CHAPTER XVIITHE FISHING PARTY
“I VERY much wish I could go,” said David to himself, and he sighed clear down in his little heart. Then he crept out from behind the wood-pile, his favorite place when he had anything to think out, and started to run as fast as he could down the lane into the high road.
“Because if I don’t hurry, Joel will ask Mamsie to let me go, too, and I promised Mr. Atkins I’d help him keep store to-day.
“And besides,” as he panted on, “I should lose the ten cents he’d give me for Mamsie.”
So he was all hot and tired out when he pushed open the door to the store. Mr. Atkins was behind the counter.
“You needn’t to ’a’ hurried so,” he said; “you’re all het up, Davie. Now set down an’ rest.”
David, without much breath to spare, saidnothing, as he climbed up on the sugar-barrel, his usual place when there was a chance to sit down, and folded his hands to wait for orders.
But before these came, the door was swung violently open, and in rushed Joel.
“What made you run off?” he demanded. “Mamsie says you can go,” and he plunged across the store to David on his barrel.
“Hulloa!” cried Mr. Atkins, “hain’t you no time to say good morning? Your ma wouldn’t like you to lose your manners.”
Joel, very much ashamed, deserted David and ran over to the counter. “I’m sorry,” he began, his face very red, and his black stubby head bobbing. “I didn’t mean to forget.”
“All right,” said Mr. Atkins. “Well now, what’s the rumpus, pray tell, Joel?”
“He can go,” said Joel, pounding one fist on the counter; “Mamsie says he can.”
“Who, Davie?”
“Yes, he can go. Mamsie says so, if you don’t want him.” Then Joel, fearing that one fist was not enough to emphasize his statement, now began with the other till the pieces of paper on the counter were all in a flutter.
“Hold on there, Joe,” said Mr. Atkins, “or, first you know, you’ll have us all a-blowing out the door.”
Joel stopped pounding and looked anxiously over at the store door, while Mr. Atkins laughed and leaned over the counter.
“What’s it all about—where do you want David to go?” he asked.
David, who up to this time had sat quite still, now hopped from his barrel and ran over to Joel. “Oh, I can’t go,” he cried. “I’m going to stay here and help Mr. Atkins.”
Joel whirled around and seized Davie’s calico blouse. “You can,” he howled, “you can, Davie—”
“Where do you want David to go?” demanded the storekeeper, between Joel’s howls and David’s remonstrances.
“Fishing,” said Joel. Then he turned a face of anguish. “Do make him,” he cried, still hanging to David’s blouse.
“Don’t you want to go, Davie?” asked Mr. Atkins with a keen glance at him.
David stopped crying. “Oh, I can’t go,” and hung his head. He wanted dreadfully to say, “No, sir,” but Mamsie had always toldthem all to speak the truth. So he said, “Yes,” in a very low voice.
“Then I guess you better go,” said the storekeeper.
“Oh, no, no,” cried Davie, springing away from Joel. “I can’t go. Don’t make me, Mr. Atkins.”
“You mean because you promised to help me to-day, David?” said Mr. Atkins.
“Yes, sir—and do make Joel stop.” David was now in such a panic that Mr. Atkins came out from behind the counter. “See here, Joe,” and he seized his arm, “you get up on Davie’s barrel an’ set still if you can.” And before Joel quite knew how, there he was, and the storekeeper and Davie were settling matters by themselves.
“You see,” Mr. Atkins was saying, “it’s quite lucky that I want to set about some things to-day in the store where you can’t help me, Davie.”
“Can’t I, Mr. Atkins?” cried David.
“No; fact is, I’d ruther you’d come to-morrow, ’nstead o’ to-day,” said Mr. Atkins decidedly. “You can go fishing as well as not. Hop down, Joe.”
No need to tell Joel. He was off the sugar-barrel and down by David’s side in a twinkling.
“Got any fish-pole, Davie?” asked the storekeeper. He was back by the counter now, and rummaging on his shelves.
Before David could answer, Joel piped, “Yes—we made ’em.”
“An’ fish-hooks?” Mr. Atkins went on, bending over to get a small box on the lower shelf.
“Yes, yes,” said Joel. “Mrs. Blodgett gave us some big pins. Come on, Dave.”
“Well now, David,” said the storekeeper, turning around, a fish-pole in one hand and two or three fish-hooks in the other. “Here’s somethin’ for you. You’ve ben a good boy an’ helped me fust-rate.”
Joel rushed over to the counter, his black eyes sparkling. David came up slowly.
“Hold your hands, Davie,” said Mr. Atkins. “Now, says I, I guess you can ketch some fish. Hurry up, my boy,” as David hung back.
“Can’t—can’t Joel have ’em?” asked Davie.
“No—no, these are for you. You’ve benhelpin’ me real good in th’ store.” Mr. Atkins dangled the fish-pole before the boys. Joel held his breath and crowded closely up.
“Joel could catch more fish with ’em,” said Davie, the color dropping out from his little face.
“Well, maybe,” said the storekeeper with a keen glance at Joel, who twisted his brown hands tightly together, trying not to say how very much he wanted that fish-pole and those splendid hooks. “There, hold out your hands, Davie.”
David put forth a pair of hands that shook so that the fish-hooks tumbled out of them, and down to the floor.
“I’ll pick ’em up,” cried Joel, scrambling after them. He held them a minute, trying the sharp points on his small thumb, and turning them over and over admiringly.
“Now it just comes to me, I do verily b’lieve I’ve got another fish-pole like David’s,” said Mr. Atkins reflectively, and turning back to his shelves.
“Is it for me? Oh, is it, Mr. Atkins?” screamed Joel, and he tumbled the fish-hooksinto David’s hand and scrambled up on the counter.
“I wouldn’t wonder,” said the storekeeper over his shoulder.
“Oh—oh!” Joel hopped up and down on the counter, his black eyes shining in anticipation. “Dave, he’s going to give me one, too—he is—he is!” he screamed.
David, both hands full of his treasures, gave a long blissful sigh, then hugged them to his breast, and he laughed aloud in glee.
“Mercy sakes! Get down off th’ counter, Joe,” said Mr. Atkins. “There,” as Joel slid to the floor, putting a fish-pole, just the size for a boy to swing, into the eager brown hand, “an’ there’s th’ hooks. Be careful not to git ’em stuck into you.”
“They’re goin’ to be stuck into the fishes,” cried Joel, seizing fish-pole and hooks. “I’m going to catch lots and lots. Come on, Dave,” beginning to march to the door in great excitement. Then he remembered and ran back. “I thank you,” he said, then dashed out.
“Now, run along, Davie,” said Mr. Atkins, “or Joe will be down to th’ brook an’ catchevery single fish before you have a chance to get up with him.”
David stood quite still clasping his treasures, as he tried to speak. His blue eyes shone, but he couldn’t say a word.
“I know,” said the storekeeper kindly. “Now you run along. I shall need you to-morrow, for you are a great help to me, David.”
David’s happy feet scarcely seemed to touch the ground, as he hurried after Joel, almost catching up with him turning into the gateway of the little brown house.
It was some time before the boys could settle down from the excitement of showing their treasures, to the work of digging the worms. Polly came out and helped them with an old iron spoon. She couldn’t work fast and her hand trembled, all her healthy young body longing for the fun of the expedition. But there was no hope that she could go—for she must help Mamsie to finish the coats brought home from the store the day before. And there were the Henderson boys waiting, Mrs. Pepper being willing, since the parson’ssons could go, to let Joel and David have this pleasure.
At last they were off—all four of them—the worms wriggling about in an old tin can that Joel shook up and down at every step.
Polly hung over the old gate with Phronsie by her side, to watch them off.
“Oh, I wish I could ever have any fun,” she said to herself. “The little path in the woods is just lovely, and the dear brook! O dear!—why can’t I ever go anywhere!”
“Polly,” asked Phronsie, giving a little twitch to Polly’s blue checked apron, “what is the matter?”
“I’m not crying,” said Polly, turning her face away.
“But your mouth looks like crying,” said Phronsie, peering around anxiously at her.
“Oh, never mind, Pet,” said Polly. Then she drew a long breath. “Let me alone, Phronsie. I’m bad this morning.”
“You’re never bad,” said Phronsie decidedly. “Do let me see your face, Polly,” she begged.
Polly swallowed hard. “I’ll tell you, Phronsie,what let’s do—we’ll race down the road to the corner and then turn and race back. Catch me now.”
Phronsie, all intent now on the race, forgot about Polly’s face. When they came back and ran into the little brown house, Polly’s cheeks were as rosy as ever, and Phronsie was laughing gleefully.
When the “lovely little path in the woods” was reached, Joel dashed ahead and Ezekiel at his heels.
“You’re so slow,” Joel said, looking back at Peletiah. So David had to hold back his feet, longing for a run, to keep pace with the parson’s eldest son.
The consequence was, as they came up to the deep pool in the silvery little brook, Joel was fixing his best hook on the line hanging from his new pole. Ezekiel, too lost in admiration to do anything to get his own made ready, was hanging over him.
Peletiah sat down and calmly looked around. “My father says you mustn’t splash the water when you fish,” he said, as Joel made frantic flings with his fish-line on which a long worm made curves in the air.
“I can fish,” shouted Joel, standing on a big stone in the middle of the pool. “See— Come on, Dave!”
David, who never could bear to stick a worm on the hook, put his hand into the tin can, then drew it back again. “Perhaps a fish will bite without it,” he said to himself. Then he went farther down the pool and behind some bushes, and cast in his line.
“Come here!” shouted Joel, from his big stone, and splashing the silvery surface on all sides. “Come, Dave!”
“My father says you mustn’t splash the water when you fish,” said Peletiah, beginning slowly to choose a worm from the tin can.
Joel turned a cold shoulder to the parson’s son and continued to beat the water to right and to left. Ezekiel seeing there was more fun to be gained than to stay with Peletiah, who was having difficulty with his worm, stepped gingerly across the stepping-stones, holding his pole carefully aloft.
“I’m coming,” he announced.
“No, no,” cried Joel crossly; “this is Dave’s place.”
“I’m coming,” announced Ezekiel pleasantly, as he picked his way along.
“You aren’t going to get on,” declared Joel, spreading his small legs apart defiantly.
“I’m the minister’s son,” said Ezekiel, “and you must let me get on.”
“No, I sha’n’t,” said Joel. Yet he had an awful feeling down deep in his heart that he ought to; but he stood his ground sturdily.
“And that stone is mine as much as it is yours,” said Ezekiel, drawing near and balancing his pole with great care.
“No, it’s mine, I got it first.” Joel squared his shoulders, and gave a swish to his line that sent his worm away off among the shining ripples.
Just then came a cry from David. “I’ve got a fish—I’ve got a fish!” in a jubilant little voice.
Joel deserted his big stone and flew past Ezekiel on the stepping-stones, who immediately in great satisfaction stepped on to the coveted place.
“I’ll help you get him in, Dave,” cried Joel, plunging along the bushes where Dave, with a very red face, was struggling to land a heavyweight on his hook. “I’ll get him for you.”
Joel threw aside his fish-pole, the long worm still continuing his exercise, and dashing up, laid his little brown hands next to David’s, and together they pulled so hard that over backward they went, and the fish-hook with an old tangled root hanging to it flew straight up in the air.
“O dear!” exclaimed David in great mortification, as they picked themselves up and began to untangle the root, “there wasn’t any fish at all.”
“P’raps you had one, and he ate off the worm,” said Joel, seeing David’s face.
David turned off to the bushes, leaving Joel to get the old piece of root off. “I don’t need to tell him that I didn’t have a worm on,” he said to himself, and his hands worked nervously.
“I ’most know a fish stole your worm,” Joel kept saying as his hands were busy; “bad old fish!”
David’s cheeks got so hot that he came out of the shelter of the bushes. Could he go home to Mamsie without telling Joel all about it? Without stopping to think, he plunged upto Joel’s side. “I didn’t stick a worm on.”
“Didn’t stick a worm on?” repeated Joel in amazement, dropping fish-hook, tangle of root, and all.
“No,” said David in a miserable little voice. “I didn’t, Joel.” Then he sat down on the grass, and hid his face.
“Hoh!” sniffed Joel, “you can’t fish—any more than—than—a girl.”
“Oh, Joel, I can,” burst out Davie, leaping to his feet. “I can, Joel—and I will put on a worm,” but he shivered.
“You needn’t,” said Joel, turning back to the root-tangle; “I’ll put ’em all on for you,—I like to.”
“I’ve got one!” screamed Ezekiel.
Sure enough! There was the minister’s son having the greatest difficulty in his excitement to keep his footing on the big stone, swinging his line, at the end of which was a little speckled trout shining in the sunshine.