been tormented by some heartless lads, and tended them for days as gently as a mother, dressing their wounds with cold cream, feeding them with a doll’s spoon, and mourning over them when they died, till she was consoled by one of Demi’s best turtles. She made Silas tattoo an anchor on her arm like his, and begged hard to have a blue star on each cheek, but he dared not do it, though she coaxed and scolded till the soft-hearted fellow longed to give in. She rode every animal on the place, from the big horse Andy to the cross pig, from whom she was rescued with difficulty. Whatever the boys dared her to do she instantly attempted, no matter how dangerous it might be, and they were never tired of testing her courage.
Mr. Bhaer suggested that they should see who would study best, and Nan found as much pleasure in using her quick wits and fine memory as her active feet and merry tongue, while the lads had to do theirbest to keep their places, for Nan showed them that girls could do most things as well as boys, and some things better. There were no rewards in school, but Mr. Bhaer’s “Well done!” and Mrs. Bhaer’s good report on the conscience book, taught them to love duty for its own sake, and try to do it faithfully, sure that sooner or later the recompense would come. Little Nan was quick to feel the new atmosphere, to enjoy it, to show that it was what she needed; for this little garden was full of sweet flowers, half hidden by the weeds; and when kind hands gently began to cultivate it, all sorts of green shoots sprung up, promising to blossom beautifully in the warmth of love and care, the best climate for young hearts and souls all the world over.
As there is no particular plan to this story, except to describe a few scenes in the life at Plumfield for the amusement of certain little persons, we will gently ramble along in this chapter and tell some of the pastimes of Mrs. Jo’s boys. I beg leave to assure my honored readers that most of the incidents are taken from real life, and that the oddest are the truest; for no person, no matter how vivid an imagination he may have, can invent anything half so droll as the freaks and fancies that originate in the lively brains of little people.
Daisy and Demi were full of these whims, and lived in a world of their own, peopled with lovely or grotesque creatures, to whom they gave the queerest names, and with whom they played the queerest games. One of these nursery inventions was an invisible sprite called “The Naughty Kitty-mouse,” whom the children had believed in, feared, and served for a long time. They seldom spoke of it to any one else, kept their rites as private as possible; and, as they never tried to describe it even to themselves, this being had a vague mysterious charm very agreeable to Demi, who delighted in elves and goblins. A most whimsical and tyrannical imp was the Naughty Kitty-mouse, and Daisy found a fearful pleasure in its service, blindly obeying its most absurd demands, which were usually proclaimed from the lips of Demi, whose powers of invention were great. Rob and Teddy sometimesjoined in these ceremonies, and considered them excellent fun, although they did not understand half that went on.
One day after school Demi whispered to his sister, with an ominous wag of the head,—
“The Kitty-mouse wants us this afternoon.”
“What for?” asked Daisy, anxiously.
“Asackerryfice,” answered Demi, solemnly. “There must be a fire behind the big rock at two o’clock, and we must all bring the things we like best, and burn them!” he added, with an awful emphasis on the last words.
“Oh, dear! I love the new paper dollies Aunt Amy painted for me best of any thing; must I burn them up?” cried Daisy, who never thought of denying the unseen tyrant any thing it demanded.
“Every one. I shall burn my boat, my best scrap-book, andallmy soldiers,” said Demi, firmly.
“Well, I will; but it’s too bad of Kitty-mouse to want our very nicest things,” sighed Daisy.
“Asackerryficemeans to give up what you are fond of, so wemust,” explained Demi, to whom the new idea had been suggested by hearing Uncle Fritz describe the customs of the Greeks to the big boys who were reading about them in school.
“Is Rob coming too?” asked Daisy.
“Yes, and he is going to bring his toy village; it is all made of wood, you know, and will burn nicely. We’ll have a grand bonfire, and see them blaze up, won’t we?”
This brilliant prospect consoled Daisy, and she ate her dinner with a row of paper dolls before her, as a sort of farewell banquet.
At the appointed hour the sacrificial train set forth, each child bearing the treasures demanded by the insatiableKitty-mouse. Teddy insisted on going also, and seeing that all the others had toys, he tucked a squeaking lamb under one arm, and old Annabella under the other, little dreaming what anguish the latter idol was to give him.
“Where are you going, my chickens?” asked Mrs. Jo, as the flock passed her door.
“To play by the big rock; can’t we?”
“Yes, only don’t go near the pond, and take good care of baby.”
“I always do,” said Daisy, leading forth her charge with a capable air.
“Now, you must all sit round, and not move till I tell you. This flat stone is an altar, and I am going to make a fire on it.”
Demi then proceeded to kindle up a small blaze, as he had seen the boys do at picnics. When the flame burned well, he ordered the company to march round it three times and then stand in a circle.
“I shall begin, and as fast as my things are burnt, you must bring yours.”
With that he solemnly laid on a little paper book full of pictures, pasted in by himself; this was followed by a dilapidated boat, and then one by one the unhappy leaden soldiers marched to death. Not one faltered or hung back, from the splendid red and yellow captain to the small drummer who had lost his legs; all vanished in the flames and mingled in one common pool of melted lead.
“Now, Daisy!” called the high priest of Kitty-mouse, when his rich offerings had been consumed, to the great satisfaction of the children.
“My dear dollies, howcanI let them go?” moaned Daisy, hugging the entire dozen with a face full of maternal woe.
“You must,” commanded Demi; and with a farewell kiss to each, Daisy laid her blooming dolls upon the coals.
“Let me keep one, the dear blue thing, she is so sweet,” besought the poor little mamma, clutching her last in despair.
“More! more!” growled an awful voice, and Demi cried, “That’s the Kitty-mouse! she must have every one, quick, or she will scratch us.”
In went the precious blue belle, flounces, rosy hat, and all, and nothing but a few black flakes remained of that bright band.
“Stand the houses and trees round, and let them catch themselves; it will be like a real fire then,” said Demi, who liked variety even in his “sackerryfices.”
Charmed by this suggestion, the children arranged the doomed village, laid a line of coals along the main street, and then sat down to watch the conflagration. It was somewhat slow to kindle owing to the paint, but at last one ambitious little cottage blazed up, fired a tree of the palm species, which fell on to the roof of a large family mansion, and in a few minutes the entire town was burning merrily. The wooden population stood and stared at the destruction like blockheads, as they were, till they also caught and blazed away without a cry. It took some time to reduce the town to ashes, and the lookers-on enjoyed the spectacle immensely, cheering as each house fell, dancing like wild Indians when the steeple flamed aloft, and actually casting one wretched little churn-shaped lady, who had escaped to the suburbs, into the very heart of the fire.
The superb success of this last offering excited Teddy to such a degree, that he first threw his lambinto the conflagration, and before it had time even to roast, he planted poor dear Annabella on the funeral pyre. Of course she did not like it, and expressed her anguish and resentment in a way that terrified her infant destroyer. Being covered with kid, she did not blaze, but did what was worse, shesquirmed. First one leg curled up, then the other, in a very awful and lifelike manner; next she flung her arms over her head as if in great agony; her head itself turned on her shoulders, her glass eyes fell out, and with one final writhe of her whole body, she sank down a blackened mass on the ruins of the town. This unexpected demonstration startled every one and frightened Teddy half out of his little wits. He looked, then screamed and fled toward the house, roaring “Marmar” at the top of his voice.
Mrs. Bhaer heard the outcry and ran to the rescue, but Teddy could only cling to her and pour out in his broken way something about, “poor Bella hurted,” “a dreat fire,” and “all the dollies dorn.” Fearing some dire mishap, his mother caught him up and hurried to the scene of action, where she found the blind worshippers of Kitty-mouse mourning over the charred remains of the lost darling.
“What have you been at? Tell me all about it,” said Mrs. Jo, composing herself to listen patiently, for the culprits looked so penitent, she forgave them beforehand.
With some reluctance Demi explained their play, and Aunt Jo laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks, the children were so solemn, and the play was so absurd.
“I thought you were too sensible to play such a silly game as this. If I had any Kitty-mouse I’d have a good one who liked you to play in safe pleasant ways,and not destroy and frighten. Just see what a ruin you have made; all Daisy’s pretty dolls, Demi’s soldiers, and Rob’s new village, beside poor Teddy’s pet lamb, and dear old Annabella. I shall have to write up in the nursery the verse that used to come in the boxes of toys,—
‘The children of Holland take pleasure in making,What the children of Boston take pleasure in breaking.’
‘The children of Holland take pleasure in making,What the children of Boston take pleasure in breaking.’
‘The children of Holland take pleasure in making,
What the children of Boston take pleasure in breaking.’
Only I shall put Plumfield instead of Boston.”
“We never will again, truly, truly!” cried the repentant little sinners, much abashed at this reproof.
“Demi told us to,” said Rob.
“Well, I heard Uncle tell about the Greece people, who had altars and things, and so I wanted to be like them, only I hadn’t any live creatures to sackerryfice, so we burnt up our toys.”
“Dear me, that is something like the bean story,” said Aunt Jo, laughing again.
“Tell about it,” suggested Daisy, to change the subject.
“Once there was a poor woman who had three or four little children, and she used to lock them up in her room when she went out to work, to keep them safe. One day when she was going away she said, ‘Now, my dears, don’t let baby fall out of the window, don’t play with the matches, and don’t put beans up your noses.’ Now the children had never dreamed of doing that last thing, but she put it into their heads, and the minute she was gone, they ran and stuffed their naughty little noses full of beans, just to see how it felt, and she found them all crying when she came home.”
“Did it hurt?” asked Rob, with such intense interest that his mother hastily added a warning sequel,lest a new edition of the bean story should appear in her own family.
“Very much, as I know, for whenmymother told me this story, I was so silly that I went and tried it myself. I had no beans, so I took some little pebbles, and poked several into my nose. I did not like it at all, and wanted to take them out again very soon, but one would not come, and I was so ashamed to tell what a goose I had been that I went for hours with the stone hurting me very much. At last the pain got so bad I had to tell, and when my mother could not get it out the doctor came. Then I was put in a chair and held tight, Rob, while he used his ugly little pincers till the stone hopped out. Dear me! how my wretched little nose did ache, and how people laughed at me!” and Mrs. Jo shook her head in a dismal way, as if the memory of her sufferings was too much for her.
Rob looked deeply impressed and I am glad to say took the warning to heart. Demi proposed that they should bury poor Annabella, and in the interest of the funeral Teddy forgot his fright. Daisy was soon consoled by another batch of dolls from Aunt Amy, and the Naughty Kitty-mouse seemed to be appeased by the last offerings, for she tormented them no more.
“Brops,” was the name of a new and absorbing play, invented by Bangs. As this interesting animal is not to be found in any Zoölogical Garden, unless Du Chaillu has recently brought one from the wilds of Africa, I will mention a few of its peculiar habits and traits, for the benefit of inquiring minds. The Brop is a winged quadruped, with a human face of a youthful and merry aspect. When it walks the earth it grunts, when it soars it gives a shrill hoot, occasionally it goes erect, and talks good English. Itsbody is usually covered with a substance much resembling a shawl, sometimes red, sometimes blue, often plaid, and, strange to say, they frequently change skins with one another. On their heads they have a horn very like a stiff brown paper lamp-lighter. Wings of the same substance flap upon their shoulders when they fly; this is never very far from the ground, as they usually fall with violence if they attempt any lofty flights. They browse over the earth, but can sit up and eat like the squirrel. Their favorite nourishment is the seed-cake; apples also are freely taken, and sometimes raw carrots are nibbled when food is scarce. They live in dens, where they have a sort of nest, much like a clothes-basket, in which the little Brops play till their wings are grown. These singular animals quarrel at times, and it is on these occasions that they burst into human speech, call each other names, cry, scold, and sometimes tear off horns and skin, declaring fiercely that they “won’t play.” The few privileged persons who have studied them are inclined to think them a remarkable mixture of the monkey, the sphinx, the roc, and the queer creatures seen by the famous Peter Wilkins.
This game was a great favorite, and the younger children beguiled many a rainy afternoon flapping or creeping about the nursery, acting like little bedlamites and being as merry as little grigs. To be sure, it was rather hard upon clothes, particularly trouser-knees and jacket-elbows; but Mrs. Bhaer only said, as she patched and darned,—
“We do things just as foolish, and not half so harmless. If I could get as much happiness out of it as the little dears do, I’d be a Brop myself.”
Nat’s favorite amusements were working in his garden, and sitting in the willow-tree with his violin, forthat green nest was a fairy world to him, and there he loved to perch, making music like a happy bird. The lads called him “Old Chirper,” because he was always humming, whistling, or fiddling, and they often stopped a minute in their work or play to listen to the soft tones of the violin, which seemed to lead a little orchestra of summer sounds. The birds appeared to regard him as one of themselves, and fearlessly sat on the fence or lit among the boughs to watch him with their quick bright eyes. The robins in the apple-tree near by evidently considered him a friend, for the father bird hunted insects close beside him, and the little mother brooded as confidingly over her blue eggs as if the boy was only a new sort of blackbird, who cheered her patient watch with his song. The brown brook babbled and sparkled below him, the bees haunted the clover fields on either side, friendly faces peeped at him as they passed, the old house stretched its wide wings hospitably toward him, and with a blessed sense of rest and love and happiness, Nat dreamed for hours in this nook, unconscious what healthful miracles were being wrought upon him.
One listener he had who never tired, and to whom he was more than a mere schoolmate. Poor Billy’s chief delight was to lie beside the brook, watching leaves and bits of foam dance by, listening dreamily to the music in the willow-tree. He seemed to think Nat a sort of angel who sat aloft and sang, for a few baby memories still lingered in his mind and seemed to grow brighter at these times. Seeing the interest he took in Nat, Mr. Bhaer begged him to help them lift the cloud from the feeble brain by this gentle spell. Glad to do any thing to show his gratitude, Nat always smiled on Billy when he followed himabout, and let him listen undisturbed to the music which seemed to speak a language he could understand. “Help one another,” was a favorite Plumfield motto, and Nat learned how much sweetness is added to life by trying to live up to it.
Jack Ford’s peculiar pastime was buying and selling; and he bid fair to follow in the footsteps of his uncle, a country merchant, who sold a little of every thing and made money fast. Jack had seen the sugar sanded, the molasses watered, the butter mixed with lard, and things of that kind, and labored under the delusion that it was all a proper part of the business. His stock in trade was of a different sort, but he made as much as he could out of every worm he sold, and always got the best of the bargain when he traded with the boys for string, knives, fish-hooks, or whatever the article might be. The boys, who all had nicknames, called him “Skinflint,” but Jack did not care as long as the old tobacco-pouch in which he kept his money grew heavier and heavier.
He established a sort of auction-room, and now and then sold off all the odds and ends he had collected, or helped the lads exchange things with one another. He got bats, balls, hockey-sticks, etc., cheap, from one set of mates, furbished them up, and let them for a few cents a time to another set, often extending his business beyond the gates of Plumfield in spite of the rules. Mr. Bhaer put a stop to some of his speculations, and tried to give him a better idea of business talent than mere sharpness in overreaching his neighbors. Now and then Jack made a bad bargain, and felt worse about it than about any failure in lessons or conduct, and took his revenge on the next innocent customer who came along. His account-book was a curiosity; and his quickness at figures quiteremarkable. Mr. Bhaer praised him for this, and tried to make his sense of honesty and honor as quick; and, by and by, when Jack found that he could not get on without these virtues, he owned that his teacher was right.
Cricket and football the boys had of course; but, after the stirring accounts of these games in the immortal “Tom Brown at Rugby,” no feeble female pen may venture to do more than respectfully allude to them.
Emil spent his holidays on the river or the pond, and drilled the elder lads for a race with certain town boys, who now and then invaded their territory. The race duly came off, but as it ended in a general shipwreck, it was not mentioned in public; and the Commodore had serious thoughts of retiring to a desert island, so disgusted was he with his kind for a time. No desert island being convenient, he was forced to remain among his friends, and found consolation in building a boat-house.
The little girls indulged in the usual plays of their age, improving upon them somewhat as their lively fancies suggested. The chief and most absorbing play was called “Mrs. Shakespeare Smith;” the name was provided by Aunt Jo, but the trials of the poor lady were quite original. Daisy was Mrs. S. S., and Nan by turns her daughter or a neighbor, Mrs. Giddy-gaddy.
No pen can describe the adventures of these ladies, for in one short afternoon their family was the scene of births, marriages, deaths, floods, earthquakes, tea-parties, and balloon ascensions. Millions of miles did these energetic women travel, dressed in hats and habits never seen before by the mortal eye, perched on the bed, driving the posts like mettlesome steeds, and bouncing up and down till their heads spun. Fits and fires were the pet afflictions, with a generalmassacre now and then by way of change. Nan was never tired of inventing fresh combinations, and Daisy followed her leader with blind admiration. Poor Teddy was a frequent victim, and was often rescued from real danger, for the excited ladies were apt to forget that he was not of the same stuff as their long-suffering dolls. Once he was shut into a closet for a dungeon, and forgotten by the girls, who ran off to some out-of-door game. Another time he was half drowned in the bath-tub, playing be a “cunning little whale.” And, worst of all, he was cut down just in time after being hung up for a robber.
But the institution most patronized by all was the Club. It had no other name, and it needed none, being the only one in the neighborhood. The elder lads got it up, and the younger were occasionally admitted if they behaved well. Tommy and Demi were honorary members, but were always obliged to retire unpleasantly early, owing to circumstances over which they had no control. The proceedings of this club were somewhat peculiar, for it met at all sorts of places and hours, had all manner of queer ceremonies and amusements, and now and then was broken up tempestuously, only to be re-established, however, on a firmer basis.
Rainy evenings the members met in the school-room, and passed the time in games: chess, morris, backgammon, fencing matches, recitations, debates, or dramatic performances of a darkly tragical nature. In summer the barn was the rendezvous, and what went on there no uninitiated mortal knows. On sultry evenings the Club adjourned to the brook for aquatic exercises, and the members sat about in airy attire, frog-like and cool. On such occasions the speeches were unusually eloquent, quite flowing, as one might say; and if any orator’s remarks displeasedthe audience, cold water was thrown upon him till his ardor was effectually quenched. Franz was president, and maintained order admirably, considering the unruly nature of the members. Mr. Bhaer never interfered with their affairs, and was rewarded for this wise forbearance by being invited now and then to behold the mysteries unveiled, which he appeared to enjoy much.
When Nan came she wished to join the Club, and caused great excitement and division among the gentlemen by presenting endless petitions, both written and spoken, disturbing their solemnities by insulting them through the key-hole, performing vigorous solos on the door, and writing up derisive remarks on walls and fences, for she belonged to the “Irrepressibles.” Finding these appeals vain, the girls, by the advice of Mrs. Jo, got up an institution of their own, which they called the Cosy Club. To this they magnanimously invited the gentlemen whose youth excluded them from the other one, and entertained these favored beings so well with little suppers, new games devised by Nan, and other pleasing festivities, that, one by one, the elder boys confessed a desire to partake of these more elegant enjoyments, and, after much consultation, finally decided to propose an interchange of civilities.
The members of the Cosy Club were invited to adorn the rival establishment on certain evenings, and to the surprise of the gentlemen their presence was not found to be a restraint upon the conversation or amusement of the regular frequenters; which could not be said of all Clubs, I fancy. The ladies responded handsomely and hospitably to these overtures of peace, and both institutions flourished long and happily.
“Mrs. Shakespeare Smith would like to have Mr. John Brooke, Mr. Thomas Bangs, and Mr. Nathaniel Blake to come to her ball at three o’clock to-day.
“P.S.—Nat must bring his fiddle, so we can dance, and all the boys must be good, or they cannot have any of the nice things we have cooked.”
This elegant invitation would, I fear, have been declined, but for the hint given in the last line of the postscript.
“Theyhavebeen cooking lots of goodies, I smelt ’em. Let’s go,” said Tommy.
“We needn’t stay after the feast, you know,” added Demi.
“I never went to a ball. What do you have to do?” asked Nat.
“Oh, we just play be men, and sit round stiff and stupid like grown-up folks, and dance to please the girls. Then we eat up everything, and come away as soon as we can.”
“I think I could do that,” said Nat, after considering Tommy’s description for a minute.
“I’ll write and say we’ll come;” and Demi despatched the following gentlemanly reply,—
“We will all come. Please have lots to eat.—J. B. Esquire.”
Great was the anxiety of the ladies about their firstball, because if every thing went well they intended to give a dinner-party to the chosen few.
“Aunt Jo likes to have the boys play with us, if they are not rough; so we must make them like our balls, then they will do them good,” said Daisy, with her maternal air, as she set the table and surveyed the store of refreshments with an anxious eye.
“Demi and Nat will be good, but Tommy will do something bad, I know he will,” replied Nan, shaking her head over the little cake-basket which she was arranging.
“Then I shall send him right home,” said Daisy, with decision.
“People don’t do so at parties, it isn’t proper.”
“I shall never ask him any more.”
“That would do. He’d be sorry not to come to the dinner-ball, wouldn’t he?”
“I guess he would! we’ll have the splendidest things ever seen, won’t we? Real soup with a ladle and a tureem [she meanttureen] and a little bird for turkey, and gravy, and all kinds of nice vegytubbles.” Daisy nevercouldsay vegetables properly, and had given up trying.
“It is ’most three, and we ought to dress,” said Nan, who had arranged a fine costume for the occasion, and was anxious to wear it.
“I am the mother, so I shan’t dress up much,” said Daisy, putting on a night-cap ornamented with a red bow, one of her aunt’s long skirts, and a shawl; a pair of spectacles and a large pocket handkerchief completed her toilette, making a plump, rosy little matron of her.
Nan had a wreath of artificial flowers, a pair of old pink slippers, a yellow scarf, a green muslin skirt, and a fan made of feathers from the duster; also, as a lasttouch of elegance, a smelling-bottle without any smell in it.
“I am the daughter, so I rig up a good deal, and I must sing and dance, and talk more than you do. The mothers only get the tea and be proper, you know.”
A sudden very loud knock caused Miss Smith to fly into a chair, and fan herself violently, while her mamma sat bolt upright on the sofa, and tried to look quite calm and “proper.” Little Bess, who was on a visit, acted the part of maid, and opened the door, saying with a smile, “Wart in, gemplemun; it’s all weady.”
In honor of the occasion, the boys wore high paper collars, tall black hats, and gloves of every color and material, for they were an afterthought, and not a boy among them had a perfect pair.
“Good day, mum,” said Demi, in a deep voice, which was so hard to keep up that his remarks had to be extremely brief.
Every one shook hands and then sat down, looking so funny, yet so sober, that the gentlemen forgot their manners, and rolled in their chairs with laughter.
“Oh, don’t!” cried Mrs. Smith, much distressed.
“You can’t ever come again if you act so,” added Miss Smith, rapping Mr. Bangs with her bottle because he laughed loudest.
“I can’t help it, you look so like fury,” gasped Mr. Bangs, with most uncourteous candor.
“So do you, but I shouldn’t be so rude as to say so. He shan’t come to the dinner-ball, shall he, Daisy?” cried Nan, indignantly.
“I think we had better dance now. Did you bring your fiddle, sir?” asked Mrs. Smith, trying to preserve her polite composure.
“It is outside the door,” and Nat went to get it.
“Better have tea first,” proposed the unabashed Tommy, winking openly at Demi to remind him that the sooner the refreshments were secured, the sooner they could escape.
“No, we never have supper first; and if you don’t dance well you won’t have any supper at all,not one bit, sir,” said Mrs. Smith, so sternly that her wild guests saw she was not to be trifled with, and grew overwhelmingly civil all at once.
“Iwill take Mr. Bangs and teach him the polka, for he does not know it fit to be seen,” added the hostess, with a reproachful look that sobered Tommy at once.
Nat struck up, and the ball opened with two couples, who went conscientiously through a somewhat varied dance. The ladies did well, because they liked it, but the gentlemen exerted themselves from more selfish motives, for each felt that he must earn his supper, and labored manfully toward that end. When every one was out of breath they were allowed to rest; and, indeed, poor Mrs. Smith needed it, for her long dress had tripped her up many times. The little maid passed round molasses and water in such small cups that one guest actually emptied nine. I refrain from mentioning his name, because this mild beverage affected him so much that he put cup and all into his mouth at the ninth round, and choked himself publicly.
“You must ask Nan to play and sing now,” said Daisy to her brother, who sat looking very much like an owl, as he gravely regarded the festive scene between his high collars.
“Give us a song, mum,” said the obedient guest, secretly wondering where the piano was.
Miss Smith sailed up to an old secretary which stood in the room, threw back the lid of the writing-desk,and sitting down before it, accompanied herself with a vigor which made the old desk rattle as she sang that new and lovely song, beginning—