tasted of all their "goodies," and expressed sufficient delight and surprise. Dot was taken up and dressed, and Kit found that she fitted into the shoe exact. Her tiny stocking was not empty. They all laughed and talked; and it was nine o'clock before their simple breakfast was ready.
Joe had to take a turn out to see some of the boys; Florence made the beds, and put the room in order; and Hal kept a roaring fire to warm it up, so that they might have a parlor. Kit and Charlie were deeply interested in the shoe; and Granny had to break out every now and then in surprise and thankfulness.
"A shawl and hood and gloves and a dress! Why, I never had so many things at once, I believe; and how hard you must all have worked! I don't see how you could save so much money!"
"It's better than living with Mrs. Van Wyck," returned Florence with pardonable pride. "Embroidering is real pretty work, and it pays well. Mrs. Howard has asked me to do some for a friend of hers."
"You're a wonder, Florence, to be sure. I can't see how you do 'em all so nice. But my fingers are old and clumsy."
"They know how to make pies and doughnuts," said Kit, as if that was the main thing, after all.
They went to work at the dinner. It was to be a grand feast. Joe kept the fire brisk; while Hal waited upon Granny, and remembered the ingredients that went to make "tip-top" dressing.
"It is a pity you were not a Frenchman," said Florence. "You would make such a handy cook."
Hal laughed, his cheeks as red as roses.
"I couldn't keep house without him," appended Granny.
There was a savory smell of roasting goose, the flavor of thyme and onions, which the children loved dearly. Charlie and Kit went out to have a good run, and came back hungry as bears, they declared. Joe went off to see some of the boys, and compare gifts. Though more than one new sled or nice warm overcoat gave his heart a little twinge, he was too gay and happy to feel sad very long; and, when he had a royal ride down hill on the bright sleds that flashed along like reindeers, he returned very well content.
Florence sighed a little as she arranged the table. Three kinds of dishes, and some of them showing their age considerably. If they were all white it wouldn't be so bad. She did so love beauty!
But when the goose, browned in the most delicious manner, graced the middle dish, the golden squash and snowy mound of potatoes, and the deep wine color of the cranberries lent their contrast, it was quite a picture, after all. And when the host of eager faces had clustered round it, one would hardly have noticed any lack. They were all in the gayest possible mood.
Hal did the carving. The goose was young and tender, and he disappeared with marvellous celerity.
Wings, drumsticks, great juicy slices with crisp skin, dressing in abundance; and how they did eat! For a second helping they had to demolish the rack; and Charlie wasn't sure but picking bones was the most fun of all.
"Hal, you had better go into the poultry business," said Joe, stopping in the midst of a spoonful of cranberry.
"I've been thinking of it," was the reply.
"I should think he was in it," said Charlie slyly.
Joe laughed.
"Good for you, Charlie. They must feed you on knives at your house, you're so sharp. But I have heard of people being too smart to live long, so take warning."
Charlie gave her head a toss.
"Why wouldn't it be good?" pursued Joe. "People do make money by it; and I suppose, before very long, we must begin to think about money."
"Don't to-day" said Granny.
"No, we will not worry ourselves," rejoined Hal.
One after another drew long breaths, as if their appetites were diminishing. Dot sat back in her high chair, her hands and face showing signs of the vigorous contest, but wonderfully content.
"Now the pie!" exclaimed Joe.
Florence gathered up the bones and the plates, giving Tabby, who sat in the corner washing her face, anice feast. Then came on the Christmas pie, which was pronounced as great a success as the goose.
"Oh, dear!" sighed Joe. "One unfortunate thing about eating is, that it takes away your appetite."
"It is high time!" added Florence.
They wouldn't allow Granny to wash a dish, but made her sit in state while they brought about order and cleanliness once more. A laughable time they had; for Joe wiped some dishes, and Charlie scoured one knife.
Afterward they had a game at blind-man's-buff. Such scampering and such screams would have half frightened any passer-by. They coaxed Granny to get up and join; and at last, to please Hal, she consented.
If Joe fancied he could catch her easily, he was much mistaken. She had played blind-man's-buff too many times in her young days. Such turning and doubling and slipping away was fine to see; and Charlie laughed so, that Joe, much chagrined, took her prisoner instead.
"Granny, you beat every thing!" he said. "Now, Charlie."
Charlie made a dive at the cupboard, and then started for the window, spinning round in such a fashion that they all had to run; but even she was not fleet enough.
After that, Kit and Florence essayed; and Joe, manœuvring in their behalf, fell into the trap himself, at which they all set up a shout.
"I'm bound to have Granny this time," he declared.
Sure enough, though he confessed afterwards that he peeped a little; but Granny was tired with so much running: and, as the short afternoon drew to a close, they gathered round the fire, and cracked nuts, washing them down with apples, as they had no cider.
"It's been a splendid Christmas!" said Charlie, with such a yawn that she nearly made the top of her head an island.
"I wonder if we'll all be here next year?" said Joe, rather more solemnly than his wont.
"I hope so," responded Granny, glancing over the clustering faces. Dot sat on Hal's knee, looking bright as a new penny. She, too, had enjoyed herself amazingly.
But presently the spirit of fun seemed to die out, and they began to sing some hymns and carols. The tears came into Granny's eyes, as the sweet, untrained voices blended so musically. Ah, if they could always stay children! Foolish wish; and yet Granny would have toiled for them to her latest breath.
"Here's long life and happiness!" exclaimed Joe, with a flourish of the old cocoanut dipper. "A merry Christmas next year, and may we all be there to see!"
Ah, Joe, it will be many a Christmas before you are all there again.
"Hooray!" said Joe, swinging the molasses jug over his head as if it had been a feather, or the stars and stripes on Fourth of July morning.
"O Joe!"
"Flossy, my darling, you are a poet sure; only poetry, like an alligator, must have feet, or it will lose its reputation. Here's your 'lasses, Granny; and what do you think? Something has actually happened to me! Oh, my! do guess quick!"
"You've been taken with the 'lirium"—and there Charlie paused, having been wrecked on a big word.
"Delirium tremenjous. Remember to say it right hereafter, Charlie."
Charlie looked very uncertain.
"Maybe it's the small-pox," said Kit, glancing up in amazement.
"Good for you!" and Joe applauded with two rather blue thumb-nails. "But it's a fact. Guess, Granny. I'm on the high road to fortune. Hooray!"
With that, Joe executed his usual double-shuffle,and a revolution on his axis hardly laid down in the planetary system. He would have said that it was because he was not a heavenly body.
"O Joe, if you were like any other boy!"
"Jim Fisher, for instance,—red-headed, squint-eyed, and freckled."
"He can't help it," said Hal mildly. "He is real nice too."
"You're not going"—began Granny with a gasp.
"Yes, I'm going"—was the solemn rejoinder.
"Not to sea!" and there came a quick blur in Hal's eyes.
"Oh, bother, no! You're all splendid at guessing, and ought to have a prize leather medal. It's in Mr. Terry's store; and I shall have a dollar and a half a week! Good by, Mr. Fielder. Adieu, beloved grammar; and farewell, most fragrant extract of cube-root, as well as birch-oil. O Granny! I'm happy as a big sunflower. On the high road to fame and fortune,—think of it!"
"Is it really true?" asked Florence.
"Then, I won't need to go for any thing," appended Charlie.
"No; but you'll have to draw water, and split kindlings, and hunt up Mrs. Green's cows."
"In Mr. Terry's store! What wonderful luck, Joe!"
Granny's delight was overwhelming. All along shehad experienced a sad misgiving, lest Joe should take a fancy to the sea in real earnest.
"Yes. It's just splendid. Steve Anthony's going to the city to learn a trade. He had a letter from his uncle to-day, saying that he might start right away. I thought a minute: then said I, 'Steve, who's coming here?' 'I don't know,' said he. 'Mr. Terry'll have to look round.' 'I'm your boy,' said I, 'and no mistake.' And with that I rushed in to Mr. Terry, and asked him. He gave me some columns of figures to add up, and questioned me a little, and finally told me that I might come on Monday, and we'd try for a week."
"There's Joe's fortune," said Hal, "and a good one too. You will not need to go to sea."
There was an odd and knowing twinkle in Joe's merry hazel eye, which showed to an observing person that he was not quite sound on the question.
"Tate Dotty;" and two little hands were outstretched.
"O Dot! you're a fraud, and more trouble to me than all my money."
With that, Joe sat her up on his shoulder, and she laughed gleefully.
Granny lighted a candle, and began to prepare for supper. While Charlie set the table, Granny brought out the griddle, and commenced frying some Indian cakes in a most tempting manner. Joe dropped on anold stool, and delighted Dot with a vigorous ride to Banbury Cross.
Kit stood beside him, inhaling the fragrance of the cakes, and wondering at the dexterity with which Granny turned them on a slender knife.
"I don't see how you do it. Suppose you should let 'em fall?"
"Ho!" said Charlie, with a sniff of disdain. "Women always know how."
"But they can't come up to the miners," suggested Joe. "They keep house for themselves; and their flapjacks are turned,—as big as Granny's griddle here."
"One cake?"
"Yes. That's where the art comes in."
"They must take a shovel," said Charlie.
"No, nor a knife, nor any thing."
With that Joe shook his head mysteriously.
"With their fingers," announced Kit triumphantly.
"My mother used to bake them in a frying-pan," said Granny. "Then she'd twirl it round and round, and suddenly throw the cake over."
"There!"
Kit gave a nod as much as to say, "Beat that if you can."
"That isn't a circumstance," was Joe's solemn comment.
"But how then?" asked Charlie, who was wound up to a pitch of curiosity.
"Why,theybake them in a pan too, and twirl it round and round, and then throw it up and run out of doors. The cake goes up chimney, and comes down on the raw side, all right, you see, and drops into the pan before you can count six black beans."
"Oh, I don't believe it!" declared Charlie. "Do you, Granny?"
"They'd have to be pretty quick," was the response.
"You see, a woman never could do it, Charlie," Joe continued in a tormenting manner.
"But, Charlie, a miner's cabin is not very high; and the chimney is just a great hole in the roof," explained Hal.
"'Tory, 'tory," said Dot, who was not interested in the culinary art.
"O Dotty! you'll have a piece worn off the end of my tongue, some day. It's high time you were storing your mind with useful facts; so, if you please, we will have a little English history."
"What nonsense, Joe! As if she could understand;" and Florence looked up from her pretty worsted crocheting.
"To be sure she can. Dot comes of a smart family. Now, Midget;" and with that he perched her up on his knee.
Charlie and Kit began to listen.
"'When good King Arthur ruled the land,He was a goodly king:He stole three pecks of barley-mealTo make a bag pudding.'"
"'When good King Arthur ruled the land,He was a goodly king:He stole three pecks of barley-mealTo make a bag pudding.'"
"'When good King Arthur ruled the land,He was a goodly king:He stole three pecks of barley-mealTo make a bag pudding.'"
"'When good King Arthur ruled the land,
He was a goodly king:
He stole three pecks of barley-meal
To make a bag pudding.'"
"I don't believe it," burst out Charlie. "I was reading about King Arthur"—
"And he was a splendid cook. Hear his experience,—
'A bag pudding the king did make,And stuffed it well with plums;And in it put great lumps of fat,As big as my two thumbs.'"
'A bag pudding the king did make,And stuffed it well with plums;And in it put great lumps of fat,As big as my two thumbs.'"
'A bag pudding the king did make,And stuffed it well with plums;And in it put great lumps of fat,As big as my two thumbs.'"
'A bag pudding the king did make,
And stuffed it well with plums;
And in it put great lumps of fat,
As big as my two thumbs.'"
Dot thought the laugh came in here, and threw back her head, showing her little white teeth.
"It really wasn't King Arthur," persisted Charlie.
"It is a fact handed down to posterity. No wonder England became great under so wise and economical a rule; for listen—
'The king and queen did eat thereof,And noblemen beside;And what they could not eat that night,The queen next morning fried,'—
'The king and queen did eat thereof,And noblemen beside;And what they could not eat that night,The queen next morning fried,'—
'The king and queen did eat thereof,And noblemen beside;And what they could not eat that night,The queen next morning fried,'—
'The king and queen did eat thereof,
And noblemen beside;
And what they could not eat that night,
The queen next morning fried,'—
as we do sometimes. Isn't it wonderful?"
"Hunnerful," ejaculated Dot, wide-eyed.
"I hope you'll take a lesson, and"—
"Come to supper," said Granny.
Irrepressible Charlie giggled at the ending.
They did not need a second invitation, but clustered around eagerly.
"I'm afraid there won't be any left to fry up in the morning," said Joe solemnly.
After the youngsters were off to bed that evening, Joe began to talk about his good fortune again.
"And a dollar and a half a week, regularly, is a good deal," he said. "Why, I can get a spick and span new suit of clothes for twelve dollars,—two months, that would be; and made at a tailor's too."
"The two months?" asked Florence.
"Oh! you know what I mean."
"You will get into worse habits than ever," she said with a wise elder-sister air.
"I don't ever expect to be a grand gentleman."
"But youmightbe a little careful."
"Flo acts as if she thought we were to have a great fortune left us by and by, and wouldn't be polished enough to live in state."
"The only fortune we shall ever have will come from five-finger land," laughed Hal good-naturedly.
"And I'm going to make a beginning. I do think it was a streak of luck. I am old enough to do something for myself."
"I wish I could find such a chance," said Hal, with a soft sigh.
"Your turn will come presently," Granny answered, smiling tenderly.
Joe went on with his air-castles. The sum of money looked so large in his eyes. He bought out half of Mr.Terry's store, and they were to live like princes,—all on a dollar and a half a week.
Granny smiled, and felt proud enough of him. If he would only keep to business, and not go off to sea.
So on Friday Joe piled up his books, and turned a somerset over them, and took a farewell race with the boys. They were all sorry enough to lose him. Mr. Fielder wished him good luck.
"You will find that work is not play," he said by way of caution.
Early Monday morning Joe presented himself bright as a new button. He had insisted upon wearing his best suit,—didn't he mean to have another soon? for the school clothes were all patches. He had given his hair a Sunday combing, which meant that he used a comb instead of his fingers. Mr. Terry was much pleased with his promptness.
A regular country store, with groceries on one side and dry goods on the other, a little sashed cubby for a post-office, and a corner for garden and farm implements. There was no liquor kept on the premises; for the mild ginger and root beer sold in summer could hardly be placed in that category.
Joe was pretty quick, and by noon had mastered many of the intricacies. Old Mr. Terry was in the store part of the time,—"father" as everybody called him. He was growing rather childish and careless, so his son instructed Joe to keep a little watch over him.Then he showed him how to harness the horse, and drove off with some bulky groceries that he was to take home.
"All things work together for good, sonny," said Father Terry with a sleepy nod, as he sat down by the stove.
"What things?"
"All things," with a sagacious shake of the head.
This was Father Terry's favorite quotation, and he used it in season and out of season.
The door opened, and Mrs. Van Wyck entered. She gave Joe a sharp look.
"Soyou'rehere?" with a kind of indignant sniff.
"Yes. What will you have?"
There was a twinkle in Joe's eye, and an odd little pucker to his lips, as if he were remembering something.
"You needn't be so impudent."
"I?" and Joe flushed in surprise.
"Yes. You're a saucy lot, the whole of you."
With that Mrs. Van Wyck began to saunter round.
"What's the price of these cranberries?"
"Eighteen cents," in his most respectful tone.
"They're dear, dreadful dear. Over to Windsor you can get as many as you can carry for a shillin' a quart."
Joe was silent.
"Say sixteen."
"I couldn't," replied Joe. "If Mr. Terry were here"—
"There's Father Terry." She raised her voice a little. "Father Terry, come and look at these cranberries. They're a poor lot, and you'll do well to get a shillin' a quart."
Joe ran his fingers through them. Plump and crimson, very nice he thought for so late in the season.
"I don't s'pose I'd get more'n two good quarts out of three. They'll spile on your hands. Come now, be reasonable."
Father Terry looked undecided. Joe watched him, thinking in his heart that he ought not fall a penny.
"Say a shillin'."
The old man shook his head.
"Well, fifteen cents. I want three quarts, and I won't give a penny more."
The old gentleman studied Joe's face, which was full of perplexity.
"Well," he said with some reluctance.
Joe measured them. Mrs. Van Wyck gave each quart a "settle" by shaking it pretty hard, and Joe had to put in another large handful.
"Now I want some cheese."
The pound weighed two ounces over.
"You can throw that in. Mr. Terry always does."
"How much?"
"Twenty-three cents."
"No: you can't fool me, youngster. I never pay more than twenty cents."
"I'm sure Mr. Terry told me that it was twenty-three."
Father was appealed to again, and of course went over to the domineering enemy.
Then two pounds of butter passed through the same process of cheapening. Joe began to lose his temper. Afterward a broom, some tape and cotton, and finally a calico dress.
"Now, here's three dozen eggs for part pay. They're twenty-four cents a dozen."
"Why, that's what we sell them for," said astonished Joe, mentally calculating profit and loss.
"Oh! they've gone up. Hetty Collins was paid twenty-five over to Windsor. I'd gone there myself if I'd had a little more time."
"I wish you had," ejaculated Joe inwardly.
She haggled until she got her price, and the settlement was made.
"She's a regular old screwer," said Joe rather crossly. "I don't believe it was right to let her have those things in that fashion."
"All things work together for good."
"Forhergood, it seems."
Father Terry went back to his post by the stove. Joe breathed a little thanksgiving that Flossy was not Mrs. Van Wyck's maid-of-all-work.
Joe's next customer was Dave Downs, as the boys called him. He shuffled up to the counter.
"Got anyreelgood cheese?"
"Yes," said Joe briskly.
"Let's see."
Joe raised the cover. Dave took up the knife, and helped himself to a bountiful slice.
"Got any crackers?"
"Yes," wondering what Dave meant.
"Nice and fresh?"
"I guess so."
"I'll take three or four."
"That will be a penny's worth."
When Dave had the crackers in his hand he said, raising his shaggy brows in a careless manner,—
"Oh! you needn't be so perticelar."
Then he took a seat beside Father Terry, and munched crackers and cheese. "Cool enough," thought Joe.
Old Mrs. Skittles came next. She was very deaf, and talked in a high, shrill key, as if she thought all the world in the same affliction.
She looked at every thing, priced it, beat down a cent or two, and then concluded she'd rather wait until Mr. Terry came in. At last she purchased a penny's worth of snuff, and begged Joe to give her good measure.
After that two customers and the mail. FatherTerry bestirred himself, and waited upon a little girl with a jug.
Joe was rather glad to see Mr. Terry enter, for he had an uncomfortable sense of responsibility.
"Trade been pretty good, Joe?" with a smile.
"I've put it all down on the slate, as you told me."
"Hillo! What's this!"
A slow stream of something dark was running over the floor back of the lower counter.
"Oh, molasses!" and with a spring Joe shut off the current, but there was an ominous pool.
"I did not get that: it was"—and Joe turned crimson.
"Father. We never let him go for molasses, vinegar, oil, or burning fluid. He is sure to deluge us. Run round in the kitchen, and get a pail and a mop."
"It's my opinion that this doesn't work together for good," said Joe to himself as he was cleaning up the mess.
"So you had Mrs. Skittles?" exclaimed Mr. Terry with a laugh. "And Mrs. Van Wyck. Why, Joe!"
"She beat down awfully!" said Joe; "and she wanted every thing thrown in. Mr. Terry"—
"She called on father, I'll be bound. But she has taken off all the profits; and then to make you pay twenty-four cents for the eggs."
"I'd just like to have had my own way. If you'll give me leave"—
"You will have to look out a little for father. He's getting old, you know; and these sharp customers are rather too much for him."
"I'll never fall a penny again;" and Joe shook his head defiantly.
"You will learn by degrees. But it is never necessary to indulge such people. There's the dinner-bell."
Dave Downs had finished his crackers and cheese, and now settled himself to a comfortable nap. Joe busied himself by clearing up a little, giving out mail, and once weighing some flour. Then he discovered that he had scattered it over his trousers, and that with the molasses dabs it made a not very delightful mixture. So he took a seat on a barrel-head and began to scrub it off; but he found it something like Aunt Jemima's plaster.
"Run in and get some dinner, Joe," said Mr. Terry after his return to the store.
"But I was going home," replied Joe bashfully.
"Oh! never mind. We will throw in the dinner."
So Joe ran around, but hesitated at the door of Mrs. Terry's clean kitchen. She was motherly and cordial, however, and gave him a bright smile.
"I told Mr. Terry that you might as well come in here for your dinner. It is quite a long run home."
"You are very kind," stammered Joe, feeling that he must say something, in spite of his usual readiness of speech deserting him.
"You ought to have an apron, Joe, or a pair of overalls," she said kindly. "You will find grocery business rather dirty work sometimes."
"And my best clothes!" thought Joe with a sigh.
But the coffee was so delightful, and the cold roast beef tender as a chicken. And Joe began to think it was possible for a few things to work together for good, if they were only the right kind of things.
Altogether he went home at night in very good spirits.
"But my trousers will have to go in the wash-tub, Granny," he exclaimed. "I believe I wasn't cut out for a gentleman, after all."
"O Joe, what a sight! How could you?"
"It was all easy enough. If you'd had molasses to scrub up, and flour to get before it was dry, you would have found the sticking process not at all difficult. And oh! Mrs. Van Wyck came in."
Florence flushed a little at this.
"Yes, wait till I show you." With that, Joe sprang up, and wrapped Granny's old shawl about him, and began in his most comical fashion. In a moment or two the children were in roars of laughter.
"I don't know as it is quite right, Joe dear," interposed Granny mildly, "to make fun of any one."
"My conscience don't trouble me a bit;" for now he was in a high glee. "I owe her a grudge for making me pay twenty-four cents for eggs. And, Granny,when you come to the store, don't beat me down a penny on any thing; nor ask me to throw in a spool of cotton nor a piece of tape, nor squeeze down the measure. I wonder how people can be so mean!"
"Rich people too," added Florence in an injured tone of voice, still thinking of Mrs. Van Wyck's overture.
"There's lots of funny folks in the world," said Joe with a grave air. "But I like Mr. Terry, and I mean to do my very best."
"That's right;" and Granny smiled tenderly over the boy's resolve.
"And I'll put on my old clothes to-morrow. Who knows but I may fall into the mackerel-barrel before to-morrow night?"
Kit laughed at this. "They'll have to fish you out with a harpoon, then."
"Oh! I might swim ashore."
The next day Joe improved rapidly. To be sure, he met with a mishap or two; but Mr. Terry excused him, and only charged him to be more careful in future. And Father Terry administered his unfailing consolation on every occasion.
But on Saturday night Joe came home in triumph.
"There's the beginning of my fortune," he said, displaying his dollar and a half all in hard cash. For that was a long while ago, when the eagle, emblem of freedom, used to perch on silver half-dollars.
"Ithink I'll go into business," said Hal one evening, as he and Granny and Florence sat together.
They missed Joe so much! He seldom came home until eight o'clock; and there was no one to stir up the children, and keep the house in a racket.
"What?" asked Granny.
"I am trying to decide. I wonder how chickens would do?"
"It takes a good deal to feed 'em," said Granny.
"But they could run about, you know. And buckwheat is such a splendid thing for them. Then we can raise ever so much corn."
"But where would you get your buckwheat?" asked Florence.
"I was thinking. Mr. Peters never does any thing with his lot down here, and the old apple-trees in it are not worth much. If he'd let me have it ploughed up! And then we'd plant all of our ground in corn, except the little garden that we want."
"What a master hand you are to plan, Hal!"
Granny's face was one immense beam of admiration.
"I want to do something. It's too hard, Granny, that you should have to go out washing, and all that."
Hal's soft brown eyes were full of tender pity.
"Oh! I don't mind. I'm good for a many day's work yet, Hal."
"I hope some of us will get rich at last."
Florence sighed softly.
"I thought you were going to have a green-house," she said.
"I'm afraid I can't manage the green-house now, though I mean to try some day. And I noticed old Speckly clucking this morning."
"But we haven't any eggs," said Granny.
"I could get some."
"How many chickens would you raise?" asked Florence.
"Well, if we should set the five hens,—out of say sixty-four eggs we ought to raise fifty chickens; oughtn't we, Granny?"
"With good luck; but so many things happen to 'em."
"And if I could clear thirty dollars. Then there's quite a good deal of work to do in the summer."
"I shall soon be a fine lady, and ride in my carriage," Granny commented with a cheerful chirrup of a laugh.
"Mrs. Kinsey's chickens are splendid," said Florence.
"Yes. Shall I get some eggs, and set Speckly?"
"It's rather airly to begin."
"But I'll make a nice coop. And eggs are not twenty-four cents a dozen."
Hal finished off with a quiet smile at the thought of Mrs. Van Wyck.
So he went to Mrs. Kinsey's the next morning, and asked her for a dozen of eggs, promising to come over the first Saturday there was any thing to do, and work it out.
"I'll give you the eggs," she said; "but we will be glad to have you some Saturday, all the same."
So old Speckly was allowed to indulge her motherly inclinations to her great satisfaction. Hal watched her with the utmost solicitude. In the course of time a tiny bill pecked against white prison walls; and one morning Hal found the cunningest ball of soft, yellow down, trying to balance itself on two slender legs, but finding that the point of gravity as often centred in its head. But the little fellow winked oddly, as much as to say, "I know what I'm about. I'll soon find whether it is the fashion to stand on your head or your feet in this queer world."
One by one the rest came out. Hal had a nice coop prepared, and set Mrs. Speckly up at housekeeping. Dot caught one little "birdie," as she called it, and, in running to show Granny, fell down. And although Dot wasn't very heavy, it was an avalanche on poor"birdie." He gave two or three slow kicks with his yellow legs, and then was stiff for all time.
"Hal's boofer birdie," said Dot. "See, Danny!"
"O Dot! what have you done?"
"Him 'oont 'alk;" and Dot stood him down on the doorstep, only to see him tumble over.
"Oh, you've killed Hal's birdie! What will he say?"
"I 'ell down. Why 'oont him run, Danny?"
What could Granny do? Scolding Dot was out of the question. And just then Hal came flying up the road.
Granny had seen the fall, and explained the matter.
"But she mustn't catch them! You're a naughty little Dot!"
Dot began to cry.
"Poor little girl!" said Hal, taking her in his arms. "It is wrong to catch them. See, now, the little fellow is dead, and can never run about any more. Isn't Dot sorry? She won't ever touch Hal's birdies again, will she?"
So Dot promised, and Hal kissed her. But she carried the dead birdie about, petting it with softest touches, and insisting upon taking it to bed with her.
One more of the brood met with a mishap, but the other ten throve and grew rapidly. By the time the next hen wanted to set, Hal had a dozen eggs saved.
He asked Farmer Peters about the lot. It was just below their house, between that and the creek, a stripof an acre and a half perhaps. The old trees were not worth much, to be sure; and Mr. Peters never troubled himself to cultivate the plot, as it was accounted very poor.
"Yes, you may have it in welcome; but you won't git enough off of it to pay for the ploughin'?"
"I'm going to raise chickens; and I thought it would be nice to sow buckwheat, and let them run in it."
"Turnin' farmer, hey? 'Pears to me you're makin' an airly beginnin'."
Hal smiled pleasantly.
"You'll find chickens an awful sight o' bother."
"I thought I'd try them."
"Goin' to garden any?"
"A little."
"Hens and gardens are about like fox an' geese. One's death on the other. But you kin have the lot."
So Hal asked Abel Kinsey to come over and plough. In return he helped plant potatoes and drop corn for two Saturdays. By this time there was a third hen setting.
House-cleaning had come on, and Granny was pretty busy. But she and Hal were up early in the morning garden-making. The plot belonging to the cottage was about two acres. Hal removed his chicken-coops to the lot, and covered his young vegetables with brush to protect them from incursions,—pease, beans, lettuce, beets, and sweet-corn; and the rest was given over to the chickens.
"I am going to keep an account of all that is spent for them," he said; "and we will see if we can make it pay."
When Joe had saved three dollars, he teased Granny to let him order his clothes.
"I don't like running in debt, Joe," she said with a grave shake of the head.
"But this is very sure. Mr. Terry likes me, and I shall go on staying. There will be four dollars and a half to pay down by the time they are done, and in five weeks I can earn the rest."
"How nice it seems!" said Hal. "You and Flo earn a deal of money."
Flo gave a small sniff. She wanted some new clothes also. And Kit and Charlie were going to shreds and patches. Charlie, indeed, was shooting up like Jack's bean-stalk, Joe declared, being nearly as tall as Hal. She was wild as a colt, climbed trees, jumped fences, and wouldn't be dared by any of the boys.
"I'm sure I don't know what you'll come to," Granny would say with a sigh.
Joe carried his point, and ordered his clothes; for he insisted that he could not think of going to Sunday school until he had them. It was quite an era in his life to have real store clothes. He felt very grand one day when he went to Mr. Briggs the tailor, and selectedthe cloth. There were several different patterns and colors; but he had made up his mind that it should be gray, just like Archie Palmer's.
He was so dreadfully afraid of being disappointed, that he dropped in on Friday to see if they were progressing. There was the jacket in the highest state of perfection.
"But the pants?" he questioned.
"Never you mind. Them pants'll be done as sure as my name's Peter Briggs."
"All right," said Joe; and he ran on his way whistling.
"Kit," he announced that evening, "I've just found out a good business for you."
"What?" and Kit roused himself.
"You shall be a tailor. I was thinking to-day how you would look on the board, with your scalp-lock nodding to every stitch."
"I won't," said Kit stoutly; and he gave a kick towards Joe's leg.
"It's a good business. You will always have plenty of cabbage."
"You better stop!" declared Kit.
"It will be handy to have him in the house, Granny. He can do the ironing by odd spells. And on the subject of mending old clothes he will be lovely."
With that Kit made another dive.
Granny gave a sudden spring, and rescued the earthenjar that held the cakes she had just mixed and set upon the stove-hearth.
"O Kit! Those precious pancakes! We are not anxious to have them flavored with extract of old shoes."
"Nor to go wandering over the floor."
Kit looked sober and but half-awake.
"Never mind," said Granny cheerily. "You mustn't tease him so much, Joe."
"Why, I was only setting before him the peculiar advantages of this romantic and delightful employment;" and with that, Joe executed a superior double-shuffle quickstep, accompanied by slapping a tune on his knee.
"You'd do for a minstrel," said Kit.
Joe cleared his voice with a flourish, and sang out,—