^ywzjr^^w^- 
 
 ITTLG GOSi. 
 
 \mmmmmmmmmmmmmm%nmmmmmmmmm^ 
 
 >Y 
 
 •ri^-&4U.iiZii^'^4i<s^i^i^?m:..iuz<<^<c. ^, 
 
 v/SHN COOL 
 
 A J 
 
THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Education 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Louise Farrx^w Barr 
 
Nine Little Goslings. 
 
 By SUSAN COOLIDGE, f> je^^. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "tHB NEW YEAR's BARGAIN," "MISCHIEF'S THANKSGIVING,*' 
 
 "what katy did," "what katy did at school." 
 
 IV/T// ILLUSTRATIONS, 
 
 CURLY LOCKS. ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE. 
 
 GOOSEY, GOOSEY GANDER. RIDK A COCK-HORSE. 
 
 LITTLE BO-PEEP. LADY QUUEN ANNE. 
 
 MISTRESS MARY. UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, 
 LADY BIRD. DOWN, DOWN-Y. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS. 
 
 1893. 
 
Copyright, 1875, 
 By Roberts Brothers. 
 
 Education 
 GIFT 
 
 University Press* John Wilson & Son, 
 Cambridge, 
 
nirx 
 Library 
 
 flatten nursery lamps are veiled^ and nurse is singing 
 
 In accents low, 
 Timing her music to the cradle's swinging, 
 
 Now fast, now slow, — 
 
 Singing of Baby Bunting, soft and furry 
 
 In rabbit cloak. 
 Or rock-a-byed amid the toss and flurry 
 
 Of wind-swept oak ; , 
 
 Of Boy-Blue sleeping with his horn beside him , 
 
 Of my son John, 
 Who went to bed (let all good boys deride him) 
 
 With stockings on ; 
 
 Of sweet Bo-Peep following her lambkins straying ; 
 
 Of Dames in shoes ; 
 Of cows, considerate, *mid the Piper's playing, 
 
 Which tune to choose ; 
 
 Of Gotham's wise men bowling o'er the billow^ 
 
 Or him, less wise. 
 Who chose rough bramble-bushes for a pillow, 
 
 And scratched his eyes, — 
 
 409 
 
It may he, while she sings, that through the portal 
 
 Soft footsteps glide, 
 And, all invisible to grown-up mortal. 
 
 At cradle side 
 
 Sits Mother Goose herself, the dear old mother j 
 And rocks and croons, 
 
 In tones which Bahy hearkens, hut no other^ 
 Her old-new tunes ! 
 
 I think it must he so, else why, years after, 
 
 Do we retrace 
 And mix with shadowy, recollected laughter 
 
 Thoughts of that face ; 
 
 Seen, yet unseen, heaming across the ages, 
 
 Brimful of fun 
 And wit and wisdom,, haffling all the sages 
 Under the sun ? 
 
 A grown-up child has place still, which no other 
 
 May dare refuse ; 
 I, grown up, hring this offering to our Mother, 
 
 To Mother Goose ; 
 
 And, standing with the hahies at that olden, 
 
 Immortal knee, 
 I seem to feel her smile, henign and golden. 
 
 Falling on me. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 3HA? rAOB 
 
 I. Curly Locks 1 
 
 11. Goosey, Goosey Gander 40 
 
 III. Little Bo-Peep 65 
 
 IV. Mistress Mary 101 
 
 V. Lady Bird 137 
 
 VI. One, Two, Buckle My Shoe 165 
 
 VIL Ride a Cock-Horsb 197 
 
 VIIL Lady Queen Anne 228 
 
 IX. Up, Up, Up, and Down, Down, Down-y • 259 
 
CURLY LOCKS. 
 
 W^HEN a little girl is six and a little boy is 
 six, they like pretty much the same things 
 and enjoy pretty much the same games. She 
 wears an apron, and he a jacket and trousers, 
 
2 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS'. 
 
 but they are both equally fond of running races, 
 spinning tops, flying kites, going down hill on 
 sleds, and making a noise in the open air. But 
 when the httle girl gets to be eleven or twelve, 
 and to grow thin and long, so that every two 
 months a tuck has to be let down in her frocks, 
 then a great difference becomes visible. The 
 boy goes on racing and whooping and comport- 
 ing himself generally like a young colt in a 
 pasture ; but she turns quiet and shy, cares no 
 longer for rough play or exercise, takes droll 
 little sentimental fancies into her head, and likes 
 best the books which make her cry. Almost all 
 girls have a fit of this kind some time or other 
 in the course of their lives ; and it is rather a 
 good thing to have it early, for little folks get 
 over such attacks more easily than big ones. 
 Perhaps we may live to see the day when wise 
 mammas, going through the list of nursery dis- 
 eases which their children have had, will wind up 
 triumphantly with, "Mumps, measles, chicken- 
 pox, — and they are all over with ^Amy Her- 
 
CURLY LOCKS. 3 
 
 bert/ ^The Heir of Redclyffe/ and the notion 
 that they are going to be miserable for the rest 
 of their Hves ! " 
 
 Sometimes this odd change comes after an 
 illness when a little girl feels weak and out of 
 sorts, and does not know exactly what is the 
 matter. This is the way it came to Johnnie 
 Carr, a girl whom some of yon who read this 
 are already acquainted with. She had inter- 
 mittent fever the year after her sisters Katy 
 and Clover came from boarding-school, and was 
 quite ill for several weeks. Everybody in the 
 house was sorry to have Johnnie sick. Katy 
 nursed, petted, and cosseted her in the tenderest 
 way. Clover brought flowers to the bedside and 
 read books aloud, and told Johnnie interesting 
 stories. Elsie cut out paper dolls for her by 
 dozens, painted their cheeks pink and their eyes 
 blue, and made for them beautiful dresses and 
 jackets of every color and fashion. Papa never 
 came in without some little present or treat in 
 his pocket for Johnnie. So long as she was in 
 
4 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 bed, and all these nice things were doing for her, 
 Johnnie liked being ill very much, but when 
 she began to sit up and go down to dinner, and 
 the family spoke of her as almost well again, 
 then a time of unhappiness set in. The John- 
 nie who got out of bed after the fever was not 
 the Johnnie of a month before. There were 
 two inches more of her for one thing, for she 
 had taken the opportunity to grow prodigiously, 
 as sick children often do. Her head ached at 
 times, her back felt weak, and her legs shook 
 when she tried to run about. All sorts of queer 
 and disagreeable feelings attacked her. Her 
 hair had fallen out during the fever so that 
 Papa thought it best to have it shaved close. 
 Katy made a pretty silk-lined cap for her to 
 wear, but the girls at school laughed at the cap, 
 and tliat troubled Johnnie very much. Then, 
 when the new hair grew, thick and soft as the 
 plumy down on a bird's wing, a fresh affliction 
 set in, for the hair came out in small round 
 rinsjs all over her head, which made her look like 
 
CURLY LOCKS, 5 
 
 a baby. Elsie called her '' Curly/' and gradu- 
 ally the others adopted the name, till at last 
 nobody used any other except the servants, who 
 still said '' Miss Johnnie." It was hard to recog- 
 nize the old Johnnie, square and sturdy and 
 full of merry life, in poor, thin, whining Curly, 
 always complaining of something, who lay on 
 the sofa reading story-books, and begging Phil 
 and Dorry to let her alone, not to tease her, and 
 to go off and play by themselves. Her eyes 
 looked twice as big as usual, because her face 
 was so small and pale, and though she was still 
 a pretty child, it was in a different way from 
 the old prettiness. Katy and Clover were very 
 kind and gentle always, but Elsie sometimes 
 lost patience entirely, and the boys openly de- 
 clared that Curly was a cross-patch, and hadn't 
 a bit of fun left in her. 
 
 One afternoon she was lying on the sofa with 
 the " Wide Wide World " in her hand. Her 
 eyelids were very red from crying over Alice's 
 death, but she had galloped on, and was now 
 
6 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 reading the part where Ellen Montgomery goes 
 to live with her rich relatives in Scotland. 
 
 " Oh, dear/' sighed Johnnie. " How splen- 
 did it was for her ! Just think. Clover, riding 
 lessons, and a watch, and her uncle takes her 
 to see all sorts of places, and they call her their 
 White Eose ! Oh, dear ! I wish we had relations 
 in Scotland." 
 
 '' We haven't, you know," remarked Clover, 
 threading her needle with a fresh bit of blue 
 worsted. 
 
 "I know it. It's too bad. Nothing ever 
 does happen in this stupid place. The girls in 
 books always do have such nice times. Ellen 
 could leap, and she spoke French Seawtifully. 
 She learned at that place, you know, the place 
 where the Humphreys lived." 
 
 "Litchfield Co., Connecticut, said Clover 
 mischievously. " Katy was there last summer, 
 you recollect. I guess they don't all speak 
 such good French. Katy didn't notice it." 
 
 " Ellen did," persisted Johnnie. " Her uncle 
 
CURLY LOCKS, 7 
 
 and all those people were so surprised when 
 they heard her. Wouldn't it be grand to be 
 an adopted child, Clover ? " 
 
 " To be adopted by people who gave you 
 your bath like a baby when you were thii-teen 
 years old, and tapped your lips when they didn't 
 want you to speak, and stole your Pilgrim's 
 Progresses? No, thank you. I would much 
 rather stay as I am." 
 
 " I wouldn't," replied Johnnie pensively. " I 
 don't like this place very much. I should love 
 to be rich and to travel in Europe." 
 
 At this moment Papa and Katy came in to- 
 gether. Katy was laughing, and Papa looked 
 as if he had just bitten a smile off short. In 
 his hand was a letter. 
 
 " Oh, Clovy," began Katy, but Papa inter- 
 posed with " Katy, hold your tongue ; " and 
 though he looked quizzical as he said it, Katy 
 saw that he was half in earnest, and stopped at 
 once. 
 
 " We're about to have a visitor,' bo went on, 
 
8 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 I icking Johnnie up and settling her in his lap, 
 — ^^a distinguished visitor. Curly, you must 
 put on your best manners, for she comes espe- 
 cially to see you." 
 
 " A visitor ! How nice ! Who is it ? " cried 
 Clover and Johnnie with one voice. Visitors 
 were rare in Burnet, and the children regarded 
 them always as a treat. 
 
 " Her name is Miss Inches, — Marion Joanna 
 Inches," replied Dr. Carr, glancing at the letter, 
 "She's a sort of godmother of yours. Curly; 
 you've got half her name." 
 
 " Was I really named after her ? " 
 " Yes. She and Mamma were school-friends, 
 and though they never met after leaving school, 
 Mamma was fond of her, and when little No. 4 
 came, she decided to call her after her old in- 
 timate. That silver mug of yours was a present 
 from her." 
 
 " Was it ? Where does she live ? " 
 " At a place called Inches Mills, in Massachu- 
 setts. She's the rich lady of the village, and 
 
CURLY LOCKS, 9 
 
 has a beautiful house and groands, where she 
 lives all alone by herself. Her letter is written 
 at Niagara. She is going to the Mammoth Cave, 
 and writes to ask if it will be convenient for us 
 to have her stop for a few days on the way. 
 She wants to see her old friend's children, she 
 says, and especially her namesake." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " sighed Johnnie, ruffling her 
 short hairs with her fingers. " I wish my curls 
 were longer. What will she think when she 
 sees me ? " 
 
 "She'U think 
 
 ** There is a little girl, and she has a little curl 
 Right in the middle of her forehead ; 
 When she is good she is very, very good, 
 And when she is bad she is horrid — *' 
 
 said Dr. Carr, laughing. But Johnnie didn't 
 laugh back. Her lip trembled, and she said, — 
 
 " I'm not horrid really^ am I ? " 
 
 '' Not a bit," replied her fatlier ; " you're only 
 a little goose now and then, and I'm such an old 
 gander that I don't mind that a bit." 
 
10 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 Johnnie smiled and was comforted. Her 
 thoughts turned to the coming visitor. 
 
 " Perhaps she'll be hke the rich ladies in 
 storj^-books/' she said to herself. 
 
 Next day Miss Inches came. Katy was an 
 experienced housekeeper now, and did not 
 worry over coming guests as once she did. The 
 house was always in pleasant, home-hke order \ 
 and though Debby and Alexander had fulfilled 
 Aunt Izzie's prediction by marrying one another, 
 both stayed on at Dr. Carr's and were as good 
 and faithfiil as ever, so Katy had no anxieties 
 as to the dinners and breakfasts. It was late in 
 the afternoon when the visitor arrived. Fresh 
 flowers filled the vases, for it was early June, 
 and the garden-beds were sweet with roses and 
 lilies of the valley. The older girls wore new 
 summer muslins, and Johnnie in white, her 
 short curls tied back with a blue ribbon, looked 
 unusually pretty and delicate. 
 
 Miss Inches, a wide-awake, handsome woman, 
 seemed much pleased to see them all. 
 
CURLY LOCKS, 11 
 
 " So this is my name-child/' she said, putting 
 her arm about Johnnie. ^^This is my little 
 Joanna? You're the only child I have any 
 share in, Joanna; I hope we shall love each 
 other very deeply." 
 
 Miss Inches' hand was large and white, with 
 beautiful rings on the fingers. Johnnie was 
 flattered at being patted by such a hand, and 
 cuddled affectionately to the side of her name- 
 mamma. 
 
 " What eyes she has ! " murmured Miss Inches 
 to Dr. Carr. She lowered her voice, but John- 
 nie caught every word. " Such a lambent blue, 
 and so full of soul. She is quite different from 
 the rest of your daughters. Dr. Carr ; don't you 
 think so ? " 
 
 ^^She has been ill recently, and is looking 
 thin," replied the prosaic Papa. 
 
 " Oh, it isn't that ! There is something else, 
 — hard to put into words, but I feel it! You 
 don't see it ? WeU, that only confirms a theory 
 of mine, that people are often blind to the quali- 
 
12 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 ties of their nearest relations. We cannot get 
 our own families into proper perspective. It 
 isn't possible." 
 
 These fine words were lost on Johnnie, but 
 Bhe understood that she was pronounced nicer 
 than the rest of the family. This pleased her : 
 she began to think that she should hke Miss 
 Inches very much indeed. 
 
 Dr. Carr was not so much pleased. The note 
 from Miss Inches, over which he and Katy had 
 laughed, but which was not shown to the rest, 
 had prepared him for a visitor of rather high- 
 flown ideas, but he did not like having Johnnie 
 singled out as the subject of this kind of praise. 
 However, he said to himself, " It doesn't matter. 
 She means well, and jolly little Johnnie won't be 
 harmed by a few days of it." 
 
 Jolly little Johnnie would not have been 
 harmed, but the pale, sentimental Johnnie left 
 behind by the recently departed intermittent 
 fever, decidedly was. Before Miss Inches had 
 been four days in Burnet, Johnnie adored her 
 
CURLY LOCKS. 13 
 
 and followed her about like a shadow. Never 
 had anybody loved her as Miss Inches did, she 
 thought, or discovered such fine things in her 
 character. Ten long years and a half had she 
 lived with Papa and the children, and not one 
 of them had found out that her eyes were full 
 of soul, and an expression " of mingled mirth 
 and melancholy unusual in a childish face, and 
 more like that of Goethe's Mignon than any 
 thing else in the world of fiction ! " Johnnie 
 had never heard of " Mignon^'' but it was de- 
 lightful to be told that she resembled her, and 
 she made Miss Inches a present of the whole of 
 her foolish little heart on the spot. 
 
 ^' Oh, if Papa would but give you to me ! " ex- 
 claimed Miss Inches one day. " If only I could 
 have you for my own, what a delight it would 
 be ! My whole theory of training is so different, 
 — you should never waste your energies in 
 house-work, my darling, (Johnnie had been 
 dusting the parlor) ; it is sheer waste, with an 
 intelligence like yours lying fallow and cnly 
 
14 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 waiting for the master's hand. Would you 
 conie^ Johnnie, if Papa consented ? Inches 
 Mills is a quiet place, but lovely. There are 
 a few bright minds in the neighborhood; we 
 are near Boston, and not too far from Concord. 
 Such a pretty room as you should have, darling, 
 fitted up in blue and rose-buds, or — no, Morris 
 green and Pompeian-red would be prettier, 
 perhaps. What a joy it would be to choose 
 pictures for it, — pictures, every one of which 
 should be an impulse in the best Art direction ! 
 And how you would revel in the garden, and in 
 the fruit! My strawberries are the finest I 
 ever saw ; I have two Alderney cows and quan- 
 tities of cream. Don't you think you could be 
 happy to come and be my own little Curly, if 
 Papa would consent ? " 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Johnnie eagerly. "And I 
 could come home sometimes, couldn't I ? " 
 
 " Every year," replied Miss Inches. " We'll 
 tak<* such lovely journeys together, Johnnie, 
 and see all sorts of interesting places. Would 
 
CURLY LOCKS. 15 
 
 yoii like best to go to California or to Switzer- 
 land next summer? I think, on the whole, 
 Switzerland would be best. I want you to 
 form a good French accent at once, but, above 
 all, to study German, the language of thouglit 
 Then there is music. We might spend the 
 winter at Stuttgard — " 
 
 Decidedly Miss Inches was counting on her 
 chicken before hatching it, for Dr. Carr had 
 yet to be consulted, and he was not a parent 
 who enjoyed interference with his nest or nest- 
 lings. When Miss Inches attacked him on the 
 subject, his first impulse was to whistle with 
 amazement. Next he laughed, and then he 
 became almost angry. Miss Inches talked very 
 fasi;, describing the fine things she would do 
 with Johnnie, and for her ; and Dr. Carr, having 
 no chance to put in a word, listened patiently, 
 and watched his little girl, who was clinging to 
 her new friend and looking very eager and anx- 
 ious. He saw that her heart was set on being 
 *^' adopted," and, wise man that he was, it oc- 
 
16 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 curied to him that it might be well to grant 
 her wish in part, and let her find out by experi- 
 ment what was really the best and happiest 
 thing. So he did not say " No " decidedly, as 
 he at first meant, but took Johnnie on his knee, 
 and asked, — 
 
 "Well, Curly, so you want to leave Papa 
 and Katy and Clover, and go away to be 
 Miss Inches' little girl, do you?" 
 
 "I'm coming home to see you every single 
 summer," said Johnnie. 
 
 " Indeed ! That will be nice for us," re- 
 sponded Dr. Carr cheerfully. "But somehow 
 I don't seem to feel as if I could quite make 
 up my mind to give my Curly Locks away. 
 Perhaps in a year or two, when we are used 
 to being without her, I may feel differently. 
 Suppose, instead, we make a compromise.'* 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Inches, eagerly. 
 
 " Yes," put in Johnnie, who had not the least 
 idea of what a compromise might be. 
 
 "I can't give away my little girl, — not yet/' 
 
CURLY LOCKS. 17 
 
 — went on Dr. Carr fondly. " But if Miss Inches 
 likes I'll lend her for a little while. You may 
 go home with Miss Inches, Johnnie, and stay 
 four months, — to the first of October, let us 
 say." (" She'll miss two weeks' schooling, but 
 that's no great matter," thought Papa to him- 
 self.) "This will give you, my dear lady, a 
 chance to try the experiment of having a child 
 in your house. Perhaps you may not like it so 
 well as you fancy. If you do, and if Johnnie 
 still prefers to remain with you, there will be 
 cime enough then to talk over further plans. 
 How will this answer ? " 
 
 Johnnie was delighted. Miss Inches not so 
 much so. 
 
 " Of course," she said, " it isn't so satisfac- 
 tory to have the thing left uncertain, because it 
 retards the regular plan of development which 
 I have formed for Johnnie. However, I can 
 allow for a parent's feelings, and I thank you 
 very much. Dr. Carr. I feel assured that, as 
 you have five other children, you will in time 
 
18 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 make up your mind to let me keep Johnnie en- 
 tirely as mine. It puts a new value into life, — 
 this chance of having an immortal intelligence 
 placed in my hands to train. It will be a real 
 dehght to do so, and I flatter myseK the result 
 will surprise you all." 
 
 Dr. Carr's eyes twinkled wickedly, but he 
 made Miss Inches the politest of bows, and said : 
 " You are very kind, I am sure, and I hope 
 Johnnie will be good and not give you much 
 trouble. When would you wish her visit to 
 commence ? " 
 
 '' Oh — now, if you do not object. I should so 
 enjoy taking her with me to the Mammoth Cave, 
 and afterward straight home to Massachusetts. 
 You would like to see the Cave and the eyeless 
 fish, wouldn't you, darling ? " 
 
 " Oh yes. Papa, yes ! " cried Johnnie. Dr. 
 Carr was rather taken aback, but he made no 
 objection, and Johnnie ran off to tell the rest 
 of the family the news of her good fortune. 
 
 Their dismay cannot be described. " I really 
 
CURLY LOCKS. 19 
 
 do think that Papa is crazy/' said Clover that 
 night; and though Katy scolded her for using 
 such an expression, her own confidence in his 
 judgment was puzzled and shaken. She com- 
 forted herself with a long letter to Cousin 
 Helen, telling her all about the affair. Elsie 
 cried herself to sleep three nights running, and 
 the boys were furious. 
 
 "The idea of such a thing," cried Dorry, 
 flinging himself about, while Phil put a table- 
 spoonful of black pepper and two spools of 
 thread into his cannon, and announced that if 
 Miss Inches dared to take Johnnie outside the 
 gate, he would shoot her dead, he would, just as 
 sure as he was alive ! 
 
 In spite of this awful threat. Miss Inches per- 
 sisted in her plan. Johnnie's little trunk was 
 packed by Clover and Katy, who watered its 
 contents with tears as they smoothed and folded 
 the frocks and aprons, which looked so hke 
 their Curly as to seem a part of herself, — their 
 Curly, who was so glad to leave them ! 
 
20 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 "Never mind the thick things/' remarked 
 Dr. Carr, as Katy came through the hall with 
 Johnnie's winter jacket on her arm. "Put in 
 one warmish dress for cool days, and leave the 
 rest. They can be sent on if Johnnie decides 
 to stay." 
 
 Papa looked so droll and gave such a large 
 wink at the word "if/' that Katy and Clover 
 felt their hearts lighten surprisingly, and fin- 
 ished the packing in better spirits. The good- 
 by, however, was a sorry affair. The girls 
 cried ; Dorry and Phil sniffed and looked fiercely 
 at Miss Inches ; old Mary stood on the steps with 
 her apron thrown over her head ; and Dr. Carr's 
 face was so grave and sad that it quite fright- 
 ened Johnnie. She cried too, and clung to Katy. 
 Almost she said, " I won't go," but she thought 
 of the eyeless fish, and didn't say it. The car- 
 riage drove off, Miss Inches petted her, every- 
 thing was new and exciting, and before long 
 she was happy again, only now and then a 
 thought of home would come to make her lips 
 quiver and her eyes fill. 
 
CURLY LOCKS, 21 
 
 The wonderful Cave, with its vaults and gal- 
 leries hung with glittering crystals, its un- 
 derground river and dark lake, was so like a 
 fairy tale, that Johnnie felt as if she must go 
 right back and tell the family at home about it. 
 She relieved her feelings by a long letter to 
 Elsie, which made them all laugh very much. 
 In it she said, '^ Ellen Montgomery didn't have 
 any thing half so nice as the Cave, and Mamma 
 Marion never taps my lips." Miss Inches, it 
 seemed, wished to be called " Mamma Marion." 
 Every mile of the journey was an enjoyment to 
 Johnnie. Miss Inches bought pretty presents 
 for her wherever they stopped : altogether, it 
 was quite like being some little girl taking a 
 beautiful excursion in a story-book, instead of 
 plain Johnnie Carr, and Johnnie felt that to be 
 an "adopted child " was every bit as nice as she 
 had supposed, and even nicer. 
 
 It was late in the evening when they reached 
 Inches Mills, so nothing could be seen of the 
 house, except that it was big and had trees 
 
22 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 around it. Johnnie went to sleep in a large 
 bedroom with a huge double bed all to herseK, 
 and felt very grown-up and important. 
 
 The next day was given to unpacking and 
 seeing the grounds ; after that, Miss Inches said 
 they must begin to lead a regular lif e^ and John- 
 nie must study. Johnnie had been to school all 
 winter, and in the natural course of things 
 would have had holidays now. Mariima Marion^ 
 however, declared that so long an idle time 
 would not do at all. 
 
 "Education, my darling, is not a thing of 
 periods," she explained. " It should be like the 
 air, absorbed, as it were, all the time, not like a 
 meal, eaten just so often in the day. This idea 
 of teaching by paroxysms is one of the fatal 
 mistakes of the age." 
 
 So all that warm July Johnnie had French 
 lessons and German, and lessons in natural 
 philosophy, beside studying English literature 
 after a plan of Miss Inches' own, which com- 
 bined history and geography and geology, with 
 
CURLY LOCKS, 23 
 
 readings from various books, and accounted for 
 the existence of all the great geniuses of the 
 world, as if they had been made after a regular 
 recipe, — something Uke this : — 
 
 TO MAKE A POET. 
 
 Take a political situation, add a rocky soil, and the 
 western slope of a great water-shed, pour into a mould 
 and garnish with laurel leaves. It will be found deli- 
 cious ! 
 
 The " lambent blue " of Johnnie's eyes grew 
 more lambent than ever as she tried to make 
 head and tail of this wonderful hash of people 
 and facts. I am afraid that Mamma Marion 
 was disappointed in the intelligence of her pupil, 
 but Johnnie did her best, though she was rather 
 aggrieved at being obliged to study at all in 
 summer, which at home was always play-time. 
 The children she knew were having a delightful 
 vacation there, and living out of doors from 
 morning till night. 
 
 As the weeks went on she felt this more and 
 more. Change of air was making her rosy and 
 fat, and with returning strength a good deal ol 
 
24 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS 
 
 the old romping, hearty Johnnie came bacK: ; or 
 would have come, had there been anybody to 
 romp with. But there was nobod}^, for Miss 
 Inches scarcely ever invited children to her 
 house. They were brought up so poorly she 
 said. There was nothing inspiring in their 
 contact. She wanted Johnnie to be something 
 quite different. 
 
 So Johnnie seldom saw anybody Except 
 ^^ Mamma Marion" and her friends, who came 
 to drink tea and talk about " Protoplasm/' and 
 the ^^ Higher Education of Women," which 
 wasn't at all interesting to poor Curly. She 
 always sat by, quietly and demurely, and Miss 
 Inches hoped was listening and being improved, 
 but really she was thinking about something else, 
 or longing to climb a tree or have a good game 
 of play with real boys and girls. Once, in the 
 middle of a tea-party, she stole upstairs and 
 indulged in a hearty cry all to herself, over the 
 thought of a little house which she and Dorry 
 and Phil had built in Paradise the summer 
 
CURLY LOCKS, 25 
 
 before ; a house of stumps and old boards, 
 lined with moss, in which they had had such a 
 good time. 
 
 Almost as soon as they got home, Miss Inches 
 sent to Boston for papers and furniture, and 
 devoted her spare time to fitting up a room for 
 her adopted child. Johnnie was not allowed to 
 see it till all was done, then she was led tri- 
 umphantly in. It was pretty — and queer — 
 perhaps queerer than pretty. The walls were 
 green-gray, the carpet gray-green, the furniture 
 pale yellow, almost white, with brass handles 
 and hinges, and lines of dull red tiles set into 
 the wood. Every picture on the walls had a 
 meaning. Miss Inches explained. 
 
 '' Some of these I chose to strengthen your 
 mind, Johnnie, dear," she said. ''- These portraits, 
 for example. Here are Luther, Mahomet, and 
 Theodore Parker, three of the great Protest- 
 ants of the world. Life, to be worthy, must be 
 more or less of a protest always. I want you to 
 remember that. This photograph is of Michael 
 
2(5 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 Angelo's Moses. I got you that too^ because it 
 is so strong. I want you to be strong. Do you 
 like it?" 
 
 " I think it would be prettier without the 
 curl-papers/' faltered the bewildered Johnnie. 
 
 " Curl-papers ! My dear child, where are your 
 eyes ? Those are horns. He wore horns as a 
 law-giver." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am/' said Johnnie, not daring to 
 ask any more questions for fear of making more 
 mistakes. 
 
 " These splendid autotypes are from the ceil- 
 ing of the Sistine Chapel in Rome, the glory 
 of the world," went on Miss Inches. " And 
 here, Johnnie, is the most precious of all. This 
 I got expressly for you. It is an education to 
 have such a painting as that before your eyes. 
 I rely very much upon its influence on you." 
 
 The painting represented what seemed to be 
 a grove of tall yellow-green sea-weeds, waving 
 against a strange purple sky. There was a 
 path between the stems of the searweeds, and 
 
CURLY LOCKS, 27 
 
 up this path trotted a pig, rather soft and 
 smudgy about his edges, as if he were running a 
 little into the background. His quirly tail was 
 smudgy also; and altogether it was more like 
 the ghost of a pig than a real animal, but Miss 
 Inches said that was the great beauty of the 
 picture. 
 
 Johnnie didn't care much for the painted pig, 
 but she liked him better than the great Ee- 
 f ormers, who struck her as grim and frightful ; 
 while the very idea of going to sleep in the 
 room with the horned Moses scared her almost 
 to death. It preyed on her mind all day ; and 
 at night, after Johnnie had gone to bed, Miss 
 Inches, passing the door, heard a little sob, half 
 strangled by the pillows. She went in. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " she cried. 
 
 ^^It's that awfal man with horns," gasped 
 Johnnie, taking her head out from under the 
 bedclothes. ^^I can't go to sleep, he frightens 
 me so." 
 
 " Oh, my darling, what, what weakness," cried 
 Mamma Marion. 
 
28 NIAE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 She was too kind, however, to persist in 
 any plan which made Johnnie unhappy, so 
 Moses came down, and Johnnie was allowed to 
 choose a picture to fill his place. She selected a 
 chromo of three little girls in a swing, a dread- 
 ful thing, all blue and red and green, which 
 Miss Inches almost wept over. But it was a 
 great comfort to Johnnie. I think it was the 
 chromo which put it into Mamma Marion's head 
 that the course of instruction chosen for her 
 adopted child was perhaps a httle above her 
 years. Soon after she surprised Johnnie by the 
 gift of a doll, a boy doll, dressed in a suit of 
 Swedish gray, with pockets. In one hand the 
 doll carried a hammer, and under the other 
 arm was tucked a small portfolio. 
 
 " I like to make your sports a little instruc- 
 tive when I can," she said, '' so I have dressed 
 this doU in the costume of Linnaeus, the great 
 botanist. See what a nice little herbarium he 
 has got under his arm. There are twenty-four 
 tiny specimens in it, with the Latin and English 
 
CURLY LOCKS, 29 
 
 names of each written underneath. If you 
 could learn these perfectly, Johnnie, it would 
 give you a real start in botany, which is the 
 most beautiful of the sciences. Suppose you 
 try. What will you name your doll, darling ? " 
 
 "I don't know," replied Johnnie, glaring at 
 the wax-boy with very hostile feelings. 
 
 "LinnaBus? No, I don't quite like to give 
 that name to a doll. Suppose, Johnnie, we 
 christen him Hortus Siccus. That's the Latin 
 name for a herbal, and will help you to remem- 
 ber it when you form one of your own. Now 
 take him and have a good play." 
 
 How was it possible to have a good play with 
 a doll named Hortus Siccus f Johnnie hated 
 him, and could not conceal the fact. Miss In- 
 ches was grieved and disappointed. But she 
 said to herself, " Perhaps she is just too old for 
 dolls and just too young to care for pictures. 
 It isn't so easy to fix a child's mental position 
 as I thought it would be. I must try some- 
 thing else." 
 
30 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 She really loved Johnnie and wished to make 
 her happy, 80 the thought occurred of giving 
 her a child's party. " I don't approve of them/' 
 she told her friends. " But perhaps it may be 
 possible to combine some instruction with the 
 amusements, and Johnnie is so pleased. Dear 
 little creature, she is only eleven, and small 
 things are great at that age. I suppose it is 
 always so with youth." 
 
 Twenty children were asked to the party. 
 They were to come at four, play for two hours 
 in the garden, then have supper, and afterward 
 games in the parlor. 
 
 Johnnie felt as if she had taken a dose of 
 laughing-gas, at the sight of twenty boys and 
 girls all at once, real boys, real girls ! How long 
 it was since she had seen any ! She capered and 
 jumped in a way which astonished Miss Inches, 
 and her high spirits so infected the rest that a 
 general romp set in, and the party grew noisy 
 to an appalling degree. 
 
 " Oh, Johnnie dear, no more ' Tag/ " cried 
 
CURLY LOCKS, 31 
 
 poor Mamma Marion^ catching her adopted 
 child and wiping her hot face with a handke^r- 
 chief . " It is really too rude, such a game as 
 that. It is only fit for boys." 
 
 " Oh, please ! — please ! — please ! " entreated 
 Johnnie. " It is splendid. Papa always let us ; 
 he did indeed, he always did." 
 
 "I thought you were my child now, and 
 anxious for better things than tag," said Miss 
 Inches gravely. Johnnie had to submit, but 
 she pouted, shrugged her shoulders, and looked 
 crossly about her, in a way which Mamma 
 Marion had never seen before, and which an- 
 noyed her very much. 
 
 ^^Now it is time to go to supper," she an- 
 nounced. " Form yourselves into a procession, 
 children. Johnnie shall take this tambourine 
 and Willy Parker these castanets, and we will 
 march in to the sound of music." 
 
 Johnnie liked to beat the tambourine very 
 much, so her sulks gave place at once to smiles. 
 The boys and girk sorted themselves into cou- 
 
32 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 pies, Miss Inches took the head of the proces- 
 sion with an accordion, Willy Parker clashed 
 the castanets as well as he could, and they all 
 marched into the house. The table was beau- 
 tifully spread with flowers and grapes and pretty 
 china. Johnnie took the head, Willy the foot, 
 and Dinah the housemaid helped them all round 
 to shced peaches and cream. 
 
 Miss Inches meanwhile sat down in the corner 
 of the room and drew a httle table full of books 
 near her. As soon as they were all served, she 
 began, — 
 
 "Now, dear children, while you eat, I will 
 read aloud a little. I should like to think that 
 each one of you carried away one thought at 
 least from this entertainment, — a thought which 
 would stay by you, and be, as it were, seed- 
 grain for other thoughts in years to come. 
 First, I will read ' Abou Ben Adhem,' by Leigh 
 Hunt, an English poet." 
 
 The children listened quietly to Abou Ben 
 Vdhem, but when Miss Inches opened another 
 
CURLY LOCKS. 33 
 
 book and began to read sentences from Emer- 
 son^ a deep gloom fell upon the party. Willy 
 Parker kicked his neighbor and made a face. 
 Lucy Hooper and Grace Sherwood whispered 
 behind their napkins, and got to laughing till 
 they both choked. Johnnie's cross feelings 
 came back; she felt as if the party was being 
 spoiled, and she wanted to cry. A low buzz of 
 whispers, broken by titters, went round the table, 
 and through it all Miss Inches' voice sounded 
 solemn and distinct, as she slowly read one pas- 
 c^age after another, pausing between each to let 
 the meaning sink properly into the j^outhful 
 mind. 
 
 Altogether the supper was a failure, in spite 
 of peaches and cream and a delicious cake full 
 of plums and citron. When it was over they 
 went into the parlor to play. The game o: 
 "Twenty Questions" was the first one chosen. 
 Miss Inches played too. The word she sug- 
 gested was " iconoclast." 
 
 "We don't know ^^^^i it means/' objected 
 the children* 
 
34 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 " Oh, don't you, dears ? It means a breaker 
 of idols. However, if you are not familiar with 
 it we will choose something else. How would 
 ' Miehael Angelo ' do ? " 
 
 "But we never heard any thing about him." 
 
 Miss Inches was shocked at this, and began 
 a little art-lecture on the spot, in the midst of 
 which Willy Parker broke in with, " I've thought 
 of a word, — ^hash'?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! Capital ! Hash is a splendid 
 word ! " chorussed the others, and poor Miss 
 Inches, who had only got as far as Michael 
 Angelo's fourteenth year, found that no one 
 was listening, and stopped abruptly. Hash 
 seemed to her a vulgar word for the children to 
 choose, but there was no help for it, and she 
 resigned herself. 
 
 Johnnie thought hash an excellent word. It 
 was so funny when Lucy asked whether the 
 thing chosen was animal, vegetable, or mineral ? 
 and Willy replied, "All three," for he explained 
 in a whivsper, there was always salt in hash, and 
 
CURLY LOCKS, 35 
 
 Bait was a mineral. " Have you all seen it ? " 
 questioned Lucy. " Lots of times/' shouted the 
 children, and there was much laughing. After 
 '' Twenty Questions/' they played " Sim says 
 wiggle-waggle/' and after that, " Hunt the 
 Slipper." Poor, kind, puzzled Miss Inches was 
 relieved when they went away, for it seemed to 
 her that their games were aU noisy and a fear- 
 ful waste of time. She resolved that she would 
 never give Johnnie any more parties ; they up- 
 set the child completely, and demoralized her 
 mind. 
 
 Johnnie was upset. After the party she was 
 never so studious or so docile as she had been 
 before. The little taste of play made her dis- 
 like work, and set her to longing after the home- 
 life where play and work were mixed with each 
 other as a matter of course. She began to 
 think that it would be only pleasant to make up 
 lier bed, or dust a room again, and she pined 
 for the old nursery, for Phil's whistle, for Elsie 
 and the paper-dolls, and to feel Katy's arms 
 
36 NINE UTILE GOSLINGS. 
 
 round her once more. Her letters showed the 
 growing home-sickness. Dr. Carr felt that the 
 experiment had lasted long enough. So he dis- 
 covered that he had business in Boston, and one 
 fine September day, as Johnnie was forlornly 
 poring over her lesson in moral philosophy, the 
 door opened and in came Papa. Such a shriek 
 as she gave ! Miss Inches happened to be out, 
 and they had the house to themselves for a while. 
 
 " So you are glad to see me ? '' said Papa, 
 when Johnnie had dried her eyes after the 
 violent fit of crying which was his welcome, and 
 had raised her head from his shoulder. His 
 own eyes were a little moist, but he spoke 
 gaily. 
 
 '^ Oh, Papa, 80 glad ! I was just longing for 
 you to come. How did it happen ? " 
 
 " I had business in this part of the world, and 
 I thought you might be wanting your winter 
 clothes." 
 
 Johnnie's face fell. 
 
 " Mu8t I stay all winter ? '' she said in a 
 
CURLY LOCKS. 37 
 
 trembling voice. "Aren't you going to take 
 me home ? " 
 
 " But I thought you wanted to be ' adopted/ 
 and to go to Europe, and have all sorts of fine 
 things happen to you." 
 
 " Oh, Papa, don't tease me. Mamma Marion 
 is ever so kind, but I want to come back and be 
 your little girl again. Please let me. If you 
 don't, I shall die — " and Johnnie wrung her 
 hands. 
 
 " We'll see about it," said Dr. Carr. " Don't 
 die, but kiss me and wash your face. It won't 
 do for Miss Inches to come home and find you 
 with those impolite red rims to your eyes." 
 
 " Come upstairs, too, and see my room, while 
 I wash 'em," pleaded Johnnie. 
 
 All the time that Johnnie was bathing her 
 eyes. Papa walked leisurely about looking at 
 the pictures. His mouth wore a furtive smile. 
 
 " This is a sweet thing," he observed, " this 
 one with the pickled asparagus and the donkey, 
 or is it a cat ? " 
 
38 A/iVfi" LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 " Papa ! it's a pig ! " 
 
 Then they both laughed. 
 
 I think there was a little bit of relief mixed 
 with Miss Inches' disappointment at hearing of 
 Johnnie's decision. The child of theory was a 
 delightful thing to have in the house, but this 
 real child, with moods and tempers and a will 
 of her own, who preferred chromos to Raphael, 
 and pined after "tag," tried her considerably. 
 They parted, however, most affectionately. 
 
 " Goodby, dear Mamma Marion," whispered 
 Johnnie. -^You've been just as good as good 
 to me, and I love you so much, — but you know 
 1 am used to the girls and Papa." 
 
 "Yes, dear, I know. You're to come back 
 often. Papa says, and I shall call you my girl 
 always." So, w4th kisses, they separated, and 
 Miss Inches went back to her old life, feeling 
 that it was rather comfortable not to be any 
 longer responsible for a " young intelligence," 
 and that she should never envy mammas with 
 big families of children again, as once she had 
 done. 
 
CURLY LOCKS. 39 
 
 '' So weVe got our Curly Locks back/' said 
 Katy, fondly stroking Johnnie's hair, the night 
 after the travellers' return. ^^ And you'll never 
 go away from us any more, will you ? " 
 
 " Never, never, never ! " protested Johnnie, 
 emphasizing each word by a kiss. 
 
 " Not even to be adopted, travel in Europe, or 
 speak Litchfield Co. French ? " put in naughty 
 Clover. 
 
 " No. I've been adopted once, and that's 
 enough. Now I'm going to be Papa's little girl 
 always, and when the rest of you get married 
 I shall stay at home and keep house for him." 
 
 " That's right," said Dr. Carr. 
 
GOOSEY, GOOSEY GANDER. 
 
 ''But why 
 must I go to 
 bed ? It isn't 
 time, and I'm 
 not sleepy yet/' 
 pleaded Dickie, 
 holding fast by the 
 side of the door. 
 
 " Now, Dickie, 
 don't be naughty. 
 It's time because I say that it's time." 
 
 " Papa never tells me it's time when it's light 
 like this," argued Dickie. "He doesn't ever 
 send me to bed till seven o'clock. I'm not 
 
GOOSEY, GOOSEY GANDER. 41 
 
 going till it's a great deal darker than this. Su 
 there, Mally Spence." 
 
 " Oh, yes, you are, Dickie darling," replied 
 Mally coaxingly. " The reason it's light is be- 
 cause the days are so long now. It's quite late 
 really, — almost seven o'clock, — that is," she 
 added hastily, " it's past six (two minutes past !), 
 and sister wants to put Dickie to bed, because 
 she's going to take tea with Jane Foster, and 
 unless Dick is safe and sound she can't go. 
 Dickie would be sorry to make sister lose her 
 pleasure, wouldn't he?" 
 
 " I wiss you didn't want me to go," urged 
 Dick, but he was a sweet-tempered little soul, 
 so he yielded to Mally's gentle pull, and suffered 
 her to lead him in-doors. Upstairs they went, 
 past Mally's room. Papa's, — up another flight of 
 stairs, and into the attic chamber where Dick 
 slept alone. It was a tiny chamber. The ceil- 
 ing was low, and the walls sloped inward like 
 the sides of a tent. It would have been too 
 small to hold a grown person comfortably, but 
 
42 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 there was room in plenty for Dickie's bed^ one 
 chair, and the chest of drawers which held his 
 clothes and toys. One narrow window hghted 
 it, opening toward the West. On the white 
 plastered wall beside it, lay a window-shaped 
 patch of warm pink light. The light was re- 
 flected from the sunset. Dickie had seen this 
 light come and go very often. He liked to 
 have it there ; it was so pretty, he thought. 
 
 Malvina undressed him. She did not talk as 
 much as usual, for her head was full of the tea- 
 party, and she was in a hurry to get through 
 and be off. Dickie, however, was not the least 
 in a hurry. Slowly he raised one foot, then the 
 other, to have his shoes untied, slowly turned 
 himself that Mally might unfasten his apron. 
 All the time he talked. Mally thought she had 
 never known him ask so many questions, or 
 take so much time about every thing. 
 
 " What makes the wall pink ? " he said. " It 
 never is 'cept just at bedtime." 
 
 ^at's the sun." 
 
GOOSEY, GOOSEY GANDER, 43 
 
 " Why doesn't the sun make it that color 
 always ? " 
 
 " The sun is setting now. He is not setting 
 always." 
 
 " That's an improper word. You mustn't 
 say it." 
 
 '' What's an improper word ? " 
 
 " Papa said^ when I said ' setting on the door- 
 steps/ that it wasn't proper to say that. He 
 said I must say sitting on the door steps." 
 
 " That isn't the same thing, Goosey Gander/' 
 cried Mally laughing. " The sun sets and little 
 boys sit." 
 
 " I'm not a goosey gander/' responded Dickie. 
 '^ And Papa said it wasn't proper." 
 
 "Never mind/' said Mally, whipping on his 
 night-gown : " you're a darling, if you are a 
 goosey. Now say your prayers nicely." 
 
 " Yes/' replied Dick, dreamily. He knelt 
 down and began his usual prayer. " Please, 
 God, bless Papa and Mally and Gwandmamma 
 and — " " make Dick a good boy " should have 
 
44 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 . come next^ but his thoughts wandered. '^ Why 
 don't the sun sit as well as httle boys ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 ^' Oh^ Dickie, Dickie ! " cried the scandalized 
 Malvina. ^^ You're saying your prayers, you 
 know. Good children don't stop to ask ques- 
 tions when they're saying their prayers." 
 
 Dickie felt rebuked. He finished the little 
 prayer quickly. Mally lifted him into bed. 
 " It's so warm that you won't want this/' she 
 said, folding back the blanket. Then she stooped 
 to kiss him. 
 
 "Tell me a story before you go," pleaded 
 Dickie, holding her tight. 
 
 " Oh, not to-night, darling, because I shall 
 be late to Jane's if I do." She kissed him 
 hastily. 
 
 " I don't think it's nice at all to go to bod 
 when the sun hasn't sit, and I'm not sleepy a 
 bit, and there isn't nothing to play with," re- 
 marked Dick, plaintively. 
 
 " You'll fall asleep in a minute or two. Goosey, 
 
GOOSEY, GOOSEY GANDER, 45 
 
 then you won't want any thing to play with/' 
 said Mally^ hurrying away. 
 
 ^^ I'm 720^ a goosey/' shouted Dick after her. 
 Ten minutes later, as she was tying her bonnet 
 strings, she heard him calling from the top of 
 the stairs. 
 
 ^^ What is it, Dickie?" 
 
 "I'm not a goose. Goosies has feathers. 
 They say ' quack.' " 
 
 "You're the kind that hasn't feathers and 
 doesn't say quack/' replied Mally from below. 
 " No, darling, you're not a goose ; you're Mally's 
 good boy. Now, run back to bed." 
 
 " Yes, I will," replied Dick, satisfied by this 
 concession. He climbed into bed again, and lay 
 watching the pink patch on the wall. Yellow 
 bars began to appear and to dance in the midst 
 of the pink, 
 
 " Like teeny-weeney little ladders," thought 
 Dick. There was a ladder outside his door, 
 at top of which was a scuttle opening on to 
 the roof. Dickie turned his head to look at 
 
46 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 the ladder. The scuttle-door stood open ; 
 from above, the pink light streamed in and lay 
 on the rungs of the ladder. 
 
 " I did go up that ladder once/' soliloquized 
 Dick. " Papa took me. It was velly nice up 
 there. I wiss Papa would take me again. 
 Mally, she said it was dangewous. I wonder 
 why she said it was dangewous ? Mally's a very 
 funny girl, I think. She didn't ought to put 
 me to bed so early. I can't go to sleep at all. 
 Perhaps I sha'n't ever go to sleep, not till morn- 
 ing, — then she'd feel sorry. 
 
 " If I was a bird I could climb little bits of 
 ladders like that," was his next reflection. " Or 
 a fly. I'd like to be a fly, and eat sugar, and 
 say b-u-z-z-z all day long. Only then perhaps 
 some httle boy would get me into the corner 
 of the window and squeeze me all up tight with 
 his fum." Dickie cast a rueful look at his own 
 guilty thumb as he thought this. " I wouldn't 
 I'kc that! Bat I'd like very much indeed to 
 buzz and tickle Mally's nose when she was twy- 
 
GOOSEY, GOOSEY GANDER. 47 
 
 ing to sew. She'd slap and slap, and not hit me, 
 and I'd buzz and tickle. Plow I'd laugh! But 
 perhaps flies don't know how to laugh, only -just 
 to buzz. 
 
 ** * Pretty, carious, buzzy fly.' 
 
 That's what my book says." 
 
 The pink glow was all gone now, and DicJc 
 shifted his position. 
 
 "I WIS8 I could go to sleep," he thought. 
 '' It isn't nice at all to be up here and not have 
 any playthings. Mally's gone, else she'd get me 
 something to amoose myseK with. I'd like my 
 dwum best. It's under the hall table, I guess. 
 P'waps if I went down I could get it." 
 
 As this idea crossed his mind, Dickie popped 
 quickly out of bed. The floor felt cool and 
 pleasant to his bare little feet as he crossed to 
 the door. He had almost reached the head of 
 the stairs when, looking up, something so prett}'' 
 met his eyes that he stopped to admire. It was 
 a star, shining against the pure sky like a twink- 
 ling sUver lamp. It seemed to beckon, and the 
 
48 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 ladder to lead straight up to it. Almost with- 
 out stopping to think^ Dickie put his foot on the 
 first rung and climbed nimbly to the top of the 
 ladder. The star was just as much out of reach 
 when he got there as it had been before^ but 
 there were other beautiful sights close at hand 
 which were well worth the trouble of climbing 
 after. 
 
 Miles and miles and miles of sky for one thing. 
 It rose above Dickie's head like a great blue 
 dome pierced with pin-pricks of holes, through 
 which little points of bright light quivered and 
 danced. Far away against the sky appeared 
 a church spire, like a long sharp finger pointing 
 to Heaven. One little star exactly above, 
 seemed stuck on the end of the spire. Dickie 
 wondered if it hurt the star to be there. He 
 stepped out on to the roof and wandered about. 
 The evening was warm and soft.* No dew fell. 
 The shingles still kept the heat of the sun, an 3 
 felt pleasant and comfortable under his feet. 
 By-and-by a splendid rocker-shaped moon came 
 
GOOSEY, GOOSEY GANDER, 49 
 
 from behind the sky's edge where she had been 
 hiding away, and sailed slowly upward. She 
 was a great deal bigger than the stars, but they 
 didn't seem afraid of her in the least. Dickie 
 reflected that if he were a star he should hurry 
 to get out of her way ; but the stars didn't mind 
 the moon's being there at all, they kept their 
 places, and shone calmly on as they had done 
 before she came. 
 
 He was standing, when the moon appeared, 
 by the low railing which guarded the edge of 
 the roof. The railing was of a very desirable 
 height. Dickie could just rest his chin on 
 top of it, which was nice. Suddenly a loud 
 " Maau-w ! " resounded from above. Dickie 
 jumped, and gave his poor chin a knock against 
 the raihng. It couldn't be the moon, could it ? 
 Moons didn't make noises like that. 
 
 He looked up. There, on the ridge pole of 
 the next roof, sat a black cat, big and terrible 
 against the sky. "- Ma-a-uw," said the cat again, 
 louder than before. 
 
 4 
 
50 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS 
 
 '' Why, pussy, what's the matter ? " cried 
 Dick. His voice quavered a Httle, but he tried 
 to speak boldly. Pussy was displeased at the 
 question. She hissed, put up her back, swelled 
 her tail to a puff, and fled to a distant part of 
 the roof, where, from some hidden ambush, Dick 
 could hear her scolding savagely. 
 
 " She's a cwoss cat, I guess," he remarked phil- 
 osophically. " Why, this chimney is warm," he 
 cried, as his arm touched the bricks. ^^It's 
 'cause there used to be a fire in there. But 
 there isn't any smoke coming out. I wonder if 
 all the chimneys are warm too, like this one." 
 
 There was another chimney not far off, and 
 Dick hastened to try the experiment. To do 
 this he was obliged to chmb a railing, but it was 
 low and easy to get over. The sqcond chimney 
 was cold, but a little farther on appeared a third, 
 and Dick proceeded to climb another raihng. 
 
 But before he reached this third chimney, a 
 surprising and interesting sight attracted his 
 attention. This was a scuttle door just like the 
 
GOOSEY, GOOSEY GANDER, 51 
 
 one at home, standing open, with a ladder lead- 
 ing down into a garret below. 
 
 Dick peered over the edge of the scuttle. 
 There was no little chamber in this attic like his 
 at home. It was all an open space, crammed 
 with trunks, furniture, boxes, and barrels. He 
 caught sight of a rocking-horse standing in a 
 corner; a rocking-horse with a blue saddle on 
 his wooden back, and a fierce bristling mane 
 much in need of brush and comb. Drawn by 
 irresistible attraction, Dickie put, first one foot, 
 then the other, over the scuttle's edge, crept 
 down the ladder, and in another moment stood 
 by the motionless steed. Thick dust lay on 
 the saddle, on the rockers, and on the stiffly 
 stretched-out tail, from which most of the red 
 paint had been worn away. It was evidently 
 a long time since any little boy had mounted 
 there, chirruped to the horse, and ridden glori- 
 ously away, pursuing a fairy fox through imag- 
 mary fields. The eye of the wooden horse was 
 glazed and dim. Life had lost its interest to 
 
52 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 the poor animal^ turned out, as it were, to past- 
 ure as best he might in the dull, silent garret. 
 
 Dickie patted the red neck, a timid, affec- 
 tionate pat, but it startled the horse a little, 
 for he shook visibly, and swayed to and fro. 
 There was evidently some " go " left in him, 
 in spite of his dejected expression of counte- 
 nance. The shabby stirrup hung at his side. 
 Dickie could just reach it with his foot. He 
 seized the mane, and, pulling hard, clambered 
 into the saddle. Once there, reins in hand, he 
 clucked and encouraged the time-worn steed to 
 his best paces. To and fro, to and fro they 
 swung, faster, slower, Dickie beating with his 
 heels, the wooden horse curveting and prancing. 
 It was famous! The dull thud of the rockers 
 echoed through the garret, and somebody sit- 
 ting in the room below raised his head to listen 
 to the strange sound. 
 
 This somebody was an old man with white 
 hair and a gray, stern face, who sat beside a 
 table on which were paper and lighted candles. 
 
GOOSEY, GOOSEY GANDER. 53 
 
 A letter lay before him, but he was not reading 
 it. When the sound of the rocking began, he 
 started and turned pale. A little boy once 
 used to rock in that way in the garret over- 
 head, but it was long ago, and for many years 
 past the garret had been silent and deserted. 
 " Harry's horse ! " muttered the old man with 
 a look of fear as he heard the sound. He half 
 rose from his chair, then he sat down again. 
 But soon the noise ceased. Dickie had caught 
 sight of another thing in the garret which in- 
 terested him, and had dismounted to examine it. 
 The old man sank into his chair again with a 
 look of relief, muttering something about the 
 wind. 
 
 The thing which Dickie had gone to examine 
 was a little arm-chair cushioned with red. It 
 was just the size for him, and he seated himself 
 ill it with a look of great satisfaction. 
 
 " I wiss this chair was mine," he said. " P'waps 
 Mally'U let me take it home if I ask her." 
 
 A noise below attracted hjis attention. Ho 
 
54 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 peeped over the balusters and saw an elderly 
 woman^ with a candle in her hand, coming up 
 from the lower story She went into a room at 
 the foot of the attic stair, leaving the door open. 
 " Hester ! Hester ! " called a voice from below. 
 The woman came from the room and went down 
 again. She did not take the candle with her : 
 Dick could see it shining through the open door. 
 Like a little moth attracted by a flame, Dick 
 wandered down the stair in the direction of the 
 light. The candle was standing on the table in 
 a bedroom, — a pretty room, Dickie thought, 
 though it did not seem as if anybody could 
 have lived in it lately. He didn't know why 
 this idea came into his mind, but it did. It was 
 a girl's bedroom, for a small blue dress hung on 
 the wall, and on the bureau were brushes, combs, 
 and hair-pins. Beside the bureau was a wooden 
 shelf full of books. A bird-cage swung in the 
 window, but there was no bird in it, and the 
 seed glass and water cup were empty. The 
 narrow bed had a white coverlid and a great 
 
GOOSEY, GOOSEY GANDER, 55 
 
 white pillow. It looked all ready for somebody, 
 but it was years since the girl who once owned 
 the room had slept there. The old housekeeper, 
 who still loved the girl, came every day to dust 
 and smooth and air and sweep. She kept all 
 things in their places just as they used to be in 
 the former time, but she could not give to the 
 room the air of life which once it had, and, do 
 what she would, it looked deserted always — 
 empty — and dreary. 
 
 On the chimney-piece were ranged a row of 
 toys, plaster cats, barking dogs, a Noah's ark, 
 and an enormous woolly lamb. This last struck 
 Dick with admiration. He stood on tip-toe with 
 his hands clasped behind his back to examine it. 
 
 " Oh, dear," he sighed, '' I wiss I had that 
 lamb." Then he gave a jump, for close to him, 
 in a small chair, he saw what seemed to be a 
 little girl, staring straight at him. 
 
 It was a big, beautiful doll, in a dress of faded 
 pink, and a pink hat and feather. Dick had 
 never seen such a fine lady before; she quite 
 
56 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 fascinated him. He leaned gently forward and 
 touched the waxen hand. It was cold and 
 clamni} ; Di(*.k did not like the feel^ and re- 
 treated. The unwinking eyes of the doll fol- 
 lowed him as he sidled away, and made him 
 uncomfortable. 
 
 In the opposite room the old man still sat with 
 his letter before him. The letter was from the 
 girl who once played with the big doll and slept 
 in the smooth white bed. She was not a child 
 now. Years before she had left her father's 
 house against his will, and in company with a 
 person he did not like. He had said then that 
 he should never forgive her, and till now she 
 had not asked to be forgiven. It was a long 
 time since he had known any thing about her. 
 Nobody ever mentioned her name in his hear- 
 mg, not even the old housekeeper who loved 
 her still, and never went to bed without pray- 
 ing that Miss Ellen might one day come back. 
 Now Ellen had written to her father. The 
 letter lay on the table. 
 
GOOSEY, GOOSEY GANDER. 57 
 
 ^' I was wrong/' she wrote, '' but I have been 
 punished. We have suffered much. My hus- 
 band is dead. I will not speak of him, for I 
 know that his name will anger you ; but, fatlier, 
 I am alone, ill, and very poor. Can you not for- 
 give me now ? Do not think of me as the wild, 
 reckless girl who disobeyed you and brought 
 sorrow to your life. I am a weary, sorrowful 
 woman, longing, above all other things, to be 
 pardoned before I die, — to come home again to 
 the house where all my happy years were spent. 
 Let me come, father. My little Hester, named 
 after our dear nurse, mine and Harry's, is a 
 child whom you would love. She is like me as 
 I used to be, but far gentler and sweeter than ] 
 ever was. Let me put her in your arms. Le : 
 me feel that I am forgiven for my great fault, 
 and I will bless you every day that I live. 
 Dear father, say yes. Your penitent Elj.en." 
 
 Two anp:els stood behind the old man as he 
 read this letter. He did not see them, but he 
 heard their voices as first one and then the 
 other bent and whispered in his ear. 
 
58 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 ^^ Listen/' murmured the white angel with 
 radiant moonlit wings. " Listen. You loved 
 her once so dearly. You love her still. I 
 know you do." 
 
 ^^No/' breathed the darker angel. ^^You 
 swore that you would not forgive her. Keep 
 3"0ur word. You always said that she would 
 come back as soon as she was poor or unhappy, 
 or that scamp treated her badly. It makes no 
 difference in the facts. Let her suffer ; it serves 
 her right." 
 
 "Remember what a dear child she used to 
 be/' said the fair angel, " so bright, so loving. 
 How she used to dance about the house and 
 sing ; the sun seemed to shine always when she 
 came into the room. She loved you truly then. 
 Her little warm arms were always about your 
 neck. She loves you still." 
 
 " What is love worth," came the other voice, 
 " when it deceives and hurts and betrays ? All 
 these long years you have suffered. It is her 
 turn now." 
 
GOOSEY, GOOSEY GANDER. 59 
 
 ^^ Remember that it was partly your fault/' 
 wliispered the spirit of good. '' You were harsh 
 and stern. You did not appeal to her love^ but 
 to her obedience. She had a high spirit ; you 
 forgot that. And she was only sixteen." 
 
 " Quite old enough to know better/' urged 
 the spirit of evil. " Remember the hard life you 
 have led ever since. The neighbors speak of 
 you as a stern, cruel man; the little children 
 run away when you appear. Whose fault is 
 that? Hers. She ought to pay for it." 
 
 " Think of the innocent child who never did 
 you wrong, and who suffers too. Think of the 
 dear Lord who forgives your sins. Pray to him. 
 He will help you to forgive her/' — urged the 
 good angel, but in fainter tones, for the black 
 angi.l spoke louder, and thrust between with his 
 fierce voice. 
 
 " The thing is settled. Why talk of prayer 
 or pardon? Let her go her way." 
 
 As this last whisper reached his ear the old 
 man raised his bent head. A hard, vindictive 
 
60 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 look was in his eyes. He seized the letter and 
 tore it in two. ^^ Alas ! alas ! " sighed the sweet 
 angel^ while the evil one rejoiced and waved his 
 dark wings in triumph. 
 
 It was at this moment that Dickie, attracted 
 by the rustle of paper, appeared at the door. 
 His eyes were beginning to droop a Httle. He 
 rubbed them hard as he crossed the entry. The 
 pit-pat of his bare feet made no sound on the 
 carpeted floor, so that the old man had no warn- 
 ing of his presence till, turning, he saw the 
 little night-gowned figure standing motionless 
 in the door-way. 
 
 He sprang from his chair and stretched out 
 his hands. He tried to speak, but no voice 
 came at first \ then in a hoarse whisper he said, 
 — ^^ Harry — is it you? Ellen — '' 
 
 Dickie, terrified, fled back into the hall as if 
 shod with wings. In one moment he was in 
 the attic, up the ladder, on the roof. The old 
 man ran blindly after him. 
 
 " Come back, Ellen — come back ! " he cried. 
 
GOOSEY, GOOSEY GANDER, 61 
 
 '' I will forgive you, — come back to your poor 
 old father, dear child." His foot slipped as he 
 spoke. It was at t}ie stair-head. He fell for- 
 ward heavily, and lump, bump, bump, down 
 stairs he tumbled, and landed heavily in the 
 hall below. 
 
 Hester and the housemaid ran hastily from 
 the kitchen at the sound of the fall. When 
 they saw the old man lying in a heap at the 
 foot of the stair, they were terribly frightened. 
 Blood was on his face. He was quite uncon- 
 scious. 
 
 " He is dead. Mr. Kirton is dead ! " cried the 
 housemaid, wringing her hands. 
 
 " No, — his heart beats," said Hester. '' Eun 
 for Doctor Foster, Hannah, and ask Eichard 
 Wallis to come at once and help me lift the 
 poor old gentleman." 
 
 Hannah flew to do this errand. A moment 
 after, Mr. Kirton opened his eyes. 
 
 " Where is EUen ? " he said. Then he shut 
 them again. Hester glanced at the torn letter, 
 
62 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 which through all his fall the old man had held 
 lightly clasped in his hand, and gave a loud cry. 
 
 '' Miss Ellen, come back ! " she exclaimed. 
 "My own Miss Ellen. God has heard my 
 prayers." 
 
 When Mr. Kirton's senses returned, late m 
 the night, he found himseK in his own bed. 
 His head felt strangely ; one arm was tied up in 
 a queer stiff bandage, so that he could not move 
 it. A cloth wet with water lay on his forehead. 
 When he stirred and groaned, a hand lifted the 
 cloth, dipped it in ice-water, and put it back 
 again fresh and cool. He looked up. Some 
 one was bending over him, some one with a face 
 which he knew and did not know. It puzzled 
 him strangely. At last, a look of recognition 
 came into his eyes. " Ellen ? " he said, in a 
 tone of question. 
 
 " Yes, dear father, it is I." 
 
 " Why did you come dressed as a little child 
 to frighten me ? You are a woman," he said 
 wonderingly ; " your hair is gray ! " 
 
GOOSEY, GOOSEY GANDER. 63 
 
 ^' I did not come as a little child, father. I 
 am an old woman now. I have come to be j^our 
 nurse." 
 
 " I don't understand/' muttered the old man, 
 but he asked no more, and presently dropped 
 asleep. Ellen watched him for a long time, 
 then she went across the hall to her old room, 
 where Hester stood looking at a little girl, who 
 lay on the bed sleeping soundly, with the pink 
 doll hugged tight in her arms. 
 
 "She is just hke yourself. Miss Ellen," said 
 Hester, with joyful tears in her eyes, — "just 
 like your old self, with a thought more brown 
 in the hair. Ah ! good times have begun again 
 for my poor old master; the light has come 
 back to the house." 
 
 But neither Hester nor Ellen saw the wliite- 
 robed angel, who bent over the old man's bed 
 with a face of immortal joy, and sang low songs 
 of peace to make sleep deep and heahng. The 
 dark spirit has fled away. 
 
 Meantime Dickie, imconscious messenger of 
 
64 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS 
 
 Fate, scrambling easily over the roofs, had 
 gained his own room, and was comfortably 
 tucked up in his little bed. His dreams were 
 of dolls, rocking-horses, black cats. So soundly 
 did h^ sleep, that, when morning came, Mally 
 had to snake him and call loudly in his ear 
 before she could wake him up. 
 
 " Why, Dick ! " she cried, " look at your 
 night-gown. It's all over dust, and there are 
 one — two — three tears in the cotton. What 
 have you been doing ? " 
 
 But Dickie could not tell. 
 
 " I dweamed that I walked about on the woof/' 
 he said. " But I guess I didn't weally, did I ? " 
 
LITTLE BO PEEP. 
 
 The sun was setting at the end of an August 
 day. Everybody was glad to see the last of 
 him, for the whole world felt scorched and hot, 
 — the ground, the houses, — even the ponds 
 
66 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 looked warm as they stretched in the steaming 
 distance. On the edge of the horizon the sun 
 winked with a red eye, as much as to say, 
 " Don't flatter yourselves, I shall be back again 
 soon;" then he slowly sank out of sight. It 
 was comforting to have him go, if only for a 
 little while. ^^ Perhaps," thought the people, 
 " a thunder-storm or something may come 
 along before morning, and cool him off." 
 
 Little Mell Davis was as glad as anybody 
 when the sun disappeared. It had been a hard 
 day. Her step-mother had spent it in making 
 soap. Soap-making is ill-smelling, uncomfort- 
 able work at all times, and especially in August. 
 Mrs. Davis had been cross and fractious, had 
 scolded a great deal, and found many little jobs 
 for MeU to do in addition to her usual tasks of 
 dish-washing, table-setting, and looking after 
 the children. MeU was tired of the heat ; tired 
 of the smell of soap, of being lectured ; and when 
 sapper was over was very glad to sit at peace 
 on the door-steps and read her favorite book, a 
 
' LITTLE BO PEEP. 67 
 
 tattered copy of the Fairy Tales. Soon she 
 forgot the trials of the day. " Once upon a 
 time there hved a beautiful Princess/' she read, 
 but just then came a sharp call. "Mell, Mell, 
 you tiresome girl, see what Tommy is about ; " 
 and Mrs. Davis, dashing past, snatched Tommy 
 away from the pump-handle, which he was ply- 
 ing vigorously for the benefit of his small sis- 
 ters, who stood in a row under the spout, all 
 dripping wet. Tommy was wetter still, having 
 impartially pumped on himself first of all. 
 Frocks, aprons, jacket, all were soaked, shoes 
 and stockings were drenched, the long pig tails 
 of the girls streamed large drops, as if they had 
 been little rusty-colored water-pipes. 
 
 '^ Look at that ! " cried Mrs. Davis, exhibit 
 ing the half -drowned brood. " You might as 
 well be deaf and blind, Mell, for any care you 
 ^ake of 'em. Give you a silly book to read, 
 and the children might perish before your eyes 
 for all you'd notice. Look at Isaphine, and 
 Gabella Sarah. Little lambs, — as likely as not 
 
68 NINE LITTLE GOSLLVOS. 
 
 they've taken their deaths. It shan't happen 
 again, though. Give me that book — " And, 
 snatching Mell's treasure from her hands, Mrs. 
 Davis flung it into the fire. It flamed, shriv- 
 elled : the White Cat, Cinderella, Beauty 
 and the Beast, — all, all were turned in one 
 moment into a heap of unreadable ashes ! Mell 
 gave one clutch, one scream; then she stood 
 quite still, with a hard, vindictive look on her 
 face, which so provoked her step-mother that 
 she gave her a slap as she hurried the children 
 upstairs. Mrs. Davis did not often slap Mell. 
 " I punish my own children," she would say, 
 '' not other people's." " Other people's chil- 
 dren " meant poor Mell. 
 
 It was not a very happy home, this of the 
 Davis's. Mell's father was captain of a whaler, 
 and almost always at sea. It was three years 
 now since he sailed on his last voyage. No 
 word had come from him for a great many 
 months, and his wife was growing anxious 
 This did not sweeten her temper, for in case he 
 
LITTLE BO PEEP. 69 
 
 never returned, Mell's would be another back to 
 clothe, another mouth to fill, when food, perhaps, 
 would not be easily come by. Mell was not 
 anxious about her father. She was used to 
 having him absent. In fact, she seldom thought 
 of him one way or another. If Mrs. Davis had 
 been kinder, and had given her more time to 
 read the Fairy Tales, she would have been quite 
 a happy little girl, for she lived in dreams, and 
 it did not take much to content her. Half her 
 time was spent in a sort of inward play which 
 never came out in words. Sometimes in these 
 plays she was a Princess with a gold crown, and 
 a delightful Prince making love to her all day 
 long. Sometimes she kept a candy-shop, and 
 lived entirely on sugar-almonds and sassafras- 
 stick. These plays were so real to her mind 
 that it seemed as if they Tnust some day come 
 true. Her step-mother and the children did not 
 often figure in them, though once in a while she 
 made beheve that they were all changed into 
 agreeable people, and shared her good luck. 
 
70 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 There was one thing in the house, however, 
 which invariably took part in her visions. This 
 was a large wooden chest with brass handles 
 which stood upstairs in Mrs. Davis's room, and 
 was always kept locked. 
 
 Mell had never seen the inside of this chest 
 but once. Then she caught glimpses of a red 
 shawl, of some coral beads in a box, and of vari- 
 ous interesting looking bundles tied up in paper. 
 " How beautiful ! " she had cried out eagerly, 
 whereupon Mrs. Davis had closed the lid .with a 
 snap, and locked it, looking quite vexed. " What 
 is it ? Are all those lovely things yours ? '* 
 asked Mell, and she had been bidden to hold 
 her tongue, and see if the kitchen fire didn't 
 need another stick of wood. It was two years 
 since this happened. Mell had never seen the 
 lid raised since, but every day she had played 
 about the big chest and its contents. 
 
 Sometimes she played that the chest belonged 
 to the beautiful Princess, and was full of her 
 clothes and jewels. Sometimes a fairy lived 
 
LITTLE BO PEEP, 71 
 
 there, who popped out, wand in hand, and made 
 things over to Mell's liking. Again, Mell played 
 that she locked her step-mother np into the 
 chest, and refused to release her till she pro- 
 mised never, never again, so long as she lived, to 
 Bcold about any thing. Mrs. Davis would have 
 been very vexed had she known about these 
 plays. It made her angry if Mell so much as 
 glanced at the chest. " There you are again, 
 peeping, peeping," she would cry, and drive 
 Mell before her downstairs. 
 
 So this evening, after the burning of the 
 book, Mell's sore and angry fancies flew as usual 
 to the chest. '^ It's so big," she thought, " that 
 all the children could get into it. I'll play that 
 a wicked enchanter came and flew away with 
 mother, and never let her come back. Then I 
 should have to take care of the children ; and 
 rd get somebody to nail some boards, so as to 
 make five dear little cubby-houses inside the 
 chest. I'd put Tommy in one, Isaphine in 
 another, Arabella Jane in another, Belinda in 
 
72 NINE LTTTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 another^ and Gabella Sarah in another. Then 
 I'd shut the hd down and fasten it, and wouldn't 
 I have a good time ! When dinner was ready 
 I'd fetch a plate and spoon, feed 'em all round, 
 and shut 'em up again. It would be just the 
 same when I washed their faces ; I'd just take a 
 wet cloth and do 'em all with a couple of scrubs. 
 They couldn't get into mischief I suppose in 
 there. Yet I don't know. Tommy is so bad 
 that he would if he could. Let me see, — what 
 could he do ? If he had a gimlet he'd bore 
 holes in the boards, and stick pins through to 
 make the others cry. I must be sure to see if 
 he has any gimlets in his pocket before I put 
 him in. Oh, dear, I hope I shan't forget ! " 
 
 Mell was so absorbed in these visions that she 
 did not hear the gate open, and when a hand 
 was suddenly laid on her shoulder she gave a 
 little cry and a great jump. A tall man had 
 come in, and was standing close to hc^r. 
 
 " Does Mrs. Captain Davis hve here ? " asked 
 the tall man. 
 
LITTLE BO PEEP. 73 
 
 " Yes," said Mell, staring at him with her big 
 eyes. 
 
 " Is she to home ? " 
 
 " Yes/' said Mell again. '' She's in there/' 
 pointing to the kitchen. 
 
 The tall man stepped over Mell, and went in. 
 Mell heard the sound of voices, and grew curi- 
 ous. She peeped in at the door. Her step- 
 mother was folding a letter. She looked vexed 
 about something. 
 
 " What time shall you start ? " she said. 
 
 ^^ Half-past five/' replied the man. " I've my 
 hands to pay at ten, and the weather's so hot 
 it's best to get off early." 
 
 " I suppose I must go," went on Mrs. Davis, 
 " though I'd rather be whipped than do it. You 
 can stop if you've a mind to : I'll be ready." 
 
 "Very well," said the man. "You haven't 
 got a drink of cider in the house, have you ? 
 This dust has made me as dry as a chip." 
 
 " Mell, run down cellar and fetch some," said 
 Mrs. Davis. " It was good cider once, but I'm 
 
74 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 afraid it's pretty hard now." She bustled about ; 
 brought doughnuts and a pitcher of water. The 
 man drank a glass of the sour cider and went 
 away. Mrs. Davis sat awhile thinking. Then 
 she turned sharply on Mell. 
 
 ^^I've got to go from home to-morrow on 
 business/' she said. '' Perhaps I shall be back by 
 tea-time, and perhaps I sha'n't. If there was 
 anybody I could get to leave the house with 1 
 would, but there isn't anybody. Now^ listen to 
 me, Mell Davis. Don't you open a book to-mor- 
 row, not once ; but keep your eyes on the chil- 
 dren, and see that they don't get into mischief. 
 If they do, I shall know who to thank for it. 
 I'll make a batch of biscuit to-night before I go 
 to bed ; there's a pie in the cupboard, and some 
 cold pork, and you can boil potatoes for the 
 children's breakfast and for dinner. Are you 
 listening ?" 
 
 " Yes'm," rephed Mell. 
 
 " See that the children have their faces and 
 hands washed," went on her step-mother. " Oh, 
 
LITTLE BO PEEP, 75 
 
 deai% if you were a different kind of girl liow 
 much easier would it be ! I wish your father 
 would come home and look after his own affairs, 
 instead of my having to leave things at sixes and 
 sevens and go running round the country hunt- 
 ing up his sick relations for him." 
 
 "- Is it grandmother who is sick ? " asked Mell 
 timidly. She had never seen her grandmother, 
 but she had played about her very often. 
 
 " No/' snapped Mrs. Davis. "^ It's your 
 Uncle Peter. Don't ask questions ; it's none 
 of your business who's sick. Mind you strain 
 the milk the first thing to-morrow, and wring 
 out the dishcloth when you're through with it. 
 Oh, dear, to think that I should have to go ! " 
 
 Mell crept to bed. She was so very tired 
 that it seemed just one moment before Mrs. 
 Davis was shaking her arm, and calling her to 
 get up at once, for it was five o'clock. Slowly 
 she unclosed her sleepy eyes. Sure enough, 
 the night was gone. A fiery red bar in the 
 East showed that the sun too was getting out 
 
76 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 of bed, and making ready for a hot day's work. 
 Mell rubbed her eyes. She wished that it was 
 all a dream, from which she had waked only to 
 fall asleep again. But it was no use playing at 
 dreams with Mrs. Davis standing by. 
 
 Mrs. Davis was by no means in a humor for 
 play. People rarely are at five in the morning. 
 She rushed about the house like a whirlwind, 
 giving Mell directions, and scolding her in ad- 
 vance for all the wrong things she was going to 
 do, till the poor child was completely stunned 
 and confused. By and by the tall man appeared 
 with his wagon. Mrs. Davis got in and drove 
 away, ordering and lecturing till the last mo- 
 ment. ^^ What's the use of telling, for you're 
 sure to get it all wrong," were her last words, 
 and Mell thought so too. 
 
 She walked back to the house feeling stupid 
 and unhappy. But the quiet did her good, and 
 as gradually she realized that her step-mother 
 was actually gone, — gone for the whole day, — 
 her spirits revived, and she began to smile and 
 
LITTLE BO PEEP, 77 
 
 sing softly to herself. Very few little girls of 
 twelve would, I think, have managed better 
 than Mell did for the first half of that morning. 
 First she got breakfast, only bread and milk 
 and baked potatoes, but there is a wrong as well 
 as a right way with even such simple things, and 
 Mell really did all very cleverly. She swept 
 the kitchen, strained the milk, wound the clock. 
 Then, as a sound of twittering voices began 
 above, she ran up to the children, washed and 
 dressed, braided the red pig-tails, and got them 
 downstairs successfully, with only one fight be- 
 tween Tommy and Isaphine, and a roaring fit 
 from Arabella Jane, who was a tearful child. 
 After breakfast, while the little ones played on 
 the door-steps, she tidied the room, mended the 
 fire, washed plates and cups, and put them away 
 in the cupboard, wrung out the dishcloth accord- 
 ing to orders, and hung it on its nail. When 
 this was finished she looked about with pride. 
 The children were unusually peaceful ; alto- 
 gether, the day promised well. " Mother'll not 
 
78 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 say that I'm a good-for-nothing girl this time/' 
 thought Mell, and tried to recollect what should 
 be done next. 
 
 The kerosene can caught her eye. 
 
 " 111 clean the lamp/' she said. 
 
 She had never cleaned the lamp before, but 
 had seen her step-mother do it very often. First, 
 she took the lamp-scissors from the table drawer 
 and cut the wick, rather jaggedly, but Mell did 
 not know that. Then she tipped the can to fiU 
 the lamp. Here the misfortunes of the day 
 began ; for the can slipped, and some of the oil 
 was spilled on the floor. This terrified Mell, for 
 that kitchen-floor was the idol of Mrs. Davis's 
 heart. It was scrubbed every day, and kept as 
 white as snow. Mell knew that her step-mother's 
 eyes would be keen as Blue Beard's to detect a 
 spot; and, with all the energy of despair, she 
 rubbed and scoured with soap and hot water. 
 It was all in vain. The spot would not come 
 out. 
 
 " I'll put a chair there," thought Mell. " Then 
 perhaps she won't see it just at first." 
 
LITTLE BO PEEP. 79 
 
 "I want that scissors/' cried Tommy from 
 the door. 
 
 "- You can't have it/' replied Mell, hurrying 
 them into the drawer. "It's a bad scissors, 
 Tommy, all oily and dirty. Nice httle boys 
 don't want to play with such dirty scissors a,^ 
 that." 
 
 " Yes, they do/' whined Tommy, quite uncon- 
 vinced. 
 
 " Now, children," continued Mell, " I'm going 
 upstairs to make the beds. You must play just 
 here, and not go outside the gate till I come 
 down again. I shall be at the window, and see 
 you all the time. Will you promise to be good 
 and do as I tell you ? " 
 
 " Es," lisped Gabella Sarah. 
 
 " Es," said Isaphine. 
 
 " Yes, yes," clamored the others, headed by 
 Tommy, who was a child of promise if ever 
 there was one. All the time his eyes were 
 fixed on the table drawer! 
 
 Mell went upstairs. First into the children's 
 
80 NINE LITTLE GDSLINGS. 
 
 room, then into her own. She put her head 
 out of the window once or twice. The children 
 were playing quietly ; Tonuny had gone in for 
 something, they said. Last of all, Mell went 
 to her step-mother s room. She had just begun 
 to smooth the bed, when an astonishing sight 
 caught her eyes. The hey was in the loch of 
 the big chest! 
 
 Yes, actually, the fairy treasury, home of so 
 many fancies, was left unlocked ! How Mrs. 
 Davis came to do so careless a thing will never 
 be known, but that she had done so was a fact. 
 
 Mell thought at first that her eyes deceived 
 her. She stole across the room and touched the 
 key timidly with her forefinger to make sure. 
 Then she lifted the lid a little way and let it fall 
 again, looking over her shoulder as if fearing to 
 hear a sharp voice from the stairs. Next, grown 
 bolder, she opened the lid wide. There lay the 
 red shawl, just as she remembered it, the coral 
 beads in their hdless box, the blue paper parcels , 
 and, forgetting all consequences in a rapture of 
 
LITTLE BO PEEP. 81 
 
 curiosity, Mell sat down on tlie floor, lifted out 
 the red shawl, tied the coral beads round her 
 neck, and plunged boldly into the contents of 
 I he big chest. 
 
 Such a delightful chest as it proved to be ! 
 Mell thought it a great deal better than any 
 fairy tale, as one by one she lifted out and 
 handled the things which it contained. First 
 and most beautiful was a parasol. It was cov- 
 ered with faded pink silk trimmed with fringe, 
 and had a long white handle ending in a curved 
 hook. Mell had never seen a parasol so fine. 
 She opened it, shut it, opened it again; she 
 held it over her head and went to the glass to 
 see the effect. It was gorgeous, it was like the 
 parasols of Fairy-land, Mell thought. She laid it 
 on the floor close beside her, that she might see 
 it all the while she explored the chest. 
 
 Below the parasol was a big paper box. Mell 
 lifted the lid. A muff and tippet lay inside, 
 made of yellow and brown fur like the back 
 of a tortoise-shell cat. These were beautiful^ 
 
82 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 too. Then came rolls of calico and woollen 
 pieces, some of which were very pretty, and 
 would make nice doll's dresses, Mell thought. 
 
 A newspaper parcel next claimed her atten- 
 tion. It held an old-fashioned work-bag made 
 of melon seeds strung on wire, and lined with 
 green. Mell admired this exceedingly, and 
 pinned it to her waist. Then she found a fan 
 of white feathers with pink sticks. This was 
 most charming of all. Mell fanned herself a 
 long time. She could not bear to put it away. 
 Princesses, she thought, must use fans like that. 
 On the paper which wrapped the fan was some- 
 tiling written in pencil. Mell spelled it out. 
 " For my little Melicent " was what the writing 
 said. 
 
 Was the fan really hers ? Perhaps the para- 
 sol was hers too, the coral beads, the muff and 
 tippet! All sorts of delightful possibilities 
 whirled through her brain, as she tossed and 
 tumbled the parcels in the chest out on to the 
 floor. More bundles of pieces, some knitting- 
 
LITTLE BO PEEP. 83 
 
 needles, an old-fashioned pair of bellows (Mell 
 did not know what these were), a book or two, 
 a package of snuff, which flew up into her face 
 and made her sneeze. Then an overcoat and 
 some men's clothes folded smoothly. Mell did 
 not care for the overcoat, but there were two 
 dresses pinned in towels which delighted her. 
 One was purple muslin, the other faded blue 
 silk ; and again she found her own name pinned 
 on the towel, — " For my little Mell." A faint 
 pleasant odor came from the folds of the blue 
 silk dress. Mell searched the pocket, and found 
 there a Tonquin bean, screwed up in a bit of 
 paper. It was the Tonquin bean which had 
 made the dress smell so pleasantly. Mell 
 pressed the folds close to her nose. She was 
 fond of perfumes, and this seemed to her the 
 most delicious thing she ever smelt. 
 
 Suddenly the clock downstairs struck some- 
 thing very long, and Mell, waking up as it were, 
 recollected that it was a good while since she 
 had heard any sounds from the children in the 
 
84 NL'^E LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 yard. She jumped up and ran to the window. 
 No children were there. 
 
 " Children, children, where are you ? " she 
 called; but nobody answered. 
 
 "Tiresome little things/' thought Mell. 
 "They've gone round to the pump again. I 
 must hurry, or they will be all sopping wet." 
 She seized the parasol, which she could not bear 
 to part with, and, leaving the other things on 
 the floor, ran downstairs. The red shawl, which 
 had been lying in her lap, trailed after her as 
 far as the kitchen, and then fell, but Mell did 
 not notice it. 
 
 " What ! " she cried, looking at the clock, 
 " noon already ! Why, where has the morning 
 gone to ? " 
 
 Where had the children gone to ? was an- 
 other question. Back yard, side yard, front 
 yard, cellar, shed, Mell searched. There were 
 no small figures ranged about the pump, no 
 voices replied to her calls, Mell ran to the gate. 
 She strained her eyes down the road, this way, 
 
LITTLE BO PEEP, 85 
 
 that way ; not a sign of the little flock was visible 
 in any direction. 
 
 Now Mell was frightened. "What will 
 mother say ? " she thought, and began to run 
 distractedly along the road, crying and sobbing 
 as she went, and telling herself that it wasn't 
 her fault, that she only went upstairs to make 
 the beds, — but here her conscience gave a great 
 prick. It was but ten o'clock when she went 
 upstairs to make the beds! 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " she sobbed. " If only Tommy 
 isn't drowned ! " Drowning came into her head 
 first, because her step-mother was always in an 
 agony about the pond. The pond was a mile 
 off at least, but Mrs. Davis never let the children 
 even look that way if she could help it. 
 
 Toward the pond poor Mell bent her way; 
 for she thought as Tommy had been strictly for- 
 bidden to go there, it was probably the very 
 road he had taken. The sun beat on her head 
 and she put up the parasol, which through all 
 her trouble she had grasped firmly in her hand. 
 
86 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS^ 
 
 Even under these dreadful circumstances^ with 
 the children lost^ and the certainty of her step- 
 mother's wrath before her, there was joy in 
 carrjdng a parasol like that. 
 
 By and by she met a farmer with a yoke 
 of oxen. 
 
 "^ Oh, please/' said Mell, " have you seen five 
 children going this way, — four girls and one 
 little boy ? " 
 
 The farmer hummed and hawed. " I did see 
 some children," he said at last. " It was a 
 good piece back, nearly an hour ago, I reckon. 
 They was making for the pond ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " sighed Mell. She thanked the 
 farmer, and ran on faster than ever. 
 
 "Have you passed any children on this 
 road ? " she demanded of a boy with a wheel- 
 barrow, who was the next person she met. 
 
 " Boys or girls ? " 
 
 " One boy and four girls." 
 
 ^' Do they belong to you ? " 
 
 " Yes, they're my brothers and sisters," said 
 Mell. " Where did you see them ? " 
 
LITTLE BO PEEP. 87 
 
 " Haven't seen 'em/' replied the boy. He 
 grinned as he spoke^ seized his barrow, and 
 wheeled rapidly away. 
 
 Mell's tears broke forth afresh. What a 
 horrid boy! 
 
 The pond was very near now. It was a 
 large pond. There were hills on one side of 
 it ; on the other the shore was low, and covered 
 with thick bushes. In and out among these 
 bushes went Mell, hunting for her lost flock. 
 It was green and shady. Flowers grew here 
 and there ; bright berries hung on the boughs 
 above her head; birds sang; a saucy squirrel 
 ran to the end of a branch, and chippered to 
 her as she passed. But Mell saw none of these 
 things. She was too anxious and unhappy to 
 enjoy what on any other day would have been 
 a great pleasure; and she passed the flowers, 
 the berries, and the chattering squirrel un- 
 heeded by. 
 
 No signs of the children appeared, till at last, 
 in a marshy place, a small shoe was seen stick- 
 
88 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 ing in the mud. Belinda's shoe ! Mell knew 
 it in a minute. 
 
 She picked up the shoe^ wiped the mud from 
 it with a tuft of dried grass^ and, carrying it in 
 her hand, went forward. She was on the track 
 now, and here and there prints of small feet in 
 the earth guided her. She called " Tommy ! 
 Isaphine ! Belinda ! " but no answer came; 
 They were either hidden cleverly, or else they 
 had wandered a longer distance than seemed 
 possible in so short a time. 
 
 Suddenly Mell gave a shriek and a jump. 
 There on the path before her lay a snake, or 
 what looked like one. It did not move. Mell 
 grew bold and went nearer. Alas ! alas ! it 
 was not a snake. It was a pigtail of braided 
 hair, — Isaphine's hair : the red color was un- 
 mistakable. She seized it. A smell of kero- 
 sene met her nose. Oh that Tommy! 
 
 With the pigtail coiled inside of the lost 
 shoe, Mell ran on. She was passing a thicket 
 of sassafras bushes, when a sound of crying met 
 
LITTLE BG PEEP, 89 
 
 her ears. Instantly she stopped, and, parting 
 the bushes with her hands, peered in. There 
 they were, sitting in a Uttle circle close to- 
 gether, — Arabella and Gabella Sarah fast asleep, 
 with their heads in Belinda's lap; Isaphine 
 crying ; Tommy sitting a little apart, an evil 
 smile on his face, in his hand a pair of scissors ! 
 
 '' You naughty, naughty, naughty boy,'^ 
 screamed MeU, flinging herself upon him. 
 
 With a howl of terror. Tommy started up and 
 prepared to flee. Mell caught and held him 
 tight. Something flew from his lap and fell to 
 the ground. Alas ! alas ! three more pigtails. 
 MeU looked at the children. Each httle head 
 was cropped close. What would mother say ? 
 
 " He cut off my hair," sobbed Isaphine. 
 
 ^^So did he cut mine," whined Belinda 
 " He took those nassy scissors you told him not 
 to take, and he cut off all our hairs. Boo-hoo ! 
 boo-hoo ! Tommy's a notty boy, he is." 
 
 " I'm going to tell Ma when she comes home, 
 see if I don^t," added Isaphine. 
 
90 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 ''\ ain't a bad boy/' cried Tommy. "Stop 
 a-shaking of me, Mell Davis. We was playing 
 they was sheep. I was a-shearing of em." 
 
 " Tommy, Tommy ! " cried poor Mell, hot, 
 angry, and dismayed, " how could you do such 
 a thing ? " / 
 
 " They was sheep," retorted Tommy sulkily. 
 
 " Boo-hoo ! boo-hoo ! " blubbered Belinda. 
 " I don't like my hair to be cut off. It makes 
 my head feel all cold." 
 
 " He didn't play nice a bit," sobbed Isaphine. 
 *^ He's always notty .to us." 
 
 "I'll cut off your head," declared Tommy, 
 threatening with the scissors. 
 
 Mell seized the scissors, and captured them. 
 Tommy kicking and struggling meantime. 
 Then she waked up the babies, tied on Bel- 
 inda's shoe, collected the unhappy pigtails, and 
 said they must all go home. Home ! The 
 very idea made her sick with fright. 
 
 I don't suppose such a deplorable little pro- 
 cession was ever seen before. Isaphine and 
 
LITTLE BO PEEP. 91 
 
 Belinda went first ; then the little ones, very 
 cross after their nap ; and, lastly, Mell, holding 
 Tommy's arm, and driving the poor little shorn 
 sheep before her with the handle of the parasol, 
 which she used as a shepherdess uses her crook. 
 They were all tired and hungry. The babies 
 cried. The sun was very hot. The road 
 seemed miles long. Every now and then Mell 
 had to let them sit down to rest. It was nearly 
 four o'clock when they reached home ; and, 
 long before that, Mell was so weary and dis- 
 couraged that it seemed as if she should hke to 
 lie down and die. 
 
 They got home at last. Mell's hand was on the 
 garden gate, when suddenly a sight so terrible 
 met her eyes that she stood rooted to the spot, 
 unable to move an inch further. There in the 
 doorway was Mrs. Davis. Her face was white 
 with anger as she looked at the children. Mell 
 felt the coral beads burn about her throat. She 
 dropped the parasol as if her arm was broken, 
 the guilty tails hung from her hand, and she 
 
92 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 wished with all her heart that the earth could 
 open and swallow her up. 
 
 It was a full moment before anybody spoke. 
 Then " What does this mean ? " asked Mrs. 
 D^ivis^ in an awful voice. 
 
 Mell could not answer. But the children 
 broke out in full chorus of lament. 
 
 " Tommy was so bad to us." '' He lost us in 
 the woods." ^^He stole the scissors, and they 
 were dirty scissors." " Mell went away and 
 left us all alone." 
 
 "Yes/' cried Mrs. Davis, her wrath rising 
 with each word, " I know very well what you 
 were up to, miss. All my things upset. As 
 g?oon as I found out that I had forgotten my 
 key, 1 knew very well — " her voice died away 
 into the silence of horror. She had just caught 
 sight of Belinda's cropped head. 
 
 " Tommy did it. He cut off all our hairs," 
 blubbered Belinda. 
 
 Mell shut her eyes tight. She was too 
 frightened to move. She felt herself clutched, 
 
LITTLE BO PEEP. 93 
 
 dragged in-doors, upstairs^ and her ears boxed, 
 all in a moment. Mrs. Davis pushed her vio- 
 lently forward, a door banged, a key turned. 
 '^ There you stay for a week, and on bread and 
 water," cried a voice through the keyhole; 
 and Mell, opening her eyes, found herself in the 
 dark and alone. She knew very well where 
 she was, — in the closet under the attic stairs ; 
 a place she dreaded, because she had once seen 
 a mouse there, and Mell was particularly afraid 
 of mice. 
 
 " Oh, don't shut me up here ! Please don't \ 
 please let me out, please," she shrieked. But 
 Mrs. Davis had gone downstairs, and nobody 
 replied. 
 
 " They'll come and eat me up as soon as it 
 grows dark," thought Mell ; and this idea so ter- 
 rified her that she began to beat on the door 
 with her hands, and scream at the top of her 
 voice. No one came. And after a while she 
 grew so weary that she could scream no longer ; 
 so she curled herself up on the floor of the 
 closet and went to sleep. 
 
94 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 When she woke the closet was darker than 
 ever. Mell felt weak and ill for want of food. 
 Her head ached ; her bones ached from lying 
 on the hard floor ; she was feverish and very 
 miserable. 
 
 " It's dark ; she's going to leave me here all 
 night/' sobbed Mell. " Oh ! won't somebody 
 come and let me out ? " Now would have been 
 a chance to play that she was a princess shut 
 up in a dark dungeon ! But Mell didn't fee^ 
 like playing. She was a real little girl shut up 
 in a closet, and it wasn't nice at all. There 
 was no " make believe " left in her just then. 
 
 Suddenly a fine scratching sound began in 
 the wall close to her head. " The mouse, the 
 mouse," thought Mell, and she gave a shriek so 
 loud that it would have scared away a whole 
 army of mice. The shriek sounded all over the 
 house. It woke the children in their beds, and 
 rang in the ears of Mrs. Davis, who was sitting 
 down to supper in the kitchen with somebody 
 just arrived, — a big, brown, rough-bearded 
 
LITTLE BO PEEP. 95 
 
 eomebody, who smelt of salt-water ; Mell's father, 
 in short, returned from sea. 
 
 " What's that ? " asked Captain Davis, putting 
 down his cup. 
 
 Mrs. Davis was frightened. In the excite- 
 ment of her husband's sudden return she had 
 quite forgotten poor Mell in her closet. 
 
 " Some of the children," she answered, trying 
 to speak carelessly. " I'll run up." 
 
 Another terrible shriek. Captain Davis seized 
 a candle, and hurried upstairs after his wife. 
 
 He was just in time to see her unlock the 
 closet door, and poor MeU tumble out, tear- 
 stained, white, frightened almost out of her 
 wits. She clutched her step-mother's dress with 
 both hands. 
 
 ^^ Oh, don't make me go in there again ! " she 
 pleaded. ''\ will be good. I'll never meddle 
 with the things in the chest any more. There 
 are mice in there, hundreds of 'em; they'll 
 run all over me ; they'll eat me up. Oh, dovHt 
 make me go in there again ! " 
 
96 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 " Why, it's my little Mell ! " cried the amazed 
 Captain. " Shiver my timbers ! what does this 
 mean?" He lifted Mell into his aims and 
 looked sternly at his wife. 
 
 " She's been a very naughty girl/' said Jlrs. 
 Davis, ti'ying to speak boldly. " So naughty 
 that I had to shut her up. Stop crying so, Mell. 
 I forgive you now. I hope you'll never be so 
 bad again." 
 
 " Oh, may I come out ? " sobbed Mell, clinging 
 to her father's neck. " You said I must stay a 
 week, but I couldn't do that, the mice would 
 kill me. Mice are so awful ! " She shuddered 
 with horror as she spoke. 
 
 " This ain't a pleasant welcome for a man just 
 in from sea," remarked Captain Davis. 
 
 Mrs. Davis explained and tried to smooth the 
 matter over, but the Captain continued very 
 sober all that evening. Mell thought it was 
 because he was angry with her, but her step- 
 mother knew very well that she also was in 
 disgrace. The truth was that the Captain was 
 
LITTLE BO PEEP, 97 
 
 thinking what to do. He was not a man of 
 many words, but he felt that affairs at home 
 must go very wrong when he was away, and 
 that such a state of things was bad for his wife, 
 and very bad for Mell. 
 
 So in a day or two he went off to Cape Cod, 
 " to see his old mother/' as he said, in reality to 
 consult her as to what should be done. When 
 he came back, he asked Mell how she would like 
 to go and live with Grandmother and be her 
 little girl. 
 
 "Will she shut me up in closets?" asked 
 Mell apprehensively. 
 
 " No, she'll be very kind to you if you are a 
 good girl. Grandma's an old lady now. She 
 wants a handy child about the house to help, 
 and sort of pet and make much of. 
 
 " I _ guess — I'U — Hke —.it," said Mell 
 slowly. " It's a good way from here, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Yes, — a good way." 
 
 Mell nodded her head in a satisfied manner. 
 " She'll not often come there," she thought 
 " She " meant Mrs. Davis. 
 
98 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 Mrs. Davis was unusually pleasant for the few 
 remaining days which Mell spent at home. I do 
 not think she had ever meant to treat Mell un- 
 kindly, but she had a hot temper, and the care 
 of five unruly children is a good deal for one 
 woman to undertake, without counting in a 
 little step-daughter with a head stuffed with 
 fairy stories. She washed and ironed, mended 
 and packed for Mell as kindly as possible^, and 
 did not say one cross word, not even when her 
 husband brought the coral necklace from the 
 big chest and gave it to Mell for her very own. 
 " The child had a right to her mother's neck- 
 lace," he said. All was peaceful and serene, 
 and when Mell said good-by she surprised her- 
 self by feeling quite sorry to go, and kissed 
 Gabella Sarah's small face with tears in her 
 eyes. 
 
 Grandmother was just such a dear old woman 
 as one reads about in books. Her cheeks were 
 all criss-crossed with little wrinkles, which made 
 her look as if she were always smiling. Her 
 
LITTLE BO PEEP, 99 
 
 forehead was smooth, her eyes kind and blue 
 She was small, thin, and wiry. Her laugh was 
 as fresh as a young woman's. Mell loved her 
 at once, and was sure that she should be happy 
 to live with her and be her little girl. 
 
 "Why, Bethuel, you've brought me a real 
 good helper," said Grandmother, as Mell ran to 
 and fro, setting the tea-table, cutting bread, and 
 learning where things were kept. " I shall sit 
 like a lady and do nothing but rock in my 
 cheer now that I've got Mell." Mell heard 
 the kind words, and sprang about more busily 
 than ever. It was a new thing to be praised. 
 
 Before Captain Davis went next day he 
 walked over to Barnstable, and came back with 
 a parcel in his hand. The parcel was for Mell. 
 It contained the Fairy Tales, — all new and com- 
 plete, bound in beautiful red covers. 
 
 "You shall read them aloud to me in the 
 evenings," said Grandmother. 
 
 That night, if anybody had peeped through 
 the window of Grandmother's little house he 
 
100 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 would have seen a pleasant sight. The kitchen 
 was all in order ; the lamp burned clear ; Grand 
 mother sat in her rocking-chair with a smile on 
 her kind old face, while Mell, at her feet on a 
 little stool, opened the Fairy Tales, and pre- 
 pared to read. " Once upon a time there lived 
 a beautiful Princess/' she began ; — then a sud- 
 den sense of the dehghtf ulness of all this over- 
 came her. She dropped the book into her lap, 
 clasped her hands tight, and said, half to herself, 
 half to Grandmother, " Isn't it nice ? " 
 
MISTRESS MARY. 
 
 It was the first of May ; but May was in an 
 April moodj — half cloudy, half shiny, — and 
 belied her name. Sprinkles of silvery rain 
 dotted the way-side dust ; flashes of sun caught 
 
102 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 the drops as thoy fell, and turned eajh into a 
 tiny mirror fit for fairy faces. The trees were 
 raining too, showers of willow-catkins and 
 cherry-bud calyxes, which fell noiselessly and 
 strewed the ground. The children kicked the 
 soft brown drifts aside with their feet as they 
 walked along. 
 
 The doors of the Methodist meeting-house at 
 Valley Hill stood open, and crowds of men and 
 women and children were going into them. It 
 was not Sunday which called the people to- 
 gether : it was the annual Conference meeting ; 
 and all the country round was there to hear the 
 reports and learn where the ministers were to 
 be sent for the next two years. Methodist 
 clergjmien, you know, are not " called " by the 
 people of the parish, as other clergymen are. 
 They go where the church sends them, and 
 every second year they are all changed to other 
 parishes. This, it is thought, keeps the people 
 and pastors fresh and interested in each other. 
 But I don't know. Human beings, as well as 
 
MISTRESS MARY, 103 
 
 vegetables, have a trick of putting down roots ; 
 and even a cabbage or a potato would resent 
 such transplanting, and would refuse to thrive. 
 
 Sometimes, when a parish has become at- 
 tached to its minister, it will plead to have him 
 stay longer. Now and then this request is 
 granted ; but, as a rule, the minister has to go. 
 And it is a hard rule for his wife and children, 
 who have to go too. 
 
 The Valley Hill people " thought a heap " of 
 their minister, Mr. Forcythe, and had begged 
 hard that he might stay with them for another 
 term. Everybody belonging to the church had 
 come to the meeting feeling anxious, and yet 
 pretty certain that the answer would be favor- 
 able. All over the building, people i\ ere whis- 
 pering about the matter, and heads were, nodding 
 and bowing. The bonnets on these heads were 
 curiously alike. Mrs. Perry, the village milliner, 
 never had more than one pattern hat. " That is 
 what is worn," she said; and nobody disputed 
 the fact, which saved Mrs. Perry trouble. The 
 
104 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 Valley Hill people liked it just as well, and 
 didn't mind the lack of variety. This year Mrs. 
 Perry had announced yellow to be the fashion, 
 so nine out of ten of the hats present were 
 trimmed with yellow ribbon crossed in just the 
 same way over a yellow straw crown ; and the 
 church looked like a bed of sisterly tulips nod- 
 ding and bowing in the wind. 
 
 Bishop Judson was the person to read the 
 announcements. He was a nice old man, kind 
 at heart, though formal in manner, and anxious 
 eyes were fixed on him as he got up with a 
 paper in his hand. That important little paper 
 held comfort or discomfort for ever so many 
 people. Every one bent forward to listen. It 
 was so still all over the church that you might 
 have heard a pin drop. The Bishop began with 
 a little speech about the virtues of patience and 
 contentment, and how important it was that 
 everybody should be quite satisfied whatever 
 happened to them. Then he opened the paper. 
 
 "Brother Johnson, Middlebury," he read 
 
MISTRESS MARY. 105 
 
 Middlebiiry was a favorite parish, so Brother 
 Johnson looked pleased, and Sister Johnson was 
 congratulated by the friends who sat near her. 
 "^ Brother Woodward, Little Falls ; Brother 
 Ashe, Plunxet ; Brother Allen, Claxton Cor- 
 ners." And so on. Some faces grew bright, 
 some sad, as the reading proceeded. At last 
 " Brother Forcythe, Bedding ; Brother Martin, 
 Valley Hill," was announced. A quiver of dis- 
 appointment went over the church, and a little 
 girl sitting in the gallery began to cry. 
 
 " My dear, my dear," whispered her mother, 
 much distressed at her sobs and gulps. People 
 looked i;p from below ; but Mary could not 
 stop. She took her mother s handkerchief and 
 held it tight over her mouth ; but the sobs 
 would come. Her heart was half -broken at the 
 idea of leaving Valley Hill and going to that 
 horrid Redding, where nobody wanted to go. 
 
 Old Mrs. Clapp, from behind, reached over 
 and gave her a bunch of fennel. But the fennel 
 only made Mary cry harder. In Redding, she 
 
106 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 was sure, would be no kind Mrs. Clapp, no 
 "meeting-house seed;" and her sobs grew 
 thicker at the thought. 
 
 " I observe that your httle daughter seems to 
 be distressed/' said Bishop Judson, as Mrs. For- 
 cythe led the sobbing Mary down from the 
 gallery at the end of service. " Children of her 
 age form strong attachments to places, I am 
 aware. But it is well to break them before 
 they become unduly strong. Here we have no 
 continuing city, you know." 
 
 " Yes/' said poor Mrs. Forcythe, with a meek 
 sigh. She had been married fourteen years, 
 and this was her seventh move. 
 
 " Redding — hum — is a desirable place in 
 some respects/' went on the Bishop. "There 
 is a great work to do there, — a great work. It 
 requires a man of Brother Forcythe's energy to 
 meet it. Mistress Marv here will doubtless find 
 consolation in the thought tliat her fathers 
 sphere of usefulness is — h'm — enlarged." 
 
 " But we shan't have any garden/' faltered 
 
MISl'RESS MARY, 107 
 
 Mary. "Tilly Brooks, who was there before, 
 says it isn't a bit nice. She never saw a flower 
 all the time she was there, she said. I'd just 
 planted my bed in the garden here. Mrs. 
 Clapp gave me six pansies, and it was going to 
 be so prett}^ Now I've got to — leave — 'em." 
 Iler voice died away into sobs. 
 
 " Tut, tut ! " said the Bishop. " The customs 
 of a church cannot be set aside to accommodate 
 a child's flower-bed. You'll find other things to 
 please you in Redding, Mistress Mary. Come^ 
 come, dry your eyes. Your father's daughter 
 should not set an example like this." 
 
 " No, sir," gulped Mary, mortified at this re- 
 proof from the Bishop, who was an important 
 person, and much looked up to. She did her 
 best to stop crying, but it was hard work. 
 W^hen they reached home, the sight of the pan- 
 sies perking their yellow and purple faces up to 
 meet her, renewed her grief. There was her 
 mignonette seed not yet sprouted. If she had 
 known that they were going away, she would 
 
108 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 not have planted any. There, worst of all, was 
 the corner where she had planned such a nice 
 surprise for her mother, — ^^A. F." in green 
 parsley letters. A. F. stood for Anne Forcythe. 
 Now, mother would never see the letters or 
 know any thing about it. Oh dear, oh dear ! 
 
 Mrs. Forcythe's own disappointment was 
 great, for they had all made sure that they 
 should stay. But, like a true mother, she put 
 her share of the grief aside, and thought only of 
 comforting Mary. 
 
 " Don't feel so badly, dear," she said. '- Eec- 
 oUect, you'll have Papa still, and me and Frank 
 and little Peter. We'll manage to be happy 
 somehow. Eedding isn't half so disagreeable as 
 you think." 
 
 '^ Yes, it is. Tilly said so. I was going to have 
 radishes and a rose-bush," replied Mary tearfully. 
 " There's a robin just building in the elm-tree 
 now. There won't be any trees in Redding; 
 only horrid hard cobble-stones." 
 
 "We must hope for the best," said Mrs 
 
MISTRESS MARY, 109 
 
 Forcytlie, who did not enjoy the idea of the 
 cobble-stones any more than Mary did. 
 
 " Only ten days more at Valley Hill/' was 
 the first thought that came into Mary's mind 
 the next morning. She went downstairs cross 
 and out of spirits. Her mother was laying 
 sheets and table-cloths in a trunk. The books 
 were gone from the httle book-shelf ; every thing 
 had already begun to look unsettled and uncom- 
 fortable. 
 
 " I shall depend on you to take care of little 
 Peter/' said Mrs. Forcythe. " We shall all have 
 to work hard if we are to get off next Monday 
 week." 
 
 Mary gave an impatient shrug with her shoul- 
 ders. She loved little Peter, but it seemed an 
 injury just then to have to take care of him. 
 All the time that her mother was sorting, count- 
 ing, and arranging where things should go, she 
 sat in the window sullen and unhappy, looking 
 out at the pansy-bed. Peter grew tired of a 
 companion who did nothing to amuse him, and 
 began to sprawl and scramble upstairs. 
 
110 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 " baby, come back ! " cried Mary, and, I am 
 sorry to say, gave him a shake. Peter cried, 
 and that brought poor weary Mrs. Forcythe 
 downstairs. 
 
 " Can't you manage to make him happy ? " 
 she said. Mary only pouted. 
 
 All that day and the next and the next it was 
 the same. Mrs. Forcythe was busy every mo- 
 ment. There were a thousand things to do, 
 another thousand to remember. People kept 
 coming in to say good-by. Peter wandered out 
 on the door-steps when Mary's back was turned, 
 took cold, and was threatened with croup. Mrs. 
 Forcythe was half sick herself from worry and 
 fatigue. And all this time Mary, instead of 
 helping, was one of her mother's chief anxieties. 
 She fretted and complained continually. Every 
 thing went wrong. Each article put into the 
 boxes cost her a flood of tears. Each friend 
 who dropped in, renewed the sense of loss. She 
 scarcely noticed her mother's pale face at all. 
 AU the brightness and busy-ness in her was 
 
MISTRESS MARY. Ill 
 
 changed for selfish lamentations, and still the 
 burden of her complaint was^ '" I shan't have 
 any flowers in Kedding. My garden, oh, my 
 garden." 
 
 " I don't know what's come to her/' said poor 
 Mrs. Forcythe. " She's not hke the same child 
 at all." And old Mrs. Clapp, who had been very 
 fond of Mary, declared that she never knew a 
 giii so altered. 
 
 *'' She's the most contrary piece you ever saw," 
 she said to her daughter. " I could have given 
 her a right-down good slap just now for the way 
 she spoke to her mother. It's all her fault that 
 the baby took cold. She don't lift a hand to help, 
 and I expect as sure as Fate that we'll have 
 Mrs. Forcythe sick before we get through. I 
 wouldn't have believed that such a likely girl as 
 Mary Forcythe could act so." 
 
 Poor " contrary " Mary ! She was very un- 
 liappy. The fatal last morning came. All the 
 boxes were packed. The drays, laden with fur- 
 niture and beds, stood at the gate. Mrs. Clapp, 
 
112 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 and Mrs. Elder, the class-leader, were going over 
 the house collecting last things and doing last 
 jobs. Mary wandered out alone into the garden 
 for a farewell look at her pets. 
 
 '' Good-by, pansies/' she said, bending over 
 them. There were only five in the bed now, 
 for Mary had taken up one and packed it in 
 paper to carry with her. A big tear honped 
 down her nose and splashed into the middle of 
 the yellow pansy, her favorite of all. It turned 
 up its bright kitten-face just the same. None 
 of them minded Mary's going away. Flowers 
 are sometimes so unkind to people. 
 
 " Good-by, rose-bush," proceeded Mary, turn- 
 ing from the pansy-bed. " Good-by, honeysuckle. 
 Good-by, peony. Good-by, matter-i-mony." 
 This sounds funny, but Mary only meant by it 
 a vine with a small purple flower which grew 
 over the back-door. " Good-by, lilac," she went 
 on. " Good-by, grass plot." This brought her 
 to the gate. The wagon stood waiting to carry 
 them to the railroad, three miles awav. Mrs. 
 
MISTRESS MARY. 113 
 
 Forcytlie, with the baby in her arms^ was just 
 getting in. " Hurry, Mary/' called her father. 
 Slowly she opened the gate, slowly shut it, 
 Her father helped her over the wheel. She sat 
 down beside Frank. Mrs. Clapp waved her 
 handkerchief, then put it to her eyes. Mary 
 took a long look at the pretty garden just bud^ 
 ding with spring, and burst into tears. Mr. 
 Forcythe chirruped to the horse ; they were off, 
 — and that was their good-by to Valley Hill. 
 
 Redding was certainly very different. It was 
 an old-fashioned town with narrow streets, which 
 smelt of fish. Most of the people were sailors, 
 or had something to do with ships. There were 
 several nice churches, and outside the town a 
 few handsome houses, but there were a great 
 many poor people in the place and not many 
 rich ones. 
 
 In the very narrowest of all the streets stood 
 the parsonage ; a little brick house with a paved 
 yard behind, just wide enough for clothes-lines. 
 When the wash was hung out there was not an 
 
114 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 inch to spare on either side. Mary gave up all 
 hope as soon as she saw it. There was not 
 room even for one pansy. The windows looked 
 out on chimneys and roofs and other backyards, 
 with lines of wet clothes flapping in the sun. Not 
 a tree was to be seen. Any one might be excused 
 for thinking it doleful; and Mary, having made 
 up her mind beforehand to dislike it, found it 
 easy to keep her resolution. 
 
 There was no possibility of getting things to 
 rights that night ; though several people came 
 in to help, and a comfortable supper was ready 
 spread for the travellers on their arrival. Mrs. 
 Forcythe was cheered by this kindness, but Mary 
 could not be cheerful. She had to sleep upon a 
 mattress laid on the floor. At another time this 
 would have been fun, but now it did not seem 
 funny at all ; it was only part and parcel of the 
 misery of coming to live in Redding. She cried 
 herself to sleep, and came down in the morning 
 with swollen eyelids and a disposition to make 
 the very worst of things, — easy enough for anj 
 ghi to do if she sets about it. 
 
MISTRESS MARY, 115 
 
 She scarcely thanked her father when he went 
 out and bought a red pot for the unlucky pansy, 
 which, after its travels and its night in brown 
 paper, looked as disconsolate as Mary herself. 
 '' I know it'll die right away," she muttered as 
 she set it on the window-sill. " Oh, dear, there's 
 mother calling. What does she want ? " 
 
 "Mary, dear," said Mrs. Forcythe when she 
 went down, "where have you been? I want 
 you to put away the dishes for me." 
 
 " I'm so tired," objected Mary crossly. 
 
 " Don't you think that mother must be tired 
 too ? " asked her father gravely. 
 
 Mary blushed and began to place the cups 
 and plates on the cupboard shelves. Her slow 
 movements attracted her father's attention. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " he said. " At Valley 
 Hill you were as brisk as a bee, always want- 
 ing to help in every thing. Here you seem 
 unwilling to move. How is it?" 
 
 "I — don't — like — Eedding," broke oul 
 Mary in a burst of petulance. 
 
 " You haven't seen it yet," 
 
116 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 '^ Yes^ I have. Papa. I've seen it as much 
 as I want to. It's horrid ! " 
 
 "I never knew her to behave so before/' said 
 Mr. Forcj^the in a perplexed tone, as Mary, 
 havhig unpacked the dishes, sobbed her way 
 upstairs. 
 
 "She'll brighten when we are settled," re- 
 plied Mrs. Forcythe, indulgent as mothers are, 
 and ready to hope the best of her child. " Oh, 
 dear ! there's the baby waked up. Would you 
 call Mary to go to him ? " 
 
 So it went on all that week. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Forcythe were very patient with Mary, hoping 
 always that this evil mood would pass, and their 
 bright, helpful little daughter come back to them 
 again. She never refused to do any thing that 
 was asked of her ; but you know the difference 
 between willing and unwilling service : Mary 
 just did the tasks set her, no more, and as soon 
 as they were finished fled to her own room to 
 fret and cry. Her father took her out to walk 
 and showed her the new church, but Mary 
 
MISTRESS MARY, 117 
 
 thought the church ugly, and the outside view 
 of Bedding as unpleasant as the inside one. 
 Dull streets, small houses everywhere ; no gar- 
 dens, except now and then a single bed, edged 
 with a row of stiff cockle-shells by way of fence, 
 and planted with pert sweet-williams or crown 
 imperials. These Mary thought were worse 
 than no flowers at all. Every thing smelt of 
 fish. The very sea was made ugly by ware- 
 houses and shabby wharves. The people they 
 met were strangers ; and, altogether, the effect 
 of Mary's walk was to send her back more 
 homesick than ever for Valley Hill. 
 
 By Friday night the Kttle parsonage was in 
 order. Mrs. Forcythe was a capital manager. 
 She planned and contrived, turned and twisted 
 and made things comfortable in a surprising 
 way. But she overtired herself greatly in do- 
 ing this, and on Saturday morning Mary was 
 waked by her father calling from below that 
 mother was very ill, and she must come dow^n 
 at once and stay with her while he went for a 
 doctor. 
 
118 NINE LITTLE GOS LINUS, 
 
 " Oh^ dear ! sighed Mary, as she hurried on 
 her clothes. " Now mother is sick. It's all 
 this hateful Redding. She never was sick when 
 we lived in the country." 
 
 But the hard mood melted the moment she 
 saw her mother's pale face and feeble smile. 
 
 "1 hope I'm not going to be very ill/' said 
 Mrs. Forcythe ; " probably it's only that I have 
 tired myseH out. You'll have to be ' Mamma ' 
 for a day or two, Mary dear. Make Papa as 
 comfortable as you can. See that Frank has his 
 lunch put up for school, and don't let Peter take 
 cold. Oh, dear ! — my head aches so hard that 
 I can't talk. I know you'll do your best Mary, 
 won't you ? " 
 
 Guess how Mary felt at this appeal ! All her 
 better nature came back in a moment. She 
 saw how wrong she had been in nursing her 
 selfish griefs, and letting this dear mother over- 
 work herseK. " mother, I will, indeed I 
 will ! " she cried, kissing the pale face ; and, only 
 waiting to draw the blind so that the sun should 
 
MISTRESS MARK 119 
 
 not shine in, she flew downstairs, eager to do all 
 she could to make up for past ill-conduct. 
 
 The Doctor came. He said Mrs. Forcythe 
 was threatened with fever, and must be kept 
 very quiet for several days. Mary had nevei 
 in her life worked so hard as she did that Satur- 
 day. There was breakfast, dinner, supper to 
 get, dishes to. wash, water to heat, the fire to 
 tend, rooms to dust, beds to make, the baby 
 to keep out of mischief. She was very tired by 
 night, but her heart felt lighter than it had for 
 many days past. Do you wonder at this? I 
 can tell you the reason. Mary's troubles were 
 selfish troubles, and the moment she forgot her- 
 self in thinking of somebody else, they became 
 small and began to creep away. 
 
 " Pitty, pitty ! " said little Peter, as he heard 
 her singing over her dish-washing. Mary caught 
 him up and gave him a hearty kiss, — a real 
 Valley Hill kiss, such as she had given no one 
 nince they came to Redding. 
 
 " Mary is doing famously," Mr. Forcythe told 
 
120 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 his wife that night. " She has a first-rate head 
 on her shoulders for a girl of her age." Marj 
 heard hini; and was pleased. She liked — we 
 all like — to be counted useful and valuable. 
 The bit of praise sent her back to her work 
 with redoubled zeal. 
 
 Next morning Mrs. Forcythe was a little better. 
 Her head ached less ; she sat up on her pillows 
 and drank a cup of tea. Mary was smoothing 
 her mother s hair with soft pats of the brush, 
 when suddenly the church bells began to ring. 
 She had never heard such sounds before. The 
 bell at Valley Hill was cracked, and went tang 
 — tang — tang, as if the meeting-house were 
 an old cow walking slowly about. These bells 
 had a dozen different voices, — some deep and 
 solemn, others bright and clear, but all beau- 
 tiful ; and across their pealing a soft, delicious 
 chime from the tower of the Episcopal church 
 went to and fro, and wove itself in and out like 
 a thread of silver embroidery. Mary dropped 
 the brush, and clasped her hands tight. It was 
 
MISTRESS MARY, 121 
 
 like listening to a song of which she could not 
 hear enough. When the last tinkle of the 
 chime died away, she unclasped her hands, and, 
 turning from the window, cried, '^ mother ! 
 wasn't that lovely? There is one pleasant 
 thing in Eedding, after all ! " 
 
 I do not think matters ever seemed so hard 
 again after that morning when Mary made 
 friends with the church bells. It was the be- 
 ginning of a better understanding between her 
 and her new home ; and there is a great deal in 
 beginnings, even though they may work slowly 
 toward their ends. 
 
 By the close of the week Mrs. Forcythe was 
 downstairs again, weak and pale, but able to 
 sit in her chair and direct things, which Mary 
 felt to be a great comfort. The parishioners 
 began to call. There were no rich people 
 among them ; but it was a hard-working, active 
 parish, and did a great deal for its means. The 
 Sunday-school was large and flourishing ; there 
 was a missionary association, a home mission- 
 
122 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 ary association, a mite society, and a sewing 
 circle, which met every week to make clothes 
 for the poor and partake of tea, soda biscuit, 
 and six sorts of cake. Beside these, a new 
 project had just been started, " The Seamen's 
 Daughters' Industrial Society ; " or, in other 
 words, a sewing-school for little girls whose 
 fathers were sailors. There were plenty of 
 such little girls in Redding. 
 
 "Your daughter will join, of course/' said 
 Mrs. Wallis, when she came to call on her 
 minister's wife. " It's important that the pas- 
 tor's family should take a part in every good 
 work." Mrs. Wallis was the most energetic 
 woman of the congregation, — at the head of 
 every thing. 
 
 "Tm afraid Mary's sewing is not good 
 enough," replied Mrs. Porcythe. " She isn't 
 very skilful with her needle yet." 
 
 " Oh ! she knows enough to teach those 
 ignorant little creatures. Half of them are 
 foreigners, and never touch a needle in their 
 
MISTRESS MARY. 123 
 
 homes. It's every thing to give them some 
 ideas beyond their own shiftless ways." 
 
 "Would you like to try, Mary?" asked her 
 mother. 
 
 "I — don't — know/' replied Mary, afraid to 
 refuse, because Mrs. Wallis looked so sharp and 
 decided. 
 
 " Very well, then I'll call for you on Satur- 
 day, at half -past ten," went on Mrs. WaUis, 
 quite regardless of Mary's hesitating tone. 
 " I'm glad you'U come. It would never do not 
 to have some of the minister's family. Satur- 
 day morning, at half -past ten ! Good-by, Mrs. 
 Forcythe. Don't get up; you look peaked 
 still. To-morrow is baking day, and I shall 
 send you a green-currant pie. Perhaps that'll 
 do you good." With these words she departed. 
 
 " Must I reaUy teach in that school ? " asked 
 Mary dolefully. 
 
 "I think you'd better. The people expect 
 it, and it will be a good thing for you to prac- 
 tise sewing a little," replied her mother. " I 
 daresay it will be pleasanter than you think." 
 
124 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 " It seems so funny that I should be set to 
 teach any one to sew/' said Mary, bursting into 
 a laugh. '^ Don't you recollect how Mrs. Clapp 
 used to scold me, and say I ' gobbled ' my 
 darns?" 
 
 " You mustn't ' gobble ' before the seamen's 
 daughters/' said Mrs. Forcythe, smiling. ^^It 
 will be a capital lesson for you to try to teach 
 wliat you haven't quite learned yourself." 
 
 Punctual as the clock Mrs. Wallis appeared 
 on Saturday, and bore the unwilling Mary away 
 to the sewing-school. Mrs. Forcythe watched 
 them from the window. She couldn't help 
 laughing, their movements were so comically 
 different, — Mrs. Wallis was so brisk and de- 
 cided, while Mary lagged behind, dragging one 
 slow foot after the other as if each moment she 
 longed to stop and dared not. Very different 
 was her movement, however, two hours later, 
 when she returned. She came with a kind of 
 burst, her eyes bright with excitement, and her 
 r^hecks pinker than they had been since she left 
 Valley Hill. 
 
MISl'RESS MARY, , 125 
 
 ^' mother, it is so nice ! Ever so many 
 children were there, — thirty at least; and Mrs. 
 Wallis said I might choose any five I hl^ed to 
 be my class. First, I chose the dearest little 
 Irish girl Her name is Norah, and she's just 
 as pretty as she can be, only her face was 
 dreadfully dirty, and her clothes all rags. Then 
 her little sister Kathleen cried to come ; so I 
 took her too. Then I chose a cunning little 
 German tot named Gretchen. She has yellow 
 hair, braided in tight little tails down her back, 
 and is a good deal cleaner than the rest, but not 
 very clean, you know ; and she hadn't any shoes 
 at all. Then Mrs. Wallis brought up the funni- 
 est little French girl, with a name I can't pro- 
 nounce. I'm going to call her Amy. And the 
 last of all is an American, real pretty. Her 
 name is Rachel Gray. Her father is gone on a 
 whaling voyage, and won't be back for three 
 years. Don't they sound nice, mother? I 
 think 1 shall like teaching them so much ! " 
 
 " Do they know any thing about sewing ? " 
 asked Mrs. Forcythe. 
 
126 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 " Not a thing. They made dreadful stitches. 
 Kathleen cried because the needle pricked her, 
 and Rachel wanted to wear the thimble on the 
 wrong finger. Amy did the best. When they 
 went away they all wanted to kiss me, and 
 Norah said she guessed I was the best teacher 
 in the school. Wasn't that cunning? Mrs. 
 Wallis is real kind. She brought ever so much 
 gingerbread, and gave each of the children a 
 piece.'' 
 
 " I'm glad it begins so well — " 
 
 *^ Yes. There's just one thing, though. The 
 children's faces ! You can't think how dirty 
 they are. I should like to give them a good 
 scrub all round." 
 
 " Well, why don't you ? " 
 
 " How can I ? There isn't any wash-bowl 
 down at the school-room." 
 
 " If you liked you might have them all come 
 here at ten o'clock, and walk down with you. 
 Then you could take them up to your room, 
 wash their faces and hands, and brush their hair 
 
MISTRESS MARK 127 
 
 smooth before you start. I reallj think you 
 would enjoy your teaching more if the scholars 
 were clean." 
 
 " May I really do that ? " 
 
 ^' Yes. m buy you a fresh cake of soap and 
 a brush, and you can take two clean towels from 
 the drawer every Saturday morning. Make it 
 a rule, but be very gentle and pleasant about it 
 or the children may refuse." 
 
 '' mother, what a good plan ! Thank you 
 so much," said Mary with sparkling eyes. " Now 
 I shall have real comfort with them." 
 
 There was great excitement in the sewing- 
 class when they were told that in future they 
 were to go to " Teacher's " house every Satur- 
 day, and walk down to school with her. They 
 were a droll little procession enough when they 
 appeared the next week at the appointed time. 
 Norah's toes were out of her shoes. Her tangled 
 curls were as rough as a bird's-nest, and the 
 hot on top of them looked as if it had sailed 
 across every mud-puddle in town. Little Kath- 
 
128 NINE LITTLE GOSLING^. 
 
 leen's scanty garments were rather rags than 
 clothes. And Gretchen^ tidiest of all, had 
 smears of sausage on her rosy face, and did not 
 seem to have been brought into contact with 
 soap and water for weeks. 
 
 Mary led them up into her own room, which, 
 plain as it was, looked like a palace to the little 
 ones after the dirt and discomfort of their 
 crowded homes. There were the nice clean 
 towels, the new hair-brush, and the big cake of 
 honey-soap, mother s contributions to the under- 
 taking. The washing was quite a frolic. Norah 
 cried a little at having her hair pulled, but 
 Mary was gentle and pleasant, and made the 
 affair so amusing that the children thought it 
 pleasant to be clean, instead of disliking it. 
 Slie rewarded their patience by a kiss all round. 
 Kathleen threw her arms about Mary's neck 
 and gave her a great hug. ^^ You're iver so 
 nice," she said, and Mary kissed her again. 
 
 So every Saturday from that time forward, 
 Mary wont to school followed by a crowd of 
 
MISTRESS MARY. 129 
 
 clean little faces, which looked all the brighter 
 and happier for their cleanliness. She was 
 proud of her class, but their ragged clothes dis- 
 tressed her greatly. 
 
 " It is such a pity/' she told her mother. 
 "They are so pretty, and they look like beg- 
 gars." 
 
 Mrs. Forcythe had only been waiting for this. 
 She was not a woman to give much advice, even 
 to her own child. " Drop in a seed and let it 
 grow," was her motto. 
 
 " There's that old gingham of yours," she 
 suggested. " You could spare that for one of 
 them, if there were anybody to make it over." 
 
 " I'll make it ! " cried Mary, " only — '' her , 
 face falling, " I don't know how to cut dresses." 
 
 " 111 cut it for you if you like," said Mrs. 
 Forcythe quietly. 
 
 "Will you, mother dear? How splendid. 
 I'll make it for Norah. She's the raggedest of 
 all." 
 
 The gingham was measured, and proved 
 
130 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS- 
 
 enough to make frocks for Norah and Kathleen 
 too. Mary had double work to undertake, but 
 her heart was in her fingers, and they flew fast. 
 It took every spare moment for a fortnight to 
 make the frocks, but when they were done and 
 tried on to the delighted children, they looked 
 so nicely that Mary was rewarded for her trou- 
 ble and for the many needle-pricks in her fore- 
 finger. 
 
 " Only it's such a pity about the others," she 
 told her mother. " They'll think I'm partial, 
 and I'm not, though I do love Norah a little bit 
 the best, she's so affectionate. I wish we were 
 rich. Then I could buy frocks for them all." 
 
 "If you were rich, perhaps you wouldn't 
 care about it," said her mother. " A little here 
 and a httle there, a stitch, a kind word, a small 
 self-denial, these are in the power of all of us, 
 and in course of time they mount up and make 
 a great deal. And, Mary dear, I've always found 
 if you once start in a path and are determined 
 to keep on, somebody's sure to come along and 
 
MISTRESS MARY. 131 
 
 lend a helping hand, when you think you have 
 got to the end of every thing, and must stop or 
 turn back." 
 
 ^^ Well; I've got to the end of every thing 
 now/' said Mary. " There aren't any more 
 old frocks to make over, and we can't afford to 
 buy new ones." 
 
 "Don't be discouraged/' said her mother. 
 "The way is sure to open somehow." 
 
 "How wise mother is/' thought Mary, when 
 the very next week on their way back from 
 school Mrs. Wallis said, " I noticed that two of 
 your scholars had respectable frocks on to-day. 
 I wonder if their mothers made them ? If they 
 did, I've an old chintz dress which I could spare, 
 and perhaps Gretchen's mother and Amadine's 
 could take it and fit them out too." 
 
 "I made the dresses," cried Mary joyfully. 
 " And if you'll let me have the old chintz, I'll 
 make some more for the others, Mrs. Wallis. 
 Oh, I'm so glad." 
 
 "Did you make them," said Mrs. Wallis in a 
 
132 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 pleased tone. Well, that's first-rate. I'll sen^l 
 the chintz round to-night; and any other old 
 tilings I can find to help along." 
 
 So that night came a great bundle, which, on 
 opening, revealed not only the chintz, but a nice 
 calico, some plaid ribbon, a large black alpaca 
 apron, and an old shirt of Mr. Wallis's. Such a 
 busy time as Mary had in planning how to make 
 the most of these gifts. The chintz was long 
 and full. It had a cape, and made two beauti- 
 ful frocks. The calico made another frock and 
 two nice pinafores, the black alpaca some small 
 aprons. Mary trimmed the two worst hats with 
 the ribbon. Last of all, she cut and stitched five 
 narrow bands of the linen, which mother washed 
 and starched, and behold, the class had collars ! 
 I don't know which was most pleased at this 
 last decoration, Mary or the children. 
 
 " They are just as good as dolls to you, aren't 
 they," said her father. 
 
 " Papa! much better than that, Dolls can't 
 faugh and talk, and they don't really care any 
 
MISTRESS MARV. 133 
 
 thing about you, you only just make believe 
 that they do. It's horrid to fit a doll's clothes ; 
 she sticks her arm out stiff and won't bend it a 
 bit. I'd rather have my class than all the dolls' 
 in the world." 
 
 " Teaching those children is having a capital 
 effect on Mary herself/' said Mrs. Forcythe to 
 her husband after Mary had gone away. " She 
 gains all the time in patience and industry, and 
 is twice as careful of her things as she used to 
 be. I found her crying the other day because 
 she had torn her oldest frock, and the darn 
 was sure to come in a bad place when the frock 
 was made over for Gretchen ! Think of Mary's 
 crying because of having torn any thing ! " 
 
 Time flies rapidly when people are busy and 
 happy. Days crept into weeks, weeks into 
 months; before any one knew it two years 
 were passed and another Conference day was 
 at hand. It met this time at Eedding. 
 
 Mary, a tall girl of fifteen now, went with 
 her mother to hear the appointments read. 
 
134 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 The Redding people had applied to keep Mr. 
 Forcythe for another term, but the request was 
 denied ; and, when his name was reached on the 
 list, it appeared that he was to go back to Valley 
 Hill. 
 
 " There's one person I know will be pleased/' 
 said the Bishop, pausing on his way out of 
 church to speak to Mrs. Forcythe. ^^ Mistress 
 Mary here ! She'll be glad to go back to Valley 
 Hill again. But, hey-day! she doesn't look 
 glad. What ! tears in her eyes. How is this ? " 
 
 "1 — don't — know — " sighed Mary. " I 
 thought — I thought we should stay here. Of 
 course I feel sorry just at first." 
 
 " Sorry ! Not want to leave Bedding ! Why, 
 what a contrary little maid you are ! Don't you 
 recollect how you cried, and said Redding was 
 horrid." 
 
 ^^Yes," said Mary, on the verge of a sob. 
 " But I like it now. Bishop. I don't mind the 
 fish a bit, and the funny old streets and the posy- 
 beds with cockle-shell edges axe so nice, and 
 
MISTRESS MARY. 13b 
 
 the bells sound so sweet on Sunday morning! 
 — I like Eedding ever so much." 
 
 " But your garden, — I remember how badly 
 you felt to leave that. You can't have a garden 
 in Redding." 
 
 "No, but I have my little girls. I'd rather 
 have them than a garden, a great deal ! " 
 
 " What does she mean ? " asked the Bishop, 
 turning to Mrs. Forcythe. 
 
 "Her sewing-class," replied Mrs. Forcythe, 
 smiling. 
 
 " There they are ! " cried Mary eagerly. 
 " They're waiting for me. Do look at them. 
 Bishop ; it's those five little girls in a row be- 
 hind the second pillar from the door. That big 
 one is Norah, and the one in blue is Rachel, 
 and the littlest is named Kathleen. Isn't she 
 pretty ? They're the sweetest little things, oh, 
 I shall miss them so. I shan't ever have such 
 good times again as I've had with them." Her 
 voice faltered ; a lump came in her throat. To 
 
136 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 hide it she slipped away, and went across the 
 church to where the httle ones sat. 
 
 " That's a dear child of yours/' said the good 
 Bishop, looking after her. "I guess she'll do 
 wherever she goes." 
 
 And I think Mary will. 
 
LADY BIRD. 
 
 " Now, Pocahontas Maria, sit still and don't dis- 
 turb the little ones. Imogene^ that lesson must 
 
J.38 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 be learned before I come back, you know. Now, 
 dear, that was very, very naughty. When 
 Mamma tells you to do things you mustn't pout 
 and poke Stella with your foot in that way. 
 It isn't nice at all. Stella is younger than you, 
 and you ought to set her samples, as Nursey 
 says. Look at Ning Po Ganges, how good she 
 is, and how she minds all I say, and yet she's 
 the Httlest child I've got.'' 
 
 If anybody had been walking in Madam 
 Bird's old-fashioned garden that morning, and 
 had heard these wise words coming from the 
 other side of the rose thicket, he would cer- 
 tainly have supposed that some old dame with 
 a school was hidden away there, or at the least an 
 anxious Mamma with a family of unruly children. 
 But if this somebody had gone into the thicket, 
 bobbing his head to avoid the prickly, wreath-like 
 branches, he would have found on the other 
 side only one person, little Lota Bird, playing 
 all alone with her dolls. " Lady Bird " Nursey 
 called Lota, because when, six years before. 
 
LADY BIRD. 139 
 
 Papa fetched her home from China, she wore 
 a speckled frock of orange-red and black, very 
 much the color of those other tiny frocks in 
 which the real lady -birds fly about in summer- 
 tune. The speckled frock was outgrown long 
 ago, but the name still clung to Lota, and every 
 one called her by it except Grandmamma, who 
 said " Charlotte," sighing as she spoke, and 
 Papa, whose letters always began, " My darling 
 little Lota." Papa had been away so long now 
 that Lota would quite have forgotten him had it 
 not been for these letters which came regularly 
 every month. The paper on which they were 
 written had an odd, pleasant smell. Nurse said 
 it was the smell of sandal-wood. Sometimes 
 there were things inside for Lota, bird's feathers 
 of gay colors, Chinese puzzles of carved ivory, 
 or small pictures painted on rice paper. Lota 
 liked these things very much. It was hke play- 
 ing at a Papa rather than really having one, but 
 she enjoyed the play ; and when they told her 
 that Papa was soon coming home to stay always, 
 
140 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 she was only half glad^ and said : '^ Won't there 
 be any more letters then ? I shan't like that." 
 Poor little girlie : we^ who know how nice it 
 is to have real Papas^ can feel sorry for her; 
 can't we ? 
 
 But Lota did not pity herself in the least. 
 Grandmamma's house was stiff and gloomy, 
 shaded by high trees and thick vines which jeal- 
 ously shut out the sun whenever he tried to shine 
 in at the window panes. Grandmamma's servants 
 were old too, hke the house. Most of them had 
 gray hair. Nursey wore spectacles ; the coach- 
 man indulged in rheumatism. Grandmamma 
 herself was old and feeble. She rarely laughed 
 or seemed to enjoy any thing, but sat in an easy 
 chair all the year round, and read solemn books 
 bound in black leather, which made her cry. 
 Jennings her maid waited on her, fetched foot- 
 stools and cushions, pushed the blinds down as 
 soon as the cheerful noon got round to that side 
 of the house. '^ Missus is uncommon poorly to- 
 day," she announced every morning. " Miss, you 
 
LADY BIRD. 141 
 
 must be very quiet." Lota was quiet. She was 
 the only young thing in the sad old house, but 
 the shadows of age and sorrow fell lightly upon 
 her, and in spite of them she was as happy a 
 child as you will find in a summer's day. The 
 garden was her kingdom and her Paradise. It 
 was a wide, fragrant, shaded place, full of tlie 
 shrubs and flowers of former days. Huge pink 
 and white oleanders, planted in tubs, stood on 
 either side the walks. Thick spikes of purple 
 lavender edged the beds ; the summer-house was 
 a tangle of honey-suckle, rosemary, and eglantine. 
 Roses of all colors abounded. They towered 
 high above Lota's head as she walked, — twined 
 and clasped, shut her in with perfumed shadows, 
 rained showers of many-colored petals on the 
 grass. An old-fashioned fairy would have de- 
 lighted to dwell in that garden, and perhaps one 
 did dwell there, else why should little lonely 
 Lota have been always so very, very happy left 
 alone among the trees and flowero ? Can any 
 one tell me that ? 
 
142 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 Far up in the curved angle made by the rose- 
 hedge was the little house where she and her 
 dollies lived. Jacob the gardener built this house, 
 of roots and willow-osiers curiously twisted. It 
 was just big enough for Lady Bird and her 
 family. The walls were pasted over with gay 
 prints cut froni the " Illustrated News " and other 
 papers. There was a real window. The moss 
 floor had a blue cotton rug laid over it. A 
 small table and chair for Lota and one apiece 
 for the dolls made up the furniture, beside a 
 shelf on which the baby-house tea-set was dis- 
 played. The roof kept out the weather pretty 
 well, except when it rained hard ; then things 
 got wet. Here Lota sat all the morning, after 
 she had finished her lessons with Nursey, — short 
 les^^ons always, and easy ones, by Papa's particu- 
 lar I'equest, for the doctors had said that Lota 
 must not study much till she was really big and 
 strong. Pocahontas Maria and the other chil- 
 dren had to work much harder than their Mamma, 
 I assure you. Lota was very strict with them. 
 
LADY BIRD, 143 
 
 When they were idle she put them into the cor* 
 ncvr, and made them sit with their faces to the 
 wall by way of punishment. Once Lota had the 
 measles, and for two whole weeks was kept 
 away entirely from the garden-house. When 
 she came back, she found that during all this 
 time poor little Ning-Po Ganges had been sit- 
 ting in this ignominious position with her face 
 hidden. Lota cried with remorse at this, and 
 promised Ning-Po that never, so long as she 
 lived, should she be put into the corner again ; 
 so after that, for convenience' sake, Ning-Po was 
 always called the best child in the family. Now 
 and then, when Lota felt hospitable, she would 
 give a tea-party, and ask Lady Green and her 
 children from under the snow-ball bush next 
 door. Nobody but Lota and the dolls could see 
 the Greens, even when they sat about the table 
 talking and being talked to, but that was no 
 matter ; and when Nursey said, " Law, Miss 
 Lady Bird, how can you ; there's never any 
 such people^ yo. know," Lota would point 
 
144 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 triumphantly to a card tacked on to the snow- 
 ball bush, which had " Lady Green " printed on 
 it, and would say, " Naughty Nursey ! can't you 
 read ? There's her door-plate ! " 
 
 As this story is all about Lota, I tliink I 
 would better tell you just how she spent one 
 week of her life, she and the dolls. 
 
 The week began with Sunday, which was 
 always a dull day, because Lota was forbidden 
 to go into the garden. 
 
 In the morning she went to church with 
 Grandmamma, drawn thither by two fat old black 
 horses, who seemed to think it almost too much 
 trouble to switch the flies off with their tails. 
 Church was warm and the sermon was drowsy, 
 so poor Lady Bird fell asleep, and tumbled over 
 suddenly on to Grandmamma's lap. This dis- 
 tressed the old lady a good deal, for she was 
 very particular about behavior in church. By 
 way of punishment. Lota had to learn four verses 
 of a hymn after dinner. It was the hymn which 
 begins, — 
 
 *' Awake, my soul, and with the sun 
 Thy daily course of duty run,'' 
 
LADY BIRD. 145 
 
 and learning it took all the time from dinner 
 till four o'clock. 
 
 The hymn learned and repeated, Lota read 
 foi awhile in one of her Sunday books. She was 
 ashamed of her sleepiness in the morning, and 
 had every intention of being very good till bed- 
 time 3 but unluckily she looked across to where 
 the dolls were sitting, and, as she explained to 
 Nursey afterward, Pocahontas Maria was whis- 
 pering to Imogene, and both of them were 
 laughing so hard and looking so mischievous 
 that she had to see what was the matter. Re- 
 sult;— at five, Jennings, coming to call Lota, 
 found her with all the dolls in a row before 
 her teaching them hymns. And, though this 
 seems most proper, Jennings, who was a strict 
 Methodist, did not think so ; so Lota had an- 
 other lecture from Grandmamma, and went to 
 bed under a sense of disgrace. So much for 
 Sunday. 
 
 Monday opened with bright sunshine. It 
 had rained all night ; but by eleven o'clock the 
 
 10 
 
146 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 dear old garden was quite dry^ and how sweet 
 it did look ! The pink roses twinkled and 
 winked their whisker-like calyxes as she went 
 by ; the white ones shook their serene leaves^ 
 and sent out delicious smells. Every green 
 thing looked greener than it had done before 
 the rain. The blue sky^ swept clear of clouds, 
 seemed to have been rubbed and made brilliant. 
 It was a day for gardens ; and Lady Bird and 
 her family celebrated it by a picnic, to which 
 they invited all the Greens. 
 
 '' Lady Green hasn't treated me quite prop- 
 erly/' remarked Lota to her oldest child, Poca- 
 hontas. " She didn't leave her card at this 
 house I don't know when. But we won't mind 
 about that, because it's such a nice day, and 
 we want the picnic. And we can't have the 
 picnic without the Greens, you know, dear, 
 because there aren't any other people to invite." 
 
 So they had the picnic, — a delightful one. 
 The young Greens behaved badly. They almost 
 always did behave badly when they came to 
 
LADY BIRD. 147 
 
 f,ee Lady Bird ; but it was rather a good thing, 
 because she could warn her own children that, 
 if they did the same, they would be severely 
 punished. "Lady Green is too indulgent/' 
 she would say. "I want my children to be 
 much gooder than hers. Mind that, Imogene." 
 So, on this occasion, when Clarissa Green 
 snatched at the rose-cakes which formed the 
 staple of the feast. Lota looked very sharply at 
 Stella, and said, " Don't let me ever see you do 
 so, Stella, or I shall have to slap your little 
 hands." Stella heeded the warning, and sat 
 upright as a poker and perfectly still. 
 
 Clarissa was perhaps not so much to blame, 
 for the rose-cakes were delicious. Would you 
 like Lady Bird's recipe ? Any little girl can 
 make them. Take a good many rose-leaves; 
 put some sugar with them, — as much sugar 
 as you can get; tie them up in paper^ or in 
 a good thick grape-leaf ; lay them on a bench, 
 and sit down on them hard several times: 
 then they are done. Some epicures pretend 
 
148 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 that they must be buried in the ground, and 
 left there for a week ; but this takes time, and 
 reasonable children will find them quite good 
 enough without. These particular rose-cakes 
 were the best Lota had ever made. The whole 
 party, Greens and all, agreed to that. For the 
 rest of the feast there was a motto-paper, which 
 had ornamented several picnics before. It could 
 not be eaten, but it looked well sitting in the 
 middle of the table. At the close of the ban- 
 quet all the party sang a song. Lady Green's 
 voice was not very good, but Lota explained 
 to the children afterward that it isn't polite 
 to laugh at company even when they do make 
 funny squeaks with their high notes. Poca- 
 hontas had to sit in the corner awhile for having 
 done so. She was sorry, and promised never 
 \\j offend again ; as a reward for which, her 
 Mamma gave her a small blank book made of 
 writing-paper and a pin, which she told her was 
 for her very own. 
 
 " You are such a big girl now," said Mamma 
 
LADV BIRD. 149 
 
 Lota, "that it is time you began to keep a 
 Diary like 1 do. I shall read it over every day^ 
 and see how you spell." 
 
 Here is Pocahontas Maria's journal as it stood 
 on Tuesday afternoon^ after the children had 
 done their lessons and had their dinners : — 
 
 " Tuseday. I am going to keep a Diry like 
 Mamma's. Studded as usel. Mamma said I 
 was cairless, and didn't get my jography lesson 
 propperly. Stella had hers better than me. I 
 hurt my ellbow against the table. It won't 
 bend any more. Mamma is going to get Doctor 
 Jacob to put in a woulden pin. I hope it won't 
 hurt." 
 
 " Oh, Pocahontas ! Pocahontas ! " cried the 
 scandalized Lady Bird as she read this effusion. 
 " After all the pains I have taken, to think you 
 should spell so horridly as this." Then she sat 
 down and corrected all the words. " I don't won- 
 der your cheeks are so red/' she said severely. 
 Pocahontas sat up straight and blushed, but 
 made no excuses. It is not strange that Lota, 
 
150 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 who really spelt very nicely for a. little girl of 
 her age, should have been shocked. 
 
 On Tuesday night it rained again, and iLe 
 sun got up in a cloud next morning, and seemed 
 uncertain whether or not to shine. Grandmamma 
 was going to drive out to make a call, and Jen- 
 nings came early to the nursery to tell Nurse to 
 dress Lady Bird nicely, so that she might go too. 
 Accordingly Nursey put on Lota's freshest white 
 cambric and her best blue sash, and laid a pair 
 of white gloves and a little hat trimmed with 
 blue ribbons and forget-me-nots on the bed, so 
 that they might be ready when the carriage 
 came to the door. '^.Now, Miss Lady Bird, you 
 must sit still and keep yourself very nice," she 
 said. This was hard, for the children had all 
 been left in the garden-house the night before, 
 and Lota wanted very much to see them. She 
 stood at the window looking wistfully out. By 
 and by the sun flashed gloriously from the clouds, 
 and sent a bright ray right into her eyes. Tt 
 touched the rain-drops which hung over the 
 
LADY BIRD. 151 
 
 bushes^ and instantly each became a tiny mimic 
 sun, sending out separate rays of its own. Lota 
 forgot all about Nursey's injunctions. "I'll just 
 run out one minute and fetch little Ning-Po in/' 
 she thought. " That child's too dehcate to be 
 left out in the damp. She catches cold so 
 easily; really it quite troubles me sometimes 
 the way she coughs." 
 
 So down the garden walk she sped. The 
 shrubs, shaken by her swift passage, scattered 
 showers of bright drops upon the white frock 
 and the pretty sash. But Lota didn't mind or 
 notice. The air and sun, the clear, fresh feel- 
 ing, the birds' songs, filled her with a kind of 
 intoxication. Her head spun, her feet danced 
 as she ran along. Suddenly a cold feeling at 
 the toes of her bronze boots startled her. She 
 looked down. Behold, she was in a pool of 
 water, left by the rain in a hollow of the gravel- 
 walk. Was she frightened ? Not at all. The 
 water felt delightfully fresh, her spirits flashed 
 out like the sun himself, and in the joy of her 
 
152 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 heart she began to waltz^ scattering and splash- 
 ing the water about her. The crisp ruffles of 
 the cambric lost all their starch, the pretty boots 
 were quite spoiled, but Lota waltzed on, and in 
 this plight Nursey, flying indignantly out from 
 the kitchen door, found her naughty pet. 
 
 " Well, Miss Charlotte, I am discouraged," she 
 said, as she pulled off the wet things. " Waltz- 
 ing in a mud-puddle ! That's nice work for a 
 young lady ! I am discouraged. Miss Charlotte." 
 
 Nursey never said "Miss Charlotte" except 
 
 on the most solemn occasions, so Lota knew 
 
 that she was very vexed. She should have 
 
 been cast down by this, but' somehow she was 
 
 not. 
 
 "But /'m not discouraged," she replied. 
 
 "I'm not discouraged a bit! And the birds 
 
 aren't discouraged ! They sang all the while 
 
 I was waltzing in the mud-puddle, Nursey; I 
 
 heard 'em ! " 
 
 Nursey gave it up. She loved Lady Bird 
 
 dearly, and could not bear to scold her or to 
 
LADY BIRD. 153 
 
 have any one else do so. So she made haste to 
 change the unlucky frock and shoes, so that she 
 should be neat and trim whenever Grandmamma 
 sent for her. I suppose this forbearance touched 
 Lota's heart, for at the last moment she turned, 
 ran back, threw her arms round Nursey's neck, 
 and whispered, " I'm sorry, and I'll never waltz 
 in mud-puddles again." Nursey squeezed her 
 hard by way of answer. '* Precious lamb ! " she 
 said, and Lota ran downstairs quite happy. 
 
 The lady whom Grandmamma drove out to 
 see, had a little granddaughter visiting her. 
 Isabel Bernard was her name. She came from 
 the city, and was so beautifully dressed and so 
 well-mannered, that Grandmamma took quite a 
 fancy to her, and invited her to spend a day 
 with Lota. 
 
 " Charlotte will enjoy a young companion," 
 said Grandmamma. So the next day was fixed 
 upon. 
 
 This was a very exciting event for the Bird 
 family, who rarely had any visitors except Lady 
 
154 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 Green, who did not county being such a near 
 neighbor. Pocahontas wrote in her journal, 
 '' A grand lady is coming to see Mamma. Me 
 and all of us are going to have on our best 
 frocks. I hope she'll think us pretty ; " and 
 though Lota told her that little girls ought not 
 to mind about being pretty if only they obey 
 their mammas and are good, the sentiment was 
 so natural that she really hadn't the heart to 
 scold the child much. The baby-house was 
 swept and garnished for the occasion, a fresh 
 batch of rose-cakes was made, and a general air 
 of festivity pervaded the premises. 
 
 Lota hoped that Isabel would come early, 
 soon after breakfast, so as to have a longer day ; 
 but it was quite twelve o'clock before she made 
 her appearance, all alone by herseK in a huge 
 barouche, which made her seem scarcely larger 
 than a doll. She wore a fine frilled muslin 
 frock over blue silk, a white hat, and dainty 
 lemon-colored boots. When Lota, feeling shy 
 at the spectacle of this magnificence, proposed 
 going into the garden, she hun^ back. 
 
LADY BIRD, 155 
 
 " Are you quite sure that it isn't damp ? " she 
 said, " because — you see — this is my best 
 frock." 
 
 " Oh, quite sure/' pleaded Lota. " The grass 
 was cut only day before yesterday, and Jacob 
 rolled the gravel last night. Do come ! The 
 children want to see you so much." 
 
 " The children ! " said Isabel, surprised. But 
 "when she saw the doll-family sitting in a row 
 with their best clothes on, and their four pairs 
 of j&xed blue eyes looking straight before them, 
 she laughed scornfully. 
 
 " Do you play with dolls ? " she asked. " I 
 gave them up long ago." 
 
 Lady Bird's eyes grew large with distress. 
 " Oh, don't call them thaty' she cried. ^' I never 
 do. It hurts their feelings so. You can't think." 
 
 Isabel laughed again. She wasn't at all a 
 nice girl to play with. The rose-cakes she pro- 
 nounced " nast3\" When Lota explained about 
 Lady Green, she stared and said it was ridicu- 
 lous, and that there w^as no such person. She 
 
156 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 turned up her nose at Pocahontas's journal, and 
 declared ihvijf. Lota wrote it herself ! " Did you 
 ever hear of such a thing ? " asked Lady Bird 
 afterward of Lady Green. ^^As if my child 
 could not write ! " It was just so all day. The 
 only thing Isabel seemed to enjoy was dining in 
 state with Grandmamma, and answering all hei 
 questions with the air of a little grown-up 
 woman. Grandmamma said she was a very well- 
 behaved child, and she wished Charlotte would 
 take pattern by her. But Lota didn't agree 
 with Grandmamma. She hoped with all her heart 
 that Isabel would never come to visit her again. 
 
 Pocahontas Maria wrote in her journal next 
 day: — 
 
 " The lady who came to see Mamma wasn't 
 very nice, I think. She didn't even speak to 
 us children, and she made fun at my diry. We 
 didn't like her a bit. Stella says she's horrid, 
 and Ning-Po hopes Mamma won't ever ask her 
 any more." Lady Bird reproved Pocahontab 
 very gravely for these sentiments, and reminded 
 
LADY BIRD. 157 
 
 her again that " diry " is not the way to spell 
 diary ; but she said to Lady Green, who dropped 
 in for a call, " Poor little thing, I don't wonder ! 
 children always find out when people isn't nice ; 
 and Isabel; she was very disagreeable, you know, 
 calling them '. dolls ' and things like that ! It's 
 not surprising that they didn't like her, I'm 
 sure." 
 
 Saturday was an eventful day. There were 
 no lessons to do for one thing, because Nursey's 
 daughter had come to see her, and Grandmamma 
 said Lady Bird might be excused for once. 
 This gave her the whole morning to attend to 
 domestic matters, which was nice, or would have 
 been, only unluckily little Stella took this oppor- 
 tunity to break out with measles. Of course 
 Lady Bird was much distressed. She put Stella 
 to bed at once, and sent the others to the far- 
 thest side of the room lest they should catch the 
 disease also, " though," as she told Pocahontas, 
 "You'll be sure to have it. It always runs 
 straight through families ; the doctor said [^o wLvivi 
 
158 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 I had it ; and whatever I shall do with all of you 
 on my hands at once, T can't imagine." There is 
 always a great deal to do in times of sickness, so 
 this was a very busy day. Lota had to make 
 broth for Stella, to concoct medicine out of 
 water and syringa-stems, to prepare dinner for 
 the other children, and hear all their lessons, for 
 of course education must not be neglected let 
 who will have measles ! Pocahontas was unusu- 
 ally troublesome. Imogene cried over the spell- 
 ing lesson; and altogether Lady Bird had her 
 hands full that morning. 
 
 " I shall certainly send you all away to board- 
 ing-school if you don't learn to behave better," 
 she cried in despair, at which awful threat the 
 children wept aloud and promised to be good. 
 Then came dinner, — real dinner, I mean, — 
 which Lady Bird could scarcely eat, so anxious 
 was she about her sick child in the garden. The 
 moment it was over back she flew, oblivious of 
 the charms of raisins and almonds. Stella was 
 asleep, but she evidently had fever, for her 
 
LADY BIRD. 159 
 
 cheeks were bright pink, and her h'ps as red as 
 sealing-wax. 
 
 '' I must have a doctor for her," cried poor 
 Lady Bird. 
 
 She tried to think what article would be 
 best to choose for the doctor, and fixed on an 
 old black muff of Nursey's which lived on the 
 shelf of the nursery closet. To get it, however, 
 it was needful to leave the children again. 
 
 " You must all be good," she said, fussing 
 about and tidying the room, " very good and 
 very quiet, so as not to wake up Stella. Dear 
 me, what a queer smell there is here ! Let me 
 think. What did Nursey do when I had measles ? 
 She burned some sort of paper and made it smell 
 nice again. I must burn some paper too, else 
 Stella 11 suffocate, won't you, dear ? " 
 
 No sooner thought than done. Jacob had 
 left Ids coat hanging near the tool-house while 
 he went to dinner, and he always carried matches 
 in his pipe-pocket. Lady Bird knew that. She 
 put her hand in and drew one out, feeling guilty, 
 
160 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 for one of Nursey's chief maxims was, "Ne\^er 
 touch matches, Lady Bird; remember what I 
 say, never ! " 
 
 "If Nursey knew about Stella's having the 
 measles she'd say different/' she soliloquized. 
 
 There was a good-sized bit of brown paper in 
 the garden-house. Lota rolled it up, laid it 
 near the bedside, lit the edge, and carefully blew 
 out the match. The paper did not flame, but 
 smouldered slowly, sending up a curl of smoke. 
 Lady Bird gazed at it with much satisfaction, 
 then, with a last kiss to Stella, she went away to 
 fetch the doctor, stopping at Lady Green's door 
 as she passed, to tell her that she had better not 
 let any of her children come over, because they 
 might catch the measles and be sick too. 
 
 It took some time to rummage out the muff, 
 for Nursey had tucked it far back on the shelf 
 behind other things. There was nobody in the 
 nursery. Something unusual seemed to be 
 going on downstairs, for doors were opening 
 fUid shutting, and persons were talking and ex- 
 
LADY BIRD, 161 
 
 claiming. Lota paid no attention to this; her 
 head was full of her own affairs, and she had no 
 time to spend on other people's. Muff in hand, 
 she hastened down the garden walk. As she 
 drew near she smelt smoke, and smiled with 
 satisfaction. But the smell grew stronger, and 
 the air was blue and thick. She became alarmed, 
 and began to run. Another moment, and the 
 house was in sight. Smoke was pouring from 
 the door, from the window, and — what was that 
 red thing which darted out from the smoke like 
 a long tongue ? Oh, Lady Bird ! Lady Bird ! fly, 
 hasten, your house is on fire, and there are the 
 children inside with none but you to aid them ! 
 
 Did ever mother hesitate when her little ones 
 were in danger? Lady Bird did not. With 
 a shriek of affright she plunged boldly into the 
 midst of the smoke. An awful sight met her eyes 
 through the open door. The wall-paper was on 
 fire, the cotton rug, the table-cover ! Little red 
 flames were creeping up the valance of the crib 
 in which poor sick Stella lay ! The other chil- 
 
162 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 dren were sitting in a row opposite, very calm 
 and still, but blisters had begun to form on 
 Imogene's waxen cheeks, and a cinder, lodged 
 on Ning-Po's flaxen wig, was scorching and 
 singeing. What a spectacle to meet a mother's 
 eyes ! Oh, Lady Bird, haste to the rescue ! 
 
 She did not falter. In the twinkling of an 
 eye she had dashed into the burning room, had 
 caught Stella from her bed, the others from their 
 chairs, and with all four hugged tight to her 
 heart was making for the door. Ah ! a spark 
 fell on the white apron, on the hoUand frock ! 
 Her rapid movement fanned it. It flickered, 
 blazed, the red flame rushed upward. What 
 would have happened I dare not think, if just 
 at that moment a gentleman, who was hastening 
 down the garden walk, had not caught sight of 
 the little figure, and, with a horrified exclama- 
 tion, seized, held it fast, wrapped round it a great 
 woollen shawl from his own shoulders, and in 
 one moment put out the deadly fire which was 
 snatching at the sweet young life. Who was 
 
LADY BIRD. 163 
 
 this gentleman, do you think, thus arrived at 
 the very nick of time ? Why, no other than 
 Lady Bird's own Papa, come heme from China 
 a few weeks before any one expected him ! 
 
 I cannot pretend to describe all that followed 
 on that bewildering day, the dismay of Grand- 
 mamma and Nursey, the wrath of Jennings 
 over the match, the joy of everybody at Lady 
 Bird's escape, or her own confusion of mind at 
 the fire and the excitement and the new Papa, 
 who was and was not the Papa of the letters. 
 At first she hugged the rescued dolls and said 
 nothing. But Papa gave her time to get used 
 to him, and she soon did so. He was very 
 kind and nice, and did not laugh at the children 
 and call them names as Isabel had done, but 
 felt Stella's pulse, recommended pomatum for 
 the scorch on Imogene's forehead, and even 
 produced a little out of his own dressing-case. 
 Best of all, he led Lady Bird upstairs, unlocked 
 a box and showed her a beautiful little Chinese 
 lady in purple silk and lovely striped muslin 
 trowsers, which he had broug:ht for her. 
 
164 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 " Another child for you to take care of/' said 
 Papa. 
 
 Pocahontas Maria wrote in her Diary the 
 next day : — 
 
 " My Grandpapa has come home from China. 
 He is very nice. He brought me a little Chi- 
 nese sister. Her name is Loo Choo, he says, 
 but Mamma calls her Loo Loo, because it sounds 
 prettier. Grandpapa treats us very kindly, and 
 never says ' dolls/ as Isabel Berners did ; and he 
 went to call on Lady Green with Mamma. I'm 
 so glad he is come." 
 
 When Lady Bird read this she kissed Poca- 
 hontas and said, — 
 
 " That's right, dear ; so am I ! " 
 
ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE. 
 
 The old clock on the stairs was drowsy. Its 
 ticks, now lower, now louder, sounded like the 
 
166 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 breathings of one asleep. Now and then came 
 a distincter tick, which might pass for a httle 
 machine-made snore. As striking-time drew 
 near, it roused itself with a quiver and shake. 
 ^^One, two, three, four, five," it rang in noisy 
 tones, as who should say, "^ Behold, I am wide 
 awake, and have never closed an eye all night." 
 The sounds sped far. Marianne the cook heard 
 them, rubbed her eyes, and put one foot out of 
 bed. The nurse, Louisa, turned over and began 
 to dream that she was at a wedding. Perhaps 
 the sun heard too, for he stood up on tip-toe on 
 the edge of the horizon, looked about him, then 
 launched a long yellow ray directly at the crack 
 in the nursery shutter. The ray was sharp : it 
 smote full on Archie's eyelids, as he lay asleep, 
 surrounded by " Kobinson Crusoe," two red ap- 
 ples, a piece of gingerbread, and a spade, all of 
 which he had taken to bed with him. When he 
 felt the prick of the sun-ray he opened his eyes 
 wide. " Why, morning's come ! " he said, and 
 without more ado raised himself and sat up. 
 
ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE, 167 
 
 ^^What'U I do to-day?" he thought. "\ 
 know, ril go into the wood and build a house, 
 a nice little house, just like Wobinson Cwusoe's, 
 all made of sticks. Nobody'U know where my 
 house is ; I'll not tell, not even Mamma, where 
 it is. Then when I don't want to study or any 
 thing, I can run away and hide, and they won't 
 know where to find me. That'll be nice ! I 
 guess I'll go and begin it now, 'cause the days 
 are getting short. Papa said so once. I wonder 
 what makes 'em get short? Pr'aps sometime 
 they'll be so short that there won't be any days 
 at all, only nights. That wouldn't be pleasant, 
 I think. Mamma'd have to buy lots of candles 
 then, or else we couldn't see." 
 
 With this he jumped out of bed. 
 
 " I must be very quiet," he thought, " else 
 Loo — isa'U hear, and then she won't let me go 
 till I've had my bekf ast. Loo — isa's real cross 
 sometimes ; only sometimes she's kind when 
 she makes my kite fly." 
 
 His clothes were folded on a chair by the 
 
168 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 bedside. Archie had never dressed himself 
 before, but he managed pretty well, except that 
 he turned the small ruffled shirt wrong-side out. 
 The other things went on successfully. There 
 were certain buttons which he could not reach, 
 but that did not matter. The small stocking 
 toes were folded neatly in, all ready to slip on to 
 the feet. But the shoes were a difficulty ; they 
 fastened with morocco bands and buckles, and 
 Archie couldn't manage them at all. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " he said to himself, " I wish 
 Loo — isa would come and buckle my shoes for 
 me. No, I don't, though, 'cause p'raps she'd 
 say, ^ Go back to bed, naughty boy; it isn't 
 time to get up.' I wouldn't like that. Some- 
 times Loo — isa does say things to me." 
 
 So he put on the shoes without buckling 
 them, and, not stopping to brush his hair or 
 wash his face, he clapped on his broad-brimmed 
 straw hat, took " Eobinson Crusoe " and the 
 spade, dropped the red apples and the ginger- 
 brea/i into his pocket, and stole softly down- 
 
ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE. 1G9 
 
 stairs. The little feet made no noise as they 
 passed over the thick carpets. Marianne, who 
 was lighting the kitchen fire and clattering the 
 tongs, heard nothing. He reached the front 
 door, and, stretching up, pulled hard at the bolt. 
 It was stiff, and would not move. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " sighed Archie, " I wish some- 
 body would come and open this door for me." 
 
 He looked at the bolt a minute. Then an 
 idea struck him, and, laying ^^Eobinson Crusoe " 
 and the little spade down on the floor, he went 
 into the dining-room pantry, where was a 
 drawer with tools in it. 
 
 "- I'll get Papa s hammer," he thought to him- 
 self, " and I'll pound that old bolt to pieces." 
 
 While he was gone, Marianne, who had 
 lighted her fire, came from the kitchen with a 
 broom in her hand. She opened the door, 
 shook the mat, and began to sweep the steps. 
 A sharp tinkle, tinkle met her ear from the 
 back gate. It was the milkman ringing for 
 some one to come and take in the milk. Mari- 
 
170 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 anne set her broom agairiKst the side of the door, 
 and hurried back to the kitchen. Her foot 
 struck against " Eobinson Crusoe " as she went. 
 She picked it up and laid it on the table. 
 
 " Why, the door's open ! " exclaimed Archie, 
 who at that moment came from the dining- 
 room, hammer in hand. 
 
 He did not trouble himself to speculate as 
 to how the door happened to be open, but, 
 picking up the spade, wandered forth into the 
 garden. The gate gave no trouble. He walked 
 fast, and long before Marianne came back to 
 her sweeping he had gained the woods, which 
 were near, and enclosed the house on two sides 
 in a shady half -circle. They were pretty woods, 
 full of flowers and squirrels and winding, puz- 
 zling paths. Archie had never been allowed to 
 go into them alone before. 
 
 The morning was delicious, so full of snap 
 and sunshine that it set him to dancing and 
 skipping as he went along. All the wood- 
 flowers were as wide awake as he. They 
 
ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE, 171 
 
 nodded at Archie, as if saying " Good-morning/' 
 and sent out fresh smells into the air. Busj 
 birds flapped and flew, doing their marketing, 
 and fetching breakfast to hungry nestlings, 
 chirping and whistling to each other, as they 
 did so, that the sun was up and it was a fine 
 day. A pair of striped squirrels frisked and 
 laughed and called out something saucy as 
 Archie trotted by. None of these wild things 
 feared the child : he was too small and too 
 quick in his movements to be fearful. They 
 accepted him as one of themselves, — a feather- 
 less bird, or a squirrel of larger growth ; while 
 he, on his part, smiled vaguely at them and 
 hurried past, intent on his projects for a house 
 and careless of every thing else. 
 
 The sun rose higher and higher. But the 
 thick branching trees kept off the heat, and the 
 wood remained shady and cool. The paths 
 twisted in and out, and looped into each other 
 like a tangled riband. No grown person could 
 have kept a straight course - in their mazes. 
 
172 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 Archie did not even try, but turned to right 
 or to left just as it happened, taking always 
 the path which looked prettiest, or which led 
 into deepest shade. If he saw anywhere a 
 particularly red checkerberry, he went that 
 way ; otherwise it was all one to him where he 
 went. So it came to pass that, by the end of 
 an hour, he was as delightfully and completely 
 lost as ever little boy has succeeded in being 
 since woods grew or the world was made. 
 
 "1 dess this is a nice place for my house," 
 he said suddenly, as the path he had been fol- 
 lowing led into a small open space, across which 
 lay a fallen tree, with gray moss, which looked 
 like hair, hanging to its trunk. It was a nice 
 place; also, Archie's feet were tired, and he 
 was growing hungry, which aided in the deci- 
 sion. The ground about the fallen tree was 
 carpeted with thick mosses. Some were bright 
 green, with stems and little branches like tiny, 
 tiny pine-trees. Others had horn-shaped cups 
 ©f yellow and fiery red. Others still were 
 
ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE, 173 
 
 briglit beautiful brown, while here and there 
 stood round cushion-shaped masses which looked 
 as soft as dow^n. 
 
 Into the very middle of one of these pretty 
 green cushions plumped Archie. He rested 
 liis back against a tree trunk, and gave a sigh 
 of comfort. It was like an easy chair, except 
 that it had no arms ; but what does a little boy 
 want of arms to chairs ? He put his hand into 
 his pocket and pulled out, first the red apples, 
 and then the gingerbread. The gingerbread 
 was rather mashed ; but it tasted most delicious, 
 only there was too little of it, 
 
 " I wish I'd brought a hundred more pieces," 
 .soliloquized Archie, as he nibbled the last 
 crumb. " One isn't half enough bekfast." 
 
 The red apples, however, proved a consola- 
 tion; and, quite rested and refreshed now, he 
 jumped from the moss cushion and prepared to 
 begin his house-building. 
 
 " First, I must pick up some sticks," he 
 thought, — "a great many, many sticks, heaps 
 
174 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 of 'em. Then I'll hammer and make a house. 
 Only — I haven't got any nails/' he added with 
 ail after-thought. 
 
 There were plenty of sticks to be had in that 
 part of the wood ; twigs and branches from the 
 dead tree, fragments of bark, odds and ends of 
 dry brush. Close by stood a white birch. The 
 thin, paper-like covering hung loose on its stem, 
 like grey-white curls. Archie could pull off 
 large pieces, and he enjoyed this so much that he 
 pulled till the birch trunk, as far up as he could 
 reach, was perfectly bare. Some of the boughs 
 were crooked. Archie tried to lay them straight 
 with the others, but they wouldn't fit in nicely, 
 and stuck their stiff angles out in all directions. 
 
 " Those are naughty sticks," said Archie, 
 giving the crookedest a shove. "They shan't 
 go into my house at all." 
 
 The want of naUs became serious as the heap 
 of wood grew large and Archie was ready to 
 build. What was the use of a hammer without 
 nails ? He tried various ways. At last he laid 
 
ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE. 175 
 
 the longest boughs in a row against the side of 
 the fallen tree. This left a little place beneath 
 their slope into which it was possible to creep. 
 Archie smiled with satisfaction, and proceeded 
 to thatch the sloping roof with moss and bits of 
 bark. Then he grubbed up the green cushion 
 and transferred it bodily to his house. 
 
 "This'U be my chair/' he said to himself. 
 " I dess I don't want any more f urnture except 
 just a chair. Loo — isa, she said, ' so many 
 things to dust is a bodder.' " 
 
 At that moment came a rustling sound in 
 the underbrush. " P'raps it's savages/' thought 
 Archie, and, half pleased, half frightened at the 
 idea, he gave a loud whoop. Out flew a fat 
 motherly hen, cackling and screaming. What 
 she was doing there in the woods I cannot 
 imagine. Perhaps she had lost her way. Per- 
 haps she had private business there wliich only 
 hens can understand. Or it may be that she, 
 too, had built a little house and hidden it away 
 so that no one should know where it was. 
 
176 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 Archie was enchanted- " A hen^ a hen/' he 
 cried. "I'll catch her and keep her for my 
 own. Then I'll have eggs, and I'll give 'em to 
 Mamma, and I'll make custards. Custards iS 
 made of eggs. Loo — isa said so." 
 
 " Chicky, chicky, chicky/' he warbled in a 
 winning voice, waving his fingers as if he were 
 sprinkling corn on the ground for the hen to 
 eat. But the hen was not to be enticed in that 
 manner, and, screaming louder than ever, ran 
 into the bushes again. Then Archie began to 
 nm too. Twice he almost seized her brown 
 wings, but she slipped through his hands. Had 
 the hen been silent she would easily have 
 escaped him, bu.t she cackled as she flew, and 
 that guided him along. His shoe came off, 
 next the hammer flew out of his hand, but he 
 did not stop for either. Kunning, plunging, 
 diving, on he went, the frightened hen just 
 before, till at last a root tripped him up and 
 he fell forward on his face. The hen van- 
 \s^^A into the thicket. Her voice died away 
 
ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE, 177 
 
 in distance. By the time Archie had picked 
 himself up there was not even the rusthng of a 
 leaf to show which way she had gone. 
 
 He rose from the ground disconsolate. His 
 nose bled from the fall^ and there was a bump 
 on his forehead, which ached painfully. A 
 strong desire to cry came over him. But, like 
 a brave fellow, he would not give way to it, and 
 sat down under a tree to rest and decide what 
 was to be done next. 
 
 "I'll go back again to my house," was his 
 decision. But where was the house ? He ran 
 this way, that way ; the paths all looked alike. 
 The house had vanished hke the hen. Archie 
 had not the least idea which way he ought to 
 turn to find it. 
 
 One big tear did force its way to his eyes 
 when this fact became evident. House and 
 hen, it was hard to lose both at once. The 
 hammer, too, was gone. Only the spade re- 
 mained, and, armed with this, Archie, like a 
 true hero, started to find a good place and build 
 
 12 
 
178 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 another house. Surely nowhere, save m the 
 histories of the great Boston and Chicago fires, 
 is record to be found of parallel pluck and de- 
 termination \ 
 
 House-building was not half so easy in this 
 part of the wood where he then was, for the 
 bushes were thick and stood closely together. 
 Their branches hung so low, that, small as 
 Archie was, he had to bend forward and walk 
 almost double to avoid having his eyes scratched 
 by them. At last, in the middle of a circle of 
 junipers, he found a tolerably free space which 
 he thought would do. The ground, however, 
 was set thick with sharp uncomfortable stones, 
 and the first thing needed was to get rid of 
 them. 
 
 So for an hour, with fingers and spade, Archie 
 dug and delved among the stones. It was hard 
 work enough, but at last he cleared a place 
 somewhat larger than his small body, which he 
 carpeted with soft mosses brought from another 
 pai't of the wood. This done, he lay down flat 
 
ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE. 179 
 
 on his back, and looked dreamily up at the 
 pretty green roof made by the juniper boughs 
 overhead. '^ I dess I'll take a nappy now/' he 
 murmured, and in five minutes was sleeping as 
 soundly as a dormouse. Two striped squirrels, 
 which may or may not have been the same 
 which he had seen in the early morning, came 
 out on a bough not a yard from his head, chat- 
 tered, winked, put their paws to their noses 
 and made disrespectful remarks to each other 
 about the motionless figure. Birds flew and 
 sang, bees hummed, the wind went to and fro 
 in the branches like the notes of a low song. 
 But Archie heard none of these things. The 
 hen herself might have come back, cackled her 
 best, and flapped her wings in his very face 
 without arousing him, so deep was his slumber. 
 
 Meantime at home, two miles away, there 
 was great commotion over the disappearance 
 of Master Archie. Marianne had lingered quite 
 a long time at the back gate. The milkman 
 was a widower, looking out for a wife, and 
 
180 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 Marianne, as she said, could skim cream with 
 anybody ; so it was only natural that they 
 should have a great deal to say to eacli other, 
 and that measuring the milk at that particular 
 gate should be a slow business. This morning 
 their talk was so interesting that twenty min- 
 utes at least went by before Marianne, with 
 very rosy cheeks and very bright eyes, came 
 back, pail in hand, along the garden walk. As 
 she took up the broom to finish her sweeping, 
 she heard a great commotion overhead, steps 
 running about, voices exclaiming ; but her mind 
 was full of the milkman, and she paid no atten 
 tion, till Louisa came flying downstairs, half- 
 dressed, and crying, — 
 
 " Sake's alive, Marianne, where's Master Ar* 
 cliie?" 
 
 " How should I know ? Not down here, any* 
 way," was Marianne's reply. 
 
 ^^But he must be down here," persisted 
 Louisa. " He's gone out of the nursery, and so 
 are his clothes. Whatever's taken him I can't 
 
ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE. 181 
 
 imagine. I've searched the closetSj and looked 
 under the beds, and up in the attic, and I took 
 Mr. Gray his hot water, and he isn't there. 
 His spade's gone too, and his ap — Oh, mercy ! 
 1 here's his story-book now," and she pounced on 
 '^Robinson Crusoe," where it lay on the table. 
 ''- He's been down here certain sure, for that book 
 was on his bed when he went to sleep last night. 
 Don't stand there, Marianne, but come and help 
 me find him." 
 
 Into the parlor, the dining-room, the pantry, 
 ran the maids, calling " Archie ! Archie ! " at 
 the tops of their voices. But Archie, who as we 
 know was a good mile away by that time, did 
 not hear them. They « searched the kitchen, the 
 cellar, the wood-shed, the store-closet. Marianne 
 even lifted the Kd of the great copper boiler and 
 peeped in to make sure that he was not there ! 
 Louisa ran wildly about the garden, looking be- 
 hind currant bushes and raspberry vines, and 
 parting the tall feathers of the asparagus lest 
 A^rchie should have chosen to hide among them. 
 
182 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 She tapped the great green watermelons with 
 her fingers as she passed, — perhaps she fancied 
 that Archie might be stowed away inside of 
 one. All was in vain. Archie was not behind 
 the currant bushes, not even in the melon patch. 
 Louisa began to sob and cry, Marianne, never 
 backward, joined her with a true Irish howl ; 
 and it was in this condition that Archie's Papa 
 found things when he came downstairs to break- 
 fast. 
 
 Then ensued a fresh confusion. 
 
 " Where did you say the book was lying, 
 Louisa?" said Mr. Gray, trying to make out 
 the meaning of her sobbing explanation. 
 
 " Just here, sir, on the hall table. Oh, the 
 darhng child, whatever has come to him ? " 
 
 "- Oh, wurra ! wurra ! " chimed in Marianne. 
 '^ He been and got took away by wicked people, 
 perhaps. We'll niver get him back, niver ! " 
 
 " The hall table ? Then he must have passed 
 out this way. Surely you must have seen him 
 or heard him open the door, Marianne ? " 
 
ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE, 183 
 
 " Is it I see him^ sir ? I'd niver forget it if 1 
 had. Oh^ the pretty face of him ! Wurra ! 
 wiirra ! " 
 
 ^^Butj now I think of it, the child couldn't 
 have opened the door for himself/' went on 
 Papa, growing impatient. ^^Did you leave it 
 standing open at all, Marianne ? " 
 
 " Only for a wee moment while I fetched m 
 the milk," faltered Marianne, growing rosy-red 
 as she reflected on the length of the " moment " 
 which she had passed at the gate with the milk- 
 man. 
 
 " That must have been the time, then," said 
 Mr. Gray. " Probably the little fellow has set 
 off by himself for a walk. I'll go after and look 
 for him. ' Don't frighten Mrs. Gray when she 
 comes down, Louisa, but just say that Archie 
 and I are both gone out. Try to look as you 
 usually do." 
 
 This, however, was beyond Louisa's powers. 
 Her eyes were as red as a ferret's, and her cheeks 
 the color of purple cherries from crying and ex- 
 
184 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 citemeiit of mind. Mrs. Gray saw at once that 
 something was wrong. She began to question, 
 Louisa to cry, and the secret came out in a burst 
 of sobs and tears. "Master Archie — bless his 
 little heart ! — has got out of bed and ran away 
 into the woods. The master was gone after 
 him, but he'd niver find him at all at all " — 
 (this was Marianne's addition). " The tramps 
 had him fast by this time, no doubt. They'd 
 niver let him go." 
 
 " How could he get away all by himself ? " 
 asked poor frightened Mrs. Gray. 
 
 " Ah, who knows ? Like as not the thaves 
 came into the room and lifted him out of his 
 very bed. They're iverywhere, thim tramps ! 
 There's no providing against thim. Oh, howly 
 St. Patrick ! who'd have thought it ? " 
 
 This happy idea of tramps having lodged 
 itself in Marianne's mind, the story grew rapidly. 
 The butcher was informed of it when he came, 
 the fishmonger, and the grocer's boy. By noon 
 all the village had heard the tale, and farmers' 
 
ONE, TWO BUCKLE MY SHOE, 185 
 
 wives for ten miles round were shuddering over 
 these horrible facts, that three men in black 
 masks, with knives as long as your arm, had 
 broken into Mr. Gray's house at midnight, gag 
 ged the family, stowed the silver and money in 
 pillow-cases, taken the little boy from his bed, — 
 that pretty little boy with curly hair, you know, 
 my dear, — and, paying no attention to his 
 screams and cries, had carried him off nobody 
 knew where. Poor Mrs. Gray was half dead 
 with grief, of course, and Mr. Gray had gone in 
 pursuit ; but law ! my dear, he'll never catch 
 'em, and if he did, what could he do against 
 three men ? 
 
 " He'd a ought to have taken the constable 
 with him," said old Mrs. Fidgit, " then perhaps 
 he'd have got him back. I guess the thieves 
 won't keep the boy long though, he's too troub- 
 lesome ! His ma sent him over once on an 
 errand, and I'd as lieve have a wild-cat in the 
 house any day. Mark my word, they'll let hun 
 drop pretty soon ! " 
 
186 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 As the day went on, Louisa began to disbelieve 
 this theory about robbers. It was Marianne's 
 theory for one thing ; for another, she recollected 
 that Archie must have taken his apples and 
 gingerbread with him, and his spade. " Is it 
 likely that thieves would stop to pack up things 
 like that ? " she asked Marianne, who was highly 
 indignant at the question. The afternoon came, 
 still Mr. Gray had not returned, and there were 
 no tidings of Archie. Mrs. Gray, half ill with 
 anxiety and headache, went to her room to lie 
 down. Marianne was describing the exact ap- 
 pearance of the imaginary robbers to a crony, 
 who stood outside the kitchen window. " Six 
 foot high, ivery bit, and a face as black as chim- 
 ney sut," Louisa heard her say. " Pshaw,'' she 
 called out ; but sitting still became unbearable ; 
 and the motion of her needle in and out of the 
 work made her feel half crazy. She flung down 
 the work, — it was a jacket for Archie, — and, 
 tying on her bonnet, set off by herself in the 
 direction of the woods. Where she was going 
 
ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE. 187 
 
 she did not know^ — somewhere, anywhere, to 
 seal oh for her lost boy! 
 
 The Wind wood paths puzzled Louisa more 
 tlian they had puzzled Archie in the morning; 
 for she wanted to keep her way, which he did 
 not. She lost it, however, continually. Her 
 eyes were scratched by boughs and brambles, 
 the tree roots tripped her up, her dress caught 
 in a briar and was torn. " Archie ! Archie ! " 
 she cried, as she went along. Her voice came 
 back from the forest in strange echoing tones 
 which made her start. At last, after winding 
 and turning for a long time, she found herself 
 again upon the main path, not far from the 
 place where she had entered the wood. She 
 was hot, tired, and breathless ; her voice was 
 hoaise with crying and calling. " I'll wait here 
 awhde," she thought. ^^ Perhaps the blessed 
 little dear'U come this way; but, whether he 
 does or not, I'm too tired to move another step 
 till I've had some rest." She found a smooth 
 place imder an oak, sat down, and leaned her 
 back against the stem. 
 
188 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 '' Cheep, cheep, chickeree, " sang one bird 
 to another. " What a stupid girl that is ! 1 
 could tell her which way to go. Why, there's 
 tJie mark of his big foot on the moss close by. 
 Why doesn't she see it and follow ? Cheep, 
 cheep." 
 
 " Cluck, cluck, whirr, whillahu," sang the 
 other bird. " Human beings are too stupid." 
 
 Poor stupid Louisa, her eyes blurred with 
 tears, did not heed the birds' songs or under- 
 stand those plain directions for finding Archie 
 which they were so ready to give. The tree 
 trunk felt comfortable against her back. The 
 air came cool and spicy from the wood depths 
 to steal the smart from her hot face. The 
 rustle of the leaves was pleasant in hei ear. 
 So the faithful maid waited. 
 
 Mr. Gray meantime had tracked Archie for a 
 little way by the traces of his small feet on the 
 dewy grass. Then the marks became too con- 
 fused to help him longer ; he lost the track, 
 and, after a long and weary walk, found himself 
 
ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE. 189 
 
 on the far side of the wood, near a little village. 
 There he hired a wagon, and dro^'e home ; re- 
 solving to rouse the neighbors, and give the 
 wood a thorough search, even should it i^ep 
 them out all night. 
 
 While he was bargaining for his wagon in the 
 distant vUlage, Archie, in the midst, of his nest 
 of moss, was waking up. He had slept three 
 hours, and so soundly that, at first arousing, he 
 could not in the least remember where he was. 
 He rubbed his eyes, and stared about him won- 
 deringly. " Why, I'm out in the woods ! " he 
 said in a surprised voice. Gradually he recol- 
 lected how he had built the house, chased a 
 hen, and lost his hammer. This last accident 
 troubled him a little. " Papa said I mustn't 
 touch that big hammer ever," he thought to 
 himself, " 'cause I'd be sure to spoil it. Bat I'll 
 tell him it isn't spoiled, and he can pick it up 
 and put it back into the drawer; then he won't 
 mind." 
 
 One of iho striped squirrels came down ivi.vix 
 
190 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 a bough overhead, and stopped just in front of 
 the place where Archie sat. Archie looked at 
 him; he looked at Archie. The squirrel put 
 its paws together and rubbed its nose. It 
 chipper ed a minute, twinkled its bead-like eyes, 
 then, with a final flick of its tail, it was off, 
 and up the tree again like a flash. Archie 
 looked after it delighted. 
 
 "^ What a pretty bunny ! " he said out loud. 
 
 '^ Now I'll go home," was his next remark, 
 getting suddenly up from the ground. 
 
 The cause of this resolution was a little gnaw- 
 ing sensation which had begun within him and 
 was getting stronger every moment. In other 
 words, he was hungry. Gingerbread and apples 
 do not satisfy Httle boys as roast beef does. 
 Archie's stomach was quite empty, and began 
 to cry with an unmistakable voice, "• I want my 
 dinner, I want my dinner. Give me my din- 
 ner quick, or I shall do something" desperate." 
 Everybody in the world has to listen when 
 voices like these begin to sound inside of them. 
 
ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE, 191 
 
 All at once home seemed the most attractive 
 spot in the world to Archie. Visions of Mamma 
 and bread and milk and a great plate full of 
 something hot arose before his eyes, and an 
 immense longing for these delights took posses- 
 sion of him. So he shouldered his spade and 
 set forth, not having the least notion — poor 
 little soul ! — as to which side home lay, but 
 believing, with the confidence of childhood, that 
 now he wanted to go that way, the way was 
 sure to be easily found. Refreshed by his long 
 sleep, he marched sturdily on, taking any path 
 which struck his eye first. 
 
 There is a pretty picture — I wonder if any 
 of you have ever seen it? — in which a little 
 child is seen walking across a narrow plank 
 which bridges a deep chasm, while behind flies 
 a tall, beautiful angel, with a hand on either 
 side the child, guiding it along. The child does 
 not see the angel, and walks fearlessly ; but the 
 heavenly hands are there, and the little one is 
 safe. It may be that just such a good angel 
 
192 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 flew behind our little Archie that afternoon to 
 guide him through the mazes of the wood. 
 Certain it is that, without knowing it, he turned, 
 or something turned him, in the direction of 
 home. It was far for such small feet to go, and 
 he made the distance farther by straying, now 
 to left and now to right; but, after each of 
 these strayings, the unseen hands brought him 
 back again to the right path and led him on. 
 He did not stop to play now, for the hungry 
 voices grew louder each minute, and he was in 
 a hurry to get home. Speculations as to whether 
 dinner would be all eaten up crossed his mind. 
 " But I dess not," he said confidently, " 'cause 
 it isn't very long since morning." It was really 
 four in the afternoon, but Archie's long nap 
 had cheated the time, and he had no idea that 
 it was so late. 
 
 The path grew wider, and was hedged with 
 barberries and wild roses. The lovely pink of 
 the roses pleased Archie's eye. He stopped 
 and tugged at a great branch till it broke, then 
 
ONE. TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE, 193 
 
 he laid it across his shoulder to carry to Mamma. 
 Suddenly^ as he tramped along^ a gasp and 
 exclamation was heard^ and a tall figure rose up 
 from under a tree and caught him in its arms. 
 It was Louisa, who had fallen half asleep at her 
 post, and had been roused by the sound of the 
 well-known little feet as they went by. 
 
 ^^ Master Archie, dear/' she cried, sobbing, 
 ^ how could you run away and scare us so ? '' 
 
 " Why, it's Loo — isa," said Archie wonder- 
 ingly. "Did you come out here to build a 
 house too, Loo — isa ? " 
 
 "Where liar^e you been?" clamored Louisa, 
 holding him tight in her arms. 
 
 " Oh, out there," explained Archie, waving 
 his hand toward the woods generally. 
 
 "How could you slip away and frighten 
 Nursey so, and poor Mamma and Papa ? Papa's 
 been all the day hunting you. And where are 
 you going now?" 
 
 " Home ! Stop a squeezing of me, Loo — isa. 
 I don't like to be squeezed. Has the dinner- 
 bell runged yet? I want my dinner." 
 
 13 
 
194 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 " Dinner ! Why it's most evening, Mnstei 
 Archie. And nobody could eat, because we 
 was so frightened at your being lost." 
 
 " I wasn't lost ! " cried Archie indignantly. 
 '^ I was building % house. Come along, Loo — isa, 
 I'll show you the way." 
 
 So Archie took Louisa's hand and led her 
 along. Neither of them knew the path, but 
 they were in the right direction, and by and 
 by the trees grew thinner, and they could see 
 where they were, on the edge of Mr. Plimpton's 
 garden, not far from home. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Gray were consulting together 
 on the piazza, when the click of the gate made 
 them look up, and behold! the joyful Louisa, 
 displaying Archie, who walked by her side. 
 
 " Here he is, ma'am," she cried. " I found 
 him way off in the wood. He'd run away." 
 
 "1 didn't," said Archie, squirming out of his 
 mother's arms. " I was building houses. And 
 you didn't find me a bit. Loo — isa. I found 
 you, and I showed you the way home ! " 
 
ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE, 195 
 
 '^ Never mind who found who, so long as we 
 have our little runaway back/' said Mr. Gray, 
 stooping to kiss Archie. "Another time we 
 must have a talk about boys who go to build 
 houses without leave from their Mamma's and 
 Papa's, and make everybody anxious. Mean- 
 time, I fancy somebody I know about is half- 
 starved. Tell Marianne to send some dinner in 
 at once, Louisa." 
 
 " Yes, sir, I will." And Louisa hastened off 
 to triumph over her friend Marianne. 
 
 " Archie, darhng, how could you go away and 
 frighten us so ? " asked Mrs. Gray, taking him 
 in her lap. 
 
 "Why, Mamma, were you frightened?" re- 
 plied Archie wonderingly. "I was building a 
 house. It's a heau-MivX house. I'll let you 
 come and sit in it if you want to. And I've 
 got a hen, and 111 give you all the eggs she 
 lays, to cook, you know. Only the hen's runned 
 away, and I couldn't find my house any more, 
 and the hammer tumbled down, and I lost my 
 
196 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 shoe. I know where the hammer is, I dess, and 
 to-morrow I'll go back and get it/"- — Here the 
 expression of Archie's face changed. Louisa 
 had appeared at the door with a plate of some- 
 thing which smelt excessively nice, and sent a 
 little curl of steam into the air. She beckoned. 
 He jumped down from Mamma's lap, ran to the 
 door, and both disappeared. Nothing more was 
 heard of him except his feet on the stairs, and 
 by and by the sound of Louisa's rocking-chair, 
 as she sat beside his bed singing Archie to sleep. 
 Mamma and Papa went in together a little later 
 and stood over their boy. 
 
 " Oh, the comfort of seeing him safe in his 
 little bed to-night ! " said Mrs. Gray. 
 
 Eoused by her voice, Archie stirred. " I dess 
 I know where the hammer is," he said drowsily. 
 Then his half-opened eyes closed, and he wagi 
 sound asleep. 
 
RIDE A COCK-HORSE. 
 
 It was a drizzly day in the old market-town of 
 Banbury. The clouds hung low : all the world 
 
198 NINE LllTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 was wrapped in sulky mist. When the sun 
 tried to shine out, as once or twice he did, his 
 face looked like a dull yellow spot against the 
 sky, and the clouds hurried up at once and ex- 
 tinguished him. Childien tapped on window 
 panes, repeating — 
 
 *' Rain, rain, go away, 
 Come again some other day.'* 
 
 But the rain would not take the hmt, and after 
 awhile the sun gave up his attempts, hid his 
 head, and went away disgusted, to shine some- 
 where else. 
 
 " It's too bad, it's too bad ! " cried Alice Flower, 
 the Mayor's httle daughter, looking as much out 
 of sorts as the weather itself. 
 
 '' You mustn't say too bad. It is God who 
 makes it rain or shine, and He is always right," 
 remarked her Aunt. 
 
 "Yes — I know," replied Alice in a timid 
 voice. "But, Aunty, I did want to go to the 
 picnic very much." 
 
 " So did I. We are both disappointed," said 
 Aunty, smiling. 
 
RIDE A COCK-HORSE. 199 
 
 ^^But rm the most disappointed/' persisted 
 Alice, " because you're grown up, you know, and 
 I haven t any thing pleasant to do. All my 
 dolFs spring clothes are made, and I've read my 
 story-books till I'm tired of 'em, and I learned 
 my lessons for to-morrow with Miss Boyd yester- 
 day, because we were going to the picnic. Oh, 
 dear, what a long morning this has been ! It 
 feels like a week." 
 
 Just then. Toot! toot! toot! sounded from 
 the street below. Alice hurried back to the 
 window. She pressed her nose close to the 
 glass, but at first could see nothing; then, as 
 the sound grew nearer, a man on horseback 
 rode into view. He was gorgeously dressed in 
 black velveteen, with orange sleeves and an 
 orange lining to his cloak. He carried a brass 
 trumpet, which every now and then jie lifted to 
 his lips, blowing a long blast. This was the 
 sound which Alice had heard. 
 
 Following the man came a magnificent scarlet 
 chariot, drawn by ten black horses with scarlet 
 
200 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 trappings and scarlet feathers in their heads. 
 Each horse was ridden by a little page in a 
 costume of emerald green. The chariot was 
 full of musicians in red uniforms. They held 
 umbrellas o\er their instruments, and looked 
 sulky because of the rain, which was no wonder. 
 Still, the effect of the whole was gay and dazzling. 
 Behind the chariot came a long procession of 
 horses, black, gray, sorrel, chestnut, or marked 
 in odd patches of brown and white. These 
 horses were ridden by ladies in wonderful blue 
 and silver and pink and gold habits, and by 
 knights in armor, all of whom carried umbrellas 
 also. Pages walked beside the horses, waving 
 banners and shields with " Visit Currie's World- 
 Renowned Circus " painted on them. A droll 
 little clown, mounted on an enormous bay horse, 
 made fun of the pages, imitated their gestures, 
 and rapped them on the back with his riding- 
 jstick in a droll way. A long line of blue and 
 red wagons closed the cavalcade. 
 
 But pi'ettiest of all was a little girl about ten 
 
RIDE A COCK-HORSE, 201 
 
 years old, who rode in the middle of the proces- 
 sion upon a lovely horse as white as milk. The 
 horse had not a single spot of dark color about 
 him, and his trappings of pale blue were so 
 slight that they seemed like ribbons hung on 
 his graceful limbs, The little girl had hair of 
 bright, pale yellow, which fell to her waist in 
 loose shining waves. She was small and slender, 
 but her color was like roses, and her blue eyes 
 and sweet pink mouth smiled every moment as 
 she bent and swayed to the motion of the horse, 
 which she managed beautifully, though her bits 
 of hands seemed almost too small to grasp the 
 reins. Her riding-dress of blue was belted and 
 buttoned with silver ; a tiny blue cap with long 
 blue plumes was on her head; and altoge'iher 
 she seemed to Alice like a fairy princess, or one 
 of those girls in story-books who turn out to be 
 kings' daughters or something else remarkable. 
 
 " Aunty ! come here do come," cried Alice. 
 
 Just then the procession halted directly be- 
 neath the window. The trumpeter took off his 
 
202 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 hat and made a low bow to Alice and her Aunt. 
 Then he blew a final blast, rose in his stirrups 
 and began to speak. Miss Flower opened the 
 window that they might hear more distinctly. 
 This seemed to bring the pretty little girl on 
 the horse nearer. She looked up at Alice and 
 smiled, and Alice smiled back at her. 
 This is what the trumpeter said : — 
 '^Ladies and gentlemen, — I have the honor 
 to announce to you the arrival in Banbury of 
 Signor James Currie's World-Renowned Circus 
 and Grand Unrivalled Troupe of Equestrian 
 Performers, whose feats of equitation and horse- 
 manship have given unfeigned delight to all 
 the courts of Europe, her Majesty the Queen, 
 and the nobility and gentry of this and other 
 countries. Among the principal attractions of 
 this unrivalled troupe are Mr. Vernon Twomley, 
 with his famous trained steed Bucephalus; 
 Madame Orley, with her horse Chimborazo, who 
 lacks only the gift of speech to take a first class 
 at the University of Oxford; M. Aristide, the 
 
KIDK A COCK-HORSE, 203 
 
 adniired trapezeist ; Goo-Goo, the unparalleled 
 and side-splitting clown ; and last, but not least, 
 Mademoiselle Mignon, the child equestrienne, 
 whose feats of agihty are the wonder of the 
 age ! On account of Mr. Currie's unprece- 
 dented press of engagements, his appearance 
 in Banbury is limited to a single performance, 
 which will take place this evening under the 
 Company's magnificent tent, in the Market Place, 
 behind the old cross. Come one, come all! 
 Performances to begin at eight precisely. Ad- 
 mission, one-and-sixpence. Children under ten 
 years of age, half price. God save the Queen." 
 Having finished this oration, the trumpeter 
 bowed once more to the window, blew another 
 blast, and rode on, followed by all the proces- 
 sion ; the little girl on the white horse giving 
 Alice a second smile as she moved away. For 
 awhile the toot, toot, toot of the trumpet could 
 be heard from down the street. Then the 
 sounds grew fainter. At last they died in dis- 
 tance, and all was quiet as it had been before 
 
204 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 Alice was sorry to have them go. But the 
 interruption had done her good by taking her 
 tho.ughts away from the rain and the lost picnic. 
 She could think and talk of nothing now except 
 the gay riders, and especially the pretty httle 
 girl on the white horse. 
 
 " Wasn't she sweet ? '' she asked her Aunt. 
 ^^And didn't she ride heaui^ivXbf, I wish I 
 could ride like that. And what a pretty name, 
 Mademoiselle Mignon ! It must be very nice to 
 belong to a circus, I think." 
 
 "I'm afraid that Mademoiselle Mignon does 
 not always find it so nice," remarked Miss 
 Flower. 
 
 "0 Aunty, what makes you say so? She 
 looks as if she were perfectly happy! Didn't 
 you see her laugh when the clown stole the 
 other man's cap from his head? And such a 
 dear horse as she was riding ! I never saw such 
 a dear horse in all my life. I wish I had one 
 just like him." 
 
 ^' It was a beauty. So perfectly white." 
 
KWE A COCK-HORSE, 205 
 
 ^^ Wasn't it! Aunty, don't yon wish 
 Papa would take you and me to the perform- 
 ance? There will only be one, you know, 
 because Mr. Currie has such un — un — un- 
 presidential engagements. I mean to ask Papa 
 if he won't. There he is now ! I hear his key 
 in the door. May I run down and ask him, 
 Aunty ? " 
 
 "Yes, indeed — " 
 
 Downstairs ran Alice. 
 
 " Papa ! " she cried, " did you meet the 
 Circus ? It was the most wonderful Circus, Papa. 
 Just like a story-book. And such a dear little 
 girl on a white horse ! Won't you please take 
 me to see it. Papa — and Aunty too ? We both 
 want to go very much. It's only here for one 
 night, the man said." 
 
 "We'll see," said the Mayor, taking off his 
 coat. Alice danced with pleasure Avhen she 
 heard this "we'll see," for with Papa "we'll 
 see " meant almost always the same thing as 
 '•' yes." Alice was an only child, and a petted 
 
206 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 one, and Papa rarely refused any request on 
 which his motherless little girl had set her heart. 
 
 She skipped upstairs beside him, full of satis- 
 faction, and had just settled herself on his knee 
 for the half hour of frolic and talk which was 
 her daily delight and his, when a knock came 
 to the door below, and Phebe the maid appeared. 
 
 " Two persons to see you, sir." 
 
 " Show them in here," said the Mayor. Alice 
 lingered and was rewarded, for the '' persons " 
 were no other than Signor Currie himself and 
 his ring-master. Alice recognized them at once. 
 Both were gorgeously dressed in black and 
 orange and velvet-slashed sleeves, and came in 
 holding their plumed hats in their hands. The 
 object of the call was to solicit the honor of the 
 Mayor s patronage for the evening's entertain- 
 ment. How pleased Alice was when Papa en- 
 gaged a box and paid for it ! 
 
 "I shall bring my little daughter here," he 
 told Signor Currie. "- She is much taken by a 
 child whom she saw to-day among your per- 
 formers." 
 
RIDE A COCK-HORSE, 207 
 
 "Mademoiselle Mignon, no doubt/' replied 
 the Signor solemnly. '' She is, indeed, a prod- 
 igy of talent, — one of the wonders of the age, 
 I assure your worship ! " 
 
 " Well," said his worship, smiling, " we shall 
 gee to-night. Good-day to you." 
 
 " Papa, that is delightful ! " cried Alice, the 
 moment the men were gone. '^ How I wish it 
 were evening already ! I can scarcely wait." 
 
 Evenings come at last, even when waited 
 for. Alice had not time, after all, to get 
 Xiery impatient before the carriage was at the 
 door, and she and Papa and Aunty were in it, 
 rolling away toward the market-place. Crowds 
 of people were going in the same direction. 
 Half the Papas and Mammas in Banbury had 
 taken their boys and girls to see the show. 
 There, behind the market cross, rose the great 
 tent, a flapping red flag on top. Bright lights 
 streamed from within. How exciting it was ! 
 The tent was so big inside that there was plenty 
 of room for all the people who wished to come, 
 
208 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 and more. Eanges of benches ran np till they 
 met the canvas roof. Below were the boxes, 
 hung with red and white cloth and banners. 
 Dazzling lights were everywhere, the band was 
 playing, from behind the green curtain came 
 sounds of voices and horses whinnying to each 
 other. Alice had never been to a circus before. 
 It seemed to her the most beautiful and bewil- 
 dering place which she had ever imagined. 
 
 By and by the performance began. How 
 the Banbury children did enjoy it ! The clown's 
 little jokes had done duty in hundreds of places 
 before. Some of them had even appeared in 
 the almanac! But in Banbury they were all 
 new, and so funny that everybody laughed till 
 their sides ached. And the wonderful horses ! 
 Madame Orley's educated steed, which picked 
 out letters from a card alphabet and spelled 
 words with them, went through the military 
 drill with the precision of a trooper, and waltzed 
 about the arena with his mistress on his back ! 
 — well, he was not a horse; he was a wizard 
 
RIDE A COCK-HORSE, 209 
 
 steed, like tlie one described in the " Arabian 
 Nights Tales." Alice almost thought she de- 
 tected the little peg behind his ear ! 
 
 She shuddered over the feats of the sky-blue 
 trapezeistj who seemed to do every thing but 
 fly. The knights in imitation armor were real 
 knights to Alice ; the pink and gold ladies were 
 veritable damsels of romance, undergoing ad- 
 ventures. But, delightful as all this was, she 
 was conscious that the best remained behind, 
 and eagerly watched the door of entrance, in 
 hopes of the appearance of the white steed and 
 the httle rider who had so fascinated her imag- 
 ination in the morning. Papa noticed it, and 
 laughed at her ; but, for all that, she watched. 
 
 At last they came, and Alice was satisfied. 
 Mignon looked prettier and daintier than ever 
 in her light fantastic robe of white and spangles, 
 with silver bracelets on her wrists and little 
 anklets hung with bells about her slender an- 
 kles. Eound and round and round galloped 
 the white horse, the fairy figure on his back 
 
210 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 now standing, now lying, now on her knees, 
 now poised on one small foot, or, again, dancing 
 to the music on top of the broad saddle, keeping 
 exact time, every movement graceful and light 
 as that of a happy elf. Hoops, wreathed with 
 roses and covered with silver paper, were raised 
 across her path. She bounded through them 
 easily, smiling as she sprang. The white horse 
 seemed to love her, and to obey her every 
 gesture ; and Mignon evidently loved the horse, 
 for more than once in the pauses Alice saw 
 her pat and caress the pretty creature. At 
 length the final bound was taken, the last 
 rose-wreathed hoop was carried away, Mignon 
 kissed her hand to the audience and disappeared 
 at full gallop, the curtain fell, and the ring- 
 master announced that Part First was ended, 
 and that there would be an intermission of 
 fifteen minutes. 
 
 By this time Alice was in a state of tumultu- 
 ous admiration which knew no bounds. 
 
 '' Oh, if I could only speak to her and kiss 
 
FIDE A COCK-HORSE. 211 
 
 her, just once ! " she cried. " Isn't she the dar- 
 lingest little thing you ever saw? I wish 1 
 could. Don't you think they'd let me, Papa ? " 
 
 "Would there be any harm in it, do you 
 think ? " asked the Mayor of his sister. " She's 
 a pretty, innocent-looking little creature.'' 
 
 " I don't quite like having Alice associate 
 with such people," objected Miss Flower. Then, 
 softened by the wistful eagerness of Alice's 
 face, she added, " Still, in this case, the child is 
 so young that I really think there would be no 
 harm, except that the manager might object 
 to having the little girl disturbed between the 
 acts." 
 
 " I'll inquire," said Papa. 
 
 The manager was most obliging. Man- 
 agers generally are, I fancy, when Mayors 
 express wishes. " Mademoiselle Mignon," he 
 said, "would be very pleased and proud to 
 receive Miss Flower, if she would take the 
 trouble to come behind the scenes." So Ahce, 
 trembling with excitement, went with Papa 
 
212 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 behind the big green curtain. She had fancied 
 it a sort of fairy world ; but instead she found 
 a great bare, disorderly place. Sawdust was 
 scattered on the ground ; huge boxes were 
 standing about, some empty, some half un- 
 packed. From farther away came sounds of 
 loud voices talking and disputing, and the stamp- 
 ing of horses' feet. It was neither a pretty or 
 a pleasant place ; and Alice, feeling shy and half 
 frightened, held Papa's hand tight, and squeezed 
 it very hard as they waited. 
 
 Pretty soon the manager came to them with 
 Mignon beside him. She looked smaller and 
 more childish than she had done on horseback. 
 A little plaid shawl was pinned over her gauzy 
 dress to keep her warm. Alice lost her fears 
 at once. She realized that here was no fairy 
 princess, but a httle girl like herself. Mignon s 
 face was no loss sweet when seen so near. Her 
 cheeks were the loveliest pink imaginable. 
 Her blue eyes looked up frankly and trustfully. 
 When the Mayor spoke to her she blushed and 
 
RIDE A COCK-HORSE, 213 
 
 made a pretty courtesy, clasping Alice's hand 
 y^Yj tight in hers, but saying nothing. 
 
 '' The performances will recommence in ten 
 minutes/' said Signor Currie, consulting his 
 watch. Then he and the Mayor moved a httle 
 asiie and began talking together, leaving the 
 little girls to make acquaintance. 
 
 " I saw you this morning/' said Alice. 
 
 Mignon nodded and smiled. 
 
 '' Oh, did you see me ? I thought you did, 
 but I wasn't sure, because we were up so high. 
 Aunty and I thought the procession was beauti- 
 ful. But I liked your horse best of all. Is he 
 gentle?" 
 
 ^^ Pluto? oh, he's very gentle,'' rephed Mig- 
 non ''- Only now and then he gets a little wild 
 when the people hurrah and clap very loud. 
 But he always knows me." 
 
 ^^How beautifully you do ride," went on 
 Ahce. "It looks just like flying when you 
 jump through the hoops. I wish I l^new how. 
 Is it very hard to do?" 
 
214 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 "No — except when I get tired. Tben I 
 don't do it well. But as long as the music 
 plays I don't feel tired. Sometimes before I 
 come out I am frightened, and think I can't do 
 it at all, but then I hear the band begin, and I 
 know I can. Oh ! don't you love music ? " 
 
 "Y — es/' said Alice wonderingly, for Mig- 
 non's eyes sparkled and her face flushed as she 
 asked this question. "1 hke music when it's 
 pretty." 
 
 " I love it so so much," went on Mignon con- 
 fidentially. "It's like flowers — and colors — 
 all sorts of things — sunsets too. Our band 
 plays beautifully, don't you think so ? It makes 
 me feel as if I could do any thing in the world, 
 fly or dance on the air, — any thing ! It's quite 
 different when they stop. Then I don't want 
 to jump or spring, but just to sit still. If they 
 would keep on playing always, I don't believe I 
 should ever get tired." 
 
 " How funny ! " said the practical Alice. " I 
 never feel that way at all. Aunty says I haven't 
 
RIDE A COCK-HORSE. 215 
 
 got a bit of ear for music. Did you see Aunty 
 at the window this morning when you looked 
 up?" 
 
 " Was that your Aimty ? I thought it was 
 your Mamma." 
 
 '' No ; I haven't got any Mamma. She died 
 when I was a httle baby. I don't remember 
 her a bit." 
 
 " Neither do I mine/' said Mignon wistfully. 
 ^' Mr. Currie says he guesses I never had any. 
 Do you think I could ? Little girls always have 
 Mammas, don't they ? '' 
 
 " But haven't you an Aunty or any thing ? " 
 cried Alice. 
 
 Mignon shook her head. 
 
 ^^No/' she said. " No Aunty." 
 
 " Why ! Who takes care of you ? " 
 
 " Oh, they all take care of me/' replied Mig- 
 non smiling. "Madame Orley, — that's Mrs. 
 Currie, you know, — she's very kind. She curls 
 my hair and fastens my frock in the morning, 
 and she always dresses me for the performance 
 
216 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 herself. Mr. Currie, — he's kind too. He g«ive 
 me these anklets and my silver bracelets and 
 two rings — see — one with a blue stone and 
 one with a red stone. Aren't they pretty ? Goo- 
 Goo is nice too. He taught me to write last 
 year. And old Jerry, — that's the head groom, 
 you know, — he's the kindest of all. He says 
 I'm like his little granddaughter that died, and 
 wherever we go he almost always buys me a 
 present. Look what he gave me this morning," 
 putting her hand into the bosom of her frock 
 and pulling out an ivory needle-case. " T keep 
 it here for fear it'll get lost. There's always 
 such a confusion when we only stop one night 
 in a place." 
 
 " Isn't it pretty," said Alice admiringly. " I'm 
 glad Jerry gave it to you. But I wish you had 
 an Aunty, because mine is so nice." 
 
 " Or a Mamma," said Mignon thoughtfully. 
 ^^ If I only had a Mamma of my own, and music 
 which would play all the time and never stop, 
 I should be just happy. I wouldn't mind the 
 Enchanted Steed then, — or any thing." 
 
RIDE A COCK-HORSE. 217 
 
 " What's the Enchanted Steed ? " asked Alice. 
 
 " Oh, — one of the things I do. It's harder 
 than the rest, so I don't hke it quite so well. 
 You'll see — it's the grand finale to-night." 
 
 A sharp little bell tinkled. 
 
 " That's to ring up the curtain/' said Mignon. 
 " I must go. Thank you so much for coming to 
 see me.'' 
 
 "Oh, wait one .minute!" cried Alice, diving 
 into her pocket. " Yes, I thought so. Here's 
 my silver thimble. Won't you take it for a 
 keepsake, dear, to go with your needle-book, 
 you know? And don't forget me, because I 
 never, never shall forget you. My name's 
 Alice, — Alice Flower." 
 
 " How pretty ! " cried Mignon, looking ad- 
 miringly at the thimble. " How kind you are ! 
 Good-by." 
 
 " Kiss your hand to me from the back of the 
 horse, won't you, please ? " said Alice. " That 
 will be splendid ! Good-by, dear, good-by." 
 
 The two children kissed each other; then 
 
218 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 Mignon ran away, tucking the thimble into her 
 bosom as she went. 
 
 " Aunty ! you never saw such a darling 
 little thing as she is ! " cried Alice, when they 
 had got back to the box. '^ So sweet, and so 
 pretty, prettier than any of the little girls we 
 know. Aunty. I'm sure you'd think so if you 
 saw her near. She hasn't any Mamma either, 
 and no Aunty or any thing. She wishes so 
 much she had. But she says all the circus 
 people are real kind to her. You can't think 
 how much she loves music. If the band would 
 play all the time, she could fly, she says, or do 
 any thing else that was hard. It was so queer 
 to hear her talk about it. I never saw any little 
 girl that I liked so much. I wish she was my 
 sister, my own true sister j really I do. Aunty." 
 
 "Why, Alice, I never knew you so excited 
 about anybody before," remarked Miss Flower. 
 
 " Aunty ! she isn't anybody ; she's quite 
 different from common people. How I wish 
 she'd hurry and come out again. She promised 
 
RIDE A COCK-HORSE. 219 
 
 to kiss her hand to me from the horse's back, 
 Papa. Won't that be splendid?" 
 
 The whole performance was more interesting 
 to Alice since her conversation with Mignon. 
 Madame Orley and her trained steed were quite 
 new and different now that she knew that 
 Madame Orley s real name was Currie, and that 
 she curled Mignon s hair every morning. Goo- 
 Goo seemed like an intimate friend, because of 
 the writing-lessons. Alice was even sure that 
 she could make out old Jerry of the needle-book 
 among the attendants. Kound and round and 
 round sped the horses. Goo-Goo cracked his 
 whip. The trapezeist swung high in air like 
 a glittering blue spider suspended by silver 
 threads. Mr. Vernon Twomley's Bucephalus 
 did every thing but talk. Somebody else on 
 another horse played the violin and stood on his 
 head meanwhile, all at full gallop ! It was de- 
 Hghtful. But the best of all was when Mignon 
 came out again. Her cheeks were rosier, her 
 eyes brighter than ever, and — yes — she rec- 
 
220 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 ollected Iter promise, for during the very first 
 round she turned to Alice, poised on one foot 
 like a true fairy, smiled charmingly, and kissed 
 lier hand twice. How delightful that was ! Not 
 Alice only, but all the children present were 
 bewitched by Mignon that evening. Twenty 
 little girls at least said to their mothers, '^ Oh, 
 how I would like to ride like that ! " and many 
 who did not speak wished privately that they 
 could change places and he Mignon. Alice did 
 not wish this any longer. The noise and con- 
 fusion behind the scenes, the stamping horses 
 and swearing men, had given her a new idea of 
 the life which poor Mignon had to lead among 
 these sights and sounds, the only child among 
 many grown people, dependant upon the chance 
 kindness of clowns and head grooms for her 
 few pleasures, her little education. She no 
 longer desired to change places. What she 
 now wanted was to carry Mignon away for 
 a companion and friend, sharing lessons* with 
 her and Aunty and all the oth* good things 
 
RIDE A COCK-HORSE. 221 
 
 wliich she had forgotten, when in the morn- 
 ing she wished herself a part of the gay circus 
 troupe. 
 
 And now the performances were almost ovei. 
 One last feat remained, the Finale^ of which 
 Mignon had spoken. It stood on the bills 
 thus : — 
 
 "GRAND FINALE!! 
 
 Y^ CONCLUSION 
 
 WILL BE GIVEN THE STUPEFYING FEAT 
 
 OF 
 
 THE ENCHANTED STEED, 
 
 AND 
 
 THE FLIJHT THROUGH THE AIR I 
 
 Performers: 
 
 MADEMOISELLE MIGNON ; HER HORSE PLUTO ; M. ARISTIDB ; 
 AND M. JOACHIN." 
 
 Alice watched with much interest the arrange- 
 ments making for this feat. Fresh sawdust was 
 sprinkled over the arena, the ropes of the tra- 
 pezes were lowered and tested : evidently the 
 teat was a difficult one, and needed careful 
 preparation. M. Aristide and M. Joachin took 
 their places on the suspended bars, the ring- 
 
222 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 master cleared the circle, and Mignon.rode in at 
 a gallop. Three times she went round the arena 
 at full speed, then she was snatched from the 
 horse's back by the long arm of M. Aristide ex- 
 tended from the trapeze above. Pluto galloped 
 steadily on. One second only M. Aristide held 
 IVIignon poised in air, then he flung her lightly 
 across the space to M. Joachin, who as lightly 
 caught her, waited a second, and, as Pluto passed 
 beneath, dropped her upon his back. It looked 
 fearfully dangerous ; all depended upon the 
 exact time at which each movement was exe- 
 cuted. The whole audience caught its breath, 
 but Mignon did not seem to be frightened. Her 
 little face was quite unruffled as the strong men 
 tossed her to and fro, her limbs and dress fell 
 into graceful lines as she went through the air ; 
 it was really like a bird's flight. Alice's hands 
 were squeezed tightly together, she could hardly 
 breathe. Ah ! — Pluto was an instant too late, 
 or M. Joachin a second too soon, — which was 
 it ? Mignon missed the saddle, — grazed it with 
 
RIDE A COCK-HORSE. 223 
 
 Ijer foot^ fell, — striking one of the wooden sup- 
 ports of the tent with her head as she touched 
 the ground. There was a universal thrill and 
 shudder. Mr. Currie hurried up, Pluto faltered 
 in his pace, whinnied and ran back to where his 
 little mistress lay. But in one moment Mignon 
 was on her feet again, making her graceful 
 courtesy and kissing her hand, though she 
 looked very pale. The curtain fell rapidly. 
 Ahce, looking anxiously that way, had a vague 
 idea that she saw Mignon drop down again, but 
 Aunty said, ^^How fortunate that that sweet 
 little thing was not hurt;" and Alice, being 
 used to finding Aunty always in the right, felt 
 her heart lightened. They went out, following 
 the audience, who were all praising Mignon, and 
 saying that it might have been a terrible acci- 
 dent ; and, for their part, it didn't seem right to 
 let children run such risks, and they were thank- 
 ful that the little dear was not injured. Many a 
 child envied Mignon that night ; many dreamed 
 of silver spangles, galloping steeds, roses, ap* 
 
224 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 plause, and waked up thinking how charming it 
 must be to hve on a horse's back with music 
 always playing, and exciting things going on, 
 and people praising you ! 
 
 Oh, dear! I wish I could stop here. Why 
 should there be painful things in the world 
 which must be written about? That pretty 
 courtesy, that spring from the earth were poor 
 Mignon's last. She had risen and bowed with 
 the instinct which all players feel to act out 
 their parts to the end, but as the curtain fell 
 down she dropped again, this time heavily. 
 Mr. Currie, much frightened, lifted and carried 
 her to his wife's tent. The band, who were 
 playing out the audience, stopped with a dis- 
 mayed suddenness. Goo-Goo untied his mask 
 and hurried in. Madame Orley, who was feed- 
 ing Chimborazo with sugar, dropped the sugar 
 on the floor and ran too. Jerry flew for a 
 doctor. Mignon was laid on a bed. They 
 fanned her, rubbed her feet, put brandy into 
 her pale lips. But it was all of no use. The 
 
RIDE A COCK-HORSE, 225 
 
 little hands were cold, the blue-veined eyeUds 
 would not unclose. Madame Orley and the 
 other women riders who were clustered beside 
 the bed began to sob bitterly. They all loved 
 Mignon ; she was the pet and baby of the whole 
 circus troupe. 
 
 It was not long before the doctor came. He 
 felt Mignon's pulse, and tried various things, 
 but his face was very grave. 
 
 "She's a frail little creature," he said. "No 
 stamina to carry her through." 
 
 "She's opening her eyes," cried Madame 
 Orley. " She's coming to herself." 
 
 Slowly the blue eyes opened. At first she 
 seemed not to see the anxious countenances 
 bent over her. Then a look of recognition crept 
 into her face, and a wan little smile parted the 
 lips. She lifted one hand and began to fumble 
 feebly in the bosom of her frock. 
 
 " What is it, Mignon, dear ? " said one of the 
 women. It was Alice's silver thimble that Mig- 
 non was seeking after. When it was given her 
 
 15 
 
226 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 she seemed content, and lay clasping it in her 
 hand. 
 
 Just then a strange noise came from outside. 
 PlutOj suspecting that something had gone 
 wrong, had slipped his halter. A groom tried 
 to catch him. He snorted back and cantered 
 away. At the door of Madame Orley's tent he 
 paused, put in his head and gave a long whinny. 
 
 Mignon started. The bells on her ankles 
 tinkled a little as she moved. 
 
 " Now, Pluto " — she whispered faintly, — 
 '' steady, dear Pluto. Ah, there's the music at 
 last! I thought it would never begin. How 
 sweet, — oh, how sweet ! Thej^ never made such 
 sweet music before. I can do it now." A smile 
 brightened her face. 
 
 " Has she a mother? " asked the doctor. 
 
 The words caught Mignon's ear. She looked 
 up. " Mamma," she said — " Mamma ! Did you 
 make the music ? " Her head fell back, she 
 closed her eyes. — That was all. 
 
 " She loved music so dearly," said one of the 
 women weeping. 
 
RIDE A COCK-^HORSE. 227 
 
 " She has it now/' replied the good old doctor, 
 laying down the little hand from which the pulse 
 had ebbed away. " Don't cry so over her, my 
 good girl. She was a tender flower for such a 
 life as this. Depend upon it, it is better as it is. 
 Heaven is a home-like place for such little ones 
 as she, and the angels' singing will be sweeter to 
 her ears than the music of your brass band." 
 
LADY QUEEN ANNE. 
 " Where is Annie ? " demanded old Mrs. Pickens. 
 
LADY QUEEN ANNE, 229 
 
 '' I'm sure I don't know. Not far away, foi 
 [ heard her voice just now singing in the woods 
 near the house." 
 
 " That child is always singing, always/' went 
 on Mrs. Pickens in a melancholy voice. " What 
 she finds to sing about in this miserable place 1 
 cannot imagine. It's really unnatural ! " 
 
 " Oh, no ! mother, — not unnatural. Ee- 
 member what a child she is. She hardly 
 remembers the old Hfe, or misses it. The sun 
 shines, and she sings, — she can't help it. We 
 ought to be glad instead of sorry that she 
 doesn't feel the changes as we do." 
 
 " Well, I am glad," responded the old lady. 
 " You needn't take me up so sharply, Susan. 
 All I say is that it seems to me unreasonable'' 
 
 Miss Pickens glanced about the room, and 
 suppressed a sigh. It was, indeed, a miserable 
 dwelling, scarcely better than a hut. Very few 
 of you who read this have ever seen a place so 
 comfortless or so poor. The roof let in rain. 
 Through the cracked, uneven floor the ground 
 
230 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 could be distinctly seen. A broken window- 
 pane was stopped by an old hat thrust into the 
 hole. For furniture was only a rusty stove, a 
 table, three chairs, a few battered utensils for 
 cooking, and a bed laid on the floor of the inner 
 room, — that was all. And the dwellers in this 
 wretched home, for which they were indebted to 
 the charity of friends scarcely richer than them- 
 selves, were ladies born and bred, accustomed 
 to all the comforts and enjoyments of life. 
 
 It was the old story, — alas ! too common in 
 these times, — the story of a Southern family 
 reduced to poverty by the ravages of war. 
 Six years before, all had been different. Then 
 the fighting was not begun, and the Southern 
 Confederacy was a thing to boast over and 
 make speeches about. The gray uniforms were 
 smart and new then ; the volunteers eager 
 and full of zeal. All things went smoothly in 
 the stately old house known to Charleston 
 people as the " Pickens Mansion." The cotton 
 was regularly harvested on the Sea Islands, and 
 
LADY QUEEN ANNE. 231 
 
 on the Beaufort plantation, which belonged to 
 Annie ; for little Annie, too, was an heiress, 
 with acres and negroes of her own. War 
 seemed an easy thing in those days, and a glori- 
 ous one. There was no lack felt anywhere ; 
 only a set of fresh and exciting interests in 
 hves which had always been interesting enough. 
 Mrs. Pickens and the other Charleston ladies 
 scraped lint and rolled bandages with busj 
 fingers ; but they smiled at each other as they 
 did so, and said that these would never be 
 needed, there would never be any real fighting ! 
 They stood on their balconies to cheer and 
 applaud the incoming regiments, — regiments 
 of gallant young men, their own sons and the 
 sons of neighbors : and it was hke the opening 
 chapter of a story. Ah! the story had run 
 through many chapters since then, and what 
 different ones! The smart uniforms had lost 
 all their gloss, blood was upon the flags, the 
 glory had changed to ashes ; every family wore 
 mourning for somebody. The pleasant Charles- 
 
232 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 to]i home, where Mrs. Pickens had stood on the 
 balcony to watch the gray-coated troops pass 
 by, and little Annie had fluttered her mite of a 
 handkerchief, and laughed as the gay banners 
 danced in air, where was it? Burned to the 
 ground ; only a sorry heap of ruin marked 
 where once it stood. No more cotton bales 
 came from the Sea Islands. First one army, 
 then the other, had swept over the Beaufort 
 plantation, trampling its fields into mire. It 
 had been seized, confiscated, retaken, re-con- 
 fiscated, sold to this person and that. Nobody 
 knew exactly to whom it belonged nowadays ; 
 but it was not to little Annie, rightful heiress 
 of all. Stripped of every thing, reduced to 
 utter want, Mrs. Pickens and her daughter took 
 refuge in a lonely village, far up among the 
 Carolina hiUs, where some former friends, also 
 ruined by the war, offered them the wretched 
 home where now we find them. Little Annie, 
 sole blossom left upon the blasted tree, went 
 with them. It was a miserable life which they 
 
LADY QUEEN ANNE, 233 
 
 led. The pinch of poverty is never so keenly 
 felt as when the recollection of better days 
 mixes with it like a perpetual sting. All the 
 bright hopes of six years before were over^ and 
 the poor ladies could liave said, '' Behold, was 
 ever sorrow like unto my sorrow ! " They 
 grieved for themselves; they grieved most of 
 all for their beautiful little Annie, but Annie 
 did not grieve, — not she ! 
 
 Never was a happier little maiden, — as 
 blithe and merry in her coarse cotton frock and 
 bare feet as though the cotton were choicest 
 satin. She was as pretty too. No frock could 
 spoil that charming little face framed in thick 
 chestnut curls, or hide the graceful movements 
 which would have made her remarkable any- 
 where. Her eyes, which were brown like her 
 curls, danced continually. Her mouth was 
 always smiling. The dimples came and went 
 with every word she spoke. And, however 
 shabby might be her dress, she was a little lady 
 always. No one could mistake it, who Ustened 
 
234 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 to her sweet voice and prettily chosen woixjs. 
 The pitiful sadness of her Grandmother, the 
 rigid melancholy of her Aunt, passed over her 
 as a cloud drifts over a blue sky on a sum- 
 mer's day, leaving the blue undimmed. She 
 loved them, and was sorry when they were 
 sorry; but God had given her such a happy 
 nature, that happy she must be in spite of 
 all. Just to be alive was pleasant enough, but 
 there were many other pleasant things beside. 
 The woods were full of flowers, and Annie 
 loved flowers dearly. Then there were the 
 beautiful pine forests themselves, with their 
 cool shades and fragrant smell. There was sun- 
 shine too, and now and then a story, when 
 Aunty felt brighter than usual. The negroes 
 in the neighborhood were all fond of little 
 " Missy Annie." They would catch squirrels for 
 her, or climb for birds' eggs ; and old Sambo 
 scarcely ever passed the hut without bringing 
 some little gift of flowers or nuts. There was 
 Beppo, also, a large and handsome hound be- 
 
LADY QUEEN ANNE. 235 
 
 longing to a distant plantation, who came now 
 and then to make Annie visits. It was a case 
 of pure affection on his part, for she was not 
 allowed to give him any thing to eat, not even 
 a piece of corn bread, for food was too precious 
 with the stricken family to be shared with dogs- 
 But Beppo came all the same, and seemed to 
 like to race and romp with Annie just as well as 
 though the entertainment had wound up with 
 something more substantial. Oh! there were 
 many pleasant things to do, Annie thought. 
 
 When Aunty went out to call her that day, 
 she was sitting under a tree with a lap full of 
 yellow jessamines, which she was tying into a 
 bunch. As she worked she sang. 
 
 " Who are those for, Annie ? " asked Miss 
 Pickens. 
 
 " I was going to give them to Mrs. Randolph, 
 Aunty. She came yesterday to the camp, Juba 
 says. I thought she'd like them." 
 
 Miss Pickens looked rigid, but she made 
 no reply. " The Camp " was a depot of United 
 
236 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 States supplies, established for the relief of the 
 poor blacks and whites of the region, and Major 
 Randolph was the officer in charge of it. In her 
 great poverty, Miss Pickens had been forced to 
 apply with the rest of her neighbors for this aid, 
 going every week with a basket on her arm, 
 and receiving the same rations of bacon and 
 corn-meal which the poorest negroes received. 
 It was bitter bread ; but what can one do wh^n 
 one is starving? Major Eandolph was soiry 
 for the poor lady, and kind and courteous 
 always, but Miss Pickens could not be grateful ; 
 he was one of the Northern invaders who had 
 helped to crush her hopes and that of her State, 
 and to bring them to this extremity ; and though 
 she took the corn-meal, she had no thanks in 
 her heart. 
 
 " We are going to the village this afternoon, 
 aren't we. Aunty ? " went on Annie. 
 
 " Yes, we must," replied her Aunt. " I came 
 to tell you to get ready. And, Annie, don't sing 
 go loud when you are near the house. Grand- 
 mamma doesn't like to hear it." 
 
LADY QUEEN ANNE, 237 
 
 " Doesn't she ? " said Annie wondering. " 1 11 
 try to remember, Aunty. But sometimes I 
 don't know when I am singing. It just sings of 
 itself." 
 
 " Getting ready " consisted of tying on two 
 faded, flapping sun-bonnets, to which Miss Pick- 
 ens added an old ragged India shawl, relic of 
 past grandeur. Annie's feet were bare, her 
 Aunt wore army shoes made of cow-skin, part 
 of the Bureau supply. She was a tall, thin 
 woman, and, with the habit of former days, car 
 ried her head high in air as she walked along. 
 Little fairy Annie danced by her side, now stop- 
 ping to gather a flower, now to hsten to a bird, 
 chatting and laughing all the way, as though 
 she were a bird herself, and never heeding 
 Aunty's melancholy looks or short answers. 
 
 " Who are those people ? " asked Mrs. Ran- 
 dolph of her husband, as she watched the odd- 
 looking pair come along the road. " Do look, 
 Harry. Such a strange woman, and — I do 
 declare, the prettiest child I ever saw in my 
 life. Tell me who they are ? " 
 
238 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 " Oh^ that's my little pet, Annie Pickens/' 
 replied the Major. Then he hastily t(.ld his 
 wife the story. 
 
 "The poor ladies suffer dreadfully both in 
 pride and in pocket, I fear/' he added. '^ But 
 Annie, bless her ! she doesn't know what suffer- 
 ing means, any more than if she were a bird or 
 a squirrel. I thought you'd take a fancy to her, 
 Blanche ; and perhaps you can think of some 
 way to help them. Women know how to set 
 about such things. I'm such a clumsy fellow 
 that all I dared attempt was to deal out as much 
 meal and bacon as the Aunt could carry." 
 
 Blanche Randolph found it easy to " take a 
 fancy " to the sweet little creature who lifted to 
 her such beaming eyes as she made her offering 
 of the yellow jessamines. " Oh, dear ! " she said 
 to herself, "how I wish she belonged to me." 
 She kissed and fondled her, and while Miss 
 Pickens transacted her business, Annie sat on 
 Mrs. Randolph's lap and talked to her, quite aa 
 though they were old acquaintances. 
 
LADY QUEEN ANNE. 239 
 
 ^* What do you do all day, dear ? Have you 
 any one to play with ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, T have Beppo. That's Mr. Ash- 
 ley's dog, you know. He runs over to see me 
 almost every week, and we have such nice 
 times." 
 
 " And don't you study any lessons ? " asked 
 Mrs. Eandolph. 
 
 "No, not now. I used to, but Aunty is so 
 busy now that she says she hasn't time to teach 
 me. Beside, all my books were burned up." 
 
 " Come, Annie, it is time to go," said Miss 
 Pickens, moving away, with a curt bow to 
 Mrs. Randolph. 
 
 Annie lingered to kiss Jier new triend. 
 
 " I shall pick you some fresh flowers next 
 time we come," she said. 
 
 "I'll tell you what, Harry," said Mrs. Ran- 
 dolph, " that is the most pathetically sweet httle 
 darling I ever saw." 
 
 " Pathetic ? Why she's as happj' as the day 
 is long" 
 
240 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 " Ah, you don't understand ! That's the very 
 reason. ' I feel to cry ' over her, as old Mauma 
 Sally would say." 
 
 Medville was a quiet, lonely place. All the 
 people, black and white alike, were very poor. 
 Nobody called to see Mrs. Randolph ; there were 
 no parties to go to ; and after a while she learned 
 to look forward to little Annie's visit as the 
 pleasantest thing in the whole week. Annie 
 looked forward to it also. Her new friend was 
 both kind and gay. Always some little treat 
 was prepared for her coming, — a book, a parcel 
 of cakes, or a picture-paper with gay colored 
 illustrations. Mrs. Randolph chose these gifts 
 carefully, because she was afraid of offending 
 Miss Pickens, but Miss Pickens was not offended ; 
 she loved Annie too dearly for that, and became 
 almost gracious as she thanked Mrs. Randolph 
 for her kindness. After some time Mrs. Ran- 
 dolph ventured to walk out to the cottage. 
 What she saw there horrified her, but I can 
 best tell what that was by quoting a letter which 
 
LADY QUEEN ANNE. 241 
 
 ^he wrote about that time to her sister, Mrs. 
 Boyd, who was spending the summer in Eng- 
 land : — 
 
 " Fancy, dear Mary, a miserable log hut not 
 one bit better than those in which the negroes 
 dwell. In fact, it used to be a negro hut, some 
 say a pig-pen; but that is too bad, I cannot 
 believe it. The roof lets in water, the floor is 
 broken away, the windows are stuffed with rags 
 and an old hat. Every thing is perfectly clean 
 inside, swept and scrubbed continually by the 
 poor ladies, and they are real ladies, Mary. It 
 was pitiful to see old Mrs. Pickens sitting in her 
 wooden chair in a dress which her former cook 
 would have disdained, and yet with all the dig- 
 nity and sad politeness of a duchess in difficul- 
 ties. They make no secret of their extreme 
 poverty ; they cannot, in fact, for it stares you 
 in the face ; but they ask for nothing, and you 
 would scarcely dare to offer aid. I was so 
 shocked that I could not restrain my tears. Miss 
 Pickens brought nie a tin cupful of water, and 
 
 W 
 
242 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 I think my sympathy touched her. for she has 
 thawed a httle since, and has permitted Annie 
 to accept a gingham frock which I made for 
 her, and some stockings and shoes. Such dainty 
 little feet as hers are, and such a lovely child ! 
 I have scarcely ever seen one so beautiful, and 
 it is not common beauty, but of the rarest sort, 
 with elegance and refinement in every feature 
 and movement. It is a thousand pities that she 
 should be left here to grow up in poverty with- 
 out education, or any of the things she was born 
 to, for, as I told you in my last, the family was 
 once wealthy, and Annie herself would be a 
 great heiress had not the war ruined them 
 all." 
 
 When Mrs. Boyd received this letter, she was 
 making a visit to some friends who lived in a 
 /ilia on the banks of the Thames. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Grrant were the names of these friends. They 
 were all sitting on the lawn when the post came 
 in. The sunset cast a pink glow on the curves 
 of the beautiful river ; the roses w^ere in perfect 
 
LADY QUEEN ANNE. 243 
 
 bloom; overhead and underfoot the grass and 
 trees were of that rich and tender green which 
 is peculiar to England. The letter interested 
 Mrs. Boyd so much that she read it aloud to 
 her friends^ who were rich and kind-hearted 
 people, with one little boy of their own. 
 
 Mrs. Grant almost cried over the letter. It 
 was the saddest thing that she had ever heard 
 of, and all that evening she and her husband 
 could talk of nothing else. Little Annie, sound 
 asleep in her Carolina cabin, did not dream that, 
 three thousand miles away, two people, whom 
 she had never heard of, were spending half the 
 night in the discussion of her fate and fortunes ! 
 Long after their guest had gone to bed, the 
 Grants sat up together conversing about Annie ; 
 and in the morning they came down with a 
 proposal so astonishing, that Mrs. Boyd could 
 hardly believe her ears when she heard it. 
 
 " We have been talking in a vague way for 
 years past of adopting a little girl," said Mr. Grant. 
 ^^We always wished for a daughter, and felt 
 
244 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 sure that to have a sister would be the best thing 
 in the world for Eupert, who is an affectionate 
 Httle fellow, and would enjoy such a playmate of 
 all things. But you can easily guess that there 
 have been difficulties in the way of these plans, 
 especially as to finding the right child, so we 
 have done nothing about it. Now it strikes my 
 wife, and it strikes me also, that this story of 
 your sisters is a clear leading of Providence. 
 Here is a child who wants a home, and here are 
 we who ^^/Ont a child. So we have made up our 
 minds to send to America for Annie, and, if her 
 relatives will consent, to adopt her as our own. 
 ¥J11 you give me Mrs. Randolph's exact ad- 
 d/ ss?" 
 
 ^ But it is so sudden. Are you sure you won't 
 repent?" asked Mrs. Boyd. 
 
 "-Y dont think we shall. And it seems less 
 sudden to us than to you, because, as I have ex- 
 plained, this idea has been in our minds for a 
 a long time." 
 
 You can fancy the excitement of Major 
 
LADY QUEEN ANNE. 245 
 
 and Mrs. Randolph when Mr. Grant's letter 
 reached Medville. He offered to adopt Annie^ 
 and treat her in every respect as though she 
 were his own daughter, provided her Grand- 
 mother and Aunt would give her up entirely, 
 and promise never again to claim her as theirs. 
 
 " If they will consent to this/' wrote Mr. Grant, 
 " I will settle a hundred pounds a year on them 
 for the rest of their lives. I will also employ a 
 lawyer to see if any thing can be done towards 
 getting back a part of the confiscated property. 
 But all this is only on condition that the child 
 is absolutely made over to me. I am not 
 willing to take her with any loop-hole left open 
 by which she may, by and by, be claimed back 
 again just as we have learned to consider her 
 our own. I beg that Major Randolph will have 
 this point most clearly understood, and will 
 attend to the drawing up of a legal paper which 
 shall put it beyond the possibihty of dispute." 
 
 The day after this letter came, Mrs. Randolph 
 put it in her pocket and walked out to the 
 
246 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 mountain hut. She felt very nervous as she 
 tapped at the door. 
 
 "It was a terrible thing to do/' she wrote 
 afterwards to her sister. " There were the two 
 poor ladies as stately as ever, and little Annie so 
 bright and winning. It was like asking for the 
 only happy thing left in their lives. I explained 
 first about my letter to you, and how you hap- 
 pened to be staying with the Grants when you 
 received it, and then I gave Miss Pickens Mr. 
 Grant's letter. Her face was like iron as she 
 read it, and she swallowed hard several times, 
 but she never uttered one word. When she 
 had done, she thought for several minutes; 
 then she said, in a choked voice, ^If you will 
 leave this with us. Madam, you shall have an 
 answer to-morrow.' I came away. Dear little 
 Annie walked half way down the hill with me. 
 I hope, oh, so much, that they will let her go. 
 The life they lead is too sad for such a child, 
 and in every way it is better for them all ; but 
 oh, dear ! I am so sorry for them that I don't 
 know what to do." 
 
LADY QUEEN ANNE. 247 
 
 Next day Miss Pickens walked doAvn alon^ 
 to the Relief Station. 
 
 " My mother and I have talked it over/' 
 she said briefly, " and we have decided. Annie 
 must go." 
 
 " I am glad/' said Mrs. Randolph. '^ Glad for 
 her, but very sorry for you." 
 
 "It is like cutting out my heart/' said the 
 poor Aunt. " But what can we do ? I am not 
 able to give the child proper food even, or 
 decent clothes. If we keep her she must grow 
 up in ignorance. These English strangers oflfer 
 every thing ; we have nothing to offer. If we 
 could count on the bare necessaries of life, — 
 no more than those, — I would never, never 
 give up Annie. As it is, it would be sinning 
 against her to refuse." 
 
 " Mr. Grant's assistance will do much to make 
 your own lives more comfortable," suggested 
 Mrs. Randolph. 
 
 "1 don't care about that. We could go on 
 suffering and not say a word, if only we might 
 
248 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 keep Annie. But she would suffer too, and 
 more and more as she grows older. No, Annie 
 must go." 
 
 " The Grants are thoroughly good people, 
 and will be kindness itself, I am sure. The only 
 danger is that they may spoil your dear little 
 girl with over-indulgence.'' 
 
 '' She can stand a good deal, having had none 
 for so long a time," replied Miss Pickens with 
 a sad smile. "But Annie is not that sort of 
 child ; nothing could spoil her. When must she 
 go, Mrs. Randolph?" 
 
 "Mr. Grant spoke of the ^ Cuba,' on which 
 some friends of his are to sail. She leaves on 
 the 24th." 
 
 " The 24th. That is week after next." 
 
 " If it seems to you too soon — " 
 
 " No. The sooner it is over the better for us 
 all." 
 
 " I half feel as if I had done you a wrong," 
 said Mrs. Randolph, with tears in her eyes. 
 
 " No, you have done us no wrong. It is in 
 
LADY QUEEN ANNE. 249 
 
 our own liands, you see. We could say no, 
 even now. Oh, if I dared say it ! But I dare 
 not, — that is worst of all, — I dare not." She 
 gave a dry sort of sob and walked away rapidl}\ 
 Mrs. Randolph, left behind, broke down and in- 
 dulged in a good fit of crying. 
 
 Dear little Annie ! she was partly puzzled, 
 partly pleased, partly pained by the news of 
 what was going to befall her. She clung to 
 her Aunty, and declared that she could not go. 
 Then Mrs. Randolph talked with her and ex- 
 plained that Aunty would be better off, and 
 Grandmamma have a more comfortable house 
 to live in, — making pictures of the sweet 
 English home, the kind people, the dear little 
 brother waiting for her on the other side of the 
 sea, till Annie felt as if it would be pleasant to 
 go. There was not much time for discussion; 
 every thing was done in a hurry. Mrs. Randolph 
 sewed all day long on her machine, making 
 little underclothes and a pretty blue travel- 
 ling dress. Miss Pickens patched up one of her 
 
250 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 faded silks, for she was to accompany Annie to 
 New York and see her sail, Mr. Grant paying 
 all the expenses of the journey for both of them. 
 Grandmamma cried all night, but in the day- 
 time her face looked set and hard. There were 
 papers to sign and boxes to pack. Beppo 
 seemed to smell in the air that something was 
 about to happen. All day long he hung around 
 the hut, whining and sniffing. Now and then he 
 would throw back his head and give a long, 
 sorrowful bay, which echoed from some distant 
 point in the pine wood. The last day came, — 
 the last kisses. It was like a rapid whirling 
 dream, the journey, the steam cars, the arrival 
 in New York, and Annie only seemed to wake 
 up when she stood on the steamer's deck and 
 felt the vessel throb and move away. On the 
 wharf, among the throng of people who had 
 come down to say good-by, stood Aunty's tall 
 figure in her faded silk and ragged shawl, look- 
 ing so different from any one else there. She 
 did not wave her handkerchief or n\ake any 
 
LADY QUEEN ANNE. , 25] 
 
 sigiJ, but fixed her eyes on Annie as if she 
 could never look away, and there was some- 
 thing in the expression of her face which made 
 Annie suddenly burst into tears. She wiped 
 them fast, but before she could see clearly, the 
 wharf was far distant, and Aunty's face was 
 only a white spot among other white spots, 
 which were partly faces and partly fluttering 
 handkerchiefs. A few minutes more and the 
 spots grew dim, the wharf could no longer be 
 seen, the vessel began to rock and plunge in 
 the waves, and the great steamer was fairly at 
 sea. 
 
 Do you suppose that Annie cried all the 
 voyage? Bless you, no! It was not in her 
 to be sorrowful long. In a very little while 
 her tears dried, smiles came back, and the trust- 
 ful brown eyes were as bright as ever. Every- 
 body on board noticed the dear little girl (md 
 was kind. The Captain, who had little girls of* 
 his own at home, would walk with her on the 
 deck for an hour at a time, telling her stcu^ies 
 
252 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 which he called '^ yarns/' and which were very 
 interesting. The old sailors would coax the 
 little maiden amidships and tell her " yarns " 
 also, about sharks and whales and albatrosses. 
 One of them was such a nice old fellow. His 
 name was "Jack/' and he won Annie's affec- 
 tions completely, by catching a flying-fish in a 
 bucket and making her a present of it. Did 
 you ever see a flying-fish? Annie's did not 
 seem at all happy in the bucket, so she threw 
 him into the sea again, but none the less was 
 she pleased that Jack gave him to her. She 
 liked to watch the porpoises turn and wheel in 
 the water, and the gulls skim and dive; but 
 most of all she delighted in the Mother Carey's 
 chickens, which on stormy days fluttered in and 
 out, rocking on the waves, and never seeming 
 afraid, however hard the wind might blow. 
 Going to sea was to Annie as pleasant as all 
 the other pleasant things in her life. She 
 would have laughed hard enough had anybody 
 asked whether unpleasant things had never hap- 
 
LADY QUEEN ANNE. 253 
 
 pened to iier, and would have said " No ! " in a 
 minute. 
 
 The voyage ended at Liverpool. Annie felt 
 sorry and homesick at leaving the vessel, as 
 travellers are apt to do. But pretty soon a 
 gentleman came on board, and a pretty little 
 boy. It was Mr. Grant and Eupert, come down 
 to meet her, and they were so pleasant and so 
 glad to see Annie that she forgot all her home- 
 sickness at once. 
 
 "What a funny carriage/' she exclaimed, 
 when, after they had all landed, Mr. Grant 
 helped her into a cab. 
 
 " It's a Hansom," explained Eupert. ^^ Papa 
 engaged one because I asked him. It's such 
 fun to ride in 'em, I think. Don't they have 
 any in America where you hve?" 
 
 " No, — not any carriages at all where I live," 
 replied Annie, nestling down among the cushions,' 
 " — "onlj^ mule carts and — wheelbarrows — and 
 — oh, yes — Major Eandolph had an ambulance. 
 There were 6eaz^-tiful carriages in New York 
 though, but I didn't see any like this." 
 
254 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 ^^ Don't you like it?" 
 
 ^^Oh, yes, — very much/' replied Annio, cud- 
 dling cosily between her new Papa and Brother. 
 
 " Isn't she pretty ? " whispered Rupert to his 
 father. "None of the other fellows at our 
 school have got such a pretty sister as she is. 
 And she's a jolly little thing, too/' he added 
 confidentially. 
 
 Mrs. Grant had grown a little anxious about 
 the first meeting. "If we should be disap- 
 pointed ! " she thought. But when the carriage 
 drove up and her husband lifted Annie out, a 
 glance made her easy. " I can love that child/* 
 she said to herself, and her embrace was so warm 
 that Annie rested in her arms with the feeling 
 that here was real home and a real Mamma, 
 and that England was j ust as nice as America. 
 
 You can guess how she enjoyed the lawn 
 
 ^with its roses, and the beautiful river. Fresh 
 
 from the poor little cabin on the hill-top, she 
 
 nevertheless fell with the greatest ease into the 
 
 ways and habits of her new life. It did not 
 
LADY QUEEN ANNE. 255 
 
 puzzle or disturb her in the least to live in large 
 rooms, be waited on by servants, or have nice 
 things about her ; she took to all these naturally. 
 For a few days Mr. and Mrs. Grant watched 
 with some anxiety, fearing to discover a flaw 
 in their treasure, but no flaw appeared. Not 
 that Annie was faultless, but hers were honest 
 little faults ; there was nothing hidden or con- 
 cealed in her character, and in a short time her 
 new friends had learned to trust her and to love 
 her entirely. 
 
 So here was our little girl fairly settled in 
 England, with dainty dresses to wear, a gover- 
 ness coming every day to give her lessons, mas- 
 ters in French and music, a carriage to ride in, 
 and half a dozen people at least ready to pet and 
 make much of her all the time. Do you think 
 she was happier than she had been before ? 
 How could she be ? One cannot be more than 
 happy. She was happy then, she was happy 
 now, — no more, no less. 
 
 Rupert used to talk to her sometimes about 
 
256 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 that old life, which seemed to him so strange 
 and dismal. 
 
 ^^How you must have hated it!" he said 
 once. " I can't bear to have you tell me any 
 more. What's corn-meal ? It sounds nqtj 
 nasty ! And didn't you have anybody to play 
 with, not anybody at all, or any fun, ever ? " 
 
 "Fun!" cried Annie; "I should think so! 
 Why, Eupert, our woods were full of squirrels. 
 Such dear little things ! — you never saw such 
 pretty squirrels. One of them got so tamed 
 that he used to eat out of my hand. His name 
 was Torpedo. I named him myself. Then 
 there was Beppo, the dearest dog ! I wish you 
 knew him. We used to run races and have the 
 greatest fun. And Aunty and I had nice times 
 going down to the camp." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! " sighed Eupert. He 
 could not see the fun at all. 
 
 When Annie had been three years with the 
 Grants, Major and Mrs. Eandolph came to Lon- 
 don, and drove down to the villa to see her. It 
 
LADY QUEEN ANNE. 257 
 
 was a great pleasure to them all. Annie had a 
 thousand questions to ask about Grandmamma 
 and Aunty, who no longer lived in the hut, bu+ 
 in Medville, where Mr. Grant had hired a small 
 house for them. 
 
 " They are quite comfortable now/' sa'd Mrs. 
 Randolph. " Aunty has gained a little flesh, and 
 Grandmamma is stronger, and able to walk out 
 sometimes. Old Sambo came down the very 
 night before we left with a box of birds' eggs, 
 which he wished to send to ' Missy Annie.' They 
 are in the carriage ; you shall have them pres- 
 ently. And here is a long letter from Aunty." 
 
 "Annie, you look just the same," remarked 
 the Major ; " only you are grown, and the sun- 
 burn has worn off and left you as fair as a lily. 
 You used to be brown as a bun when I knew 
 you first. I needn't ask if you are happy here ? " 
 
 " Oh ! very, very happy," said Annie warmly. 
 
 "A great deal happier than you were when 
 you lived with Grandmamma and Aunty ? " 
 inquired Mrs. Randolph. 
 
258 J^INE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 ^' Why, no ! " cried Annie wonderingly ; " not 
 any happier than that, I used to have lovely 
 times then; but I have lovely times here too." 
 
 " That child will never lack for happiness/' 
 said the Major, as they drove back to London. 
 "She's the brightest Kttle being I ever saw." 
 
 " Yes/' replied his wife ; " rain or shine, it's 
 all one with Annie. Her cheer comes from 
 within, and is so warm and radiant that, what- 
 ever sky is overhead, she always rejoices. Let 
 the clouds do what they may, it makes no differ- 
 ence : Annie will always sit in the sun, — the 
 sunshine of her own sweet, happy little heart." 
 
UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, 
 DOWN-Y. 
 
 " Now, Dinah, it's time to try the jelly." 
 
 " Wait a minute. Miss May; it can't be stiff 
 yet." 
 
260 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 "Oh, yes! Dinah, it is; I think it is. Ill 
 only just breathe on it, Dinah ; I'll not disturb 
 it a bit." 
 
 " Let me breathe on it too." 
 
 "And me." 
 
 Dinah chuckled silently to herself in a way 
 she had. She opened the kitchen window, and 
 in one second three Httle girls had climbed on 
 three chairs, and three curly heads had met over 
 the saucer of currant juice which stood on the 
 sill. 
 
 "I thinTc it's going to jelly," said May. 
 
 Lulu touched it delicately with the point of 
 her small forefinger. 
 
 " There ! " she cried triumphantly. " It crin- 
 hied; it did, Dinah! The jelly's come." 
 
 " Oh, how good ! " added Bertha, applying 
 her finger, not so gently, to the hot surface, 
 and then putting it into her mouth to cool it! 
 " It's the bestest jelly we ever made, Dinah." 
 
 Dinah chuckled again at this " we." But, 
 after all, why not? Had not the children 
 
(JP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, DOWN-Y. 261 
 
 watched her scald and squeeze the currants, and 
 stir and skim ? Had not May wielded the big 
 wooden spoon for at least three minutes ? Had 
 not Lulu eaten a mouthful of skimmings on the 
 sly ? Were they not testing the product now t 
 The little ones had surely a right to say " we/* 
 and Dinah accepted the partnership wilUngly. 
 She lifted the preserving kettle on to the table ; 
 and the junior (not silent !) members of the 
 firm mounted on their chairs, watched with 
 intense interest as she dipped the glasses in hot 
 water, and filled each in turn with the clear red 
 liquid. 
 
 "It's first-rate jell/' she remarked. "Be 
 hard in no time." 
 
 " Put a tiny, tiny bit in my doll's tumbler/' 
 said Bertha, producing a minute vessel. " She 
 likes jelly very much, my dolly does." 
 
 " Oh, isn't it nice to cook ! " exclaimed Lulu, 
 j ;unping up and down in her chair ! Such fun ! 
 I wish Mamma'd always let us do it." 
 
 "What shall we make next?" asked May, 
 
262 NINE Ll'lTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 "Jumbles/' responded the senior partner 
 briefly. 
 
 " I like to make jumbles/' cried May. " I 
 may cut out all the diamond-shaped ones, 
 mayn't I, Di?" 
 
 "And I, all the round ones?" 
 
 "And I, the hearts?" 
 
 Dinah nodded. The children got down from 
 their chairs, and ran to the closet. They came 
 back each with a tin cookie-pattern in her 
 hand. Dinah sifted flour and jumbled egg and 
 sugar rapidly together, with that precise care- 
 lessness which experience teaches. In a few 
 minutes the smooth sheet of dough lay glisten- 
 ing on the board, and the children began cutting 
 out the cakes; first a diamond, then a heart, 
 then a round, each in turn. As fast as the shapes 
 were cut, Dinah laid them in baking-tins, and car- 
 ried them away to the oven. The work went 
 busily on. It was great fun. But, alas ! in the 
 very midst of it, interruption came. The door 
 opened, and a lady walked in, — a pretty lady in 
 
UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, DOWN-Y. 263 
 
 a beautiful silk gown of many flounceji^. When 
 she saw what the children were doing, she 
 frowned/ and did not seem pleased. 
 
 "M.J dears/' she said, "I was wondering 
 where you were. It is quite time that you 
 should be dressed for the afternoon. Come 
 upstairs at once." 
 
 " Mamma ! — we're helping Dinah. Mayn't 
 we stay and finish ? " 
 
 " Helping ? Nonsense ! Hindering, you mean. 
 Dinah will be glad to get rid of you. Come at 
 once." 
 
 May got down from her chair. But Lulu and 
 Bertha pouted. 
 
 " We've hung aU our dolls' things out on 
 the line," they said. " It's washing-day in the 
 baby-house, Mamma. Mayn't we stay just a 
 little while to clap and fold up ? " 
 
 " Clap and fold," exclaimed Mrs. Frisbie. 
 ^' Where do you pick up such words, I wonder. 
 Of course you can't stay, you must come and 
 be made decent. Susan shall finish your dolls' 
 wash." 
 
264 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 " Oh, no ! please Mamma, it's so much nicer 
 to do 'em ourselves/' pleaded Lulu. " Don't let 
 Susan touch them. We love so to wash. Dinah 
 says we're worth our wages, we do it so 
 well." 
 
 "Dinah should not say such things/' said 
 Mrs. Frisbie, severely, leading the unwilling 
 flock upstairs. "Now, Lulu, do look pleasant. 
 I really cannot have all this fuss made each 
 time that I tell you to come and sit with me 
 and behave like little ladies. This passion for 
 house-work is vulgar; I don't like it at all. 
 With plenty of servants in the house, and your 
 Pa's money, and all, there's no need that you 
 should know any thing about such common 
 doings. Now, go upstairs and tell Justine to 
 put on your French cambrics and your sashes, 
 and when you're ready come straight down. I 
 want you." 
 
 Mrs. Frisbie went into the drawing-room as 
 she spoke, and shut the door behind her with a 
 little bang. She was a good-natured woman in 
 
UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, DOWN-Y, 265 
 
 the main, but at that moment she was really 
 put out. Why should her children have this 
 outlandish taste for cooking and washing ? Bhe 
 lilted to be beautifully dressed, and sit on a sofa 
 doing nothing. Why shouldn't they like to do 
 the same ? It was really too bad, she thought. 
 The children were not a bit like her. They 
 were " clear Frisbie straight through," and it 
 was really a trial. She felt quite unhappy, and, 
 as I said, gave the door a bang to relieve her 
 feelings. 
 
 While the children are putting on their French 
 cambrics, I will tell you a Fairy story. 
 
 Once upon a time, in a wonderful country 
 where all the inhabitants are Kings and Queens, 
 a little Prince was born. His father s kingdom 
 was not big, being only a farm-house, two clover 
 fields, and a potato patch, but none the less was 
 it a kingdom, because no one else had right to 
 it or could dispute it. The Prince was born on a 
 Sunday, and the Fairy who has charge of Sui> 
 day children came and stood by his cradle. 
 
266 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 ^' You shall be lucky always/' she said, touch- 
 ing the baby's soft cheek with the point of her 
 finger. " I give you four gifts, Sunday Prince. 
 The first is a strong and handsome body/' — and 
 the Fairy, as she spoke, stroked the small limbs 
 with her wand. " The next is a sweet temper. 
 The third is a brave heart — you'll need it, little 
 Prince, — all people do in this world. Lastly," 
 — and the Fairy touched the sleeping eyelids 
 lightly, — "I give you a pair of clee^r, keen eyes, 
 which shall tell you the difference between hawks 
 and hernshaws from the very beginning. This 
 gift is worth something, as you'll soon find out. 
 Now, good-by, my baby. Sleep well, and grow 
 fast. Here's a pretty plaything for you," — 
 taking from her pocket a big, beautiful bubble, 
 and tossing it in the air. " Run fast," she said, 
 " blow hard, follow the bubble, catch it if you 
 can ; but, above all things, keep it flying. Its 
 name is Fortune, — a pretty name. All the little 
 boys like to run after my bubbles. As long as it 
 keeps up, up, all will go brightly ; but if you fail 
 
UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, DOWN-K 267 
 
 to blow, or blow unwisely, and it goes down, 
 down — well — you'll be lucky either way, my 
 Sunday Prince ; 'tis I who say so." Thereupon 
 the Fairy kissed the sleeping child and vanished. 
 Only the clear eyes of the little Prince could 
 see the rainbow bubble which hung in air above 
 his head, and flew before, wherever he went. 
 He began to see it when still very young, and 
 as he grew bigger he saw it more clearly still. 
 And he blew, blew, and the gay bubble went up, 
 up, and all things prospered. Before long, the 
 baby Prince was a man, and took possession of 
 his kingdom ; for in this wonderful country 
 plenty of kingdoms are to be had, and Princes are 
 not forced to wait until their fathers die before 
 taking possession of their crowns. So, being a 
 grown Prince, he began to look about for a 
 Princess to share his throne with him. And he 
 found a very nice little one ; who, when he asked 
 her, made a courtesy and said, " Yes, thank you," 
 in the prettiest way possible. Then the Prince 
 was pleased, and sent for a priest. The priest's 
 
268 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 name was Slack. He belonged to the Methodist 
 persuasion, Otsego Conference, but he married 
 the Prince and the Princess just as well as 
 though he had been an archbishop. They went 
 to live in a small palace of their own, and 
 after awhile some little princelings came to live 
 with them, and they were all very happy 
 together. And the lucky Prince, being fairy- 
 blessed, kept on being lucky. The rainbow 
 bubble flew before ; he blew strongly, wisely ; it 
 soared high, high, and all things prospered. 
 His kingdom increased, his treasure-bags were 
 filled with gold. By and by the little palace 
 gi'ew too small for them, or they fancied it so, 
 and another was built, a real palace this time, 
 with lawns, and fish-ponds, and graperies, and 
 gardens. The only trouble wab — 
 
 But here come the children downstairs, so I 
 must drop into plain prose, and tell you what 
 already you have guessed, that the Prince T 
 mean is their father, John Frisbie, — Prince John, 
 if you like, — and the Princess's name was Mary 
 
UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, DOWNEY. 268 
 
 Jones before she was married, but now, of course, 
 it is Mary Frisbie. There were five of the 
 p]incelings, — Jack and May and Arthur and 
 Lulu and Bertha. The new palace was a beauti- 
 ful house, with wide, lovely grounds. But since 
 they came to live in it, Mrs. Frisbie had taken 
 it into her head that so fine a house required 
 manners to match, and that the things the 
 children liked best, and had been allowed to 
 do in the small house, were vulgar, and might 
 not be permitted now. This was a real trouble 
 to the little ones, for, as their mother said, the}' 
 were " clear Frisbie all through ; " and the thrift, 
 energy, cleverness, and other qualities by which 
 their father had made his fortune, were strong 
 in them. Perhaps the Fairy had visited their 
 cradles also. Who knows? 
 
 The girls came down crisp and fresh in their 
 ruffled frocks, with curls smoothed, sashes tied, 
 and their company dolls in their hands. 
 
 "Now sit down and be comfortable," said 
 Mrs. Frisbie. 
 
270 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 Dear me, what a number of meanings there 
 are to that word " comfortable " ! Mrs. Frisbie 
 thought it meant pretty clothes, pretty rooms, 
 and nothing to do. To the boys it took the 
 form of hard, hearty work of some sort. Papa 
 understood it as a cool day in his office, business 
 brisk, but not too brisk, and an occasional cigar. 
 May, Lulu, and Bertha would have translated 
 it thus: "our old ginghams and our own 
 way ; " while Dinah, if asked, would have de- 
 fined " comfort " as having the kitchen " clar'd 
 up " after a successful bake, and being free to 
 git down, darn stockings, and read the "'^Illus- 
 trated Pirate's Manual," a newspaper she much 
 affected on account of the blood-thirstiness of 
 its pictures. None of these various explana- 
 tions of the word mean the same thing, you see. 
 And the drollest part is that no one can ever be 
 made " comfortable " in any way but his own : 
 that is impossible. 
 
 The company dolls were very fine ladies in- 
 deed; they came from Paris, and had trunks 
 
UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, DOWN-K 271 
 
 full of splendid dresses. The children did not 
 care much for them, and liked better certain 
 decrepit babies of rag and composition, which 
 were thought too shabby to be allowed in the 
 parlor. 
 
 " Where are the boys ? " asked Mrs. Frisbie, 
 when the small sisters had settled themselves. 
 
 " Jack was going to have his sale this after- 
 noon/' rephed Mary. "And Arthur is auc- 
 tioneer." 
 
 " His sale ! What on earth is that ? " 
 
 "Why, Manuna — don't you know? Jack's 
 chickens, of course. Croppy had eleven and 
 Top-knot nine. There's a ^ corner ' in chickens 
 just now, Arthur says, because most of the other 
 boys have lost theirs. Alfred's were sick and 
 died, and the rats ate all of Charley Eoss's, and 
 a hawk carried off five of Howard's. Jack ex- 
 pects to make a lot of money, because Croppy 
 is a Bramahpootra hen, you know, and her 
 chicks are very valuable.' 
 
 " Comer ! Lot of money ! Oh, dear ! " sighed 
 
272 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 poor Mrs. Frisbie, "what words the boys do 
 teach you. Where they learn them I can't 
 imagine. Not from me." 
 
 " From Papa, I guess/' explained Lulu iimo- 
 cently. " He used to have hens when he was 
 little, and sell 'em. It was splendid fun, he 
 says. Grandmamma thinks that Jack is just 
 Papa over again." 
 
 "All of you are," said Mrs. Frisbie. "Not 
 one of you is a bit like me. Can't you sit still, 
 Bertha ? What are you doing there with your 
 handkerchief ? " 
 
 " Only dusting the table leg. Mamma ; it 
 wasn't quite clean." 
 
 "Dear, dear ! and in your nice frock. Do let 
 the furniture alone, child. King for Bridget, if 
 any thing wants cleaning. You're a real Med- 
 dlesome Matty, Bertha." 
 
 " Mamma ! " cried Bertha, aggrieved. 
 "Grandmamma taught me to dust when we 
 lived in the other house, you know. Grand- 
 mamma said it was a good thing for little girls 
 
VP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, DOWN-^Y. 273 
 
 to be useful. And I didn't meddle with any 
 thing on the table ; really I didn't, Mamma." 
 
 " Never mind, dear/' said Mrs. Frisbie. " It's 
 no great matter, only I don't like to have you do 
 such things. Now sit still and play with your 
 doll." She opened a book and began to read. 
 The children crept nearer to each other and 
 talked in low whispers. 
 
 "Let's play that Eugenie and Victoria are 
 little girls come to make each other a visit, and 
 Isabella is their Mamma." 
 
 " You can't ! Little girls never have trains 
 to their dresses or necklaces." 
 
 " Oh ! I wish Nippy Scatch-Face and old Maria 
 were down here," sighed Lulu. 
 
 " ni teU you," put in May. " We'U play they 
 are three stiff old ladies, who always wear best 
 clothes, you know, and sit so in chairs ; and that 
 Nippy and Maria are coming to make them a 
 visit. They needn't really come, you know. 
 Mrs. Eugenie, sit up straight. Now listen to the 
 hateful old thing ! She's talking to Victoria." 
 
 18 
 
274 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 " Sister, when are those children coming ? " 
 
 "I don't know, sister," squeaked back Luhi 
 in the character of Victoria. "I wish they 
 wouldn't come at all. Children are the bane 
 of my existence." 
 
 " You horrid doll, talking that way about my 
 baby," cried Bertha, giving Victoria a shove. 
 
 " Don't, Beppie ; you'll push her down," said 
 May. Then changing her voice again, " Your 
 manners is most awful, I'm sure," she squeaked, 
 in the person of the irate Victoria. 
 
 All the children giggled, and Mrs. Frisbie 
 looked up from her book. 
 
 At this moment in ran the two boys, hot, 
 dusty, and excited, — Arthur with a handful of 
 ^* fractional currency," and Jack waving a two- 
 dollar bill. 
 
 " See ! " they cried. "Four dollars and sixty- 
 five cents. Isn't that splendid? Mr. Ashurst 
 bought all the Croppys, and gave twenty-five 
 cents a piece for them." 
 
 '^ Let us see, let us see ! " cried the little girls, 
 precipitating themselves on the money. 
 
UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, DOWN-Y. 275 
 
 " Look here, now, Mary Frisbie — no snatch- 
 ing ! " protested Jack, — ^^ I haven't told jovi 
 the best yet. Mr. Ashurst says we're such good 
 farmers, that he'll give us work whenever we 
 like to take it. He says I could earn three 
 dollars a week now ! Think of that." 
 
 "Oh, how much!" cried Lulu, awe-struck, 
 " What could you do with so much, Jacky ? " 
 
 " Now boys, — listen to me," said their mother. 
 ^' Go upstairs right away and get ready for tea. 
 You look like real farmers' boys at this moment, 
 I declare, so hot and dusty. I don't wonder 
 Mr. Ashurst offered you work, — though I think 
 it was very impertinent of him to do so. I hope 
 you said that your father's sons didn't need to 
 earn money in any such way." 
 
 "Why, Mamma, of course I didn't. Arthur 
 and me like to work, and we are going to some- 
 how just as soon as we're big enough. It's lots 
 better fun than going to school. Besides, Papa 
 gays we may. He told us all American boys 
 ought to work, whether their fathers are rich ot 
 poor." 
 
276 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 " Papa likes to talk nonsense with you," said 
 Mrs. Frisbie, biting her lips. " Go up now and 
 dress." 
 
 There was a howl from both boys. 
 
 ^'^O Mamma! not yet. It's too early for 
 that horrid dressing, oh, a great deal too early, 
 Mamma. We've got a lot to do in our chicken 
 house. Mayn't we go out again for a httle 
 while, just for half an hour. Mamma?" 
 
 "Well — for half an hour you may," said 
 Mrs. Frisbie reluctantly, consulting her watch. 
 Away clattered the boys, — the girls looking 
 after them with envious eyes. 
 
 Presently Lulu slipped out and was gone a 
 few minutes. She came back sparkling, with 
 hei cheeks very rosy. 
 
 "Mamma," she cried, "what do you think? 
 David says if you haven't any objections, we 
 may each of us have a Httle garden down there 
 behind the asparagus beds. He'll make them 
 for us. Mamma, he says, and we can plant just 
 what we hke in them. Mamma ! don't have 
 any objections — please." 
 
UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, DOWN-Y, 277 
 
 " Will he really ? " cried May. " 111 put per- 
 pergrass in mine, — and parsley. Dinah says 
 she never has as much parsley as she wants." 
 
 ^^Yes, and little green cucumbers/' added 
 Bertha, — " little teeny-weeny ones, for pickles, 
 you know. Dinah is always wishing she could 
 get them, but David never sends in any but 
 big ones. Mamma ! do say yes. It'll be so 
 nice." 
 
 '' Cucumbers ! peppergrass ! Well, you are 
 the strangest children! Why don't you have 
 pinks and pansies and pretty things?" 
 
 " Oh, we will, and make bouquets for you. 
 Mamma ; only we thought of the useful things 
 first." 
 
 " Somehow you always do think of useful 
 things first," murmured Mrs. Frisbie. "How- 
 ever, have the gardens if you like. I'm sure I 
 don't care." 
 
 The children's thanks were cut short by the 
 click of a latch-key in the hall-door, 
 
 " There's Papa ! " cried Bertha j and, like 
 
278 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 three arrows dismissed from the string, the chil- 
 dren were off to greet him. It was always a 
 joy to have Papa come home. 
 
 He was looking grave as he opened the door, 
 but his face lit np at once at the sight of his 
 little girls. Papa's face without a smile upon it 
 would have seemed a strange sight indeed to 
 that household. It did cross May's mind that 
 evening that the smiles were not so merry as 
 usual, and that Papa seemed tired; but no one 
 else noticed it, either then or on the days that 
 followed. 
 
 Bubbles are pretty things, but the keeping 
 them in air grows wearisome after a while. 
 About this time the rainbow bubble set afloat 
 by the kind Fairy for the sleeping Prince began 
 to misbehave itself. Contrary winds seized it ; 
 it flew wildly, now here, now there ; and, in- 
 stead of sailing steadily, it was first up, then 
 down, then up again, but more down than up. 
 Prince John blew his hardest and did his best 
 to keep it from sinking ; for he knew, as we all 
 
oP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, DOWN-K 279 
 
 do, that once let a bubble touch the earth, and 
 all is over, — its glittering wings collapse, — 
 they fly no more. 
 
 So the weeks went on. Unconscious of 
 trouble, the children dug and planted in their 
 little gardens. Each new leaf and shoot was a 
 wonder and a delight to them. Bertha's plants 
 flourished less than the others, because of a 
 habit she had of digging them all up daily to 
 see how the roots were coming on ; but, except 
 for that, all went well, and the bluest of skies 
 stretched itself over the heads of the small 
 gardeners. In the City, where Papa's office 
 was, the sky was not blue at all. High winds 
 were blowing, stormy black clouds shut out the 
 sun. Bubbles were sinking and bursting on 
 every side, and men's hearts were heavy and 
 anxious. Prince John did his best. He watched 
 his bubble anxiously, and followed it far. It 
 was fairy-blessed, as I said, and its wings were 
 stronger than bubble's wings usually are; but 
 at last the day came when it could soar no 
 
280 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 longer. The pretty shining sphere hovered, 
 sank, touched a rock, and in a minute — hey! 
 presto ! — there was no bubble there ; it had 
 utterly disappeared, and Prince Frisbie, with a 
 very sober face, walked home to tell his wife 
 that he had lost every thing they had in the 
 world. This was not a pleasant or an easy 
 thing to do, as you can readily imagine. 
 
 The children never forgot this evening. They 
 used to vaguely refer to it among themselves 
 as " That time, you know." Papa came in 
 very quiet and pale, and shut himself up with 
 Mamma. She — poor soul ! — was much dis- 
 tressed, and sobbed and cried. They heard her 
 as they came downstairs dressed for the even- 
 ing, and it frightened them. Papa, coming out 
 after a while, found them huddled together in 
 a dismayed httle group in the corner of the 
 entry. 
 
 " Papa ! is it any thing dreadful ? " asked 
 May. "Is Mamma sick?" 
 
 " No, not sick, darhng, but very much troub- 
 
UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN. DOWN, DOWN-Y. 281 
 
 led about something. Come with me and I will 
 explain it to you." Then Papa led them into 
 the dining-room ; and, with Bertha on his knee 
 and the others close to him, he told them that 
 he had lost a great deal of money (almost all 
 he had), and they would have to sell the place, 
 and go and live in a little house somewhere, — 
 he didn't yet know exactly where. 
 
 The children had looked downcast enough 
 when Papa commenced, but at this point their 
 faces brightened. 
 
 ^^A really Httle house?" exclaimed May. 
 ^^ Papa ! do you know, I'm glad. Little 
 houses are so pretty and cunning, I always 
 wanted to Kve in one. Susie Brown's Papa 
 does, and Susie can go into the kitchen when- 
 ever she likes, and she toasts the bread for tea, 
 and does all sorts of things. Do you suppose 
 that I may toast the bread when we go to live 
 in our httle house. Papa ? " 
 
 " I daresay Mamma will be glad of your help 
 in a great many ways," replied Papa. 
 
282 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS, 
 
 '' Shall we be poor, very poor indeed ? " de^ 
 manded Bertha anxiously. 
 
 " Pretty poor for the present, I am afraid/* 
 replied her Father. 
 
 " Goody ! goody ! " cried May, hopping np 
 and down on her toes. " I always wanted to be 
 poor, it's so nice ! We'll have the &esi times, 
 Papa ; see if we don't ! " 
 
 Papa actually laughed. May's happy, eager 
 face amused him so much. 
 
 " I know what we'll do," said Jack, who had 
 been considering the matter in silence. " We'll 
 raise lots of chickens, and give you all the 
 money. Papa." 
 
 '' My boj^, I am afraid you must give up your 
 chickens. There will be no place for them in 
 the new home." 
 
 " Must we ? " Jack gave a little gulp, but 
 went on manfully, " Well, never mind, we'll 
 find something else that we can do." 
 
 " Mr. Ashurst says Jack is the ' handiest ' boy 
 he ever saw. Papa," put in Arthur eagerly. 
 
UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, DOWNEY. 283 
 
 "Well, handiness is a capital stock-in-trade. 
 Now, dears, one thing, — be as good and gentle 
 as possible with Mamma, and don't trouble her 
 a bit more than you can help." 
 
 " We will, we will," promised the little flock, 
 Mrs. Frisbie was quite right in saying that the 
 children took after their father. Their brave, 
 bright natures were as unlike hers as possible. 
 
 It is sad to see what short time it requires to 
 pull down and destroy a home which has taken 
 years to build. The Prisbies' handsome, luxuri- 
 ous house seemed to change and empty all in 
 a moment. Carriages were sold, servants dis- 
 missed. Furniture was packed and carried 
 away. In a few days nothing remained but a 
 fine empty shell, with a staring advertisement 
 of " For Sale " pasted on it. The familiar look 
 was all gone, and everybody was glad to get 
 away from the place. It took some time to 
 find the "little house," and some time longer 
 to put it to rights. Papa attended to all that, 
 the children remaining meanwhile with Grand* 
 
284 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 mamma. Mamma had taken to her bed with a 
 nervous attack, and cried day and night. Every- 
 body was sorry ; they all waited on her, and did 
 their best to raise her spirits. 
 
 At last the new home was ready. It was 
 evening when the carriage set them down at 
 the gate, and they could only see that there 
 were trees and shrubs in the tiny front yard, 
 and a cheerful light streaming from the door, 
 where Dinah stood to welcome them, — dear 
 old Di, who had insisted on following their 
 fortimes as maid of all work. As they drew 
 nearer, they perceived that she stood in a small, 
 carpeted entry, with a room on either side. 
 The room on the right was a sitting-room ; the 
 room on the left, a kitchen. There were three 
 bedrooms upstairs, and a small coop in the attic 
 for Dinah. That was all ; for it was indeed a 
 "really little house," as Papa had said. 
 
 " Oh, how pretty ! " cried Lulu, as she caught 
 sight of the freshly papered parlor, with its 
 cheerful carpet, and table laid for tea, and on 
 
UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, DOWNEY, 285 
 
 tlie other hand of the glowing kitchen stove 
 and steaming kettle. " Such a nice parlor, and 
 the dearest kitchen. Why, it's smaller than 
 Susie Brown's house, which we used to wish 
 we lived in. Don't you like it, Mamma ? I 
 think it's sweet'^ 
 
 Mrs. Frisbie only sighed by way of reply. 
 But the children's pleasure was a comfort to 
 Papa. He and Dinah had worked hard to 
 make the httle home look attractive. They 
 had papered the walls themselves, put up 
 shelves and hooks, arranged the furniture, and 
 even set a few late flowers in the beds, that the 
 garden might not seem bare and neglected. 
 
 The next day was a very busy one, for there 
 were all the trunks to unpack, and the bureau 
 drawers to fill, and places to be settled for this 
 thing and that. By night they were in pretty 
 good order, and began to feel at home, as people 
 always do when their belongings are comfort- 
 ably arranged about them. 
 
 Mrs. Frisbie was growing less doleful. Her 
 
286 NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. 
 
 husband, who was very tired, lay back m a big 
 arm-chair. The evening was chilly, so Dinah 
 had lighted a small fire of chips, which flickered 
 and made the room bright. The glow danced 
 on Bertha's glossy curls as she sat at Mamma's 
 knee, and on the rosy faces of the two boys. 
 All looked cheerful and cosy; a smell of toast 
 came across the entry from the kitchen. 
 
 " Bertha, your hair is very nicely curled to- 
 night," said Mrs. Frisbie. " I don't know how 
 Dinah found time to do it." 
 
 "Dinah didn't do it. Mamma. May did it. 
 She did Lulu's too, and Lulu did hers. We'r^ 
 always going to dress each other now." 
 
 Just then May came in with a plate of hoi 
 toast in her hand. Lulu followed with the 
 teapot. 
 
 " It's so nice having the kitchen close by," 
 said May, " instead of way off as it was in the 
 other house. This toast is as warm as — toast '' 
 — she concluded, not knowing exactly how to 
 end her simile. 
 
UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, DOWN-Y, 287 
 
 ^^Your face looks as warm as toast, too/' 
 remarked her Father. 
 
 " Yes, Papa, that's because I toasted to-night. 
 Diiiah was bringing the clothes from the lines, 
 60 she let me.'' 
 
 "I stamped the butter, Papa," added Lulu. 
 " Look, isn't it a pretty little pat ? " 
 
 ^' And I sifted the sugar for the blackberries," 
 put in Bertha from her place at Mamma's knee. 
 
 "You don't mind, do you Mamma?" ob- 
 served Mary anxiously. "Di pinned a big 
 apron over my frock. See, it hasn't got a spot 
 on it." 
 
 *^I'm glad she did," said Mrs. Frisbie, sur- 
 prised. "But it doesn't matter so much how 
 you dress here, you know. It was in the other 
 house I was so particular." 
 
 " But I like to please you. Mamma, and you 
 always want us to look nice, you know. We 
 mean to be very careful now, because if we 
 don't we shall worry you all the time." 
 
 Mrs. Frisbie put her arm round Mary and 
 kissed her 
 
288 NINE LITTLE GOSLLNOS. 
 
 ''\ declare/' she said, half -laughing, half- 
 crying. ^^This house u pleasant. It seems 
 snugger somehow, as if we were closer together 
 than we ever were before. I guess I shall llkv 
 it after all." 
 
 " Hurrah ! " cried Prince John, rousing frou? 
 his fatigue at these comfortable words. " That's 
 right, Molly, dear ! You don't know what good 
 it does me to hear you say so. If only you can 
 look bright and the chicks keep well and happy, 
 I shall go to work with a will, and the world will 
 come right yet." He smiled with a look of con- 
 scious power as he spoke ; his eyes were keen 
 and eager. 
 
 I think that just then, as the children gathered 
 round the table, as Mrs. Frisbie took up the tea- 
 pot and began to pour the tea, and her husband 
 pushed back his chair, — that just then, at that 
 very moment, the Fairy entered the room. 
 Nobody saw her, but there she was ! She 
 smiled on the group; then she took from her 
 pocket another bubble, more splendid than the 
 
UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, DOWN-Y. 289 
 
 one she had brought before, and tossed it into 
 the air above Prince John's head. "There/' 
 she said, " catch that. You'll have it this time, 
 and it won't break and go to pieces as the first 
 one did. Look at it sailing up, up, up, — this 
 bubble has wings, but it sails toward and not 
 away from you. Catch it, as I say, and make it 
 yours. But even when it is yours, when you 
 hold it in your hand and are sure of it, you'll 
 be no luckier and no happier, my lucky Prince, 
 than you are at this moment, in this small house, 
 with love about you, hope in your heart, and all 
 these precious little people to work for, and to 
 reward you when work is done." 
 
THE STORY OF JULIETTE. 
 
 A Child's Romance. By Beatrice Washington. With 45 illus- 
 trations by J. F. Goodridge. Small 4C0. Cloth. Price, ^i.oo. 
 
 "she was carried in her true knight's arms." 
 
 Sold hy all Booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, hy the Publishers, 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston. 
 
Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications. 
 
 OLD ROUGH THE MISER. 
 
 By Lily F. Wesselhgeft, author of '* Sparrow the Tramp," 
 " Flipwing the Spy," " The Winds, the Woods, and the Wand- 
 erer." With twenty-one illustrations by J. F. Goodridge. Square 
 i6mo, cloth, $1.25. 
 
 OLD ROUGH THE MISER. 
 
 Mrs. Wesselhoeft's " Fable Stories " are proving themselves more and 
 more acceptable to the children. " Old Rough " is a decided acquisition 
 to the series. 
 
 Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed^ post-paid^ by the pub' 
 Ushers 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston. 
 
Messrs, Roberts Brothers^ Publications. 
 
 SUSAN GOOLIDGE'S POPULAR BOOKS. 
 
 THE BARBERRY BUSH. And Seven 
 Other Stories about Girls for Girls. By Susan 
 COOLIDGE. Illustrated by Jessie McDermott. l6mo. 
 Cloth. Uniform with " What Katy Did," etc. Price, 
 
 ;^1.25. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers^ and mailed^ post'^aid^ on receip of price 
 by the publishers. 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston, Mass. 
 
Messrs, Roberts Brothers^ Publications, 
 
 By the Author of Dear Daughter Dorothy. 
 
 ROBIN'S Recruit. 
 
 By a. G. PLYMPTON, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "BETTY A BUTTERFLY," AND "THE LITTLE 
 SISTER OF WILIFRED." 
 
 With illustrations by the author. Small 4to. Cloth, 
 gilt. Price, ^i.oo. 
 
 Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed y post-paid , on receipt of price ^ 
 by the Publishers. 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 
 
 BOSTON. 
 
SUSAN COOLIDGE'S POPULAR BOOKS. 
 
 A GUERNSEY LILY; 
 
 OR, 
 
 HOW THE FEUD WAS HEALED. 
 
 ^ cStorg for (Kirls anlr Bogs. 
 
 SUSAN COOLTDGE, 
 Author of "What Katy Did,' V" Clover," "In the High Valley/' etc. 
 
 NEW EDITION. Square i6mo. ILLUSTRATED. Price, $1,255. 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, 
 
 BOSTON, 
 
SUSAN COOLIDGE'S POPULAR BOOKS. 
 
 IN THE HIGH VALLEY. 
 
 Being the Fifth and last volume of the " Katy Did Series." Witlj 
 illustrations by Jessie McDermott. 
 
 One volume, square 16mo, cloth. Price, $1.25. 
 
 KOBFRTS BROTHERS, Publishers, Bostoi^ 
 
Messrs, Roberts Brothers' Juveniles. 
 
 THE LITTLE SISTER OF WILIFRED. 
 
 A Story. By Miss A. G. Plympton, author of "Dear 
 Daughter Dorothy " and "Betty a Butterfly." Illus- 
 trated by the author. Small 4to. Cloth. Price, 
 $1.00. 
 
 The author of " Dear Daughter Dorothy " needs no passport to favor. 
 That bewitching little story which she not only wrote but illustrated must 
 have given the name of A. G. Plympton a notable place among the writers 
 of children's stories. Followed by " Betty, a Butterfly " and now by 
 "The Little Sister of Wilifred," we have a most interesting trio with 
 which to adorn a child's library. — Boston Times, 
 
 Sold by all booksellers ; mailed^ post-paid^ by the pub' 
 lishersy 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston. 
 
Jolly Good Times at Hackmatack 
 
 "There," said Miss Patty, "that 's a surtout as is a surtout." 
 Page 259. 
 
 By MARY P. W. SMITH, 
 
 Vuthor of " Jolly Good Times ; or, Child-Life on a Farm," ** Jolly Good Times at 
 School," " Their Canoe Trip," " The Browns." With illustrations. i6mo. Cloth. 
 Price, ;55i.25. 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, Boston. 
 
7 DAY USE 
 
 RETl^H TO 
 
 iT>i?y 
 
 This publication is due on the LAST DATE 
 and HOUR stamped below. 
 
 
 
 INI EHLIBRARY l.UMiH 
 
 NOV 1 1984 
 
 
 UNIV. OF CALIF., 
 
 BERK. 
 
 REC'D BEC 1 8 '84 
 
 ■12 PM 
 
 
 
 
 
 APR 1 8 1994 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 RB17-30m-10,'73 
 (R3381sl0)4188 — A-32 
 
 General Library 
 
 University of California 
 
 Berkeley