"Think well before you pursue it;But when you begin, go through it."
"Think well before you pursue it;But when you begin, go through it."
"Now what'll we have for dinner?"
Lady Magnifico was walking languidly about, admiring herself in the mirror, Dr. Moonshine rummaging an old closet, and Baby pulling out the bureau drawers.
"They have the easy part. But never mind; I'll show them what I can do. Mother says I have a great deal more taste for cooking than Susy has. Didn't I make pickles all one vacation?"
Then Prudy sat down with the "Housekeeper's Friend," and began at the first page to read. Half an hour passed, and no signs of her moving.
"I'm hunger-y," whispered Baby, taking a sugar-coated pill out of a box, and touching it with her tongue. It was sweet till her teeth went into it, when out rolled the little ball upon the floor.
"O, my shole! How bitter!" groaned she, wiping her mouth on a lace cuff. "'Spect that's a pill, and they cooked it in sugar; but I shan't eat it."
"Little daughter, what are you doing there? Mustn't meddle with other folks' things." Dr. Moonshine sneezed as he spoke, having breathed some of the "dust of ages" into his nose off a top shelf, where Mrs. Fixfax kept a few herbs. Ten minutes more. The doctor stepped down from the chair-back on which he had been standing, and gazed hard at his landlady. She was turning the sixteenth page.
"My Lady Magnifico!"
"Sir?"
"My lady, do you happen to have such a thing as a peanut in your pocket?"
My lady shook the cat out of the armchair, and seated herself.
"It isn't polite to carry round peanuts."
"I was only thinking," continued the doctor, with a side glance at Mother Hubbard, "how nice a peanut would be to keep anybody from fainting away."
Mother Hubbard started from her chair. "What unfashionable boarders! You don't expect dinner in the middle of the day, I hope! In the city of New York we don't have it till five or six o'clock. I'm afraid you came down too soon, Dr. Moonshine."
"Afraid I did. Wish I was 'the man in the South.' I'd like to 'burn my mouth' on a little 'cold plum porridge.'"
"Haven't any for you; but I'll give you a lunch. What say to omelettes and coffee?"
"Excellent," said Dr. Moonshine, reviving.
"Exquisite," drawled my lady.
"Exquit," quoth Fly.
"Only there isn't any coffee," said Mother Hubbard, going to the cupboard.
"Call it tea," said the doctor, "and hurry up."
"No, chocolate is better. How do you make chocolate?" said the landlady, turning to her cook-book.
"I don't know, and don't care," fumed the doctor. "Baked in aslowoven, most likely, with a top crust. Let the chocolate slide."
"Well, I will. And now I'll make the omelette. Eggs? yes; there are eggs enough; but dear me, where's the milk? Thiscondemnedkind my lady tells about won't do to make omelettes. I shouldn't dare try it."
"Well, well, give us a little bread and butter. I've got past being particular."
"O, Dr. Moonshine, such biscuits as I'm going to bake for you at five o'clock! But now I really can't find a speck of bread!"
"I'll warrant it! I always heard that when old Mother Hubbard went to her cupboard she found the shelves were all bare."
"Then you needn't have come here to board. Won't crackers and raisins do?"
They had to do; and the boarders tried to be satisfied in view of the coming dinner.
All the afternoon Mother Hubbard spent between the cake-board and the mouth of the oven.
"Queen of the rolling-pin, can't you hush up this fire?" said Dr. Moonshine, looking at the thermometer; "we're nearly up to 'butter melts,' and I suppose you know that's ninety degrees."
"Dr. Moonshine," replied Mother Hubbard, nervously, "I can't help it if the butter does melt. We've got to have something to eat."
"Papa, pin up my dress," said the baby. "I want to do sumpin. I want some pastry to paste a book with."
"You're a real failure, Toddlekins. Your teeth have come, and you talk and keep talking. I'm afraid Mother Hubbard will charge me full price for your board. You hear what she calls for, ma'am? Can you make her a little paste? Here's an old Patent Office Report; and I'll run the risk of her spoiling it. I'll cut some pictures for her out of these papers."
"Lucky I don't keep a file of my newspapers," thought Mrs. Fixfax, listening from the next room. "If I did, those children would hear from me."
"Yes, I'll make her some paste," said Mother Hubbard, dropping the aerating egg-beater, and setting the spice-box on the stove.
Dr. Moonshine laughed. Mother Hubbard had never dreamed a boarder could be so disagreeable. She snatched off the spice-box, and setting a kettle on the stove, boiled paste enough to paper the walls of a room.
Meanwhile Fly was making free with the nutmegs and soda, and the little cook could not remember how far along she had got with the cake.
"Children don't annoy you, I hope," said the doctor, seating the baby at the side of the table, opposite Mother Hubbard, and giving her a stick with a rag wound around the end of it, in order to paste pictures into a scrap-book.
"Thank you, doctor. I never did like children half as well as dogs," replied Mother Hubbard, forcing a smile. Then she tasted her cake slyly, to make sure whether she had put the butter in or not.
"Madam Hubbard, mim," said Lady Magnifico, "may I trouble you for a glass of water?"
"Mamma Hubbard, may I have a hangfiss to wipe off the pastry?"
Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard, and got a goblet for the lady; to the closet, and found a rag for the baby.
By that time she smelt something burning; it was eggs. She had left the patent egg-beater on the stove by accident, and its contents were as black as a shoe.
"O, what a frightful, alarming odor!" cried Lady Magnifico. "If somebody doesn't throw up a window! Madam, do tell us what's afire now!"
"Mother Hubbard's got a dumb chill," said the doctor; "she won't speak."
But Prudy was saying under breath, "Please, God, let me keep pleasant. They don't mean any harm, and Ishouldbe ashamed to get angry just about a play."
"What ails you, Mother Hubbard? 'You look as blue as the skimmiest kind of skim-milk.'"
"Do I? Well, no wonder, with such troublesome boarders. Suppose you and my lady go down to the parlor. I don't believe I'm a bit interesting, you know. I'll call you when dinner is ready."
"Agreed! Sharp five, remember."
"There," said Mother Hubbard, taking off her spectacles; "now I can cook."
Could she?
"Little folks we is to keep house—isn't we?" buzzed the little torment that was left behind. "Hush! don't you talk, Prudy. When you shake the table, then I make blots with my pastry."
Prudy said nothing, but thoughtfully tasted the cake again. How could she tell whether she had left out the soda?
"Are youblind of your ears, Prudy, Can't you hear nuffin what I say? Rag's come off the stick. Please to tie it on. AndIwant to eat some o' that dough."
Mother Hubbard did her blundering best; but ill luck seemed to pursue the cooking.
"Needn't call that book the 'Young Housekeeper's Friend.' It's an enemy, a real bitter enemy," cried she, in great excitement. "Wood is hotter than coal, too. Mrs. Fixfax must have given it to me to plague me. How it does burn things up! I hope beefsteak is cheap. I won't ask anybody to eat this, all covered with ashes. I'll never try to broil any again on top of a stick of wood! I won't try that 'steamboat pudding.' Sounds as if 'twould burn, and I know it would. Let 'em go without pudding."
After the most tiresome afternoon she had ever spent in her life, Mother Hubbard went down with Fly, whom she dared not leave by herself, to call her boarders to dinner.
This was Mrs. Allen's "reception-day," the day on which she always staid at home, that her friends might be sure of finding her in.
"Not at home," Nathaniel had kept saying to visitors that afternoon. But one of them, a queenly-looking lady, would not be satisfied with the answer.
"Are the children here?" demanded she. "Those nieces and nephews?"
Nathaniel did not know exactly what reply to make; so he invited the lady into the parlor, and went to inquire.
Dr. Moonshine and Lady Magnifico were in the drawing-room, looking over engravings.
"Gnat, gnat, you troublesome insect," said the doctor. "I heard auntie tell you we were not to be disturbed."
"But what could I say?" asked the insect, humbly. "I couldn't tell her 'not at home.'"
"You must say, 'Beg to be excused;' those are the proper words," said my lady.
"Yes," added the doctor; "go, there's a good gnat, and sting 'em like sixty, if they don't start quick."
Nathaniel obeyed, looking as dignified as ever, though nothing but a strong sense of propriety kept him from smiling.
He had not crossed the hall before Mother Hubbard entered the parlor, dragging Fly, who was pinned to her skirts.
Mother Hubbard was flushed and excited, her nose dusted with flour, her cap pulled entirely over her forehead; and she was saying, in a loud tone, "I can't take any peace of my life, Fly Clifford, you know I can't, unless I get you fastened somehow."
"I don't 'low folks tofassinme," responded Fly, shaking her lace cap in a blaze of wrath; "the next thatfassinsme, I'llscwatch who did it!"
It was not at all like either of the children to talk in this way, any more than it was like them to be dressed in such ridiculous costume. The effect upon the lady visitor was quite startling. She started, smiled, rose from her chair, and held out her hand.
"Now tell me if this isn't Miss Prudy Parlin. I have seen your picture, my love."
What eyes, to spy out a likeness under all the flour and furbelows, not to mention the green spectacles! Prudy quivered like a frightened mouse, but could not get away, for a trap was sprung upon her; a steel-gloved hand was holding her fast.
"I am Madam Pragoffyetski, a Polish runaway. You may not have heard of me, but I know all about Prudy and little Thistledown Flyaway."
"Nicely, thank you, m'm," responded Miss Fly, in a voice as faint as the peep of a chicken; at the same time darting forward and tearing a piece out of her slip. "If she runned away I'd be 'shamed to tell of it."
"How awful for her to come here!" thought Mother Hubbard, stealing a timid glance at the lady's ermine muff. "She looks nice, but I don't want anything to do with such people."
"Don't be afraid of me, dears," said the lady, laughing; "I call myself a runaway just in sport. I am a warm admirer of yours, and my dear friend, your auntie, has promised me a visit from you. I came on purpose to ask you, and your sister, and your cousins to my house to dinner to-morrow. Will you come?"
Mother Hubbard gazed doubtfully at the steel-colored glove. What could she say?
"Thank you ever so much, Mrs.—Mrs. Pradigoff, but Fly is not allowed to go out."
Flyaway was greatly chagrined.
"Well, I—Isolomonpromised," said she, casting down her guilty eyes, as she remembered the orange man; "I solomon promised I would't go ou' doors,athoutsomebodyletsme."
"There's a tender conscience for you," laughed the Polish lady. "Why was she not to go out, Miss Prudy?"
"Because she is so quick-motioned, ma'am. Before you know it she's lost. That's the reason I pinned her to my dress. You see, ma'am, we are playing 'keep house.'"
"O, if her quickness is all the trouble, I'll take the responsibility that she shan't get lost. I'll bind her fast with a silken chain. Really, children, my heart is set on your coming. My house is full of things that make a noise—a canary, a paroquet, a mocking-bird, a harp, a piano, and a guitar. And—"
Mrs. Pragoff did not add that she had invited a little party to meet them. She was afraid of frightening the timid souls.
"Would you like to come, Miss Prudy? Tell me honestly, now."
There was no need to ask Fly. She was dancing for joy—the absurd little image.
"O, yes'm; I'd be delighted," replied Mother Hubbard, a smile lighting up her face even to the floury tip of her nose. "And I think Horace and Dotty would, too. Shall I go and ask?"
Yes, Horace and Dotty were both pleased with the idea.
"She's a foreigner," said Prudy, doubtfully; "but she talks our language beautifully. She's a dear friend of auntie's, too."
"What I object to," said Horace, "is taking Toddlekins; but I may possibly hire her to stay at home."
It was finally decided that Mrs. Pragoff should call next day and take the children to church with her, and thence home to a Christmas dinner. She laughed, as she rolled away in her carriage, thinking what droll figures they were, and how Prudy blinked through her glasses.
"So I shan't have to cook but one meal more, and that will be breakfast," thought Mother Hubbard, her tired heart leaping up with something like joy.
They sat down to dinner at last.
"Tea urn been standing on the table all this while?" asked Dr. Moonshine, resuming his critical manners; "'twould take the tea some time to freeze on here, Mrs. Hubbard, if that is what you're trying to do with it!"
Mrs. Hubbard pretended not to hear.
"She's blind of her ears, papa; you have to speak loud."
"What makes your child's face so red, doctor?" asked the landlady, pouring hot water till it overran the cup; "don't the darling feel well?"
"Yes'm, pitty well; only but the white tea gets in my cheeks and makes 'em too hot."
"White tea, I should think," remarked Dr. Moonshine; "why, Mother Hubbard, the tea-leaf in your urn must feel rather lonesome."
Mother Hubbard took off the cover and peeped in.
"None there, as true as you live! I'll jump right up, doctor, and stew two or three handfuls."
"Don't rise for me, ma'am; don't rise for me. We'll swallow the will for the deed, ma'am; the will for the deed."
"It's always so, doctor," said Lady Magnifico, in an undertone; "we've had to swallow these mistakes from timeimmortal."
Her ladyship meant "immemorial." She was surprised at the ease with which she used large words.
"All the mistakes are owing to the eccentricity of genius," said the doctor, bowing to Mother Hubbard. "Our landlady is what is called 'absent.' Here's a health to ourabsentfriend."
"You'll have to excuse the biscuit," said Mother Hubbard, nervously. "I mixed 'em too tight, and I think the flour's half corn, they look so yellow; itcan'tbe all soda."
"I presume notallsoda; some mixture of flour and water. But where are they, ma'am?"
"O, I put them in the cupboard. I thought you'd like crackers better."
"But these are themizzerblekind, that don't split," said Lady Magnifico, in tragic tones; "I told you so to-day noon."
"Stop a minute, Miss Hubbard; my coffee's too sour," cried the youngest, determined to scowl as hard as Dotty did, if it was a possible thing.
The worried landlady passed the sugar, and the small boarder corrected thesournessof her white tea with three teaspoonfuls, heaping measure.
"My little Toddlekins is eating nothing." said the doctor. "I hope her red cheeks don't indicate fever."
"There's great quantities of sickness just now among children," said Lady Magnifico, crooking her little finger genteelly. "Nervous Exhaustationis going about."
"Nervous what, my lady?"
"Exhaustation. I am well acquainted with a lady in the first society that had it dreadfully. She called in twenty-five doctors, if my memorypreservesme right; andthenshe like to died."
"You know it for a fact, my lady? I hope it won't come here (or the doctors either). Is it catching, Dr. Moonshine?"
"Well, yes, Mother Hubbard; it's apt to catch fine ladies. Goes hard with 'em, too."
"Ah me, then I'll never dare go out," drawled Lady Magnifico, looking at her rings.
Here Mother Hubbard timidly passed the cake. "White Mountain; but I suspect it's a poor rule."
"A poor rule that don't work both ways, hey? If this was ever white, ma'am, 'twasn't a fast color; faded to a rusty black. And as to it's being a mountain, ma'am, it looks to me like a pretty hollow valley."
"I'm so sorry, doctor! But your little girl dusted my soda over the cat, and that was why the cake didn't rise."
"Just so, ma'am; but did the cat rise?"
"O, Dr. Moonshine, I see you're making fun of my cooking. And now I'll tell you something more. I got the butter ready, and forgot to put it in, and that's why the cake's so tough."
"Never mind," said the doctor, very amiable as long as he could make his joke. "It is pretty tough cake, ma'am; but it's always tougher where there's none."
"There's one thing about it," said Mother Hubbard, a little relieved; "it's sweet in the middle, and you needn't eat the bitter part, where it's burnt."
"It's my practice to mix the bitter with the sweet," said the doctor, waving the butter-knife. "In this way, Mother H., your black-valley cake is almost as good as pills."
"I ate a pill," observed Fly, "and 'twas worser'n this!"
"You ate a pill, child? When? Where? I'll warrant that's what ails you."
"No, it don't ail me now. I spitted it out."
After nibbling a few crackers, and the inside of the cake, the happy family moved away from the table, hungrier than when they had sat down.
"What is home without a mother?" sang Horace, in a plaintive voice; and Dotty joined in, with emphasis.
Prudy looked as low-spirited as the "black-valley cake."
"I hope Uncle Augustus will be able to come home to-morrow. I declare, we are real cruel not to feel worse about his being sick away off there in a hotel."
"You'd better believe he gets things to eat," responded Lady Magnifico, aside to the doctor. "I'd rather be some sick than have a landlady that's purblind andpurdeaf, and suchowdrageouspoor cooking! Glad I'm going out to Christmas dinner."
Mother Hubbard was heated, and tired, and hungry, and cross. It was all very well for a lady boarder to loll on an ottoman, play with her rings, and find fault. It was all very well for a gentleman boarder to fire poor jokes; but they couldn't either of them know how every word cut like a lash. When the doctor said, carelessly, "Some people think themselves great cooks, my lady; but the proof of the pudding's in the eating," why, that speech was "the pin in the end of the lash."
Prudy saw now that she had pretended to know a great deal more than she really did. Pretension is very apt to get laughed at. She had always scorned Dotty's self-conceit; but hadn't she shown quite as much herself? Making her auntie suppose she understood cooking, and putting Mrs. Fixfax to all this trouble for nothing? How horrified auntie would be, and the housekeeper too, if they should dream that this little family was starving, with a cook-book lying open on the floor!
"But I declare, it's real mean in you two to make fun of me," cried the young landlady, tipping the sugar-basin plump into the dish-tub; "you couldn't get any better supper yourselves, nor half so good; so there!"
Surprised at the sharp sound of her own voice, dismayed at sight of the wet sugar, and completely discouraged by the aspect of things in general, Prudy burst out into a sort of frenzy. She was ashamed of herself, but she couldn't stop.
"You think I can bear everything—you and Dotty both! People are careful what they say to Dotty, for her temper's just like live coals; but they talk to me, and say anything; anything they've a mind to."
"Why, Prue," exclaimed Horace, as astonished as if Mother Hubbard's dog had spoken; "why, Prue!"
"Yes, you think it's awful if I speak; but sometimes it seems as if I should bite my tongue out."
"Don't, Prudy," exclaimed Dotty, looking on with awe and alarm, as if there had been a sudden eclipse of the sun; "I didn't mean to."
"Don't Prudy," said Fly, clutching at the brown dress; "and I'll give you sumpin what I buy."
There is an old saying, "Beware the fury of a patient man." Prudy had tried all day to
"Smile and smile,While secret wounds were eating at her heart;"
"Smile and smile,While secret wounds were eating at her heart;"
but now she could scarcely bear the touch of little Fly's hand. She did not care what she said, if she could only find words bitter enough.
"I always have to bear, and bear, and bear. Nobody else does. I've noticed how different it is with Susy. She frets, and then people let her alone. And Dotty, how she tosses up her head like Aunt Martha's horse Lightning-Dodger! Haven't I always pacified Dotty, and humored her? Had to alter the play to suit her. And what does that child know or care, any more than if I was a common sister, that hadn't been giving up, and giving up, andgiving up, ever since she was born?"
Prudy's cap-strings shook violently, her teeth chattered, and the sharp words seemed to rattle out like hail-stones. Horace had never seen her in such a mood, and was half inclined to run away; but when she took her hands down from her face, and he saw how pale she was, his heart was moved.
"Come, Prue, you're sick abed; that's what's the matter. Lie down, and let that lazy Dot take off her diamonds, and go to work."
Prudy dropped upon the sofa and covered her face with her handkerchief, while Dotty, strange to relate, actually slid the rings off her fingers and thumbs, and began to put away the crackers.
"O, dear," thought Prudy, blushing under the cap-border, spectacles, and handkerchief; "what did possess me to talk so? I had been holding in all day; why did I let go? If I ever do let go, I can't stop; and O, how shameful it is!"
It seemed as easy for Prudy to be good as for a bird to sing; but it was not so. She had a great deal of human nature, after all. She liked her own way, but she never had it unless Dotty was willing. Was that a pleasant way to live? If you think so, dears, just try it. The secret of Prudy's sweetness was really this: In all trials she was continually saying, under breath, "Please, God, keep me from doing wrong." She had found that was really the only way—the onlysafeway.
"Everybody calls me amiable. They wouldn't if they knew how I have to grit my teeth together to keep from scolding. I like to be called amiable, but nobody'll do it again; and Horace sees now I'm not the girl he thought I was."
All Prudy's hail-stones of wrath had melted into tear-drops, and she was sobbing them into her handkerchief. She did not clearly know whether she was crying because she had done wrong, or because Horace would see she "was not the girl he had thought she was."
"Bless your dear little soul," said Dr. Moonshine, kneeling before her, while his blue swallow-tails swept the floor, "you've told the truth. Everybody knows Dot's a spitfire, and you're an angel; and she does impose upon you most abominably."
Dotty stood staring, with a plate in her hand, too much astonished to defend herself.
"And I'm ashamed of firing so many jokes at you, Prue; I am so. I'm a great joker (he meant a greatwit!), but this is the first time I ever mistrusted you cared—you always take things so like a lamb,—or you'd better believe I wouldn't have done it. For there isn't a girl in the world I like so well as I do you, nor begin to."
"O, Hollis," moaned the little one, stirred by sudden jealousy.
"Hullelo! I forgot you, Topknot.—You're my heart's jewel; that's generally understood. When I say I like Prue, I mean next after you."
The jealous Fly was satisfied, and folded her little wings against Horace's breast. Prudy felt greatly soothed, but her cap-strings were still shaking, and she could not trust her voice to speak. Nothing more was said for some time. Dotty clattered away at the dishes, kitty purred by the stove, and Horace rocked his little sister, who clung about his neck like an everlasting pea. Presently he stopped rocking, and exclaimed,—
"Why, what's the matter with my Toddlekins? What makes her breathe so short?"
"My froat's short; that's what is it," replied the little philosopher, closing her eyes, as if she did not choose to talk.
"But how does your throat feel, Topknot?"
"Feels bad; why?"
"Girls, this child has a sore throat, and a high fever. Her hands are as hot as pepper."
Dotty wrung the dish-cloth tragically.
"She's going to have the measles; you see'f she don't."
"Hush!" said Prudy, springing up, and tucking back her sleeves. "Let's give her a warm bath. That's what mother does when we are sick, before ever she sends for the doctor."
"I'dravverhave aturkey-wash," said Fly, rousing a little, and then dropping her head again.
"There, she's lost her senses; I knew she would," said Dotty, walking the floor.
"Do stop that, Dot. She has her senses as clear as you have. When she saysturkey-wash, she means a Turkish bath; it takes me to interpret. She had a very gentle Turkish bath once. Liked it—didn't you, Fly? Can't you rub her real hard with a crash towel, girls? That will be almost as good."
"Of course we can," said Prudy, forgetting her gust of indignation entirely; "and what could be nicer than this little bathroom, with the silver faucets and ivory tub. Come, Fly, and have your turkey-wash. 'Twill make you feel a great deal better."
After a nice bath, at which Prudy and Dotty presided, the little one was dressed in her nightie, and set on her brother's knee again.
"Prudy said I'd feel better to be baved," said she, looking thoughtfully at the gas-light; "but now I was baved, and I don't feel any diffunt; I feel just's I did by-fore."
"When can she have taken such a cold?" said Horace; "don't you see, Prue, she can't breathe out of her nose?"
Then Fly remembered the orange-man, and something made her face grow red in a minute; but it was not the white tea.
"Pitiful about my signess," sighed she, and thought she would never, never tell of her own disobedience. But Horace saw the blush and heard the sigh.
"I am glad Fly always minds," said he, looking straight into the little guilty face. "For God sees everything she does," whispered he, solemnly.
Horace never spoke of such subjects to other people; you would not suppose they were much in his mind; but to this precious little sister he gave his best thoughts, so far as he could make her understand them.
"For God sees everything she does."
Fly did not speak for as much as a minute, and then she said, timidly,—
"Hollis, I want to ask you sumpin; does God wear spetticles?"
"No, dear; no, indeed."
"O, I thought He did."
"But He sees us in the light and in the dark, Topknot."
The child winced.
"Can He see Hisself athout looking in the glass?"
"Yes, I suppose so."
"Then, when I go up to God, I'll find He has four eyes,—two to see Hisself, and two to see other things. O, dear, I'm so sick, I guess I will go up to God."
The housekeeper was listening from the next room.
"That child's voice is growing hoarse. I must go and look into this business," thought she.
She knocked at the children's door.
"I came to ask if I can do anything for you, young ladies."
Mrs. Fixfax had heard a great deal of the play, and had been in a state of amusement all day, without seeing the actors; and when she caught sight of them now, she had to twist her mouth very hard, "to keep her teeth in."
The magnificent Lady Magnifico, the ridiculous Dr. Moonshine, and the becapped Mother Hubbard, all replied in chorus, "O, yes'm, we were going to ring for you. Do you see what ails the baby."
Mrs. Fixfax approached the child in such a tender, motherly way, that Horace was ashamed of having compared her face to "a platter of cold hash." She had a strong, sensible look, as if she were capable of carrying a whole hospital full of children through all sorts of diseases; and Prudy and Horace, who had begun to have an unpleasant feeling of responsibility, were greatly relieved.
"You don't think it's anything but a cold—do you, Mrs. Fixfax? I don't know much about sickness."
Mrs. Fixfax allowed herself to smile this time, as her eye rested on the Mother Hubbard cap.
"No, I don't see anything alarming yet. If this was my child, I should just gargle her throat with salt and water, wrap a pork rind round her neck, and put her to bed."
Fly objected to nothing, if she could only sleep with her own brother Hollis. When told she might do so, she tried to clap her hands; but her heart was heavy, and her throat was sore; so all she could do was to kiss him and cry.
"And now, my dears, how do you enjoy housekeeping?" asked Mrs. Fixfax, carelessly, as she attended to Fly's throat.
"No—ot very much," returned Dr. Moonshine, faintly; for no one else seemed ready to speak. "Rather hard on the head of the family. Don't you say so, Prue?"
But Prudy could not answer, on account of a throbbing at the roots of her tongue.
"I see you have been taking an early dinner," contined Mrs. Fixfax, very coolly, as if she had no idea the children before her were half starved.
"Ye—es'm."
"So, perhaps you wouldn't object to going down and finishing off on roast turkey? I ordered the table set for you."
"You did? O, thank you, ma'am!" cried Lady Magnifico, ready to throw herself on the housekeeper's neck.
"I never object to roast turkey myself," said the doctor, his eyes gleaming with delight.
Mother Hubbard said nothing; but she thought she should relish a good dinner as well as her boarders. They all went down but Fly, who was by this time fast asleep in Mrs. Fixfax's arms.
"I reckon the servants thought we'd been wrecked on a desert island, by the dash we made at that turkey," whispered Horace, as they returned to the housekeeper's room.
"How good you were, Horace Clifford, not to tell Mrs. Fixfax about my awful cooking."
"And I didn't tell, either," said Dotty. "But wasn't itmizzerble?"
As if Mrs. Fixfax didn't know, and wasn't that very minute laughing over the "tight biscuit" and low-spirited cake!
The children went to bed that night cheered by a remark which Mrs. Fixfax dropped as if by accident.
"The cook is to fry buckwheat cakes in the morning. I dare say you would like omelettes, too. Do you drink chocolate?"
"She takes it for granted we are going to eat down stairs," thought Prudy. And now her troubles were over. Life bloomed before her once more like a garden of roses.
Horace did not rest remarkably well. In the first place, the bed was too warm. Mrs. Fixfax had rolled Fly into a big bundle, with nothing out but the end of her nose, and was toasting her with soapstones.
"Buried alive," Horace said, "with gravestones at her head and feet."
"I'm all of apersonation," gasped the child. "My mamma never did me so, Hollis. She gave me little tinty tonty pills,—sugar clear through,—not the big ones Miss Fixfix eats."
"Well, lie still, Topknot, and don't roll towards me."
For an hour or two Fly lay gasping; then she said, softly,—
"Hollis, Hollis, is He looking now?"
"Yes, dear; but don't be afraid of the good God."
"I didn't, Hollis, if I wasn't naughty. When I'm good I'm willin' He should look."
"Naughty, Topknot?"
"Yes, Hollis; Isolomonpromised I wouldn't go ou' doors; but that new Miss Fixfix, she let me gwout, athout nuffin on my head, 'n' I got a awful cold."
"O, little Fly!"
"I know it, Hollis. I was defful sorry all the time. I ate ollinges, too; so for course I got the sore froat."
"I'm glad you told me, Fly; now I know what ails you. But you mustn't ever disobey again."
"Yes, um," said Fly, rolling towards her brother, and crying till the tears ran down on the flannel which was bound around her neck. A few moments after she whispered,—
"Now I don't feel any 'fraid, Hollis; I've telled God. I feel better, 'n' I'm willin' He should look."
"Well, then, dear, that's right—go to sleep."
"And now, Hollis, do you s'pose He'll send my spirrick back to me?"
"What are you talking about, Topknot? Your spirit's in your body, child. Go to sleep."
"No, it isn't in my body, too! I want my nice good little spirrick to come back," murmured the child. "Auntie said 'twould stay to me if I's good."
Fly was thinking of her unseen guardian angel.
It was a troubled night for Horace. Fly waked him no less than three times, to ask him if she had the measles.
"No, child, no; don't wake me for that again."
"Well, you ought to not go to sleep 'fore I do. You're a fast boy, Hollis!"
Morning came, and Fly was rather languid, as might have been expected after such a night.
"I don't see," mused Mrs. Fixfax, "where she caught this dreadful cold, unless it was your keeping the room so hot yesterday, children."
Fly hid her face in her brother's back hair, for she was riding pickaback down stairs.
"And can we go to see that Poland lady?" said Dotty.
"If you askedme, I answer, No," said Horace, bluntly. "At any rate, Fly mustn't stir a step out of the house to-day."
"I didn't ask you, Horace. I asked Mrs. Fixfax. She is the one that has the care of us."
"I really don't know what to say about it," replied the housekeeper, hesitating. "We will wait and see how she seems after breakfast."
"Rather a cool way of setting my opinion one side," thought Horace, indignantly.
Fly ate only two small buckwheat cakes, but seemed lively enough, as she always did when there was a prospect of going anywhere.
"I don't suppose it is exactly the thing, after steaming her so," said Mrs. Fixfax, as if talking to herself,—she did not even look at Horace;—"but really I don't know what else to do. I couldn't keep her at home unless the rest of the children staid; and if I did I presume she'd get killed some other way. She's one of the kind that's never safe, except in bed, with the door locked, and the key in your pocket."
"Let her manage it to suit herself," thought brother Horace, deeply wounded; "she knowsmyopinion."
When Madam Pragoffyetski came, the housekeeper went down to the parlor to introduce the children—a step which Horace thought highly unnecessary. He was charmed at once with the foreign lady's affable manners, and would have liked to go with her, if only Fly could have been left behind. Mrs. Fixfax explained that the child had been sick, and must be treated like a hot-house plant.
"We thought last night she was in danger of herlife," said Dotty. "You expected she was going to die, Horace; you know you did."
"Well, I wasn't going to," returned Fly, coughing. "I knew I should live—I always do live."
"What was the matter?" said Mrs. Pragoffyetski, in alarm; for she knew as much about children's ailments as she did about the volcanoes in the sun.
"Only a little sore throat," answered the housekeeper, still looking anxious, and not at all sure she was doing right.
"Yes'm, sore froat. And Dotty wanted me to have the measles, too; but I wouldn't."
"That is right," said Mrs. Pragoffyetski, with a musical laugh. "Indeed, your little cousin was cruel to ask such a thing of you. I'm glad you didn't do it."
They took a street-car, and Dotty pressed her face against a window, expecting to see gay sights all the way. But no; the shops had their eyes shut. Yesterday how quickly everybody had moved! Now, men and women were walking quietly along, and there was no confusion anywhere.
"How strange!" said Prudy. "I should think it was Sunday, only the boys are blowing tin trumpets."
"Yes; and the babies are going to visit their grandmammas," said Mrs. Pragoff; "look at the one in the corner in its nurse's arms, with a point-lace bib under its chin. That pretty blanket, embroidered so heavily, must weigh more than the baby."
Dotty kept her gaze steadily fixed on the streets.
"It seems so funny for a steeple to beprecedingfrom the middle of those stores. 'Tisn't a very pious place for a church!"
"Now I hope Dotty isn't going to be pert," thought Prudy.
"I know what street that is, down there," added Miss Dimple, jumping out of the car with both feet; "that is Wall Street. Did they use to have walls both sides of it? Horace, you scared me so yesterday, I like to screamed. You said there were bulls and bears growling all the way along; but there wasn't a single bear, only a stuffed one sitting on top of a store, and he wasn't alive, and not on this street either."
Here Prudy gave her sister's little finger a squeeze, which was meant for "hush;" but Dotty never could understand why it was not proper at all times to say what she had on her mind, especially when people listened so politely as this Polish lady.
"Mrs.—Mrs. Pragoff-yetski, I hope you'll excuse me, but I can't remember your name."
"That is it; you have it exactly; but never mind about the last part, my love. Pragoff is enough."
"Yes'm.—Well, I was going to ask you, Mrs. Yetski, will you please sit between me and Fly when we go into church? O, you don't know how funny she acts, or you never'd dare take her. I wouldn't laugh in church for anything in this world; but Fly always makes me."
"Does she, indeed! Ah me, that is very unfortunate!" said the queenly lady, looking down on little Miss Toddlekins as if she were actually afraid of her. She took care to put Dotty out of harm's way, by placing the untamable Fly between Horace and Prudy.
The interior of Trinity Church was so magnificent, the Christmas decorations so fresh and beautiful, and the service so imposing, that no one thought of such a thing as smiling.
"How could I have been so impatient, yesterday?" thought Prudy, as she listened to the plaintive chant, "He was a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief."
"Why, if you only think of that, how our Saviour had trouble every minute, it doesn't seem as if it makes so much difference whether we people and children have a good time or not."
Here, as they were about to seat themselves at the close of the chant, Fly, who, in spite of her brother's warnings, had been tilting back and forth on a stool, suddenly tipped forward, and hit her nose furiously. Blood flowed from the wound; and the sight of it, together with the pain, made the child frantic. She forgot where she was and screamed. Poor Mrs. Pragoffyetski! Though a good woman in the main, she was rather proud of appearances, and had just been thinking the four children did her credit. But now! The shrill cry of distress called everybody's attention to her pew. The whole audience were looking up from their prayer-books in astonishment.
"Tut, tut! My dear! My love! Hush, my babe, lie still,—O, can't you stop crying?"
Horace, too, was trying to quiet the child; but Fly sincerely believed she was bleeding to death; so what did she care for proprieties?
"O, my shole!" piped she aloud, plunging both hands into the stream of blood, and afterwards into her hair.
Thus, by the time Mrs. Pragoff and Horace got her into the aisle, she looked as if she had been murdered.
"I wish I was twenty-one," thought Horace, bitterly. "Mrs. Fixfax had no business steaming this child. I believe it has gone to her brain."
The party of five marched out of church, for Mrs. Pragoff did not wish to make a second sensation by coming back after Prudy and Dotty.
"I never go with Fly but I get mortified," thought Miss Dimple; "and now, O dear, I shan't hear those Christmas chimes!"
But Prudy was thinking how sorry she was for Mrs. Pragoff and Horace.
They all went into a druggist's, and, after a few minutes spent in the use of a sponge and water, poor Fly ceased to look like a murdered victim, but very much like a marble image. When they reached Mrs. Pragoff's, she was placed on a sofa, and for once in her life lay still. Horace bent over her with the wildest anxiety, thinking some terrible crisis was coming. As soon as she felt a little better, she began to cry. "O, darling, what is it?" said he, glad to see her in motion once more.
"Cause my Uncle 'Gustus is sick."
"Poh," said Dotty; "crying about that? See!Idon't cry."
"Well, you don't love Uncle 'Gustus so hard as I do," said Fly, with another burst.
Mrs. Pragoff looked on with interest, and tried to remember whether she had ever heard that children shed tears when they were "coming down" with scarlet fever. This elegant mansion was a very interesting place to visit. To say nothing of things which "made a noise," there was no end of curiosities from the four quarters of the globe; and Mrs. Pragoff was so truly well-bred that the children soon felt at home. Dotty was deeply engaged in examining a sea-horse, when Prudy suddenly whispered,—
"Dotty, what did you do last night with those two rings?"
"Rings? What rings?"
Then a look of absolute terror spread over Dotty's face. She remembered slipping off her auntie's rings when she washed the dishes; but where had she put them?
"Why, Prudy, IpersumeI left 'em in—in—where I ought to leave 'em."
"O, I'm glad you did," returned Prudy, quite satisfied, for she was listening with one ear to the liquid notes of "The Wandering Sprite."
"Why didn't Prudy Parlin ask me before?" thought Dotty, in much agitation; "and then I could have gone all round and looked to see if I'd put them in the right place."