CHAPTER XIII.
“Forward, Light Brigade!”
“Forward, Light Brigade!”
“Forward, Light Brigade!”
“Forward, Light Brigade!”
Mr. Havens could hardly believe his sleepy eyes, as, wakened at sunrise by the sound of booming cannon and distant church bells, he parted his curtains and saw—yes, really saw,—a procession of children, bearing drums, guns, and banners, whilst gay barn-yard feathers tipped their three-cornered soldier hats. There they all were—Artie, Ned, Daisy, Kit, Alice, Charlie, May, Rosie, Jack, Grace, with Nan in their rear.
“Is Charlotte crazy,” yawns Papa, “to let those children out at such an hour? I must speak seriously to her about this.”
But Papa did not speak “seriously” to Charlotte about this, for the next moment he caught sight of Jem dragging a little wagon, in which Bear was seated most comfortably, waving a flag, and leading by a long string the family pet lamb, with gay streamers floating from his snowy neck, and as Papa saw the look of delight on his sick boy’s face, all thoughts of displeasure vanished, and his heart thrilled with pleasure. Faithful Charlotte walked close beside her little charge, and Ranger, the great mastiff, solemnly kept her company.
Bright eyes soon discover Papa peeping through the curtains. Captain Ned gives orders to “Halt! Turn! About face! Fire!”
And the drums beat, guns fire, and flags wave a salute, and then comes the marching order, whilst Yankee Doodle is famously played on combs and Jew’s harp.
Tramp, tramp, tramp! and the second halt is made at the barn-yard, where each member of the regiment, including the lamb, is refreshed by a drink of warm milk in the little cup which each has fastened to his or her waist; then the new Alderney calf, with its bright gazelle eyes and sweet June breath, comes gayly up to meet them, and be duly smoothed and admired, whilst the anxious mother watches Jem a little doubtfully whilst he celebrates the calf’s first national birthday by tying a flag to her tail. Next in order comes the poultry-yard with its new brood of tiny sebrights—Gracie’s special charge—the pure white bantams with their scarlet topknots and feather pantalettes, and the quacking ducks with clumsy waddling gait. Old Zero, the cross game-cock, eyes the visitors with some displeasure, betrays a little disposition to “show fight,” and refuses stoutly to“turn tail,” that the saucy rogues may rob him of some of his glorious plumage. Very likely the far-seeing bird recognized some of his own feathers, gayly waving in the morning breeze, from the top of the soldiers’ caps, and this accounts for the party not being in “high feather” with him.
Ned discovers to Artie the secrets of the nests, and the two boys come out triumphant with hands full of eggs and hair full of straws, which suggests further sport in that direction, and the regiment disbands for a roll on the haymow, which ends by Artie’s finding himself suddenly lying in the manger, where Nero and Zantippe, from their stalls, survey him with huge, surprised eyes, as if wondering at which end they should begin to nibble. Our young master was a good deal terrified at his situation, and not much relieved when roguish Kit Harwood offered “to help him out with a pitchfork;” but good Jem, who had warned the children to beware of the hole where the horses’ food was thrown down to them, soon came to the rescue, and lent a helping hand. The pigeon-house at the top of the barn was next resorted to, and Jem stayed with little Bear, and brought a chickling, which had lately burst his shell, and laid the little peeping chick in the thin hand which could only be tender in its touch. Cæsar, the coachman, lifts Jack upon Nero’s high back, whilst the children watch the horses eating their morning meal so solemnly and slowly too.
Jack runs to wash his little fat hands in the morning dew, for Cæsar does it, and so it must be “the thing.”
Suddenly the large bell in the hall rings loudly, and this welcome message from thewaiting breakfast finds ready echo in their willing ears, and a general stampede follows.
That was a merry morning meal. Papa and his friends had sailed an hour ago in the trimPsyche, from its little harbor at the wharf, and there were so many pleasures, past and yet to come, that a great deal of talking had to be done, besides their exercise in the cool morning air seemed to have turned each little body into a huge hamper, where a marvellous amount of soft-boiled eggs, muffins, and cold ham had to be packed out of sight for the day’s needs.
Mamma was just proposing they should remain near the house till midday, keeping the shore pleasures for a later hour, when the little pony suddenly came walking into the dining-room through the low porch! He had heard the merry voices, and knew Alice had a bit of sugar for him. What could be the matter?Hadn’t he waited out by the window, nibbled off the leaves of the rose-bush, and finally thrust in his head, all in vain? Alice is listening to one of Jem’s boarding-school tales, and has no eyes or ears for pony this morning; so, of course, there was nothing else for pony to do but to walk upon the clean porch, after having, it is hoped, carefully cleaned his shoes on the scraper, then step lightly into the hall, and thence to the dining-room. Jem must stop his tale now, and let the old school-bell hang without its pillaged clapper, for never before was Harmony Hall honored by such a guest. Pony had thought it could be no harm to take such a liberty, just for once, and wasn’t this a free country, and weren’t we all independent citizens? If not, pony would like to know why the cannons, bells, pistols, and squibs had been saying so ever since daylight. Pony was right, Mamma seemed to think—for she herself picked out the largest lump of sugar, which the old silver claw could grasp, and fed him with it, gently reminding Coco that only on the Fourth of July could such liberties be permitted. Nan came in the room, in the midst of the scene, with Baby Bess in her arms, who screamed with delight at seeing Coco in the dining-room, and called so loudly, “Me yide, me yide,” that Jem held her on his back, whilst he turned him out on the lawn.
The rabbit-hutch is the next place to be visited, for Jem said “he had not yet paid his respects to his ‘bunnies,’” and as everybody agreed to everything in Harmony Hall, off started the noisy band.
The rabbits were a little shy at first, but were very soon lured from their burrows by the smell of the dewy clover and cabbageleaves Jem had carried for them, who showed the children the different marks called “smut” upon their faces, which told their value.
The finest specimen had a black “smut,” or patch of dark fur. The single smut was a patch on one side of the nose; the double, on each side, and the butterfly, a patch on either side, and one on the ridge of the nose. Then he exhibited the “dew laps and long laps,” and told them how bravely they would defend their young. Jem said,—
“Our French teacher, at school, is from Poland, where the snow lies long and is very deep. He says that in his country the hares choose spots in the snow to lie down in, and let the snow fall all around and about them, thus forming a cave for their winter house. Their warm breath thaws the snow about their nose so as to make air-holes to breathe through.Hunters know of this, and train their dogs to search for these air-holes, and stand guard tilltheyarrive to shoot them. Then, they have a funny trait, like some children: they are always looking behind them, and so often, whilst looking for danger in their rear, rush right in among hunters and their dogs without seeing them.”
“Now, Jem,” said Artie, as they left the rabbit-hutch, “what is the next animal to be seen? I like your menagerie a great deal better than ours. I mean, real animals are a great deal more fun than boys and girls, shut up in a city house, with scarcely a tree or bit of sky that seems to belong to you.”
“However, boy,” said Kit, “did you get to call yourselves The Menagerie?”
“Why, this is how: One rainy day, Papa was ill with a cold, and Mamma got a letterfrom your mother telling about your pets, and we were discontented because we had none but a dog and cat; so Papa proposed we should form ourselves into a Home Menagerie, and we had such regular fun that day making cages, feeding and performing, that we have kept up our names ever since.”
“Oh, Jem dear,” said Gracie, “if you are not too tired to-night won’t you please play elephant and old cat, like you used to? It’s such a while since we have seen them.”
“Yes, little sister, I will certainly do it if you are all good children. Now we will go to visit the old dormouse.”
“What a nice brother to have, Jem is!” said Daisy, taking Alice’s hand as they walked along. “He seems so ready to do everything you ask him.”
“Yes,” said solemn-eyed little Alice, as hereyes proudly followed the tall boy in gray uniform, with boys on either side; boys and girls before and behind, and small boy riding on his back. “Yes, we all like Jem. He is so generous and wise to us.”
“Why is the fellow called Dormouse?” asked Daisy.
“Because,” Jem answered, “the word means sleepy-mouse, and he spends most of his time napping. Just feel, Daisy, how soft and delicate his long hair is! You need not squirm so, he won’t jump at you. He is too much of a sleepy-head to take any trouble; see, I can tumble him right over without waking him.”
“Oh, Jem, tell the story Mamma read us about the English lady and the dormice,” said Kit, “it is so famous.”
“An English lady was invited to take teaone night with an old lady who had a pair of pet dormice; after tea, the visitor went to an evening concert, and on her return home found a note from the old lady, saying,—that immediately after she left the house, one of the dormice was missing, and begged she would carefully examine her clothes,—for sometimes her pets would hide away in the folds of a dress for hours. The lady searched in vain; no pet dormouse appeared, so she began to prepare for bed, when, to her great astonishment, on combing out her long hair, she found the mouse hiding in a thick curl. How he got up there, or when, or how he managed to hang on, was always a mystery.”
“That was funny enough,” agreed the children, and turned their attention to the squirrel in his cage. Jem threw in a handful of nuts, and it was curious to see how daintily he turnedthem all over, throwing aside those that were not perfectly good, and when he found one just to his taste, sat himself on his hind legs, cushioning his seat with his tail, then holding the nut in the fore paws, he chiselled out the tip with his front teeth, then broke off the shell, and slowly nibbled the kernel. Jem told the children how useful that great bushy tail was—as cushion by day, and warm blanket at night.
Next on the list came the pigs. But pig-sties, in summer, are not places to tarry long near, so the children started for home, when, suddenly, a loud scream was heard, and Jem darted back in the direction from which the sound came, and soon learned its cause. The two Monkeys had slipped away from the party, to take another look at the pigs, and climbed to the top of the fence, with long sticks intheir hands, “to worry the pigs.” The old Lady of the Sty was so indignant that, at the first thrust, she had rushed toward the fence, making such a fearful noise, that the terrified Rosie had lost her balance, and something or somebody (Rosie, in her fright, could not tell which, but rather thought it was herself) fell over into the sty, right under the quivering nostrils of the angry pigs. There stood Rosie, screaming and stamping outside, whilst roguish Jack was running away as fast as his little short legs could carry him, and Jem found, to his great relief, that what Rosie, in her fright, had supposed to be her little self, was really only her pretty straw hat which piggies were devouring, daisy, wreath and all.
Kind-hearted Jem sat down on the trunk of a tree, near, and, taking the sobbing child on his knee, tenderly soothed her, first promising one of Alice’s sunbonnets for her future use, then, as the children gathered anxiously about him, the boy proposed to tell them a Family Pig Story.
“Do, Jem,” half sobbed, half laughed little Rosie, “I really think it would make my scare better.”
“Do, Jem, old fellow,” chimed in Ned and Kit; “stories of animals never seem to grow rusty.”
“Mamma ought really to tell this,” said Jem, “for she has a kind of a way, when she tells her stories, of seeming to make everything and everybody walk right before your eyes; but I’ll do the best I can.”
“Once upon a time, in the History of the Harwood Family, news came to the house that one of the Madame Pigs had died in the night, and left behind her a poor little baby-pig, which had no one to pity and take care of him. So the family finished their breakfast, in a great hurry, and started off for the sty, or, rather, for the sake of ears polite, we will say the pig parlor.”
“Oh, Jem, don’t be a goose, go on,” impatiently cried Kit.
“There, sure enough, was found a white-skinned, pink-nosed little piggie, looking very disconsolate, ‘whilst the salt tear-drops streamed down piggie’s eyes.’ Papa said we must bring her up by hand, and from that hour, Piggie Pink, as we called her, was our special pet, and the lawn her play-ground. Alice and Grace spent all their money in ribbons for her. You may imagine she was a beauty, she kept herself very clean, and Gracie tied pink ribbons about her neck and a pink sash around her waist, and a rosette upon her tail, everybirthday or festival. We used to coax Mamma to let us bring Piggie Pink into the house, but to that she would never consent. One Fourth of July, every one but Mamma had gone to the village to see the goings-on there—even the servants had gone, for Mamma said she would enjoy the quiet, and not feel lonely. She seated herself upstairs, with a book, when the thought came into her head, ‘I will first go downstairs and make the children a nice loaf of their favorite citron cake; they will come home very hungry, and enjoy it so much.’ So the nice loaf of cake was made and put in the tin box in the pantry, and the kind Mamma sat down again to her story. Once or twice, she fancied she heard funny little noises; but as she wasn’t afraid of ghosts, and knew Ranger would keep off robbers, she paid no attention to the noise atfirst; at last her curiosity was aroused, and off she started, to find out what company she was entertaining. The parlor was empty, and so was the library, but as she stepped through the open door of the dining-room, she found her pantry door open,—the tin cake-box she had put on the shelf was open, too, on the floor,—outside of it were two little white legs and a little quirled tail, with a pink rosette on it, and over the edge of the tall cake-box hung a pink sash, whilst two fore paws and a pink head were buried in her nice, soft warm cake. Mamma was sorry to have no cake to offer us when we got home, but she said she had had a very hearty laugh. Piggie Pink had seemed so unconscious that she was not doing the proper thing, and never once offered to run away. That’s all my story, says Peter Parley.”
“Jem,” asked Rosie, who had quite forgotten her recent adventure, “what is a ghost?”
“Well, really, my little maid, you bother me there,” said Jem, thoughtfully, “I should say it was a—a—”
“Isn’t it really a kind of a live nothing, Jem?” asked Charlie Leonard.
“Well, yes, Charlie,” Jem answered. “I should say you had just about got the idea.”
The children next bent their steps to the house, where Mamma gave them a nice lunch of bread and fruit, and then sent the little ones off with the nurse, for a nap to rest them before the great frolic of the day.
The older boys threw themselves into the hammocks, under the shady trees, while Mrs. Harwood, in the cool library, read some ofHans Andersen’s bewitching tales to the little girls, who sat dressing their dolls in their sea-side suits, to be in readiness for the shore dinner.