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Citation |
- Permanent Link:
- https://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00082961/00001
Material Information
- Title:
- Stories for all the year for boys and girls
- Creator:
- Rice, Katharine McDowell
Harper, W. St. John, 1851-1910 ( Illustrator )
Frederick A. Stokes Company ( Publisher )
- Place of Publication:
- New York
- Publisher:
- Frederick A. Stokes Company
- Publication Date:
- c1895
- Language:
- English
- Physical Description:
- 168 p. : ill. ; 21 cm.
Subjects
- Subjects / Keywords:
- Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh ) Children's stories ( lcsh ) Children's stories -- 1895 ( lcsh ) Bldn -- 1895
- Genre:
- Children's stories
novel ( marcgt )
- Spatial Coverage:
- United States -- New York -- New York
- Target Audience:
- juvenile ( marctarget )
Notes
- Statement of Responsibility:
- by Katharine McDowell Rice ; with twenty-five original illustrations by W. St. John Harper.
Record Information
- Source Institution:
- University of Florida
- Holding Location:
- University of Florida
- Rights Management:
- This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
- Resource Identifier:
- 026932869 ( ALEPH )
ALH7037 ( NOTIS ) 06578753 ( OCLC ) 21012980 ( LCCN )
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The Baldwin Library
RmB
—Page 47.
E JOKE
’s LITTL
Louls
STORIES
FOR ALL THE YEAR
Jor Boys and Girls
BY
KATHARINE MCDOWELL RICE
WITH TWENTY-FIVE ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS BY
W. ST. JOHN HARPER
NEW YORK
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1895, by
Frederick A. Stokes Company
TO MY NEPHEW
WILLIAM GORHAM RICE, Funr.
By kind permission of flarper's Young People, St. Nicho-
las, Wide Awake, Treasure T; rove,and New Vork Obser
ver,
the following stories are reprinted.
KATHARINE MCDOWELL RICE.
THE MAPLES, WORTHINGTON, MASS.
FOR ALL
THE YEAR
CONTENTS
HOW THE DOCTOR WAS PAID
JULIAN’S ONE VALENTINE
LOUIS’S LITTLE JOKE
HOW THE BOYS FOOLED UNCLE BUDGE
SUSIE KINGMAN’S DECISION
A DEBT OF YEARS
A HAPPY THOUGHT
SAMMY?S "TURKEY, «0 0 ac ok eh ne HES
WHY THE DOLL’S NAME WAS NEVER CHANGED 149
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
Louts's Little Foke . : : ; ; Frontispiece
Ornamental border. ; . . ; . Contents
“Two dollars a visit!†cried Dot, in dismay. » 15
The little fingers never did better work . ; . 20
“Eleven hundred,†satd Dot, tearfully . : . 23
“Remember! I could not forget†. . . . 30
“The Princess,—my Princess /†. : ; . 37
“Let me see tt, Esther /†. . 44
fe slid tt off and out of the little vellar-window . 50
“Fle’s going, Karl, as sure as I’m alive!†. . 63
fle passed by the side gate ; ; . : . 67
The May Queen . . ; ; : . » 75
“Only ten minutes left meâ€. : 85
The pretty pony was carrying the young girls “along
at an easy gait : . . . » 95
Until it had burned entirely away . . . . IIS
“What are the fellows shouting?†, . . . 118
9
Io LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
“What a looking room!’
“The game is to do tt as well ane as i. as you
â€
can :
Mamma came to the sttting-room door
Bobby was bracing himself against the shovel
“With all these young eyes it ought to be found fe
Sammy's Turkey. ( Tazt-prece)
“T belteve zt’s something from Aunt Mae
They asked for the West road
“She'll see the doll and know tt’s our house’
,
PAGE
125
129
132
139
143
147
155
161
165
bow the Doctor was Paid
Ir
HOW THE DOCTOR WAS PAID.
“Two dollars a visit!†cried Dot in dismay, forgetting
entirely that she had come to look for a spool of No. 40
in Mamma’s drawer, and opening her brown eyes wider and
wider as she read the heading of an old bill of Dr. Cogswell’s,
‘Two dollars a visit!†she repeated. ‘Oh, why does n’t
Donnie get well? And where is all the money to come
from?†she asked herself, sadly. “We will get very poor,â€
continued Dot, shaking her little head slowly over the bill.
After thinking awhile, she slipped the paper in her pocket
and went down-stairs.
Mamma and Sister Margie were sewing. Dot went quietly
to Mrs. Ledyard and whispered :
“We'll feel very poor afterward, won't we, Mamma?â€
Mamma smiled—a sad smile, Dot thought—as she re-
plied : “You're better at guessing than we supposed. Now,
13
14 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
why don’t you take your trimming, little daughter, and go
into the library? There ’s a nice fire on the hearth, and you
can work away like a bee. Well need it soon, you know,â€
added Mamma, for Dot was rather inclined to dream when
she was alone.
“We ’ll need it soon,†repeated Dot, as she climbed up
into the big library chair. “We'll need it soon. Oh, why
did n’t they tell me! Why did they leave me to find it out
for myself? I might have worked yards and yards by this
time, and sold them for ever so much, but I supposed it was
just to give me something to do, and I’ve sometimes not
done more than one scallop in a whole afternoon,†confessed
Dot, as she made her little ivory needle. fly in and out of her
work, as if any one could ever make up for time wasted.
“And to think I never once thought that Mamma and
Sister Margie were making those things to sell, nor how
much ’t was costing to have the doctor coming every day,
and sometimes twice a day.. Poor Donnie! Perhaps he’s
worse than they tell me. Perhaps,†and there was a great
lump in her throat, “he ’s going to die, and they are leaving
me to find that out.†Two great tears rolled slowly down
the pretty, round cheeks. ‘But why, then, do they keep
a-tellin’ me he’s better?†The tears had dropped on the
crochet trimming, and two more were following in their
train,
Tom went into the barn to clean his gun. Dot saw him.
‘Two DOLLARS A VISIT!†CRIED DoT, IN DISMAY.
HOW THE DOCTOR WAS PAID, 17
“I'll ask him,†she decided, as she put her work hurriedly
in a little silk handkerchief, and started with it for the barn.
“‘He won’t tease me when he knows how badly I feel.â€
It was a very sad little face that peered in at the barn-
door.
“Halloo!†was Tom’s greeting. “Been crying?â€
‘“ Yes,†admitted Dot, in a voice that could leave no doubt
of it in any one’s mind.
‘“What ’s up ?†continued Tom, as he rubbed away at his
gun. ‘ Want any help ?â€
“Oh, yes, Tom ; that’s just what I’ve come for. Won’t
you talk real sober with me?â€
‘““Nary a smile from me,†said Tom. Then, glancing side-
long at the little face in the doorway, he added, “Come in
and state your case. Here’s aseat on the hay,†as he lifted
her gently upon a pile he had just brought down for the
horses. ‘ There! are you cold?â€
“Not a bit,†said Dot, smiling thankfully. “I have
brought my cloak.â€
‘All right, then; go ahead,†said Tom, cheerfully.
“Well, you know, Tom,†began Dot, in her sweet, timid
voice; ‘there’s a secret.in there,†pointing toward the
house, “ and I never found it out till this morning.â€
“So you found it out, did you? Well, I told ’em you
would.â€
“T would n’t, but for the bill.â€
18 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
“You would n’t what?†asked Tom, who was rubbing
away again. :
“T'll tell you about that afterward. When I went into
the sitting-room, Mamma and Sister Margie were sewing.â€
“ That certainly didn’t surprise you!†laughed Tom.
“O Tom! how can you make fun of it all? Marnma
looked just ready to cry, and—oh, oh, oh, what can we ever
do about it!†as she threw herself face downward on the
hay, and sobbed as though her little heart would break, while
Tom stood by in speechless astonishment, wondering why
the words “Two dollars a visit†seemed mingled with her
sobs. : ee
“Does she know, after all?†he asked himself. ‘1
must n’t forget my promise to mother, but I must give the
child some comfort,†as he went over toward the little blue
cloak on the hay.
“ Come, Dot,†said he, tenderly. ‘‘ Don’t cry. You
have n’t told me yet what the matter is. Now we'll sit
right up here, while you tell Tom all about it.â€
After a while, Dot managed to say :
“Does n't Dr. Cogswell charge people who are ill two
dollars every time he goes to see them?â€
“Something like that, I believe,†answered Tom, won-
deringly.
“Tt’s exactly that,†said Dot, feeling for the bill, “O
Tom, we must owe him hundreds of dollars!â€
HOW THE DOCTOR WAS PAID. 19
There was a queer look in Tom’s eyes.
‘“‘T suppose we do,†he said.
“But have we got the money to pay him?†questioned
Dot, the brown eyes swimming again.
“No, I don’t believe we have.â€
“ Then, what are we going to do?†said Dot, with another
sob.
“There, Dot,†said Tom, soothingly. ‘ Don’t be so fool-
ish as to cry. It’s all coming out right. I can’t tell you
now just how, but take my word for it.â€
“Tom,†called Mrs. Ledyard, ‘they ’re all waiting for
SPs
you.
“The boys have come, Dot,†said Tom, giving her a hasty
kiss. “ Now, remember not to worry. It’s coming out all
right.â€
Dot sat a long time on the hay.
“Tom always thinks everything ’s going to come out all
right,†she said, determined to be miserable. ‘“ He does n’t
know anything about money. Margie says so, and I know
myself he does n't, ’cause I once owed him five cents for
weeks, and when I went to pay him, he ’d forgotten all about
it, and said I must have dreamed it. He’s gone off now to
sleigh-ride and does n’t care how hard we’re all workin’,â€
and the little needle flew faster than ever. ‘‘I just know he
thinks Dr. Cogswell is n’t going to charge, but he is, for
here ’s one bill and he’s probably got another all ready.â€
20 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
“He could just as well not charge,†she went on, “for
Jessie Pelton told me he was ever ’n’ ever so rich, and that
he ’s got a house in the city even prettier than this. But
THE LITTLE FINGERS NEVER DID BETTER
WORK.
how could one be?†she
«“ How could
any room be lovelier than
wondered.
the one Mrs. Crane took
Jessie and me into the other
day?—the little one with
the window looking on the
lake, and the little bed with
curtains and _ everything
blue, carpet and all. Dr.
Cogswell calls it his little
sister's room, and she ’s
coming in the spring.â€
The little fingers never
did better work than that
day, for ‘‘ Mamma would n't
have told me they needed it if they did n’t,†Dot kept assur-
ingherself. ‘Tom just wanted to comfort me. He doesn't
know how hard they ’re workin’ and cryin’.â€
That night, Dot added to her prayer the words, ‘‘ O God,
please don’t let it be more than we can pay.â€
“Let what ?†asked Mamma, as she tucked her in bed.
“The doctor's bill,†whispered Dot, her arms very tight
about Mrs. Ledyard’s neck.
HOW THE DOCTOR WAS PAID. 21
Mrs. Ledyard smiled. She thought Dot was half asleep,
so she tiptoed quietly down-stairs to the library, and there
found Tom telling Margie about Dot’s trouble.
The young doctor must have been there too, or heard of
it in some way, for he happened in the next morning soon
after breakfast, and the first thing he said was :
“I’m going to have my bill settled to-day, little Miss
Dot,†as with quite a grave face he took out his memoranda.
‘Let me see,†he mused, “I begancoming in May. Two
visits a day, till—why, it ’s nearly Christmas, is n’t it? Now,
how much should you think it would come to ?â€
“ Hundreds!†said poor little Dot, faintly.
“We want to be business-like,†said Dr. Cogswell; “sup-
pose you get your slate and figure it.†. |
Dot ran. “He is n't going to let us off a penny,†she
moaned.
“ Now, let us do a little sum in arithmetic,†said the doctor.
“What does M. stand for?â€
“One thousand,†said staggered little Dot, pushing the
crochet-work way down in her pocket.
“Very good,†said the doctor. “Now, what does €
stand for?â€
“One hundred,†said Dot, trying to be brave.
« And altogether?†was the next question.
“ Eleven hundred,†said Dot, tearfully.
‘“H’m,†coughed Dr. Cogswell. ‘“ Now, can you think of
anything else they might stand for ?â€
22 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
“No, sir,†said Dot.
“Why yes, you can, Dot,†cried Donald, who had just
been wheeled into the room. “ M. C.!†clapping his hands,
“ Merry Christmas, don’t you see?â€
Dot smiled.
“Then there is n’t any bill?†she asked Tom.
‘“Nary a bill,†said Tom; “but can’t you think of any-
thing else the letters might stand for?â€
“No,†said happy, stupid little Dot.
“I can,†cried Don, catching sight of some glances being
exchanged, and Margie’s pretty cheeks aglow. ‘Margie
Cogswell!â€
Then they all laughed, and the doctor caught Dot up and
set her on his shoulder, and pranced with her into the cozy
sitting-room. Pretty soon Don was wheeled into the sunny
bay-window, and there they all sat the rest of the morning.
Dot had to submit to a good deal of teasing, but she was
very happy notwithstanding, and wrote in her diary that
night, in such big letters that she went right over two or
three of the following days:
“ The doctor was nt coming to see Donnie, after all, and
there was wt any bill. Lam going to be bridesmazd and wear
white. There iswt any little stster but me, and I’m going
to have the lettle blue room, whenever I want to go there to
eset,â€
‘( ELEVEN HUNDRED,†SAID DOT, TEARFULLY.
Sulian’s One Valentine
JULIAN’S ONE VALENTINE.
It was a day in February. The three were talking valen-
tines. Julian had just said:
“J ’m going to send only one this year.â€
“ To Bettine-——Bettine !†cried the two little sisters. “You
cannot deny it, Julian. Won't it be sent to Bettine?†they
clamored.
Julian’s blush betrayed him, and had his thoughts been
known as he left the house they would have confirmed all
suspicion.
“T should think fifty cents ought to buy it,†he meditated,
jingling two quarters in his trousers’ pocket. ‘“I hope,
though, that it won’t be more than forty, for I’d like to get
one of those big fancy letters and put it.on the back of the
envelope. The B’s are beauties. 1 looked at them this
morning.â€
“Why, where is the shop ?†he asked himself, suddenly
stopping awhile after and looking about; “I certainly
27
28 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
thought it was on this block. Oh, no! it’s farther on; I
can see the sign,†as valendznes, in flaming letters, met his
eye beyond the next crossing. “I hope no one has gone off
with the one I’vechosen. They have n’t much of an assort-
ment,†he added, patronizingly, “but those they have are
pretty fair.â€
Julian quickened his pace a trifle at thought of losing the
valentine he had in mind, and it was not long before he stood
directly under the white flag. Bettine’s valentine was in the
window, and it needed but a hasty glance to convince him
that he had not overrated its beauty. He-gave a final jingle
to the two silver coins and started to go into the store, but,
alas! the handle of the door would not turn.
“Jt’s closed,†he cried, disappointedly, as he rattled the
door. “Now, if I’m going to lose that valentine, after all
my trouble!†and he shook the door again.
“Gone away,†said a child’s voice, overhead.
Julian looked up. A pair of blue eyes met his, as a little
German face with fair braids on either side looked down
upon him.
“ There was one accident.†The words came sweet and
broken. “They all go, but they come back.â€
‘“ How soon ?†questioned Julian.
“To-night, for sure. Me to tell everybody.â€
“ Gretchen,†called.a shrill voice, “ vhy you let your head
dangle dere all day? Come right away.â€
JULIAN’S ONE VALENTINE. 29
The little Gretchen called a reply in German, which brought
another face to the window.
‘Vat you vants ?†asked the new-comer of Julian.
‘“A valentine,†he answered; “and I want to be here
when they open the store so that no one will get ahead of
me. When will they get back ?â€
“I can’t tell,†saidthe woman. “Is dot von you vants in
der vindow ?â€
‘““Yes’m,†said Julian, his face falling at the thought that
perhaps the woman intended buying it herself.
“ Vell, Gretchen can come down and you tell her vich you
choose, and we tell dem save it for you.â€
Julian welcomed the proposal, and in a moment more
Gretchen appeared from a door right next the valentine
store, and was at his side.
Now,†began Julian, as they both looked in the window,
“you see that one with the heart and arrow ?â€
“Yes,†nodded Gretchen, “with one little boy with some
gold rings. I tell when they come.â€
“But I don’t want that!†cried Julian, in dismay ; “I just
want you to follow along the line with me. I don’t want
the next one, either; nor the next; but that’s the one I
want. See, with the verse right in the flowers.â€
He turned to Gretchen. She had let go the shawl she
nad been holding under her chin, and stood with her hands
clasped in admiration. ‘‘ Pretty, is n’t it?†said he, watching
30. STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
“’ REMEMBER! I COULD NOT FORGET.â€
her face light up in appreciation, as he supposed, of his se-
lection. ‘ You'll remember the one ?â€
“Remember! I could not forget,†she said, her eyes seem-
ingly intent on the line of valentines.
“Well now, let’s see,†said Julian, turning her gently from
the window, “how many is it from the end?â€
JULIAN’S ONE VALENTINE. 31
“J don’t remember that way,†with a little laugh to think
she could not tell; “but I not forget, for it is right over
the Princess.â€
Julian turned about.
‘‘Do you mean the doll?†he asked. “ Oh, yes; it hangs
right over the doll with light hair ; does n’t it? Well, that’s
as good a way as any to remember. But what did you call
it—the Princess ?â€
“Yes,†said Gretchen, softly, her pretty eyes fixed on the
doll. ‘My Aunt Louisa tell me of the stories, and there
is a princess there like this.â€
Were those tears in her eyes, Julian wondered. Her voice
certainly seemed trembling.
“Gretchen, you come up right away,†called the, voice .
overhead. “You look at dot doll from morning till
night.â€
“Tam coming, Aunt Louisa,†said Gretchen, starting to
go, and taking her eyes unwillingly from the Princess, while
Julian, who found it hard to understand why Marie and
Frances were so fond of their dolls, looked in amazement
at the sad little face beside him.
“You can see it to-morrow, Gretchen,†he said, kindly.
‘“No, this is the last,†was her answer.
“Somebody bought it?†ventured Julian.
‘No; but Aunt Louisa pack one trunk, and we go to-
morrow.â€
325s STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
‘‘Go—where ?†cried Julian.
“ Vaterland,†she said, simply.
Julian knew what she meant. He had heard little Marie’s
nurse speak of home as Vaterland.
‘IT shall see dem all,†said she, laughing softly.
“Your father and mother, you mean,†said Julian. ‘And
do you go to-morrow on the ocean ?â€
Another call came from overhead.
‘“Who shall I say, when one asks me?†said Gretchen, as
if awakened from a dream.
‘Julian Trask. Can you remember? They are to save
it for Julian Trask. Thank you, and good-by,†he called.
‘‘Good-by,†she answered. ‘“‘ Yes, Aunt Louisa, I’m com-
ing now,†he heard her say.
Julian ran down the street. The day was cold, and he
and Gretchen had been standing a long time under the val-
entine flag. Suddenly he stopped. ‘I must think it over,â€
he said, half aloud. “It would make her so happy; but
then
Whatever thought it was that had suggested itself to him,
â€
Julian turned off the direct walk home and went the long way
to consider it. When he reached the house, some time after,
it was with a bright, eager look in his face as he rushed up-
stairs, and there was an amount of whistling as he took down
his bank from the mantel that bespoke his having come to
some very satisfactory conclusion. There was a slip of paper
JULIAN’S ONE VALENTINE. 33
pasted on the small iron bank, which read, Fulean Trask's
watch money.
“But I can wait for the watch,†he was saying as he turned
the key of the bank and dumped its contents on the bed.
“Besides, I would n’t want it if it made me think that
the poor little girl had gone to Fatherland without the
. erincess.«.
He counted the money. There were a few pennies over
two dollars. He seemed disappointed in the amount. Sud-
denly his face brightened as he bethought himself of his
valentine money. He looked at the two bright pieces for
an instant, waveringly, before he threw them in among the
other pieces, then counted them all over. ‘“ Two dollars and
sixty-three cents. Will it be enough, I wonder? Suppose
I could not give it to her, after all!â€
Julian caught himself wondering more than once what his
mother would think of his taking his watch money for any-
thing else, and wishing all the afternoon that she were not
away from home at just this time when he so longed to talk
to her about giving Gretchen the doll; still, something
seemed to tell him she would not disapprove.
He ran up the street after supper, and soon came in sight
of the white flag. He noticed that the shop was lighted, and
that people were going in and out. He looked in the win-
dow. Bettine’s valentine had evidently been saved for him ;
for the one with the gold-winged cupids was hanging over
34 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
the Princess’s head. Julian looked at the Princess now with
as much interest as ever had Gretchen. She was pretty, as
dolls went, he acknowledged, and he could see how a girl
might be very fond of her. The pearl beads in her fluffy
hair, the shining silk, and soft kid boots made Julian realize
how princess-like her wardrobe indeed was, and the old ques-
tion of whether he should have money enough began to
haunt him.
When inside the shop he said:
“Js there a valentine here for Julian Trask ?†addressing
the woman who came forward to wait upon him, and whom
he recognized as the owner of the store.“ But you need n't
get it,†he added hastily as she pulled open a drawer, “I've
decided to get something else.â€
“You can’t find anything prettier,†said the woman, dis-
regarding his ability to judge. “This came in yesterday,
and is one of our finest. You ordered it and you must take
it, for there’s no knowing how many times we might have
- sold it if we had not taken it in.â€
Julian was so taken aback at the thought of his perhaps
being unable to buy the Princess that he did not even men-
tally question the logic of Mrs. Lynch’s statement. Fortu-
nately he said what proved of great interest to her when he
remarked :
“T want something that costs more.â€
“Oh! you do,†said Mrs. Lynch, with great cordiality.
JULIAN’S ONE VALENTINE. 35
‘A box valentine, perhaps,†and she opened the door of
the glass case over which they were talking.
“ The light-haired doll in the window.â€
“Three dollars,†said the woman.
“Three!†echoed Julian, sadly. ‘Then I cannot buy it.â€
“You could not expect it less,†said Mrs. Lynch. “See,â€
and standing in no awe of blood royal, she pulled the Prin-
cess in from the window. ‘‘ Her eyes shut,†at which Mrs.
Lynch sent the Princess into a temporary doze, while she
went on to say: “My daughter dressed her at Christmas
time ; made all her things complete. They all come off and
on, and her dress is silk, and her shoes beautiful soft kid!â€
“T know,†said Julian, dejectedly.
“ How much have you?†asked Mrs. Lynch, preparing to
put the Princess under the valentine again.
“Two dollars and sixty-three cents.â€
Mrs. Lynch’s face so brightened at his answer, that she
must have previously been under the impression that his ex-
chequer fell far short of that sum.
“Ill goask my daughter,†she said hopefully. ‘“ Perhaps
she will put down the price.â€
Mrs. Lynch disappeared through some little lace curtains
at the rear of the store, over which “ICE CREAM †was
lettered, and came back so quickly that Julian feared the
daughter had refused to even listen to the proposal. What
was his delight when Mrs. Lynch said :
36 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
“You may have it at your own price.â€
He believed afterwards that Mrs.. Lynch had suggested
putting the doll in a box, but he never remembered what
words he found in answer. He only knew that he had the
Princess in hisarms. That it was 4z2s—his to give Gretchen !
Julian stood for a while outside, undetermined whether to
rap on the door and ask for Gretchen, or to leave the doll
on the step and run away.
“This is most like a valentine,†he decided, as he wrapped
the paper about the doll and laid it close by the door. ‘And
after I rap I can stand in the dark by those boxes. Oh, if
Gretchen only finds it herself!†was his wish.
He listened. Yes, it was Gretchen coming, or some child,
he knew by the step.
Ah, Gretchen herself, who opened the door, and stood
there with a candle, her little hand protecting the light and
throwing the more in her sweet face as she said, looking
about, ‘‘ Did one knock here ?â€
A paper fluttered at her feet in answer, She set the can-
dlestick .on the floor and bent down. Julian watched her
face. He saw it light up, and heard a low, glad cry, as the
paper blew into the street, and Gretchen pressed the doll to
her breast.
“The Princess—my Princess!†she cried in a choking
voice, pressing the doll closer and half sobbing, ‘‘ Oh, my
Princess!†Then she said something ‘in German, sweet
a
E PRINCESS,—MY PRINCESS
Ty
JULIAN’S ONE VALENTINE. 39
and low, her eyes upraised, her arms still clasped about the
doll.
_ Julian could not understand, but he knew that Gretchen
was very happy, and that the tears in his own eyes were for
joy as well.
Louis's Little Fohke
LOUIS’S LITTLE JOKE.
It was fortunate for Louis that the opportunity for his
little joke fell on April-fools’ Day. But how he could have
had it in his heart to want to fool Esther, as she bustled
around, so bright and happy, tying on her checked apron,
would have seemed beyond explanation, had he not said,
under his breath, a moment before :
“Tll pay her for this!â€
The offense to which he thus referred lay in the fact that
Esther had paid no attention to the request which he had
shouted to her, as he saw her take a telegram from a mes-
senger at the gate :
“Let me see. it, Esther! How many of them are
coming?â€
But straight she flew to the house, and into the kitchen,
exclaiming :
‘‘Oh, Becky! Five of them, and they’ll be here for sup-
per. I can sit at the head, can’t I, Becky? And you'll
43
44. STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
‘* Let ME SEE IT, ESTHER!â€
make chocolate for me to serve, won't
you? And oh! dear Becky, please,
please can’t I make the custard ?â€
«Bress your heart, yes,†said Re-
becca ; “ an’ Becky ‘Il make you what-
ever you want. An’ de blue set ob
china?†she-asked, a moment later.
“Oh, yes, Becky-—they re so pretty ;
and the little crystal cups for my cus-
tard, so ’t will show through.†And
she danced merrily about the room.
“Where's that telegram ?†demanded Louis, nearly out of
LOUIS’S LITTLE JOKE. 45
breath from his sudden descent of a tree and rapid run for
the house.
“There, on the table, Louis. I could n’t stop, I was in
such a hurry to tell Becky,†explained Esther, as she broke
some eggs and carefully separated whites and yolks. ‘It’s
going to be my supper, Louis, and I’m going to have
“JT don’t care for your supper,†growled Louis. “ And
I’m going to pay you, before the day ’s over, for not letting
me see that telegram at first.â€
“ Oh, Louis! please do not play any more tricks on me,â€
pleaded his cousin. “1 told Becky first, because I knew
she’d take more interest in my supper. What do boys care
how things are made? They ’d rather go fishing or y
But Louis interrupted her with :
“Never mind the fishing, though I suppose you'll harp
on it for years.â€
“How harp on it ?†asked Esther, still intent on her eggs.
“Miss Innocence doesn’t know, then, that the fellows
said they ’d stop for me when they went to the mill-pond to-
day, and then all dashed by the house, waving their baskets
and not giving me achance to get in ae
The egg-beater rested on the edge of the bowl.
«“ Why, how selfish, Louis! I saw them waving, and
waved back at them from the piazza, but I didn’t know you
expected them to stop.â€
“You waved back at them?†demanded Louis, almost
46 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
‘frantically. ‘ That’s just like a girl! And now they ‘ll
think you understood the joke, and like enough you did.â€
“Was it a joke?†asked Esther, opening wide her large
gray eyes.
" «Then Miss Innocence probably does n’t know this is the
first of April ?â€
But Esther had every reason to know it. From the mo-
ment that Louis had shouted “ April-fool !†when she called
to Becky, “I can’t get my sleeve on—it’s all twisted,†to
the time that she found her knife and fork sewed to the
table-cloth at dinner, the morning had been a series of sim-
ilar shouts from Louis Perkins.
« She’s the best one to play tricks on,†he kept saying to
himself, “ Never suspects, no matter what a fellow does!â€
“I don’t believe in cruel jokes,†said Esther, slowly—“ any-
thing that will make anybody else feel hurt ; do you, Louis ?â€
“Oh, you’re very careful of other people's feelings ; we
all know that,†said Louis, tantalizingly, as he slammed the
kitchen door.
“Now, I ought to go and entertain him,†thought the for-
bearing Esther. “I'll take my eggs out on the porch and
beat them there. Louis!†she called, ‘‘ come and whittle
here, won't you, and let’s talk about the fun when the folks
come ?â€
“If Howard comes, I don’t care about the rest,†said
Louis, apparently in better humor. ‘He's the only one
LOUIS’S LITTLE JOKE. 47
who likes fun. Take care, Essie, youll spill them!†cried
Louis, warningly, as Esther. turned the platter of beaten
whites upsidedown.
“No, I won't,†laughed Esther, merrily ; “that shows
they ’re done.â€
“They don’t keep in that shape, do they?†asked Louis,
showing interest despite himself.
‘They would keep just like this for hours, but it’s better
to let them rest on boiling water for a moment,†said the
little housekeeper, as she held a ‘‘ floating island†aloft on
the beater. ‘Isn't it pretty?â€
Louis vouchsafed no answer. Had those snowy blankets
not been swinging’on the clothes-line, his thoughts, perhaps,
would not have run in the channel they did. But Rebecca
had been washing, and he had noticed her tubs on the back
piazza. They were covered with a foam so firm one could
have sliced it with a knife. Louis had taken a handful of it
and found that it did not liquefy or “dissolve.†When he:
saw Esther making the merzngue, its resemblance to the
foam on the suds struck him, and another thought was in
his mind as well, when he went back on the piazza again to
see if the suds had lost all form.
No there they were, just as they had appeared an hour be-
fore. Rebecca was still making preparations for the expected
guests and had not taken the time to empty the tubs.
“ All of which shows,†thought the bad boy, “that I can
48 : STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
“puta platterful of this.in place of.what Essie has made, and
have it go on the table. Imagine the faces they’ll make!
Essie won’t know what the matter is, and Becky will be so
bothered ! It will be the best joke yet! I think Essie ’ll let
me read telegrams first after this,†and he walked off for a
moment to plan it all out.
‘Oh, no; I don’t put it on till the very last thing,†said
the unsuspecting Esther, in answer to his question. ‘I shall
run down cellar just before supper, and put a little of the
froth on top of each custard; and you know, Louis, we’re
going to use the little crystal glasses! ’T will be just as nice
’ as though Mamma were here, won’t it, Becky ?â€
“If Rebecca’s suds don’t last, I can make some more with
the same soap while they ’re all visiting,†thought Louis,
“and run down with them just before supper. And to think
that Es will put it on herself, that ’ll be the best of all! But
suppose she were to taste it? Well, even if she should, it
would be a good fool, for they’d have to dance around
pretty lively and make some more; but I hope she does n’t
find it out till she tastes it at supper. Won't it be rich to
watch her! She.won’t know what is wrong, and if any of
the company discover a queer taste they won't say anything,
but they ’ll stop eating rather suddenly, Ill venture! And
Essie, what will she think to see them all steering clear of
those custards, after she’s been most of the afternoon mak-
ing ’em!†And with such thoughts Louis tried to put
LOUIS'S LITTLE JOKE. 49
aside the picture that rose before him, of the pretty cousin
who danced around the kitchen in the small checked apron,
and to think only of Esther’s having refused to let him read
the telegram when he had asked to see it.
The afternoon stage brought the four cousins and Aunt
Jo, amid much rejoicing.
Esther received them all so prettily, and said so deferen-
tially to Louis, “‘ You’ll see to the baggage?†using a tone
that, in its recognition of him as the man of the house, made |
so evident an impression on the younger cousins, that he
almost began to wish he had not saved that dish of suds.
Then, too, he overheard Esther, as she was getting out
the rackets for tennis, say to Howard:
‘Beware of Louis! He plays splendidly. Serves balls
that bound every way but the one you’re prepared for. He
gives me odds and beats me too, and had never played till
he came South, three weeks ago. Where has he gone?
Louis!†and her clear voice rang over the lawn.
“T’ll be there in a minute. Let Howard get used to the
ground,†answered Louis, which suggestion struck them all
as being very generous.
How pretty Esther looked! Lotiis could see from ‘his
window her bright, happy face, as she darted hither and
thither after the balls. After all, would his little joke pay?
What was there to be so vexed about, now that he thought
it all over ?
4
“£9 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
“Well, I wouldn't .
give it up after I di.
gone so far,†said a
bad voice within;
“you said you ’d pay her
for not letting you see that tele-
gram.†.
He stole down into the cellar.
He could hear Rebecca overhead |:
singing, “ Oh, Dearest May,†as
she set the table. There was
Esther’s meringue on a small
platter. He slid it off and out
of the little cellar-window, put
the suds’ foam in its place, and
went noiselessly up the stairs.
Rebecca was prolonging the re-
frain of “‘ Lubly as the Day,†so
he felt sure she could not have
heard him.
They all went in to supper
soon after. .
“It’s just as well,†thought
Esther, as she looked at the
custards, ‘“‘that Becky put the
HE SLID IT OFF AND OUT OF THE
LITTLE CELLAR-WINDOW,:
meringueon. Shealways makes
LOUIS’S LITTLE JOKE. 5
it look prettier than I do. Still, I wanted to have done it all
myself,†and she sighed to think she should have seen the
custards all ready on the table, when she was just going
down cellar to put that bit of fluffy white on each herself.
And what were Louis’s thoughts as he looked at the crys-
tal cups?
“Well, who ’d ever think of i: being suds? I’m going to
taste my own, to be sure of it.â€
He did so, and no doubt was left in his mind that he little
joke on Esther was going to be a success.
He fancied, as he glanced stealthily around the table,
that Rebecca was watching him, and that one of her great
smiles overspread her face as he took that taste of his
custard.
“T say, Howard,†he said to his cousin, “yousay you think
my two big agates are so handsome, I'll put one of them up
on a wager. If you eat all of your custard inside of a min-
ute, I 'Il give you your choice !â€
“Why, you'll lose, Louis. Those-glasses are tqo small to
hold much. I’m willing to try thirty seconds. There would
be some fun in it then.â€
“ All right,†chuckled Louis, “I ’Il time you,†as ihe drew
out his watch. ;
In even less than the half-minute Howard set down his
empty glass with:
«Where ’s the agate ? I ’Il take the blue-and-gold oneâ€
52 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
Louis regarded him with astonishment.
«“ How did it taste?†he asked, under his breath.
“Excellent! Could n’t judge very well, though, because
I had to eat it so fast.â€
“Do you know what you’ve been eating?†was Louis's
next question, as he handed him the chosen agate. ‘‘ Soap-
suds !â€
‘ Soap-suds!†echoed Howard, questioningly. ‘“ What do
you mean ?â€
“Hush !†cautioned Louis, proceeding in a half-whisper
to give him an insight into the joke he-was.playing on Esther.
“But if they don’t taste bad,†he admitted, ‘‘’t is n’t going
to be much of a joke.â€
“JT declare, Louis, I would n’t have thought you so mean!
I’m glad you could n't spoil ’em, and evidently you have n't,
for they ’re all being eaten.â€
Not only were the custards being eaten, but Aunt Jo was
praising them, and Esther blushing with pleasure !
What could it mean? Was there any mistake?
Louis tasted his own again, and made a wry face after it,
and there was no doubt in his mind this time that Rebecca
was laughing at him.
‘What is going on at that end of the table?†asked Aunt
Jo. ‘You two boys seem very much absorbed in something.â€
‘‘Massa Louis is in de suds,†said Rebecca.
Louis flushed crimson as he darted an angry glance at
LOUIS’S LITTLE JOKE 53
Rebecca’s face, wreathed in smiles; while Howard, who had
watched him taste his custard, laughed outright.
Louis left the table soon after, Howard with him, to whom
he gave the other agate as he begged him to promise that
he would never breathe a word of the joke to any one.
He little knew that Rebecca was telling the others at the
table, concluding her narrative with a hearty laugh and this
explanation :
“ J knowed Massa Louis steal down dat cellar for no good !
Z foun’ out his soap-suds ; and den / make de new meringue
for all de cups ‘cept Massa Louis's. He hab to eat ob de
fruits ob de result !â€
‘But, Becky,†said Esther, as she went up-stairs that
night,—Rebecca leading the way and still laughing at Louis's
discomfiture,—“ if you had only given Louis a good custard,
too, he would have understood that verse in the Bible about
‘heaping coals of fire.’â€
« Bress your heart, chile,†said Rebecca, never at loss for
an answer, “’pears to me it ’s jes’ as important dat he under-
stan’ de meanin’ ob de verse ’bout de man dat made a pit an’
digged it, and den falls in de ditch hisself !â€
bow the Boys Fooled Uncle
Budge
HOW THE BOYS FOOLED UNCLE
BUDGE.
Rick and Karl always spent a week in the spring at
Uncle Budge’s.
It had chanced for two or three years that they were
there on All-fools’ Day, and at the end of the last visit
Uncle Budge, on leaving them at the cars, had urged them
to come on for the same time the next year, adding, “ If you
succeed in fooling me then, I'll give you each a gold piece.â€
Uncle Budge as completely forgot having made such an
offer, five minutes after the boys had waved their hats in
good-by, as though there were no April-fool Days and no
gold pieces in the world.
But not so with the Barnes boys. Gold pieces were not
so plenty with them that they would be apt to let such an
offer pass in one ear and out of the other. Already seats
at the circus, fishing-rods, and skates were in wild confusion
in their brains.
57
58 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
“A whole year to think up something!†said Rick.
“T don’t believe there’s a bit of use in trying,†anwered
Karl. ‘“ We’ve come to the conclusion no end of times that
we can’t fool Uncle Budge, and we can’t. That’s all there
is about it.†:
‘No harm in trying,†ventured the not easily discouraged
Rick, thinking how often he had admired the gold dollar on
Chan Holmes’s watch chain. ‘“ Let’s try anyway.â€
So next April-fools’ Day finding them at Uncle Budge’s,
Karl and Rick were tiptoeing about very early. They
spread the Berkville Morning Argus of April 1, the pre-
vious year,—which they had slipped out of Uncle Budge’s
file the day before,—out on the floor, sprinkled some water
over it, folded it carefully, and Karl went quietly down-
stairs, opened the side door, laid the paper there, and took
up-stairs the Avgus that the carrier had just thrown. |
About an hour afterward the breakfast-bell rang, and the
boys went down-stairs. There lay the paper by Uncle
Budge’s plate, which caused so preternaturally solemn an
expression to come over their faces that Aunt Budge was
quite worried. ,
‘Now J hope you’re not getting homesick,†she said to
Karl; ‘I know there’s not much goin’ on for you, as is
used to a large family and a good deal of noise; stillâ€â€”in
a more cheerful tone—‘ we'll think of something after I’ve
done up my work.â€
HOW THE BOVS FOOLED UNCLE BUDGE. 59
An amused smile played about Rick’s lips, to hide which
he leaned his head on his hand.
‘‘- Your toothache ain’t come on again, Richard ?†inquired
Aunt Budge, sympathetically.
“Oh, I’m all right,†said one, while the other assured
Aunt Budge that he didn’t want to go home a bit, and was
having the best sort of a time.
“Uncle Budge has gone over to Wilson’s,†said Aunt
Budge, “but may be in any minute. He left word not to
wait breakfast. Can you reach the Argus, Kar] ?.â€
“Well, well,†began Aunt Budge, “if another of those
Wilkinses isn’t married! Amanda J. Why, now, I was
thinking that Amanda went last year; but no, come to
think, it was Alvira. It does seem that just as reg’lar as
spring comes round, off one on’em goes. Now Amanda
â€
is
But Aunt Budge’s dissertation was cut short by a chok-
ing scene, in which Rick pounded his brother with such
force on the back that it was a wonder they heard the front
door open at all.
“There’s Uncle Budge,†said Rick, hurriedly. ‘Don’t
tell him anything you ’ve noticed in the dvgus, Aunt Budge,
or he’ll suspect.â€
‘Suspect !†echoed Aunt Budge, her mind still on the
Wilkinses. ‘‘ Suspect !â€
“Sh—sh!†implored Karl. ‘It’s a fool, Aunt Budge.
60 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
Help us to carry it out. Last year’s paper—don’t you
see?â€
“Well, well, I declare!†said Aunt Budge, as the real
state of the case flashed over her. ‘ Then,†collecting oC
thoughts, “I was right about its being Amanda, and
But Aunt Budge interrupted herself by laughing so heartily
that the boys found themselves compelled to join her,
though it appeared from the conversation, when Uncle
“Budge came to breakfast, that Aunt Budge had been re-
counting some of the boys’ pranks of years before.
“ How old was I then?†asked Karl. ‘I mustn't forget
to ask mamma when I get home, if she remembers it.â€
Uncle Budge seated himself, and asked for the paper.
He squinted at the date as Karl held it toward him, and
then said: “I believe I’d rather have a little younger paper
than that.â€
“Well, now !†exclaimed Aunt Budge, admiringly. “ And
he never so much as took it in his hand.â€
“We can't fool Uncle Budge,†said Karl, uttering each
word slowly. ‘That may as well pass into a proverb, It
can ot be done.â€
“J’m not so sure. We’re not through trying yet, you
know,†put in Rick, with a peculiar look at his brother.
Karl motioned him aside after breakfast.
“ What did you mean?†he asked.
“That I’ve an idea. Just listen.†And a great many
HOW THE BOYS FOOLED UNCLE BUDGE. 61
questions and answers were exchanged in a hurried under-
tone.
“ Grand—if it will work. Then we must be all ready by
the time he comes down-stairs ?â€
‘Yes, and before that send a telegram to the boys.â€
“The boys†meant Hal and Jack Putnam; “a tele-
gram,†a note pinned to the string that went round a wooden
peg at one of the Budgett windows, and another at the
Putnams’.
“Why?†queried Karl.
“You'll see,†replied Rick, as he hastily pencilled :
“Be on the look-out for Uncle Budge. B.S.â€
The telegram came as the Putnam boys were breakfasting,
and Jack laughed as he read it aloud.
“What is the fun?†asked Mrs. Putnam. ‘And how
strange it is I cannot remember those boys’names. Which
one, now, is it that signs himself ‘B. S.’ De
“Neither,†laughed the boys, merrily. ‘“‘B. S.’ means
‘Big Show.’ An April-fool on Mr. Budgett.â€
‘And must n’t be missed,†added Hal. “Jane, please tell
us when you see Mr. Budgett come down street.â€
Jane went into the kitchen, where she hurriedly told the
cook that Mr. Budgett would probably be coming down town
soon, with “ April-fool†chalked on his back.
“Ve don’t mane it!†cried the interested Bridget. ‘Oh,
thim byes! thim byes!†and she flew after the departing
62 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
milkman with the news, omitting, however, the word
“ probably.â€
But to return to Mr. Budgett. Just as he was putting on
his coat, he heard whispers of,
“ He’s going, Karl, as sure as I’m alive!â€
“And has n’t noticed it. Well, that’s too good.â€
“ He’s looking in the glass now.â€
« Sh—sh ! don’t make so much noise.â€
“He sees it, I’m sure, or he’d have gone long ago.â€
“Sh—sh! can’t you?†| ;
Mr. Budgett heard it all. “I believe I’ve left my pocket-
book,†he said, half aloud, as he turned to go up-stairs.
“It’s all up now,†said Karl, vexedly.
“Maybe not. Keep dark.â€
“Couldn’t very well do otherwise under these coats.
Why doesn’t he go? I’m smothering.†|
This decided Mr. Budgett. Up he went, and with Aunt
Budge’s hand-glass and the mirror took a complete survey.
“Did you find it?†called Aunt Budge, as he came down
again.
“Yes,†from Uncle Budge, who was listening for more
whispers.
“We'll open the window, and watch him down the
street.â€
“Sh—sh! How the Putnams will stare!â€
A suppressed giggle followed.
mt?
M ALIV.
AS SURE As I’
S GOING, KaRL,
HE
HOW THE BOYS FOOLED UNCLE BUDGE. 65
The shutting of the front door. was a signal for the
boys to rush wildly out of the hall closet into the dining-
room, where Aunt Budge was hovering over the breakfast
dishes.
‘What is it?†cried Aunt Budge, putting on her glasses.
“Oh, what red faces! Did you get shut in?â€
“We're fooling Uncle Budge,†said Rick, breathlessly.
‘‘He promised us each a gold piece if we could,†and he
dashed up-stairs after Karl.
As Mr. Budgett turned the corner they raised the window
cautiously, but not too quietly for Uncle Budge. He heard
but did not look up, though he began to feel a little ill at
ease as he walked along, and no less so when the milkman,
who was dashing away from the Putnams’, reined in his horse
very noticeably, nudged the small boy on the side of the
wagon, and both looked curiously at him.
“There is certainly something wrong,†decided Mr. Bud-
gett ; “though I didn’t think those little rascals would make
a spectacle of me. - And look atthe Putnams !†he exclaimed
aloud.
Well might he stop in surprise. There was Mrs. Putnam
standing in. the doorway, with Abby and Sarah on tiptoe be-
side her; the two boys at a large upper window, poking each
other and giggling audibly; Mr. Putnam at a third, appar-
ently consulting a thermometer but looking down at Mr.
Budgett as though he possessed far more interest for him
5
66 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
than any degree on the indicator ; and lastly, Jane and Bridget
on the side stoop, gazing as though he were a candidate for
Barnum’s.
Uncle Budge turned abruptly and started for home. He
walked a few steps then looked furtively behind him. His
feelings may be imagined at discovering that the milkman
had stopped his horse, and that the small boy had dismounted
and was running quietly after him, but stopped as he noticed
Mr. Budgett glance around.
Uncle Budge continued his way. He passed by the side
gate, appearing not to notice the boys hanging out of an up-
per window, slowly turned the corner, and went in at the front
door. :
“Polly, what’s the matter with me?†he asked, walking
into the dining-room, where Aunt Budge was drying her
coffee-cups. ‘All Berkville is agog.â€
“ Berkville agog!†cried Aunt Budge, inspecting Mr.
Budgett critically. ‘I’m sure I don’t know over what.
However, the boys are up to something, for they said as
much.â€
‘Of course they are,†agreed Uncle Budge; “but can’t
you take it off, Polly? It’s on my back, I guess.â€
“Something alive!†screamed Aunt Budge. ‘Why
don’t you shake yourself, Jacob ?â€
Uncle Budge laughed heartily.
“Tt would be as well,†advised Aunt Budge, “‘ to give ’em
ED BY THE SIDE GATE,
HE PASss
HOW THE BOVS FOOLED UNCLE BUDGE. 69
the gold at once, for they ‘Il play the trick, Jacob, whatever
it is, on you till you do.â€
‘Give them the gold!†exclaimed Uncle Budge, wonder-
ingly. “My dear Polly, what do you mean ?†.
‘“They say you promised ’em each a gold pee last ey
if they’d come on and fool you this.â€
“Tl did?â€â€”~with still more surprise in his voice—‘ I did?
Pon my word I’d forgotten it. Well, well,†producing the
purse that Polly had knitted for him years ago, ‘‘ Where
are the rascals?†Then going to the stairs, “ Rick and
Karl, come down here!†he called, with an affected stern-
ness in his voice. ‘ The idea of your daring to make a guy
of your old uncle!â€
~« We have n’t made'a guy of you,†said the boys, rushing
down; “and it isn’t a mean fool at all, Uncle Budge, for it’s
really nothing.â€
“Nothing!†echoed Aunt Budge. ‘“ Why is everybody
staring, then ?â€
‘Only the Putnams,†they explained. ‘We sent a tele-
gram to the boys
‘Telling them what?†interrupted Uncle Budge. ‘Not |
all about it, I hope?â€
‘‘No; merely to be on the look-out for you.â€
“You don’t mean it!†chuckled Uncle Budge; ‘and
that whole family is fooled from garret to cellar, milkman
included. Well, well, pretty good, pretty good. You de-
70 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
serve a reward, boys, for there’ll be few tricks played to-day
that'll end as pleasantly as this. It’s the right kind of one,
_ and the more of that sort the merrier.â€
‘‘ Beauties, ain’t they ?†cried Aunt Budge, admiringly, as
the boys laid their gold pieces on the table where the sun
came streaming in, and called her to look at them.
“Seems to me,†said Karl, “they ’re bigger than Chan
Holmes’s.
“His has worn down, perhaps,†said Rick, spinning his
P ’ g
glittering coin. “Why, look here! what’s this? ‘Two
and a half D.’â€
‘No you don’t,†answered Karl, knowingly. “I’m too
well posted on the day of the month.â€
‘Well, I know these are two-dollar-and-a-half pieces,â€
cried Rick, snatching his hat, “and I’m off to thank Uncle
Budge for zs fool,†and away he went, and Karl after him
when he found that it was true.
Susie Ringman’s Decision
SUSIE KINGMAN’S DECISION.
CHAPTER I.
“T’m getting to quite like papa’s present,†said Susie King-
man, as she thoughtfully turned over a leaf of her Sz/ent
Comforter, ‘though I dd want a ring awfully, and expected
one as much as could be; but then this is much better, for
it teaches mesomething. I ’ve learned ever so many verses
already, for it’s the first thing my eyes open upon in the
morning, and every time I come into the room I uncon-
sciously read over the text for the day. Let me see—yes,
to-day is the 20th.†And having put back the leaf num-
bered nineteen, she read, ‘“‘‘ Be kindly affectioned one to
another with brotherly love; in honor preferring one an-
other.’ ‘In honor preferring one another,’†she repeated
musingly—‘‘‘in honor preferring one another.’ I don’t
exactly see what that means. I believe I'll look in the
Commentary before I go to breakfast, for if it ’s to be my
verse for the day, I ought to understand it at the beginning.â€
73
74 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
The breakfast bell rang as Susie descended the stairs, so
she hastened into her father’s study, and taking from the
book-case the volume she wanted, turned over the leaves
until Romans xii., 10, was reached.
“Yes, here is an explanation of the very words, ‘In honor
preferring one another.’†And she read, half aloud: “‘ The
meaning appears to be this: consider all your brethren as
more worthy than yourself, and let neither grief nor envy
affect your mind at seeing another honored and yourself
neglected. This is a hard lesson, and very few persons
learn it thoroughly.’ â€
Susie paused with her finger on the words, saying: ‘I
hope I shall be one of the few that learn it. I just wish
I had a chance to show that I felt glad to have some one
honored; but â€â€”less confidently—‘* I don’t know as I should
care to be neglected. No, that would bea great deal harder.â€
Then exclaiming, as she went on, “ Why, this writer says the
very same thing: ‘If we wish to see our brethren honored,
still it is with the secret condition in our own minds that we
,))
be honored more than they. Susie slowly closed the book,
saying, “It’s perfectly clear to me now;†then as baby’s
voice, heralding the approach of the others, was heard on
the stairs, she replaced the book and joined them.
An hour later she might have been seen on her way to
school, taking a last look at one of her lessons as she walked
along, and so occupied with her book as not to notice a
HE May QUEEN,
.
SUSTE KINGMAN’S DECISION. 17
group on the school steps waving handkerchiefs and beck-
oning her to hasten. At last, as she still read on, the eager
girls, too impatient to wait until she reached them, with one
accord darted down the street to meet her.
Josie Thorp playfully snatched away her book, exclaim-
ing, “No more studying for you until you ’ve heard the
news !â€
« How can you speak so disrespectfully to Her Majesty?â€
laughed another; at which the rest, following the last speak-
er’s example, made low courtesies to the bewildered Susie,
who a moment before had been deep in the grammar rules.
«What do you mean, girls?†she wonderingly stammered,
looking at Sadie Folger, who was kissing her hand in mock
solemnity, and then at the others, still courtesying and say-
ing, “ Your Majesty.†‘Seems to me you ‘re in fine spirits
for Friday. I believe you ’ve all got excused from compo-
sition class. Tell me. What is it? Has Mr. Gorham given
us a holiday ?â€
“ Better than that!†they exclaimed, in one voice.
“Don’t keep me in suspense,†pleaded Susie.
“Tt ’s too good to keep,†said Sadie ; “but still, girls, we
must tell it by degrees.†Then, to Susie, ‘Well, we ’re
going to have a May party!â€
“A May party! Splendid! Who
“ And,†broke in one of the others, wondering if Susie’s
face could look any brighter, “you are to be our Queen.â€
78 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
“Your Queen! Are you in earnest?†she cried, her eyes
dancing with delight. ‘“ Whose party is it, and how do you
know I’m to be Queen ?â€
“Because we ’re all going to vote for you,†they answered,
ignoring the first part of the question. So Susie repeated :
‘‘ But whose party is it? who is getting it up?â€
“All the teachers. We left Mr. Gorham talking to Miss
Hyde and the rest. They had a meeting at half-past eight,
and we five happened to be here early; so after they had
decided the matter, they told us one or two things, and be-
fore recess Mr. Gorham will tell the whole school.â€
‘‘ But,†said Susie, a trifle doubtfully, ‘then it’s not cer-
tain I’m to be Queen?â€
“Just as good as certain,†said Stella Morris, ‘‘ for the
choice is between Florence Tracy and yourself. Mr. Gor-
ham says you stand exactly the same—three marks against
each—and that the way to decide it will be by vote this
afternoon.â€
‘‘Tam sure you ll have every vote,†said Josie, confidently,
“for we scarcely know Florence Tracy. She’s so quiet, and
does n’t seem to care for anything but study. Not that I
dislike her at all, for she’s always pleasant enough ; but still—
she 7s n't like you,†and she took Susie’s arm in undisguised
admiration.
Susie was an acknowledged favorite, and it is needless to
say she enjoyed this school-girl homage. Others had joined
SUSIE KINGMAN’S DECISION. 19
the group since they commenced talking, and each in turn
had said, “You are sure of my vote, Sue.â€
“Thank you all,†she answered, looking around grate-
fully. “I’m half in a dream. It seems too good to be
true.â€
“T’ve just: been having another talk with Miss Hyde,â€
called Sadie, bounding down the walk. ‘‘ She knows more
about it than any of the others, I guess, for she saw a May-
day celebration at some place on the Hudson last summer.
Every one in the school is to take part. The primary class
is to dance round a May-pole; and then there are to be gar-
land-bearers and maids-of-honor, so we'll all be something ;
but of course Susie will have the highest honor.â€
Susie’s happy look of a moment before was gone. That
word honor had set her thinking.
«What is the matter?†asked Sadie, mistaking the cause of
her changed expression. ‘‘ Don’t you want us to be in it?â€
“Want you to be in it! Of course I do,†cried Susie.
“You must think me a monster of selfishness. I only wish
you could all be queens.â€
_“ Weare satisfied to be your subjects,†said Sadie, putting
her arm around Susie, as they all started by twos and threes
for the school, as the bell was ringing.
“I wish I’d never seen that verse,†thought Susie, not
heeding Sadie’s chatter, as they went up the walk. “ It’s
just going to spoil the whole thing.â€
80 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
“Here comes Florence Tracy,†remarked Sadie, asa
carriage stopped at the foot of the walk, and a young girl
alighted. ‘Do you know, Susie, I don’t believe she has a
good time at all, if she does drive to school, and live in the
handsomest house in town. I fancy her uncle isn’t very
kind to her, for she never seems very happy. Just look;
don’t you think she has a sad face?â€
“] don’t know,†answered Susie, anxious to change the
subject. “ Isn’t the parsing hard to-day ? Miss Page gives
such long lessons !â€
But Sadie was far too interested in Squire Tracy’s spirited
horses, with their gilded harness to turn her thoughts to dis-
cussing the length or difficulty of any lesson.
“Wouldn’t I like to jump in!†she exclaimed. “It’s
just the morning for a drive.†Then, in a lower tone:
‘Strange that Florence never asks any of the girls. There’s
room for four, yet every afternoon she goes for hours all
alone.â€
“ Hush!†cautioned Susie ; ‘she ’s right behind us.â€
Florence joined them with a good-morning, and the three
went up the steps together, Susie and Florence stopping a
moment on the porch to talk over a troublesome sentence
in the parsing.
“T know she didn’t hear you,†said Susie, in answer to
Sadie’s anxious question as she passed her seat, ‘‘for she is
as pleasant as can be.â€
SUSIE KINGMAN’S DECISION. 81
‘Perhaps she woudd invite us,†said Sadie, striving to
make amends for her hasty speech, “ if the Squire would let
her. Poor girl! I really pity her.â€
Susie took her seat, and glanced across at Florence’s.
“She does look sad,†she was forced to acknowledge ; ‘but
then deep mourning makes almost every one look so. Sadie
is always getting up things to make one uncomfortable ;â€
and she tried to busy herself in arranging her desk, and so
forget the sad face opposite. ‘I’m sure she has everything
money can buy. Still I would n’t exchange places with her for
all her pretty things, though I did think yesterday I’d give
anything for that watch she wore. But then think of baby!
How cunning she was this morning !—worth more than all
the watches in the world!†and Susie almost felt the little
arms about her neck.
6
CHAPTER II.
The morning passed as usual, with the exception that just
before recess Mr. Gorham stated that he had a few words
to say to the school, and begged the closest attention. It
was needless to ask that, for every eye was already fixed upon
the speaker, and every face betokened the liveliest interest
in what he was about to say.
In a few words Mr. Gorham unfolded the May-party pro-
ject, said the honor of Queen would be given to the one
who stood first in her classes, and as having looked over the
records he found two of the pupils, Miss Florence Tracy
and Miss Susie Kingman, ranked equally high, a vote would
be taken before close of school to decide the matter. He
then referred the girls to Miss Hyde to find out about their
costumes, and finished by setting the twentieth of June, the
last day of school, for the /ée, then struck the bell.
The buzzing of voices that followed! Among the many
exclamations one might have heard :
“Tt’s really a fume party!â€
‘All the better, for we never could wear thin dresses out-
of-doors in May !â€
82
SOSIEL KINGMAN’ S DECISION. 83
‘The best kind of a way to end up school !â€
“Why, girls, it will be just a month from to-day. Let’s
find Miss Page and learn all the particulars.†_
At this proposal quite a number went into the recitation-
room, but Susie, with her eyes on Florence’s sad face, seemed
chained to her seat.
‘‘T must decide now,†she was thinking, “No; Lcan not
give it up. I gave up to Dick this morning, and that’s
enough for one day. Then, too, it’s Friday, visitors’ day,
and I should just like to show them how well I stand. And
when papa hears of my success he will be delighted; he
always is when he thinks I’m getting on well in my lessons.
Oh, no; I can not, can not give it up! Of course I shall
vote for Florence, and that’s all I can be expected to do.
I haven’t asked the girls to vote for me, and I’m not sup-
posed to know anything about it.â€
“But you do know about it,†said an inward voice. ‘You
know, moreover, that you can make Florence very happy,
and that it will not affect your standing in the least.â€
“Oh, dear!†sighed Susie: ‘I suppose I'll have to give
it up, but I can wait until after the votes are counted, and
then say I prefer Florence to have the place.â€
“Ah!†interposed the voice again, “ your idea is ‘to be
seen of men.’ There is no charity in that, and, besides,
how would Florence feel to be so patronized? If you give
it up at all, do it entirely and cheerfully.â€
84 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
“Oh, I can not, I really cannot. It will be lovely to have
all the girls for my subjects, to be waited on by them, and
pass under their garlands. Why does every word I read
this morning in the Commentary keep coming into my mind,
about one’s being willing to have another honored if one
can be more honored one’s self? How exactly that applies
to my giving up to Florence after being elected myself ; and
then that ‘In honor preferring one another’ has been running
in my head all the morning. III just stop thinking about
it, and go into Miss Page’s room with the rest, and talk over
the dresses. That reminds me. That lovely one I had
made in the fall for Cousin Clara’s wedding—I believe it
will be the very thing.†And she hastily went down the
passage between two rows of desks. |
Florence caught her hand as she went by, and said: “I
know the question is as good as decided, Susie, and I shall
hail you as our Queen as gladly as any other of your
friends.â€
Susie tried to thank her, but the words would not come;
and instead of going into Miss Page’s room, she took an
opposite direction to a vacant one, used for certain meet-
ings, and there she sat down at one of the desks, saying:
‘‘Only ten minutes left me.â€
‘There were tears in Susie’s eyes; in fact, one or two had
rolled down her cheeks, when she slowly said, “I’ve de-
cided,†and on looking toward the door saw Sadie.
SUSTE KINGMAWN’S DECISION, 85
“You ’re the one I want,†said Susie, trying to speak in
her usual tones. ‘1 was just going for you.â€
Sadie noticed her tear-streaked cheeks and effort to speak
cheerfully, so hastened to say, comfortingly :
“ Don’t worry an instant; it’s just as I said; every girl
in the school will vote for you.â€
‘ONLY TEN MINUTES LEFT ME,â€
“That ’s just what they must n’t do,†said Susie, earnestly.
“Oh, Sadie! do promise you'll make me very happy by
not voting for me.â€
“ Not voting for you!†cried the astonished girl. “What
do you mean?â€
86 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
‘Hush, Sadie! somebody will hear you. I mean /hzs-:
that you must get all the votes you can for Florence. It
will make me a thousand times happier than to be Queen .
myself ; and just think of Florence! . You said yourself. she
never looks happy, and now we'll all unite to make her so.â€
“Oh, Susie,†said Sadie, after a moment’s pause, “how
good you are to propose such a thing, and how Florence
will love you for it!†7
“No, no!†protested Susie. “Sadie, of all things, Flor-
ence must never know, never even suspect; that would spoil
it all.â€
“I’m so bewildered!†said Sadie. ‘‘ What caz we do in
the few minutes left? As you say, how delighted Florence
will be! but I never could have given it up, Susie—
never |â€
“Oh, yes you could, if you knew how great the joy was
that followed,†said Susie, simply. “I wonder now that I
hesitated a moment.â€
They both went among the different groups of girls, and
there was more whispering than ever, and numberless ex-
pressions of wonder, always silenced by ‘“‘ Hush! Florence
will hear, and she must never know.†The ringing of the
bell put an end to all, and the scholars were soon in their
seats. |
Sadie asked permission to speak. Mr. Gorham smiled,
knowing she had been talking every moment for the past
half-hour, nevertheless he granted it.
SUSTE KINGMAWN’S DECISION. 87
She leaned over and whispered to Susie: ‘Ten or twelve
girls went out to walk at recess, and haven't heard the new
plan.â€
‘“Never mind,†returned Susie. ‘It will seem all the
more natural to have a divided vote.â€
The usual Friday visitors now began to come in to listen
to the readings and recitations that always took place on
the last school afternoon of the week, and among them was
one who had never before presented himself—Squire Tracy.
“All the better,†whispered Sadie, forgetting in her ex-
citement that her permission to speak had long since expired.
And Susie signaled a ‘“‘yes†in reply.
After the weekly exercises were over, Mr. Gorham ex-
plained to the new-comers about the May-party, gave the
names of the two scholars for whom votes were to be cast,
and then handed each of the forty girls a slip of paper on
which to write the name of her choice for Queen.
The Squire grew interested. He wiped his glasses, and
looked about for Florence. She could not raise her eyes
for thinking : ‘‘Oh, uncle has no idea what a popular girl
Susie Kingman is! What wz he think when I don’t get
any votes?â€
The Squire caught her eye at last, and nodded encourag-
ingly. ‘ He never looked so kindly at me before,†moaned
the unhappy girl. “He really thinks I’ve as good a chance
as Susie,†and her eyes filled with tears as she traced Susie’s
name on her paper.
CHAPTER III.
There were about five minutes of quiet, broken only by
the scratch of pens, and then Mr. Gorham went round and
collected the papers.
Susie’s face was very bright. Florence saw it, and bent
her own still lower, saying, inwardly: ‘No wonder she’s
happy, knowing that she'll have every vote except the one
she has writtenfor me. If uncle could only understand how
hard it is for me to make friends, and how—’â€
But all thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Gorham’s rising
from his seat. His face bore a surprised expression, and he
looked again at his paper to assure himself no mistake had
been made. |
“Oh,†groaned Florence, ‘he thinks it strange that out
of forty, 1 should have only ove! If uncle wouldn't keep
nodding to me!†But there the Squire sat, gently hitting
the floor with his cane, and looking one moment at Mr.
Gorham, and the next at his niece, with a most hopeful ex-
pression.
At length there was perfect silence in the room. The
88
SUSIE KINGMAN’S DECISION. 89
Squire had stopped tapping with his cane, and now held it
firmly down with both hands on the heavy gold top, with
his face turned toward the teacher's desk.
“T find,†announced Mr. Gorham, ‘‘on counting the
votes ’—every ear was strained to catch the result—“ that
Miss Florence has twenty-eight, and Miss Susie twelve.
Therefore Miss Florence will be our Queen.†And he turned
to the astounded girl with a cordial word of congratulation.
The Squire nodded more vigorously than ever, and
pounded away in a regardless manner with his cane, but
nobody heard it in the general uproar. Some were clap-
ping their hands, others had flocked to Florence’s seat, and
were congratulating hér. The young girl’s face was radiant
with delight, and Susie’s no less so.
“You bear defeat bravely,†said Mr. Gorham, in his kind-
est tone, to Susie. ‘The Squire is asking to see you.â€
« Ah,†said the Squire, as Susie came forward, ‘we can’t
~ all win, you know, my dear, I hope you don’t bear Flor-
ence any ill-will?â€
“Far from it,†answered Susie, earnestly. ‘I would n’t
have it otherwise.†And she sent a loving glance toward
Florence, which was as quickly returned.
Squire Tracy motioned to Mr. Gorham, and they both
stepped aside, and after a few moments of subdued conver-
sation the latter came forward and rang the bell.
“ Squire Tracy,†said he, “has kindly offered his grounds
go STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
for the May-party, so our /éze will be held at Maplewood in-
stead of the grove.â€
At this announcement the buzzing was louder than ever.
“Fifty times better than those old picnic grounds, where
we ’ve been all our lives,†said Josie.
_“T ’ve always been wild to get into Squire Tracy’s
grounds,†put in Stella, longingly.
‘Oh, they’re grand,†said Sadie. ‘‘ They have four gar-
deners all the year round. I went once with papa when he
was attending the Squire. That’s the advantage, girls, of
having one’s father a doctor.†And she threw back her
head playfully.
“Ora minusicn, †added Susie, ‘‘ for I’ve been two or three
times with papa.â€
Both speakers were immediately beset with questions re-
garding the beauty of the Squire’s surroundings, and noth- —
ing else was talked about all the way home.
“Well, I got my reward pretty soon,†thought Susie, as
she waved her school satchel to Baby, who was throwing
kisses from the nursery window ; “for I should enjoy a day
at Squire Tracy’s more than anything I can think of, and IJ
shall never forget Florence’s expression when Mr. Gorham
announced the good news. I never felt so like crying, but
I kept back the tears for fear Florence would think I was
terribly disappointed.â€
And what were Florence’s thoughts at the same moment?
SUSIE KINGMAWN’S DECISION. gt
“To think the girls really like me!†as she passed up the
broad and softly carpeted staircase ; ‘‘and Mr. Gorham, too,
seemed so pleased! Oh, ow I shall study now! And to
think uncle really patted me on the head, and said, ‘I’m de-
lighted with you, my child!’ That was the best of all.
What wz// Bessie say when she hears it? I must begin a
letter to her this very moment,†and the happy girl hummed
a lively air as she opened her portfolio. ‘There! I hope un-
cle did n’t hear me.†Then opening a letter: “I must read
again just what he wrote to Aunt Rebecca, and keep it con-
stantly in mind: ‘If Florence comes to live with me, she
must be studious and quiet, for I have lived so long alone
that I cannot bear the thought of a romping girl setting
things topsy-turvy.’ Well, I’ve been that to the very letter,
‘studious and quiet,’ but I feel to-day like opening the piano,
and pounding away on it every college song Ray ever sang
for us; but no, ‘studious and quiet,’ ‘studious and quiet,’â€
and her pen ran over the sheet before her as she wrote the
following letter :
“My DEAREST SISTER,—I have time for a few words before dinner, and
- I never wrote you in so happy a frame of mind. You know I told you
how all the girls disliked me, and that I didn’t feel any more acquainted
with them than I did the first day. Well, I made a mistake, for swenty-
eight out of the forty voted for me to be Queen of the May. And my op-
ponent was Susie Kingman, the one I wrote you all the girls were crazy over,
and who réminded me of you more than any one lever saw. It seems
even now as though there must be some mistake ; but no, I remember how
92 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
cordial the girls were, and that they didn’t seem particularly surprised
when Mr. Gorham read the result. But, Bessie, the best thing of all was
that uncle was there! When he came into the room, I trembled from head _
to foot, for I only expected one vote. Dear me! the tears are falling all
over this, but they are joyful ones. Well, uncle was delighted, called me
‘My child,’ and talked to me about school in the kindest manner all the
way home—talked more in that quarter of an hour than all the rest of the
time I’ve been here. Bessie darling, this is what I’ve prayed for—that
uncle would care for me if only a very little, for it is dreadful to be in the
house with mamma’s own brother and have him take no notice of me, ex-
cept by giving me money and presents ; but that ‘My child’ was worth
them all. The bell is ringing for dinner. I haven’t told you half how
happy Iam. Uncle has offered his grounds for the affair, which comes
off the last day of school. Will wonders never cease? Your ever loving
â€
FLo.
Ah! if Susie could have seen that tear-blotted letter that
was kissed and cried over by the little absent sister, she
might well have said, ‘I have my reward already.â€
CHAPTER IV.
‘‘May-party day at last!†cried Susie, dancing gayly
about her room. ‘School ended, and now for a splendid
time to-day!†As she went toward the window the sweet
June air was coming softly in, the birds, too, were singing,
and unconsciously she found herself chanting, “ Let every-
thing that hath breath praise the Lord.†Then, stopping
suddenly, ‘“‘ Why, that reminds me, I forgot to turn over to
anew leaf in my Szlent Comforter before breakfast. Oh,
surely it’s the zoth, and I’ve come round again to that
verse with ‘In honor preferring one another’ in it, which
perplexed me so. How this month has flown! It seems
at once the longest and shortest I remember. To think
Florence is so changed a girl! Why, she really seems like
one of the family, running in and out at all times, bringing
or sending mamma flowers almost every day ; and the girls
all like her so well, and would n’t need any urging zow to
vote for her. Why, there she is this minute!†as a pretty
phaeton stopped at the gate.
‘Could the day be finer?†called Florence, as she tied
the black pony. “I thought I saw you drinking in this air, -
93
94 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
when I was at the turn in the road about half a mile off.
Come, bring your hat and takeadrive with me. I ’ve some-
thing very important to tell you,†and she opened the gate
to take some rare flowers to Mrs. Kingman, who was sew-
ing on the piazza, with the baby playing near her chair.
Florence took the little one in her arms, begging it to say
?
her name. ‘She cannot get any farther than ‘Flo,’†said
Mrs. Kingman, putting aside her work to go and arrange
her flowers.
“That ’s what my sister Bessie always calls me,†said
Florence, kissing the little one more tenderly.
‘“When are you going to show me the new photograph
of that wonderful Bessie?†asked Susie, straightening out
the daisies on her hat as they went slowly down the
walk.
‘“T should have brought it over this morning if I had n’t
had something else on my mind to tell you.â€
A moment later the pretty pony was carrying the young
girls along at an easy gait, pricking up his ears occasionally,
as if to catch the drift of the gay chatter going on behind
him. :
‘By the way,†Florence was saying, ‘‘I] found this scrap
of paper on the floor this morning when I was over at
school,†handing it to her companion. ‘ The girls were all
â€
clearing out their desks
But Susie had read the few pencilled words, and looked
THE PRETTY PONY WAS CARRYING THE YOUNG GIRLS ALONG AT AN EASY GAIT.
SUSIE KINGMAN’S DECISION. 97
aghast: “ Vote for F. T. We've all going to. S. K. wishes
zt,â€
The pony was walking leisurely along. Florence had
dropped the reins; her arms were about Susie’s neck. ‘To
think I never suspected it!†she said, kissing her.
‘‘T never wanted you to know,†said Susie, ‘and if it
â€
had n’t been for Sadie’s carelessness
“Oh, I’m glad I do know—just as glad as can be, and |
can never thank you enough.â€
“T don’t deserve any thanks at all,†protested Susie ;
‘and if I did, I felt fully repaid when your uncle offered
his grounds, and looked so kindly at u
“Ves,†said Florence, ‘and from that moment my life
changed entirely. Oh, Susie, you cannot imagine how lone-
some I used to feel, for uncle seldom spoke to me, and I
felt that I never could get used to so many strange faces,
and I kept wishing myself back with Bessie. But no; our
home was broken up. When papa died, mamma only lived
a week longer, and after that, where were we to go?
Mamma’s sister Rebecca was with us at the time, and of-
- fered to take one of us, which was a great deal, for she has
a large family of her own, and then she. wrote to uncle to
take the other. He chose me, because I was named after
mamma, and J suppose he fancied I would look like her,
whereas Bessie is her very image. Well, when I got here,
uncle met me at the station, asked one or two questions,
7
98 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
and then we rode to Maplewood without another word. 1
was too homesick to talk. So things went on, one day ex-
actly like another, with simply a good-morning and good-
night to begin and end up the day. I often found money
and other presents in my room, and, oh! how I longed to
send each thing on to Bessie, but I really was afraid to ask if
I might. But I must hurry on to the red-letter day of my
life, the 20th of May. That day, at dinner, after the scene
at school, uncle praised my high standing, and began to
ask me about Bessie. I showed him her photograph, and he
looked a long time at it, murmuring something about ‘ Flor-
ence of long ago,’ and asked me if she did n’t look a great deal
like mamma. ‘Everybody used to speak of the wonderful
resemblance,’ I answered. ‘ Well,’ said he, ‘we must have
alarge picture of her!’ And what do you think he has
done? Sent on to have Besste’s portratt painted, and I’m to
have it for my room.â€
“The tears are for joy,†continued Florence, in answer to
Susie’s earnest, ‘‘ Oh, this is enough! don’t tell me any more.â€
‘“Uncle grew more and more kind. He seemed to enjoy
planning for the May party, and you ’ll see this afternoon
some of the arrangements he has made. It has given him
something to think of, which Dr. Folger said yesterday was
the best thing in the world for one of his melancholy dispo-
sition. Uncle has said again and again, ‘I ’m glad you take
an interest in your studies; it pleases me greatly: And,
SUSIE KINGMAN’S DECISION. 99
Susie, I know all this happiness would never have come to
me unless the girls had voted for me that day as they did.
â€
I know they used to think me selfish, for one morning
“What! you heard what Sadie said ?â€
“Yes; but I ve made up for it since; have n’t I? For I
have n’t been alone once since the day uncle said, ‘ You may
take whomever you choose when you goout.’ By that time
I had lost all fear, and kissed and thanked him. And so
things have gone on, each day better than the last. Uncle
handed me a telegram this morning, which read, ‘ The por-
trait is on the way’; so we expect it by the first express.
Susie, I can never thank you—never, as long as I live; all I
can do is to tell you that, next to Bessie, I love you best of
any one on earth.â€
There was a great lump in Susie’s throat. She was crying
softly, with her cheek against Florence’s. At the gate Mrs.
Kingman met them.
“Tell your mother all about it,†called Florence, touching
up the horse; and Susie did.
xx ns a # % " x
‘To think it ’s all over!†said Susie, about seven o’clock
that evening, as they were going down to supper. “ Did n't
Florence look lovely ?â€
‘No lovelier than a certain maid of honor that crowned
her,†said papa, drawing Susie toward him?
“Well, did n’t the Squire appear delighted ?â€
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FILES
The Baldwin Library
RmB
—Page 47.
E JOKE
’s LITTL
Louls
STORIES
FOR ALL THE YEAR
Jor Boys and Girls
BY
KATHARINE MCDOWELL RICE
WITH TWENTY-FIVE ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS BY
W. ST. JOHN HARPER
NEW YORK
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1895, by
Frederick A. Stokes Company
TO MY NEPHEW
WILLIAM GORHAM RICE, Funr.
By kind permission of flarper's Young People, St. Nicho-
las, Wide Awake, Treasure T; rove,and New Vork Obser
ver,
the following stories are reprinted.
KATHARINE MCDOWELL RICE.
THE MAPLES, WORTHINGTON, MASS.
FOR ALL
THE YEAR
CONTENTS
HOW THE DOCTOR WAS PAID
JULIAN’S ONE VALENTINE
LOUIS’S LITTLE JOKE
HOW THE BOYS FOOLED UNCLE BUDGE
SUSIE KINGMAN’S DECISION
A DEBT OF YEARS
A HAPPY THOUGHT
SAMMY?S "TURKEY, «0 0 ac ok eh ne HES
WHY THE DOLL’S NAME WAS NEVER CHANGED 149
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
Louts's Little Foke . : : ; ; Frontispiece
Ornamental border. ; . . ; . Contents
“Two dollars a visit!†cried Dot, in dismay. » 15
The little fingers never did better work . ; . 20
“Eleven hundred,†satd Dot, tearfully . : . 23
“Remember! I could not forget†. . . . 30
“The Princess,—my Princess /†. : ; . 37
“Let me see tt, Esther /†. . 44
fe slid tt off and out of the little vellar-window . 50
“Fle’s going, Karl, as sure as I’m alive!†. . 63
fle passed by the side gate ; ; . : . 67
The May Queen . . ; ; : . » 75
“Only ten minutes left meâ€. : 85
The pretty pony was carrying the young girls “along
at an easy gait : . . . » 95
Until it had burned entirely away . . . . IIS
“What are the fellows shouting?†, . . . 118
9
Io LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
“What a looking room!’
“The game is to do tt as well ane as i. as you
â€
can :
Mamma came to the sttting-room door
Bobby was bracing himself against the shovel
“With all these young eyes it ought to be found fe
Sammy's Turkey. ( Tazt-prece)
“T belteve zt’s something from Aunt Mae
They asked for the West road
“She'll see the doll and know tt’s our house’
,
PAGE
125
129
132
139
143
147
155
161
165
bow the Doctor was Paid
Ir
HOW THE DOCTOR WAS PAID.
“Two dollars a visit!†cried Dot in dismay, forgetting
entirely that she had come to look for a spool of No. 40
in Mamma’s drawer, and opening her brown eyes wider and
wider as she read the heading of an old bill of Dr. Cogswell’s,
‘Two dollars a visit!†she repeated. ‘Oh, why does n’t
Donnie get well? And where is all the money to come
from?†she asked herself, sadly. “We will get very poor,â€
continued Dot, shaking her little head slowly over the bill.
After thinking awhile, she slipped the paper in her pocket
and went down-stairs.
Mamma and Sister Margie were sewing. Dot went quietly
to Mrs. Ledyard and whispered :
“We'll feel very poor afterward, won't we, Mamma?â€
Mamma smiled—a sad smile, Dot thought—as she re-
plied : “You're better at guessing than we supposed. Now,
13
14 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
why don’t you take your trimming, little daughter, and go
into the library? There ’s a nice fire on the hearth, and you
can work away like a bee. Well need it soon, you know,â€
added Mamma, for Dot was rather inclined to dream when
she was alone.
“We ’ll need it soon,†repeated Dot, as she climbed up
into the big library chair. “We'll need it soon. Oh, why
did n’t they tell me! Why did they leave me to find it out
for myself? I might have worked yards and yards by this
time, and sold them for ever so much, but I supposed it was
just to give me something to do, and I’ve sometimes not
done more than one scallop in a whole afternoon,†confessed
Dot, as she made her little ivory needle. fly in and out of her
work, as if any one could ever make up for time wasted.
“And to think I never once thought that Mamma and
Sister Margie were making those things to sell, nor how
much ’t was costing to have the doctor coming every day,
and sometimes twice a day.. Poor Donnie! Perhaps he’s
worse than they tell me. Perhaps,†and there was a great
lump in her throat, “he ’s going to die, and they are leaving
me to find that out.†Two great tears rolled slowly down
the pretty, round cheeks. ‘But why, then, do they keep
a-tellin’ me he’s better?†The tears had dropped on the
crochet trimming, and two more were following in their
train,
Tom went into the barn to clean his gun. Dot saw him.
‘Two DOLLARS A VISIT!†CRIED DoT, IN DISMAY.
HOW THE DOCTOR WAS PAID, 17
“I'll ask him,†she decided, as she put her work hurriedly
in a little silk handkerchief, and started with it for the barn.
“‘He won’t tease me when he knows how badly I feel.â€
It was a very sad little face that peered in at the barn-
door.
“Halloo!†was Tom’s greeting. “Been crying?â€
‘“ Yes,†admitted Dot, in a voice that could leave no doubt
of it in any one’s mind.
‘“What ’s up ?†continued Tom, as he rubbed away at his
gun. ‘ Want any help ?â€
“Oh, yes, Tom ; that’s just what I’ve come for. Won’t
you talk real sober with me?â€
‘““Nary a smile from me,†said Tom. Then, glancing side-
long at the little face in the doorway, he added, “Come in
and state your case. Here’s aseat on the hay,†as he lifted
her gently upon a pile he had just brought down for the
horses. ‘ There! are you cold?â€
“Not a bit,†said Dot, smiling thankfully. “I have
brought my cloak.â€
‘All right, then; go ahead,†said Tom, cheerfully.
“Well, you know, Tom,†began Dot, in her sweet, timid
voice; ‘there’s a secret.in there,†pointing toward the
house, “ and I never found it out till this morning.â€
“So you found it out, did you? Well, I told ’em you
would.â€
“T would n’t, but for the bill.â€
18 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
“You would n’t what?†asked Tom, who was rubbing
away again. :
“T'll tell you about that afterward. When I went into
the sitting-room, Mamma and Sister Margie were sewing.â€
“ That certainly didn’t surprise you!†laughed Tom.
“O Tom! how can you make fun of it all? Marnma
looked just ready to cry, and—oh, oh, oh, what can we ever
do about it!†as she threw herself face downward on the
hay, and sobbed as though her little heart would break, while
Tom stood by in speechless astonishment, wondering why
the words “Two dollars a visit†seemed mingled with her
sobs. : ee
“Does she know, after all?†he asked himself. ‘1
must n’t forget my promise to mother, but I must give the
child some comfort,†as he went over toward the little blue
cloak on the hay.
“ Come, Dot,†said he, tenderly. ‘‘ Don’t cry. You
have n’t told me yet what the matter is. Now we'll sit
right up here, while you tell Tom all about it.â€
After a while, Dot managed to say :
“Does n't Dr. Cogswell charge people who are ill two
dollars every time he goes to see them?â€
“Something like that, I believe,†answered Tom, won-
deringly.
“Tt’s exactly that,†said Dot, feeling for the bill, “O
Tom, we must owe him hundreds of dollars!â€
HOW THE DOCTOR WAS PAID. 19
There was a queer look in Tom’s eyes.
‘“‘T suppose we do,†he said.
“But have we got the money to pay him?†questioned
Dot, the brown eyes swimming again.
“No, I don’t believe we have.â€
“ Then, what are we going to do?†said Dot, with another
sob.
“There, Dot,†said Tom, soothingly. ‘ Don’t be so fool-
ish as to cry. It’s all coming out right. I can’t tell you
now just how, but take my word for it.â€
“Tom,†called Mrs. Ledyard, ‘they ’re all waiting for
SPs
you.
“The boys have come, Dot,†said Tom, giving her a hasty
kiss. “ Now, remember not to worry. It’s coming out all
right.â€
Dot sat a long time on the hay.
“Tom always thinks everything ’s going to come out all
right,†she said, determined to be miserable. ‘“ He does n’t
know anything about money. Margie says so, and I know
myself he does n't, ’cause I once owed him five cents for
weeks, and when I went to pay him, he ’d forgotten all about
it, and said I must have dreamed it. He’s gone off now to
sleigh-ride and does n’t care how hard we’re all workin’,â€
and the little needle flew faster than ever. ‘‘I just know he
thinks Dr. Cogswell is n’t going to charge, but he is, for
here ’s one bill and he’s probably got another all ready.â€
20 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
“He could just as well not charge,†she went on, “for
Jessie Pelton told me he was ever ’n’ ever so rich, and that
he ’s got a house in the city even prettier than this. But
THE LITTLE FINGERS NEVER DID BETTER
WORK.
how could one be?†she
«“ How could
any room be lovelier than
wondered.
the one Mrs. Crane took
Jessie and me into the other
day?—the little one with
the window looking on the
lake, and the little bed with
curtains and _ everything
blue, carpet and all. Dr.
Cogswell calls it his little
sister's room, and she ’s
coming in the spring.â€
The little fingers never
did better work than that
day, for ‘‘ Mamma would n't
have told me they needed it if they did n’t,†Dot kept assur-
ingherself. ‘Tom just wanted to comfort me. He doesn't
know how hard they ’re workin’ and cryin’.â€
That night, Dot added to her prayer the words, ‘‘ O God,
please don’t let it be more than we can pay.â€
“Let what ?†asked Mamma, as she tucked her in bed.
“The doctor's bill,†whispered Dot, her arms very tight
about Mrs. Ledyard’s neck.
HOW THE DOCTOR WAS PAID. 21
Mrs. Ledyard smiled. She thought Dot was half asleep,
so she tiptoed quietly down-stairs to the library, and there
found Tom telling Margie about Dot’s trouble.
The young doctor must have been there too, or heard of
it in some way, for he happened in the next morning soon
after breakfast, and the first thing he said was :
“I’m going to have my bill settled to-day, little Miss
Dot,†as with quite a grave face he took out his memoranda.
‘Let me see,†he mused, “I begancoming in May. Two
visits a day, till—why, it ’s nearly Christmas, is n’t it? Now,
how much should you think it would come to ?â€
“ Hundreds!†said poor little Dot, faintly.
“We want to be business-like,†said Dr. Cogswell; “sup-
pose you get your slate and figure it.†. |
Dot ran. “He is n't going to let us off a penny,†she
moaned.
“ Now, let us do a little sum in arithmetic,†said the doctor.
“What does M. stand for?â€
“One thousand,†said staggered little Dot, pushing the
crochet-work way down in her pocket.
“Very good,†said the doctor. “Now, what does €
stand for?â€
“One hundred,†said Dot, trying to be brave.
« And altogether?†was the next question.
“ Eleven hundred,†said Dot, tearfully.
‘“H’m,†coughed Dr. Cogswell. ‘“ Now, can you think of
anything else they might stand for ?â€
22 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
“No, sir,†said Dot.
“Why yes, you can, Dot,†cried Donald, who had just
been wheeled into the room. “ M. C.!†clapping his hands,
“ Merry Christmas, don’t you see?â€
Dot smiled.
“Then there is n’t any bill?†she asked Tom.
‘“Nary a bill,†said Tom; “but can’t you think of any-
thing else the letters might stand for?â€
“No,†said happy, stupid little Dot.
“I can,†cried Don, catching sight of some glances being
exchanged, and Margie’s pretty cheeks aglow. ‘Margie
Cogswell!â€
Then they all laughed, and the doctor caught Dot up and
set her on his shoulder, and pranced with her into the cozy
sitting-room. Pretty soon Don was wheeled into the sunny
bay-window, and there they all sat the rest of the morning.
Dot had to submit to a good deal of teasing, but she was
very happy notwithstanding, and wrote in her diary that
night, in such big letters that she went right over two or
three of the following days:
“ The doctor was nt coming to see Donnie, after all, and
there was wt any bill. Lam going to be bridesmazd and wear
white. There iswt any little stster but me, and I’m going
to have the lettle blue room, whenever I want to go there to
eset,â€
‘( ELEVEN HUNDRED,†SAID DOT, TEARFULLY.
Sulian’s One Valentine
JULIAN’S ONE VALENTINE.
It was a day in February. The three were talking valen-
tines. Julian had just said:
“J ’m going to send only one this year.â€
“ To Bettine-——Bettine !†cried the two little sisters. “You
cannot deny it, Julian. Won't it be sent to Bettine?†they
clamored.
Julian’s blush betrayed him, and had his thoughts been
known as he left the house they would have confirmed all
suspicion.
“T should think fifty cents ought to buy it,†he meditated,
jingling two quarters in his trousers’ pocket. ‘“I hope,
though, that it won’t be more than forty, for I’d like to get
one of those big fancy letters and put it.on the back of the
envelope. The B’s are beauties. 1 looked at them this
morning.â€
“Why, where is the shop ?†he asked himself, suddenly
stopping awhile after and looking about; “I certainly
27
28 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
thought it was on this block. Oh, no! it’s farther on; I
can see the sign,†as valendznes, in flaming letters, met his
eye beyond the next crossing. “I hope no one has gone off
with the one I’vechosen. They have n’t much of an assort-
ment,†he added, patronizingly, “but those they have are
pretty fair.â€
Julian quickened his pace a trifle at thought of losing the
valentine he had in mind, and it was not long before he stood
directly under the white flag. Bettine’s valentine was in the
window, and it needed but a hasty glance to convince him
that he had not overrated its beauty. He-gave a final jingle
to the two silver coins and started to go into the store, but,
alas! the handle of the door would not turn.
“Jt’s closed,†he cried, disappointedly, as he rattled the
door. “Now, if I’m going to lose that valentine, after all
my trouble!†and he shook the door again.
“Gone away,†said a child’s voice, overhead.
Julian looked up. A pair of blue eyes met his, as a little
German face with fair braids on either side looked down
upon him.
“ There was one accident.†The words came sweet and
broken. “They all go, but they come back.â€
‘“ How soon ?†questioned Julian.
“To-night, for sure. Me to tell everybody.â€
“ Gretchen,†called.a shrill voice, “ vhy you let your head
dangle dere all day? Come right away.â€
JULIAN’S ONE VALENTINE. 29
The little Gretchen called a reply in German, which brought
another face to the window.
‘Vat you vants ?†asked the new-comer of Julian.
‘“A valentine,†he answered; “and I want to be here
when they open the store so that no one will get ahead of
me. When will they get back ?â€
“I can’t tell,†saidthe woman. “Is dot von you vants in
der vindow ?â€
‘““Yes’m,†said Julian, his face falling at the thought that
perhaps the woman intended buying it herself.
“ Vell, Gretchen can come down and you tell her vich you
choose, and we tell dem save it for you.â€
Julian welcomed the proposal, and in a moment more
Gretchen appeared from a door right next the valentine
store, and was at his side.
Now,†began Julian, as they both looked in the window,
“you see that one with the heart and arrow ?â€
“Yes,†nodded Gretchen, “with one little boy with some
gold rings. I tell when they come.â€
“But I don’t want that!†cried Julian, in dismay ; “I just
want you to follow along the line with me. I don’t want
the next one, either; nor the next; but that’s the one I
want. See, with the verse right in the flowers.â€
He turned to Gretchen. She had let go the shawl she
nad been holding under her chin, and stood with her hands
clasped in admiration. ‘‘ Pretty, is n’t it?†said he, watching
30. STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
“’ REMEMBER! I COULD NOT FORGET.â€
her face light up in appreciation, as he supposed, of his se-
lection. ‘ You'll remember the one ?â€
“Remember! I could not forget,†she said, her eyes seem-
ingly intent on the line of valentines.
“Well now, let’s see,†said Julian, turning her gently from
the window, “how many is it from the end?â€
JULIAN’S ONE VALENTINE. 31
“J don’t remember that way,†with a little laugh to think
she could not tell; “but I not forget, for it is right over
the Princess.â€
Julian turned about.
‘‘Do you mean the doll?†he asked. “ Oh, yes; it hangs
right over the doll with light hair ; does n’t it? Well, that’s
as good a way as any to remember. But what did you call
it—the Princess ?â€
“Yes,†said Gretchen, softly, her pretty eyes fixed on the
doll. ‘My Aunt Louisa tell me of the stories, and there
is a princess there like this.â€
Were those tears in her eyes, Julian wondered. Her voice
certainly seemed trembling.
“Gretchen, you come up right away,†called the, voice .
overhead. “You look at dot doll from morning till
night.â€
“Tam coming, Aunt Louisa,†said Gretchen, starting to
go, and taking her eyes unwillingly from the Princess, while
Julian, who found it hard to understand why Marie and
Frances were so fond of their dolls, looked in amazement
at the sad little face beside him.
“You can see it to-morrow, Gretchen,†he said, kindly.
‘“No, this is the last,†was her answer.
“Somebody bought it?†ventured Julian.
‘No; but Aunt Louisa pack one trunk, and we go to-
morrow.â€
325s STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
‘‘Go—where ?†cried Julian.
“ Vaterland,†she said, simply.
Julian knew what she meant. He had heard little Marie’s
nurse speak of home as Vaterland.
‘IT shall see dem all,†said she, laughing softly.
“Your father and mother, you mean,†said Julian. ‘And
do you go to-morrow on the ocean ?â€
Another call came from overhead.
‘“Who shall I say, when one asks me?†said Gretchen, as
if awakened from a dream.
‘Julian Trask. Can you remember? They are to save
it for Julian Trask. Thank you, and good-by,†he called.
‘‘Good-by,†she answered. ‘“‘ Yes, Aunt Louisa, I’m com-
ing now,†he heard her say.
Julian ran down the street. The day was cold, and he
and Gretchen had been standing a long time under the val-
entine flag. Suddenly he stopped. ‘I must think it over,â€
he said, half aloud. “It would make her so happy; but
then
Whatever thought it was that had suggested itself to him,
â€
Julian turned off the direct walk home and went the long way
to consider it. When he reached the house, some time after,
it was with a bright, eager look in his face as he rushed up-
stairs, and there was an amount of whistling as he took down
his bank from the mantel that bespoke his having come to
some very satisfactory conclusion. There was a slip of paper
JULIAN’S ONE VALENTINE. 33
pasted on the small iron bank, which read, Fulean Trask's
watch money.
“But I can wait for the watch,†he was saying as he turned
the key of the bank and dumped its contents on the bed.
“Besides, I would n’t want it if it made me think that
the poor little girl had gone to Fatherland without the
. erincess.«.
He counted the money. There were a few pennies over
two dollars. He seemed disappointed in the amount. Sud-
denly his face brightened as he bethought himself of his
valentine money. He looked at the two bright pieces for
an instant, waveringly, before he threw them in among the
other pieces, then counted them all over. ‘“ Two dollars and
sixty-three cents. Will it be enough, I wonder? Suppose
I could not give it to her, after all!â€
Julian caught himself wondering more than once what his
mother would think of his taking his watch money for any-
thing else, and wishing all the afternoon that she were not
away from home at just this time when he so longed to talk
to her about giving Gretchen the doll; still, something
seemed to tell him she would not disapprove.
He ran up the street after supper, and soon came in sight
of the white flag. He noticed that the shop was lighted, and
that people were going in and out. He looked in the win-
dow. Bettine’s valentine had evidently been saved for him ;
for the one with the gold-winged cupids was hanging over
34 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
the Princess’s head. Julian looked at the Princess now with
as much interest as ever had Gretchen. She was pretty, as
dolls went, he acknowledged, and he could see how a girl
might be very fond of her. The pearl beads in her fluffy
hair, the shining silk, and soft kid boots made Julian realize
how princess-like her wardrobe indeed was, and the old ques-
tion of whether he should have money enough began to
haunt him.
When inside the shop he said:
“Js there a valentine here for Julian Trask ?†addressing
the woman who came forward to wait upon him, and whom
he recognized as the owner of the store.“ But you need n't
get it,†he added hastily as she pulled open a drawer, “I've
decided to get something else.â€
“You can’t find anything prettier,†said the woman, dis-
regarding his ability to judge. “This came in yesterday,
and is one of our finest. You ordered it and you must take
it, for there’s no knowing how many times we might have
- sold it if we had not taken it in.â€
Julian was so taken aback at the thought of his perhaps
being unable to buy the Princess that he did not even men-
tally question the logic of Mrs. Lynch’s statement. Fortu-
nately he said what proved of great interest to her when he
remarked :
“T want something that costs more.â€
“Oh! you do,†said Mrs. Lynch, with great cordiality.
JULIAN’S ONE VALENTINE. 35
‘A box valentine, perhaps,†and she opened the door of
the glass case over which they were talking.
“ The light-haired doll in the window.â€
“Three dollars,†said the woman.
“Three!†echoed Julian, sadly. ‘Then I cannot buy it.â€
“You could not expect it less,†said Mrs. Lynch. “See,â€
and standing in no awe of blood royal, she pulled the Prin-
cess in from the window. ‘‘ Her eyes shut,†at which Mrs.
Lynch sent the Princess into a temporary doze, while she
went on to say: “My daughter dressed her at Christmas
time ; made all her things complete. They all come off and
on, and her dress is silk, and her shoes beautiful soft kid!â€
“T know,†said Julian, dejectedly.
“ How much have you?†asked Mrs. Lynch, preparing to
put the Princess under the valentine again.
“Two dollars and sixty-three cents.â€
Mrs. Lynch’s face so brightened at his answer, that she
must have previously been under the impression that his ex-
chequer fell far short of that sum.
“Ill goask my daughter,†she said hopefully. ‘“ Perhaps
she will put down the price.â€
Mrs. Lynch disappeared through some little lace curtains
at the rear of the store, over which “ICE CREAM †was
lettered, and came back so quickly that Julian feared the
daughter had refused to even listen to the proposal. What
was his delight when Mrs. Lynch said :
36 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
“You may have it at your own price.â€
He believed afterwards that Mrs.. Lynch had suggested
putting the doll in a box, but he never remembered what
words he found in answer. He only knew that he had the
Princess in hisarms. That it was 4z2s—his to give Gretchen !
Julian stood for a while outside, undetermined whether to
rap on the door and ask for Gretchen, or to leave the doll
on the step and run away.
“This is most like a valentine,†he decided, as he wrapped
the paper about the doll and laid it close by the door. ‘And
after I rap I can stand in the dark by those boxes. Oh, if
Gretchen only finds it herself!†was his wish.
He listened. Yes, it was Gretchen coming, or some child,
he knew by the step.
Ah, Gretchen herself, who opened the door, and stood
there with a candle, her little hand protecting the light and
throwing the more in her sweet face as she said, looking
about, ‘‘ Did one knock here ?â€
A paper fluttered at her feet in answer, She set the can-
dlestick .on the floor and bent down. Julian watched her
face. He saw it light up, and heard a low, glad cry, as the
paper blew into the street, and Gretchen pressed the doll to
her breast.
“The Princess—my Princess!†she cried in a choking
voice, pressing the doll closer and half sobbing, ‘‘ Oh, my
Princess!†Then she said something ‘in German, sweet
a
E PRINCESS,—MY PRINCESS
Ty
JULIAN’S ONE VALENTINE. 39
and low, her eyes upraised, her arms still clasped about the
doll.
_ Julian could not understand, but he knew that Gretchen
was very happy, and that the tears in his own eyes were for
joy as well.
Louis's Little Fohke
LOUIS’S LITTLE JOKE.
It was fortunate for Louis that the opportunity for his
little joke fell on April-fools’ Day. But how he could have
had it in his heart to want to fool Esther, as she bustled
around, so bright and happy, tying on her checked apron,
would have seemed beyond explanation, had he not said,
under his breath, a moment before :
“Tll pay her for this!â€
The offense to which he thus referred lay in the fact that
Esther had paid no attention to the request which he had
shouted to her, as he saw her take a telegram from a mes-
senger at the gate :
“Let me see. it, Esther! How many of them are
coming?â€
But straight she flew to the house, and into the kitchen,
exclaiming :
‘‘Oh, Becky! Five of them, and they’ll be here for sup-
per. I can sit at the head, can’t I, Becky? And you'll
43
44. STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
‘* Let ME SEE IT, ESTHER!â€
make chocolate for me to serve, won't
you? And oh! dear Becky, please,
please can’t I make the custard ?â€
«Bress your heart, yes,†said Re-
becca ; “ an’ Becky ‘Il make you what-
ever you want. An’ de blue set ob
china?†she-asked, a moment later.
“Oh, yes, Becky-—they re so pretty ;
and the little crystal cups for my cus-
tard, so ’t will show through.†And
she danced merrily about the room.
“Where's that telegram ?†demanded Louis, nearly out of
LOUIS’S LITTLE JOKE. 45
breath from his sudden descent of a tree and rapid run for
the house.
“There, on the table, Louis. I could n’t stop, I was in
such a hurry to tell Becky,†explained Esther, as she broke
some eggs and carefully separated whites and yolks. ‘It’s
going to be my supper, Louis, and I’m going to have
“JT don’t care for your supper,†growled Louis. “ And
I’m going to pay you, before the day ’s over, for not letting
me see that telegram at first.â€
“ Oh, Louis! please do not play any more tricks on me,â€
pleaded his cousin. “1 told Becky first, because I knew
she’d take more interest in my supper. What do boys care
how things are made? They ’d rather go fishing or y
But Louis interrupted her with :
“Never mind the fishing, though I suppose you'll harp
on it for years.â€
“How harp on it ?†asked Esther, still intent on her eggs.
“Miss Innocence doesn’t know, then, that the fellows
said they ’d stop for me when they went to the mill-pond to-
day, and then all dashed by the house, waving their baskets
and not giving me achance to get in ae
The egg-beater rested on the edge of the bowl.
«“ Why, how selfish, Louis! I saw them waving, and
waved back at them from the piazza, but I didn’t know you
expected them to stop.â€
“You waved back at them?†demanded Louis, almost
46 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
‘frantically. ‘ That’s just like a girl! And now they ‘ll
think you understood the joke, and like enough you did.â€
“Was it a joke?†asked Esther, opening wide her large
gray eyes.
" «Then Miss Innocence probably does n’t know this is the
first of April ?â€
But Esther had every reason to know it. From the mo-
ment that Louis had shouted “ April-fool !†when she called
to Becky, “I can’t get my sleeve on—it’s all twisted,†to
the time that she found her knife and fork sewed to the
table-cloth at dinner, the morning had been a series of sim-
ilar shouts from Louis Perkins.
« She’s the best one to play tricks on,†he kept saying to
himself, “ Never suspects, no matter what a fellow does!â€
“I don’t believe in cruel jokes,†said Esther, slowly—“ any-
thing that will make anybody else feel hurt ; do you, Louis ?â€
“Oh, you’re very careful of other people's feelings ; we
all know that,†said Louis, tantalizingly, as he slammed the
kitchen door.
“Now, I ought to go and entertain him,†thought the for-
bearing Esther. “I'll take my eggs out on the porch and
beat them there. Louis!†she called, ‘‘ come and whittle
here, won't you, and let’s talk about the fun when the folks
come ?â€
“If Howard comes, I don’t care about the rest,†said
Louis, apparently in better humor. ‘He's the only one
LOUIS’S LITTLE JOKE. 47
who likes fun. Take care, Essie, youll spill them!†cried
Louis, warningly, as Esther. turned the platter of beaten
whites upsidedown.
“No, I won't,†laughed Esther, merrily ; “that shows
they ’re done.â€
“They don’t keep in that shape, do they?†asked Louis,
showing interest despite himself.
‘They would keep just like this for hours, but it’s better
to let them rest on boiling water for a moment,†said the
little housekeeper, as she held a ‘‘ floating island†aloft on
the beater. ‘Isn't it pretty?â€
Louis vouchsafed no answer. Had those snowy blankets
not been swinging’on the clothes-line, his thoughts, perhaps,
would not have run in the channel they did. But Rebecca
had been washing, and he had noticed her tubs on the back
piazza. They were covered with a foam so firm one could
have sliced it with a knife. Louis had taken a handful of it
and found that it did not liquefy or “dissolve.†When he:
saw Esther making the merzngue, its resemblance to the
foam on the suds struck him, and another thought was in
his mind as well, when he went back on the piazza again to
see if the suds had lost all form.
No there they were, just as they had appeared an hour be-
fore. Rebecca was still making preparations for the expected
guests and had not taken the time to empty the tubs.
“ All of which shows,†thought the bad boy, “that I can
48 : STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
“puta platterful of this.in place of.what Essie has made, and
have it go on the table. Imagine the faces they’ll make!
Essie won’t know what the matter is, and Becky will be so
bothered ! It will be the best joke yet! I think Essie ’ll let
me read telegrams first after this,†and he walked off for a
moment to plan it all out.
‘Oh, no; I don’t put it on till the very last thing,†said
the unsuspecting Esther, in answer to his question. ‘I shall
run down cellar just before supper, and put a little of the
froth on top of each custard; and you know, Louis, we’re
going to use the little crystal glasses! ’T will be just as nice
’ as though Mamma were here, won’t it, Becky ?â€
“If Rebecca’s suds don’t last, I can make some more with
the same soap while they ’re all visiting,†thought Louis,
“and run down with them just before supper. And to think
that Es will put it on herself, that ’ll be the best of all! But
suppose she were to taste it? Well, even if she should, it
would be a good fool, for they’d have to dance around
pretty lively and make some more; but I hope she does n’t
find it out till she tastes it at supper. Won't it be rich to
watch her! She.won’t know what is wrong, and if any of
the company discover a queer taste they won't say anything,
but they ’ll stop eating rather suddenly, Ill venture! And
Essie, what will she think to see them all steering clear of
those custards, after she’s been most of the afternoon mak-
ing ’em!†And with such thoughts Louis tried to put
LOUIS'S LITTLE JOKE. 49
aside the picture that rose before him, of the pretty cousin
who danced around the kitchen in the small checked apron,
and to think only of Esther’s having refused to let him read
the telegram when he had asked to see it.
The afternoon stage brought the four cousins and Aunt
Jo, amid much rejoicing.
Esther received them all so prettily, and said so deferen-
tially to Louis, “‘ You’ll see to the baggage?†using a tone
that, in its recognition of him as the man of the house, made |
so evident an impression on the younger cousins, that he
almost began to wish he had not saved that dish of suds.
Then, too, he overheard Esther, as she was getting out
the rackets for tennis, say to Howard:
‘Beware of Louis! He plays splendidly. Serves balls
that bound every way but the one you’re prepared for. He
gives me odds and beats me too, and had never played till
he came South, three weeks ago. Where has he gone?
Louis!†and her clear voice rang over the lawn.
“T’ll be there in a minute. Let Howard get used to the
ground,†answered Louis, which suggestion struck them all
as being very generous.
How pretty Esther looked! Lotiis could see from ‘his
window her bright, happy face, as she darted hither and
thither after the balls. After all, would his little joke pay?
What was there to be so vexed about, now that he thought
it all over ?
4
“£9 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
“Well, I wouldn't .
give it up after I di.
gone so far,†said a
bad voice within;
“you said you ’d pay her
for not letting you see that tele-
gram.†.
He stole down into the cellar.
He could hear Rebecca overhead |:
singing, “ Oh, Dearest May,†as
she set the table. There was
Esther’s meringue on a small
platter. He slid it off and out
of the little cellar-window, put
the suds’ foam in its place, and
went noiselessly up the stairs.
Rebecca was prolonging the re-
frain of “‘ Lubly as the Day,†so
he felt sure she could not have
heard him.
They all went in to supper
soon after. .
“It’s just as well,†thought
Esther, as she looked at the
custards, ‘“‘that Becky put the
HE SLID IT OFF AND OUT OF THE
LITTLE CELLAR-WINDOW,:
meringueon. Shealways makes
LOUIS’S LITTLE JOKE. 5
it look prettier than I do. Still, I wanted to have done it all
myself,†and she sighed to think she should have seen the
custards all ready on the table, when she was just going
down cellar to put that bit of fluffy white on each herself.
And what were Louis’s thoughts as he looked at the crys-
tal cups?
“Well, who ’d ever think of i: being suds? I’m going to
taste my own, to be sure of it.â€
He did so, and no doubt was left in his mind that he little
joke on Esther was going to be a success.
He fancied, as he glanced stealthily around the table,
that Rebecca was watching him, and that one of her great
smiles overspread her face as he took that taste of his
custard.
“T say, Howard,†he said to his cousin, “yousay you think
my two big agates are so handsome, I'll put one of them up
on a wager. If you eat all of your custard inside of a min-
ute, I 'Il give you your choice !â€
“Why, you'll lose, Louis. Those-glasses are tqo small to
hold much. I’m willing to try thirty seconds. There would
be some fun in it then.â€
“ All right,†chuckled Louis, “I ’Il time you,†as ihe drew
out his watch. ;
In even less than the half-minute Howard set down his
empty glass with:
«Where ’s the agate ? I ’Il take the blue-and-gold oneâ€
52 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
Louis regarded him with astonishment.
«“ How did it taste?†he asked, under his breath.
“Excellent! Could n’t judge very well, though, because
I had to eat it so fast.â€
“Do you know what you’ve been eating?†was Louis's
next question, as he handed him the chosen agate. ‘‘ Soap-
suds !â€
‘ Soap-suds!†echoed Howard, questioningly. ‘“ What do
you mean ?â€
“Hush !†cautioned Louis, proceeding in a half-whisper
to give him an insight into the joke he-was.playing on Esther.
“But if they don’t taste bad,†he admitted, ‘‘’t is n’t going
to be much of a joke.â€
“JT declare, Louis, I would n’t have thought you so mean!
I’m glad you could n't spoil ’em, and evidently you have n't,
for they ’re all being eaten.â€
Not only were the custards being eaten, but Aunt Jo was
praising them, and Esther blushing with pleasure !
What could it mean? Was there any mistake?
Louis tasted his own again, and made a wry face after it,
and there was no doubt in his mind this time that Rebecca
was laughing at him.
‘What is going on at that end of the table?†asked Aunt
Jo. ‘You two boys seem very much absorbed in something.â€
‘‘Massa Louis is in de suds,†said Rebecca.
Louis flushed crimson as he darted an angry glance at
LOUIS’S LITTLE JOKE 53
Rebecca’s face, wreathed in smiles; while Howard, who had
watched him taste his custard, laughed outright.
Louis left the table soon after, Howard with him, to whom
he gave the other agate as he begged him to promise that
he would never breathe a word of the joke to any one.
He little knew that Rebecca was telling the others at the
table, concluding her narrative with a hearty laugh and this
explanation :
“ J knowed Massa Louis steal down dat cellar for no good !
Z foun’ out his soap-suds ; and den / make de new meringue
for all de cups ‘cept Massa Louis's. He hab to eat ob de
fruits ob de result !â€
‘But, Becky,†said Esther, as she went up-stairs that
night,—Rebecca leading the way and still laughing at Louis's
discomfiture,—“ if you had only given Louis a good custard,
too, he would have understood that verse in the Bible about
‘heaping coals of fire.’â€
« Bress your heart, chile,†said Rebecca, never at loss for
an answer, “’pears to me it ’s jes’ as important dat he under-
stan’ de meanin’ ob de verse ’bout de man dat made a pit an’
digged it, and den falls in de ditch hisself !â€
bow the Boys Fooled Uncle
Budge
HOW THE BOYS FOOLED UNCLE
BUDGE.
Rick and Karl always spent a week in the spring at
Uncle Budge’s.
It had chanced for two or three years that they were
there on All-fools’ Day, and at the end of the last visit
Uncle Budge, on leaving them at the cars, had urged them
to come on for the same time the next year, adding, “ If you
succeed in fooling me then, I'll give you each a gold piece.â€
Uncle Budge as completely forgot having made such an
offer, five minutes after the boys had waved their hats in
good-by, as though there were no April-fool Days and no
gold pieces in the world.
But not so with the Barnes boys. Gold pieces were not
so plenty with them that they would be apt to let such an
offer pass in one ear and out of the other. Already seats
at the circus, fishing-rods, and skates were in wild confusion
in their brains.
57
58 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
“A whole year to think up something!†said Rick.
“T don’t believe there’s a bit of use in trying,†anwered
Karl. ‘“ We’ve come to the conclusion no end of times that
we can’t fool Uncle Budge, and we can’t. That’s all there
is about it.†:
‘No harm in trying,†ventured the not easily discouraged
Rick, thinking how often he had admired the gold dollar on
Chan Holmes’s watch chain. ‘“ Let’s try anyway.â€
So next April-fools’ Day finding them at Uncle Budge’s,
Karl and Rick were tiptoeing about very early. They
spread the Berkville Morning Argus of April 1, the pre-
vious year,—which they had slipped out of Uncle Budge’s
file the day before,—out on the floor, sprinkled some water
over it, folded it carefully, and Karl went quietly down-
stairs, opened the side door, laid the paper there, and took
up-stairs the Avgus that the carrier had just thrown. |
About an hour afterward the breakfast-bell rang, and the
boys went down-stairs. There lay the paper by Uncle
Budge’s plate, which caused so preternaturally solemn an
expression to come over their faces that Aunt Budge was
quite worried. ,
‘Now J hope you’re not getting homesick,†she said to
Karl; ‘I know there’s not much goin’ on for you, as is
used to a large family and a good deal of noise; stillâ€â€”in
a more cheerful tone—‘ we'll think of something after I’ve
done up my work.â€
HOW THE BOVS FOOLED UNCLE BUDGE. 59
An amused smile played about Rick’s lips, to hide which
he leaned his head on his hand.
‘‘- Your toothache ain’t come on again, Richard ?†inquired
Aunt Budge, sympathetically.
“Oh, I’m all right,†said one, while the other assured
Aunt Budge that he didn’t want to go home a bit, and was
having the best sort of a time.
“Uncle Budge has gone over to Wilson’s,†said Aunt
Budge, “but may be in any minute. He left word not to
wait breakfast. Can you reach the Argus, Kar] ?.â€
“Well, well,†began Aunt Budge, “if another of those
Wilkinses isn’t married! Amanda J. Why, now, I was
thinking that Amanda went last year; but no, come to
think, it was Alvira. It does seem that just as reg’lar as
spring comes round, off one on’em goes. Now Amanda
â€
is
But Aunt Budge’s dissertation was cut short by a chok-
ing scene, in which Rick pounded his brother with such
force on the back that it was a wonder they heard the front
door open at all.
“There’s Uncle Budge,†said Rick, hurriedly. ‘Don’t
tell him anything you ’ve noticed in the dvgus, Aunt Budge,
or he’ll suspect.â€
‘Suspect !†echoed Aunt Budge, her mind still on the
Wilkinses. ‘‘ Suspect !â€
“Sh—sh!†implored Karl. ‘It’s a fool, Aunt Budge.
60 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
Help us to carry it out. Last year’s paper—don’t you
see?â€
“Well, well, I declare!†said Aunt Budge, as the real
state of the case flashed over her. ‘ Then,†collecting oC
thoughts, “I was right about its being Amanda, and
But Aunt Budge interrupted herself by laughing so heartily
that the boys found themselves compelled to join her,
though it appeared from the conversation, when Uncle
“Budge came to breakfast, that Aunt Budge had been re-
counting some of the boys’ pranks of years before.
“ How old was I then?†asked Karl. ‘I mustn't forget
to ask mamma when I get home, if she remembers it.â€
Uncle Budge seated himself, and asked for the paper.
He squinted at the date as Karl held it toward him, and
then said: “I believe I’d rather have a little younger paper
than that.â€
“Well, now !†exclaimed Aunt Budge, admiringly. “ And
he never so much as took it in his hand.â€
“We can't fool Uncle Budge,†said Karl, uttering each
word slowly. ‘That may as well pass into a proverb, It
can ot be done.â€
“J’m not so sure. We’re not through trying yet, you
know,†put in Rick, with a peculiar look at his brother.
Karl motioned him aside after breakfast.
“ What did you mean?†he asked.
“That I’ve an idea. Just listen.†And a great many
HOW THE BOYS FOOLED UNCLE BUDGE. 61
questions and answers were exchanged in a hurried under-
tone.
“ Grand—if it will work. Then we must be all ready by
the time he comes down-stairs ?â€
‘Yes, and before that send a telegram to the boys.â€
“The boys†meant Hal and Jack Putnam; “a tele-
gram,†a note pinned to the string that went round a wooden
peg at one of the Budgett windows, and another at the
Putnams’.
“Why?†queried Karl.
“You'll see,†replied Rick, as he hastily pencilled :
“Be on the look-out for Uncle Budge. B.S.â€
The telegram came as the Putnam boys were breakfasting,
and Jack laughed as he read it aloud.
“What is the fun?†asked Mrs. Putnam. ‘And how
strange it is I cannot remember those boys’names. Which
one, now, is it that signs himself ‘B. S.’ De
“Neither,†laughed the boys, merrily. ‘“‘B. S.’ means
‘Big Show.’ An April-fool on Mr. Budgett.â€
‘And must n’t be missed,†added Hal. “Jane, please tell
us when you see Mr. Budgett come down street.â€
Jane went into the kitchen, where she hurriedly told the
cook that Mr. Budgett would probably be coming down town
soon, with “ April-fool†chalked on his back.
“Ve don’t mane it!†cried the interested Bridget. ‘Oh,
thim byes! thim byes!†and she flew after the departing
62 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
milkman with the news, omitting, however, the word
“ probably.â€
But to return to Mr. Budgett. Just as he was putting on
his coat, he heard whispers of,
“ He’s going, Karl, as sure as I’m alive!â€
“And has n’t noticed it. Well, that’s too good.â€
“ He’s looking in the glass now.â€
« Sh—sh ! don’t make so much noise.â€
“He sees it, I’m sure, or he’d have gone long ago.â€
“Sh—sh! can’t you?†| ;
Mr. Budgett heard it all. “I believe I’ve left my pocket-
book,†he said, half aloud, as he turned to go up-stairs.
“It’s all up now,†said Karl, vexedly.
“Maybe not. Keep dark.â€
“Couldn’t very well do otherwise under these coats.
Why doesn’t he go? I’m smothering.†|
This decided Mr. Budgett. Up he went, and with Aunt
Budge’s hand-glass and the mirror took a complete survey.
“Did you find it?†called Aunt Budge, as he came down
again.
“Yes,†from Uncle Budge, who was listening for more
whispers.
“We'll open the window, and watch him down the
street.â€
“Sh—sh! How the Putnams will stare!â€
A suppressed giggle followed.
mt?
M ALIV.
AS SURE As I’
S GOING, KaRL,
HE
HOW THE BOYS FOOLED UNCLE BUDGE. 65
The shutting of the front door. was a signal for the
boys to rush wildly out of the hall closet into the dining-
room, where Aunt Budge was hovering over the breakfast
dishes.
‘What is it?†cried Aunt Budge, putting on her glasses.
“Oh, what red faces! Did you get shut in?â€
“We're fooling Uncle Budge,†said Rick, breathlessly.
‘‘He promised us each a gold piece if we could,†and he
dashed up-stairs after Karl.
As Mr. Budgett turned the corner they raised the window
cautiously, but not too quietly for Uncle Budge. He heard
but did not look up, though he began to feel a little ill at
ease as he walked along, and no less so when the milkman,
who was dashing away from the Putnams’, reined in his horse
very noticeably, nudged the small boy on the side of the
wagon, and both looked curiously at him.
“There is certainly something wrong,†decided Mr. Bud-
gett ; “though I didn’t think those little rascals would make
a spectacle of me. - And look atthe Putnams !†he exclaimed
aloud.
Well might he stop in surprise. There was Mrs. Putnam
standing in. the doorway, with Abby and Sarah on tiptoe be-
side her; the two boys at a large upper window, poking each
other and giggling audibly; Mr. Putnam at a third, appar-
ently consulting a thermometer but looking down at Mr.
Budgett as though he possessed far more interest for him
5
66 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
than any degree on the indicator ; and lastly, Jane and Bridget
on the side stoop, gazing as though he were a candidate for
Barnum’s.
Uncle Budge turned abruptly and started for home. He
walked a few steps then looked furtively behind him. His
feelings may be imagined at discovering that the milkman
had stopped his horse, and that the small boy had dismounted
and was running quietly after him, but stopped as he noticed
Mr. Budgett glance around.
Uncle Budge continued his way. He passed by the side
gate, appearing not to notice the boys hanging out of an up-
per window, slowly turned the corner, and went in at the front
door. :
“Polly, what’s the matter with me?†he asked, walking
into the dining-room, where Aunt Budge was drying her
coffee-cups. ‘All Berkville is agog.â€
“ Berkville agog!†cried Aunt Budge, inspecting Mr.
Budgett critically. ‘I’m sure I don’t know over what.
However, the boys are up to something, for they said as
much.â€
‘Of course they are,†agreed Uncle Budge; “but can’t
you take it off, Polly? It’s on my back, I guess.â€
“Something alive!†screamed Aunt Budge. ‘Why
don’t you shake yourself, Jacob ?â€
Uncle Budge laughed heartily.
“Tt would be as well,†advised Aunt Budge, “‘ to give ’em
ED BY THE SIDE GATE,
HE PASss
HOW THE BOVS FOOLED UNCLE BUDGE. 69
the gold at once, for they ‘Il play the trick, Jacob, whatever
it is, on you till you do.â€
‘Give them the gold!†exclaimed Uncle Budge, wonder-
ingly. “My dear Polly, what do you mean ?†.
‘“They say you promised ’em each a gold pee last ey
if they’d come on and fool you this.â€
“Tl did?â€â€”~with still more surprise in his voice—‘ I did?
Pon my word I’d forgotten it. Well, well,†producing the
purse that Polly had knitted for him years ago, ‘‘ Where
are the rascals?†Then going to the stairs, “ Rick and
Karl, come down here!†he called, with an affected stern-
ness in his voice. ‘ The idea of your daring to make a guy
of your old uncle!â€
~« We have n’t made'a guy of you,†said the boys, rushing
down; “and it isn’t a mean fool at all, Uncle Budge, for it’s
really nothing.â€
“Nothing!†echoed Aunt Budge. ‘“ Why is everybody
staring, then ?â€
‘Only the Putnams,†they explained. ‘We sent a tele-
gram to the boys
‘Telling them what?†interrupted Uncle Budge. ‘Not |
all about it, I hope?â€
‘‘No; merely to be on the look-out for you.â€
“You don’t mean it!†chuckled Uncle Budge; ‘and
that whole family is fooled from garret to cellar, milkman
included. Well, well, pretty good, pretty good. You de-
70 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
serve a reward, boys, for there’ll be few tricks played to-day
that'll end as pleasantly as this. It’s the right kind of one,
_ and the more of that sort the merrier.â€
‘‘ Beauties, ain’t they ?†cried Aunt Budge, admiringly, as
the boys laid their gold pieces on the table where the sun
came streaming in, and called her to look at them.
“Seems to me,†said Karl, “they ’re bigger than Chan
Holmes’s.
“His has worn down, perhaps,†said Rick, spinning his
P ’ g
glittering coin. “Why, look here! what’s this? ‘Two
and a half D.’â€
‘No you don’t,†answered Karl, knowingly. “I’m too
well posted on the day of the month.â€
‘Well, I know these are two-dollar-and-a-half pieces,â€
cried Rick, snatching his hat, “and I’m off to thank Uncle
Budge for zs fool,†and away he went, and Karl after him
when he found that it was true.
Susie Ringman’s Decision
SUSIE KINGMAN’S DECISION.
CHAPTER I.
“T’m getting to quite like papa’s present,†said Susie King-
man, as she thoughtfully turned over a leaf of her Sz/ent
Comforter, ‘though I dd want a ring awfully, and expected
one as much as could be; but then this is much better, for
it teaches mesomething. I ’ve learned ever so many verses
already, for it’s the first thing my eyes open upon in the
morning, and every time I come into the room I uncon-
sciously read over the text for the day. Let me see—yes,
to-day is the 20th.†And having put back the leaf num-
bered nineteen, she read, ‘“‘‘ Be kindly affectioned one to
another with brotherly love; in honor preferring one an-
other.’ ‘In honor preferring one another,’†she repeated
musingly—‘‘‘in honor preferring one another.’ I don’t
exactly see what that means. I believe I'll look in the
Commentary before I go to breakfast, for if it ’s to be my
verse for the day, I ought to understand it at the beginning.â€
73
74 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
The breakfast bell rang as Susie descended the stairs, so
she hastened into her father’s study, and taking from the
book-case the volume she wanted, turned over the leaves
until Romans xii., 10, was reached.
“Yes, here is an explanation of the very words, ‘In honor
preferring one another.’†And she read, half aloud: “‘ The
meaning appears to be this: consider all your brethren as
more worthy than yourself, and let neither grief nor envy
affect your mind at seeing another honored and yourself
neglected. This is a hard lesson, and very few persons
learn it thoroughly.’ â€
Susie paused with her finger on the words, saying: ‘I
hope I shall be one of the few that learn it. I just wish
I had a chance to show that I felt glad to have some one
honored; but â€â€”less confidently—‘* I don’t know as I should
care to be neglected. No, that would bea great deal harder.â€
Then exclaiming, as she went on, “ Why, this writer says the
very same thing: ‘If we wish to see our brethren honored,
still it is with the secret condition in our own minds that we
,))
be honored more than they. Susie slowly closed the book,
saying, “It’s perfectly clear to me now;†then as baby’s
voice, heralding the approach of the others, was heard on
the stairs, she replaced the book and joined them.
An hour later she might have been seen on her way to
school, taking a last look at one of her lessons as she walked
along, and so occupied with her book as not to notice a
HE May QUEEN,
.
SUSTE KINGMAN’S DECISION. 17
group on the school steps waving handkerchiefs and beck-
oning her to hasten. At last, as she still read on, the eager
girls, too impatient to wait until she reached them, with one
accord darted down the street to meet her.
Josie Thorp playfully snatched away her book, exclaim-
ing, “No more studying for you until you ’ve heard the
news !â€
« How can you speak so disrespectfully to Her Majesty?â€
laughed another; at which the rest, following the last speak-
er’s example, made low courtesies to the bewildered Susie,
who a moment before had been deep in the grammar rules.
«What do you mean, girls?†she wonderingly stammered,
looking at Sadie Folger, who was kissing her hand in mock
solemnity, and then at the others, still courtesying and say-
ing, “ Your Majesty.†‘Seems to me you ‘re in fine spirits
for Friday. I believe you ’ve all got excused from compo-
sition class. Tell me. What is it? Has Mr. Gorham given
us a holiday ?â€
“ Better than that!†they exclaimed, in one voice.
“Don’t keep me in suspense,†pleaded Susie.
“Tt ’s too good to keep,†said Sadie ; “but still, girls, we
must tell it by degrees.†Then, to Susie, ‘Well, we ’re
going to have a May party!â€
“A May party! Splendid! Who
“ And,†broke in one of the others, wondering if Susie’s
face could look any brighter, “you are to be our Queen.â€
78 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
“Your Queen! Are you in earnest?†she cried, her eyes
dancing with delight. ‘“ Whose party is it, and how do you
know I’m to be Queen ?â€
“Because we ’re all going to vote for you,†they answered,
ignoring the first part of the question. So Susie repeated :
‘‘ But whose party is it? who is getting it up?â€
“All the teachers. We left Mr. Gorham talking to Miss
Hyde and the rest. They had a meeting at half-past eight,
and we five happened to be here early; so after they had
decided the matter, they told us one or two things, and be-
fore recess Mr. Gorham will tell the whole school.â€
‘‘ But,†said Susie, a trifle doubtfully, ‘then it’s not cer-
tain I’m to be Queen?â€
“Just as good as certain,†said Stella Morris, ‘‘ for the
choice is between Florence Tracy and yourself. Mr. Gor-
ham says you stand exactly the same—three marks against
each—and that the way to decide it will be by vote this
afternoon.â€
‘‘Tam sure you ll have every vote,†said Josie, confidently,
“for we scarcely know Florence Tracy. She’s so quiet, and
does n’t seem to care for anything but study. Not that I
dislike her at all, for she’s always pleasant enough ; but still—
she 7s n't like you,†and she took Susie’s arm in undisguised
admiration.
Susie was an acknowledged favorite, and it is needless to
say she enjoyed this school-girl homage. Others had joined
SUSIE KINGMAN’S DECISION. 19
the group since they commenced talking, and each in turn
had said, “You are sure of my vote, Sue.â€
“Thank you all,†she answered, looking around grate-
fully. “I’m half in a dream. It seems too good to be
true.â€
“T’ve just: been having another talk with Miss Hyde,â€
called Sadie, bounding down the walk. ‘‘ She knows more
about it than any of the others, I guess, for she saw a May-
day celebration at some place on the Hudson last summer.
Every one in the school is to take part. The primary class
is to dance round a May-pole; and then there are to be gar-
land-bearers and maids-of-honor, so we'll all be something ;
but of course Susie will have the highest honor.â€
Susie’s happy look of a moment before was gone. That
word honor had set her thinking.
«What is the matter?†asked Sadie, mistaking the cause of
her changed expression. ‘‘ Don’t you want us to be in it?â€
“Want you to be in it! Of course I do,†cried Susie.
“You must think me a monster of selfishness. I only wish
you could all be queens.â€
_“ Weare satisfied to be your subjects,†said Sadie, putting
her arm around Susie, as they all started by twos and threes
for the school, as the bell was ringing.
“I wish I’d never seen that verse,†thought Susie, not
heeding Sadie’s chatter, as they went up the walk. “ It’s
just going to spoil the whole thing.â€
80 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
“Here comes Florence Tracy,†remarked Sadie, asa
carriage stopped at the foot of the walk, and a young girl
alighted. ‘Do you know, Susie, I don’t believe she has a
good time at all, if she does drive to school, and live in the
handsomest house in town. I fancy her uncle isn’t very
kind to her, for she never seems very happy. Just look;
don’t you think she has a sad face?â€
“] don’t know,†answered Susie, anxious to change the
subject. “ Isn’t the parsing hard to-day ? Miss Page gives
such long lessons !â€
But Sadie was far too interested in Squire Tracy’s spirited
horses, with their gilded harness to turn her thoughts to dis-
cussing the length or difficulty of any lesson.
“Wouldn’t I like to jump in!†she exclaimed. “It’s
just the morning for a drive.†Then, in a lower tone:
‘Strange that Florence never asks any of the girls. There’s
room for four, yet every afternoon she goes for hours all
alone.â€
“ Hush!†cautioned Susie ; ‘she ’s right behind us.â€
Florence joined them with a good-morning, and the three
went up the steps together, Susie and Florence stopping a
moment on the porch to talk over a troublesome sentence
in the parsing.
“T know she didn’t hear you,†said Susie, in answer to
Sadie’s anxious question as she passed her seat, ‘‘for she is
as pleasant as can be.â€
SUSIE KINGMAN’S DECISION. 81
‘Perhaps she woudd invite us,†said Sadie, striving to
make amends for her hasty speech, “ if the Squire would let
her. Poor girl! I really pity her.â€
Susie took her seat, and glanced across at Florence’s.
“She does look sad,†she was forced to acknowledge ; ‘but
then deep mourning makes almost every one look so. Sadie
is always getting up things to make one uncomfortable ;â€
and she tried to busy herself in arranging her desk, and so
forget the sad face opposite. ‘I’m sure she has everything
money can buy. Still I would n’t exchange places with her for
all her pretty things, though I did think yesterday I’d give
anything for that watch she wore. But then think of baby!
How cunning she was this morning !—worth more than all
the watches in the world!†and Susie almost felt the little
arms about her neck.
6
CHAPTER II.
The morning passed as usual, with the exception that just
before recess Mr. Gorham stated that he had a few words
to say to the school, and begged the closest attention. It
was needless to ask that, for every eye was already fixed upon
the speaker, and every face betokened the liveliest interest
in what he was about to say.
In a few words Mr. Gorham unfolded the May-party pro-
ject, said the honor of Queen would be given to the one
who stood first in her classes, and as having looked over the
records he found two of the pupils, Miss Florence Tracy
and Miss Susie Kingman, ranked equally high, a vote would
be taken before close of school to decide the matter. He
then referred the girls to Miss Hyde to find out about their
costumes, and finished by setting the twentieth of June, the
last day of school, for the /ée, then struck the bell.
The buzzing of voices that followed! Among the many
exclamations one might have heard :
“Tt’s really a fume party!â€
‘All the better, for we never could wear thin dresses out-
of-doors in May !â€
82
SOSIEL KINGMAN’ S DECISION. 83
‘The best kind of a way to end up school !â€
“Why, girls, it will be just a month from to-day. Let’s
find Miss Page and learn all the particulars.†_
At this proposal quite a number went into the recitation-
room, but Susie, with her eyes on Florence’s sad face, seemed
chained to her seat.
‘‘T must decide now,†she was thinking, “No; Lcan not
give it up. I gave up to Dick this morning, and that’s
enough for one day. Then, too, it’s Friday, visitors’ day,
and I should just like to show them how well I stand. And
when papa hears of my success he will be delighted; he
always is when he thinks I’m getting on well in my lessons.
Oh, no; I can not, can not give it up! Of course I shall
vote for Florence, and that’s all I can be expected to do.
I haven’t asked the girls to vote for me, and I’m not sup-
posed to know anything about it.â€
“But you do know about it,†said an inward voice. ‘You
know, moreover, that you can make Florence very happy,
and that it will not affect your standing in the least.â€
“Oh, dear!†sighed Susie: ‘I suppose I'll have to give
it up, but I can wait until after the votes are counted, and
then say I prefer Florence to have the place.â€
“Ah!†interposed the voice again, “ your idea is ‘to be
seen of men.’ There is no charity in that, and, besides,
how would Florence feel to be so patronized? If you give
it up at all, do it entirely and cheerfully.â€
84 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
“Oh, I can not, I really cannot. It will be lovely to have
all the girls for my subjects, to be waited on by them, and
pass under their garlands. Why does every word I read
this morning in the Commentary keep coming into my mind,
about one’s being willing to have another honored if one
can be more honored one’s self? How exactly that applies
to my giving up to Florence after being elected myself ; and
then that ‘In honor preferring one another’ has been running
in my head all the morning. III just stop thinking about
it, and go into Miss Page’s room with the rest, and talk over
the dresses. That reminds me. That lovely one I had
made in the fall for Cousin Clara’s wedding—I believe it
will be the very thing.†And she hastily went down the
passage between two rows of desks. |
Florence caught her hand as she went by, and said: “I
know the question is as good as decided, Susie, and I shall
hail you as our Queen as gladly as any other of your
friends.â€
Susie tried to thank her, but the words would not come;
and instead of going into Miss Page’s room, she took an
opposite direction to a vacant one, used for certain meet-
ings, and there she sat down at one of the desks, saying:
‘‘Only ten minutes left me.â€
‘There were tears in Susie’s eyes; in fact, one or two had
rolled down her cheeks, when she slowly said, “I’ve de-
cided,†and on looking toward the door saw Sadie.
SUSTE KINGMAWN’S DECISION, 85
“You ’re the one I want,†said Susie, trying to speak in
her usual tones. ‘1 was just going for you.â€
Sadie noticed her tear-streaked cheeks and effort to speak
cheerfully, so hastened to say, comfortingly :
“ Don’t worry an instant; it’s just as I said; every girl
in the school will vote for you.â€
‘ONLY TEN MINUTES LEFT ME,â€
“That ’s just what they must n’t do,†said Susie, earnestly.
“Oh, Sadie! do promise you'll make me very happy by
not voting for me.â€
“ Not voting for you!†cried the astonished girl. “What
do you mean?â€
86 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
‘Hush, Sadie! somebody will hear you. I mean /hzs-:
that you must get all the votes you can for Florence. It
will make me a thousand times happier than to be Queen .
myself ; and just think of Florence! . You said yourself. she
never looks happy, and now we'll all unite to make her so.â€
“Oh, Susie,†said Sadie, after a moment’s pause, “how
good you are to propose such a thing, and how Florence
will love you for it!†7
“No, no!†protested Susie. “Sadie, of all things, Flor-
ence must never know, never even suspect; that would spoil
it all.â€
“I’m so bewildered!†said Sadie. ‘‘ What caz we do in
the few minutes left? As you say, how delighted Florence
will be! but I never could have given it up, Susie—
never |â€
“Oh, yes you could, if you knew how great the joy was
that followed,†said Susie, simply. “I wonder now that I
hesitated a moment.â€
They both went among the different groups of girls, and
there was more whispering than ever, and numberless ex-
pressions of wonder, always silenced by ‘“‘ Hush! Florence
will hear, and she must never know.†The ringing of the
bell put an end to all, and the scholars were soon in their
seats. |
Sadie asked permission to speak. Mr. Gorham smiled,
knowing she had been talking every moment for the past
half-hour, nevertheless he granted it.
SUSTE KINGMAWN’S DECISION. 87
She leaned over and whispered to Susie: ‘Ten or twelve
girls went out to walk at recess, and haven't heard the new
plan.â€
‘“Never mind,†returned Susie. ‘It will seem all the
more natural to have a divided vote.â€
The usual Friday visitors now began to come in to listen
to the readings and recitations that always took place on
the last school afternoon of the week, and among them was
one who had never before presented himself—Squire Tracy.
“All the better,†whispered Sadie, forgetting in her ex-
citement that her permission to speak had long since expired.
And Susie signaled a ‘“‘yes†in reply.
After the weekly exercises were over, Mr. Gorham ex-
plained to the new-comers about the May-party, gave the
names of the two scholars for whom votes were to be cast,
and then handed each of the forty girls a slip of paper on
which to write the name of her choice for Queen.
The Squire grew interested. He wiped his glasses, and
looked about for Florence. She could not raise her eyes
for thinking : ‘‘Oh, uncle has no idea what a popular girl
Susie Kingman is! What wz he think when I don’t get
any votes?â€
The Squire caught her eye at last, and nodded encourag-
ingly. ‘ He never looked so kindly at me before,†moaned
the unhappy girl. “He really thinks I’ve as good a chance
as Susie,†and her eyes filled with tears as she traced Susie’s
name on her paper.
CHAPTER III.
There were about five minutes of quiet, broken only by
the scratch of pens, and then Mr. Gorham went round and
collected the papers.
Susie’s face was very bright. Florence saw it, and bent
her own still lower, saying, inwardly: ‘No wonder she’s
happy, knowing that she'll have every vote except the one
she has writtenfor me. If uncle could only understand how
hard it is for me to make friends, and how—’â€
But all thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Gorham’s rising
from his seat. His face bore a surprised expression, and he
looked again at his paper to assure himself no mistake had
been made. |
“Oh,†groaned Florence, ‘he thinks it strange that out
of forty, 1 should have only ove! If uncle wouldn't keep
nodding to me!†But there the Squire sat, gently hitting
the floor with his cane, and looking one moment at Mr.
Gorham, and the next at his niece, with a most hopeful ex-
pression.
At length there was perfect silence in the room. The
88
SUSIE KINGMAN’S DECISION. 89
Squire had stopped tapping with his cane, and now held it
firmly down with both hands on the heavy gold top, with
his face turned toward the teacher's desk.
“T find,†announced Mr. Gorham, ‘‘on counting the
votes ’—every ear was strained to catch the result—“ that
Miss Florence has twenty-eight, and Miss Susie twelve.
Therefore Miss Florence will be our Queen.†And he turned
to the astounded girl with a cordial word of congratulation.
The Squire nodded more vigorously than ever, and
pounded away in a regardless manner with his cane, but
nobody heard it in the general uproar. Some were clap-
ping their hands, others had flocked to Florence’s seat, and
were congratulating hér. The young girl’s face was radiant
with delight, and Susie’s no less so.
“You bear defeat bravely,†said Mr. Gorham, in his kind-
est tone, to Susie. ‘The Squire is asking to see you.â€
« Ah,†said the Squire, as Susie came forward, ‘we can’t
~ all win, you know, my dear, I hope you don’t bear Flor-
ence any ill-will?â€
“Far from it,†answered Susie, earnestly. ‘I would n’t
have it otherwise.†And she sent a loving glance toward
Florence, which was as quickly returned.
Squire Tracy motioned to Mr. Gorham, and they both
stepped aside, and after a few moments of subdued conver-
sation the latter came forward and rang the bell.
“ Squire Tracy,†said he, “has kindly offered his grounds
go STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
for the May-party, so our /éze will be held at Maplewood in-
stead of the grove.â€
At this announcement the buzzing was louder than ever.
“Fifty times better than those old picnic grounds, where
we ’ve been all our lives,†said Josie.
_“T ’ve always been wild to get into Squire Tracy’s
grounds,†put in Stella, longingly.
‘Oh, they’re grand,†said Sadie. ‘‘ They have four gar-
deners all the year round. I went once with papa when he
was attending the Squire. That’s the advantage, girls, of
having one’s father a doctor.†And she threw back her
head playfully.
“Ora minusicn, †added Susie, ‘‘ for I’ve been two or three
times with papa.â€
Both speakers were immediately beset with questions re-
garding the beauty of the Squire’s surroundings, and noth- —
ing else was talked about all the way home.
“Well, I got my reward pretty soon,†thought Susie, as
she waved her school satchel to Baby, who was throwing
kisses from the nursery window ; “for I should enjoy a day
at Squire Tracy’s more than anything I can think of, and IJ
shall never forget Florence’s expression when Mr. Gorham
announced the good news. I never felt so like crying, but
I kept back the tears for fear Florence would think I was
terribly disappointed.â€
And what were Florence’s thoughts at the same moment?
SUSIE KINGMAWN’S DECISION. gt
“To think the girls really like me!†as she passed up the
broad and softly carpeted staircase ; ‘‘and Mr. Gorham, too,
seemed so pleased! Oh, ow I shall study now! And to
think uncle really patted me on the head, and said, ‘I’m de-
lighted with you, my child!’ That was the best of all.
What wz// Bessie say when she hears it? I must begin a
letter to her this very moment,†and the happy girl hummed
a lively air as she opened her portfolio. ‘There! I hope un-
cle did n’t hear me.†Then opening a letter: “I must read
again just what he wrote to Aunt Rebecca, and keep it con-
stantly in mind: ‘If Florence comes to live with me, she
must be studious and quiet, for I have lived so long alone
that I cannot bear the thought of a romping girl setting
things topsy-turvy.’ Well, I’ve been that to the very letter,
‘studious and quiet,’ but I feel to-day like opening the piano,
and pounding away on it every college song Ray ever sang
for us; but no, ‘studious and quiet,’ ‘studious and quiet,’â€
and her pen ran over the sheet before her as she wrote the
following letter :
“My DEAREST SISTER,—I have time for a few words before dinner, and
- I never wrote you in so happy a frame of mind. You know I told you
how all the girls disliked me, and that I didn’t feel any more acquainted
with them than I did the first day. Well, I made a mistake, for swenty-
eight out of the forty voted for me to be Queen of the May. And my op-
ponent was Susie Kingman, the one I wrote you all the girls were crazy over,
and who réminded me of you more than any one lever saw. It seems
even now as though there must be some mistake ; but no, I remember how
92 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
cordial the girls were, and that they didn’t seem particularly surprised
when Mr. Gorham read the result. But, Bessie, the best thing of all was
that uncle was there! When he came into the room, I trembled from head _
to foot, for I only expected one vote. Dear me! the tears are falling all
over this, but they are joyful ones. Well, uncle was delighted, called me
‘My child,’ and talked to me about school in the kindest manner all the
way home—talked more in that quarter of an hour than all the rest of the
time I’ve been here. Bessie darling, this is what I’ve prayed for—that
uncle would care for me if only a very little, for it is dreadful to be in the
house with mamma’s own brother and have him take no notice of me, ex-
cept by giving me money and presents ; but that ‘My child’ was worth
them all. The bell is ringing for dinner. I haven’t told you half how
happy Iam. Uncle has offered his grounds for the affair, which comes
off the last day of school. Will wonders never cease? Your ever loving
â€
FLo.
Ah! if Susie could have seen that tear-blotted letter that
was kissed and cried over by the little absent sister, she
might well have said, ‘I have my reward already.â€
CHAPTER IV.
‘‘May-party day at last!†cried Susie, dancing gayly
about her room. ‘School ended, and now for a splendid
time to-day!†As she went toward the window the sweet
June air was coming softly in, the birds, too, were singing,
and unconsciously she found herself chanting, “ Let every-
thing that hath breath praise the Lord.†Then, stopping
suddenly, ‘“‘ Why, that reminds me, I forgot to turn over to
anew leaf in my Szlent Comforter before breakfast. Oh,
surely it’s the zoth, and I’ve come round again to that
verse with ‘In honor preferring one another’ in it, which
perplexed me so. How this month has flown! It seems
at once the longest and shortest I remember. To think
Florence is so changed a girl! Why, she really seems like
one of the family, running in and out at all times, bringing
or sending mamma flowers almost every day ; and the girls
all like her so well, and would n’t need any urging zow to
vote for her. Why, there she is this minute!†as a pretty
phaeton stopped at the gate.
‘Could the day be finer?†called Florence, as she tied
the black pony. “I thought I saw you drinking in this air, -
93
94 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
when I was at the turn in the road about half a mile off.
Come, bring your hat and takeadrive with me. I ’ve some-
thing very important to tell you,†and she opened the gate
to take some rare flowers to Mrs. Kingman, who was sew-
ing on the piazza, with the baby playing near her chair.
Florence took the little one in her arms, begging it to say
?
her name. ‘She cannot get any farther than ‘Flo,’†said
Mrs. Kingman, putting aside her work to go and arrange
her flowers.
“That ’s what my sister Bessie always calls me,†said
Florence, kissing the little one more tenderly.
‘“When are you going to show me the new photograph
of that wonderful Bessie?†asked Susie, straightening out
the daisies on her hat as they went slowly down the
walk.
‘“T should have brought it over this morning if I had n’t
had something else on my mind to tell you.â€
A moment later the pretty pony was carrying the young
girls along at an easy gait, pricking up his ears occasionally,
as if to catch the drift of the gay chatter going on behind
him. :
‘By the way,†Florence was saying, ‘‘I] found this scrap
of paper on the floor this morning when I was over at
school,†handing it to her companion. ‘ The girls were all
â€
clearing out their desks
But Susie had read the few pencilled words, and looked
THE PRETTY PONY WAS CARRYING THE YOUNG GIRLS ALONG AT AN EASY GAIT.
SUSIE KINGMAN’S DECISION. 97
aghast: “ Vote for F. T. We've all going to. S. K. wishes
zt,â€
The pony was walking leisurely along. Florence had
dropped the reins; her arms were about Susie’s neck. ‘To
think I never suspected it!†she said, kissing her.
‘‘T never wanted you to know,†said Susie, ‘and if it
â€
had n’t been for Sadie’s carelessness
“Oh, I’m glad I do know—just as glad as can be, and |
can never thank you enough.â€
“T don’t deserve any thanks at all,†protested Susie ;
‘and if I did, I felt fully repaid when your uncle offered
his grounds, and looked so kindly at u
“Ves,†said Florence, ‘and from that moment my life
changed entirely. Oh, Susie, you cannot imagine how lone-
some I used to feel, for uncle seldom spoke to me, and I
felt that I never could get used to so many strange faces,
and I kept wishing myself back with Bessie. But no; our
home was broken up. When papa died, mamma only lived
a week longer, and after that, where were we to go?
Mamma’s sister Rebecca was with us at the time, and of-
- fered to take one of us, which was a great deal, for she has
a large family of her own, and then she. wrote to uncle to
take the other. He chose me, because I was named after
mamma, and J suppose he fancied I would look like her,
whereas Bessie is her very image. Well, when I got here,
uncle met me at the station, asked one or two questions,
7
98 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
and then we rode to Maplewood without another word. 1
was too homesick to talk. So things went on, one day ex-
actly like another, with simply a good-morning and good-
night to begin and end up the day. I often found money
and other presents in my room, and, oh! how I longed to
send each thing on to Bessie, but I really was afraid to ask if
I might. But I must hurry on to the red-letter day of my
life, the 20th of May. That day, at dinner, after the scene
at school, uncle praised my high standing, and began to
ask me about Bessie. I showed him her photograph, and he
looked a long time at it, murmuring something about ‘ Flor-
ence of long ago,’ and asked me if she did n’t look a great deal
like mamma. ‘Everybody used to speak of the wonderful
resemblance,’ I answered. ‘ Well,’ said he, ‘we must have
alarge picture of her!’ And what do you think he has
done? Sent on to have Besste’s portratt painted, and I’m to
have it for my room.â€
“The tears are for joy,†continued Florence, in answer to
Susie’s earnest, ‘‘ Oh, this is enough! don’t tell me any more.â€
‘“Uncle grew more and more kind. He seemed to enjoy
planning for the May party, and you ’ll see this afternoon
some of the arrangements he has made. It has given him
something to think of, which Dr. Folger said yesterday was
the best thing in the world for one of his melancholy dispo-
sition. Uncle has said again and again, ‘I ’m glad you take
an interest in your studies; it pleases me greatly: And,
SUSIE KINGMAN’S DECISION. 99
Susie, I know all this happiness would never have come to
me unless the girls had voted for me that day as they did.
â€
I know they used to think me selfish, for one morning
“What! you heard what Sadie said ?â€
“Yes; but I ve made up for it since; have n’t I? For I
have n’t been alone once since the day uncle said, ‘ You may
take whomever you choose when you goout.’ By that time
I had lost all fear, and kissed and thanked him. And so
things have gone on, each day better than the last. Uncle
handed me a telegram this morning, which read, ‘ The por-
trait is on the way’; so we expect it by the first express.
Susie, I can never thank you—never, as long as I live; all I
can do is to tell you that, next to Bessie, I love you best of
any one on earth.â€
There was a great lump in Susie’s throat. She was crying
softly, with her cheek against Florence’s. At the gate Mrs.
Kingman met them.
“Tell your mother all about it,†called Florence, touching
up the horse; and Susie did.
xx ns a # % " x
‘To think it ’s all over!†said Susie, about seven o’clock
that evening, as they were going down to supper. “ Did n't
Florence look lovely ?â€
‘No lovelier than a certain maid of honor that crowned
her,†said papa, drawing Susie toward him?
“Well, did n’t the Squire appear delighted ?â€
100 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
“Yes,†said Mr. Kingman, “I think he was; but I doubt
if he was as happy as Iâ€â€”with a loving look at his little
daughter—“ for mamma had been telling me something.â€
‘And you were glad?†she asked, nestling closer.
2
“Far more than to have seen you Queen â€â€”kissing her.
Then taking a spray of delicate green from a vase near by,
‘7 will crown you myself ;â€
her head.
But the day was not yet done. A sharp ring was heard
and he tenderly twined it round
soon after at the door, and Susie, on hearing Sadie’s breath-
less ‘I must see Susie right away,†darted into the hall.
‘Have you heard?†gasped Sadie, handing her a note.
‘‘No—what ?†questioned Susie, in the same excited tone,
grasping the paper, and pulling Sadie into the library. She
turned up the light, which fell upon the words:
“Oh, Susie! the portrait has come, and it’s Bessie herself! She has
come to Maplewood to dive. I’m the happiest girl on earth. Bessie says
she is, and we owe it all to God through you.â€
‘“‘T am happier than either,†said Susie, a great joy lighting
up her face. ‘(Is n’t it like a story, Sadie?â€
“Yes,†said Sadie, excitedly. “I was there when she came.
The Squire came to Florence’s door and asked, ‘ Shall I bring
in the portrait ?’ Welooked around and there stood Bessie.
I shall never forget Florence’s face as she rushed forward, nor
the Squire’s as he said, ‘She has come to live with us, Flor-
ence.’ The first I knew I was crying away as hard as could be,
SUSIE KINGMAN’S DECISION. IOI
Florence was on her knees, the Squire had his arm round
Bessie, and—oh, they ’re so happy! When I came away,
the Squire had an arm around each, and said, ‘I ’ve got two
daughters now’; and they made a lovely picture. Nothing
in the May-party compared with it. Then Florence said:
‘Won't you take this note to Susie, as you go by her house,
and tell her how happy I am, if any words caz tell?’ But
how late it’s getting! Good-by.†Then, coming back: ‘I
forgot to say they want you to come over the first thing in
the morning. Florence told her uncle that it was through
your unselfishness that she was made Queen, and she keeps
saying she owes Bessze to you. 1 don’t half understand it, but
I know it was lovely in you to give up the honor ;†and off
she ran.
‘“T can hear the word Zonor now, and not shut my ears to
it,†thought Susie ; and with Florence’s note in her hands,
and papa’s crown on her head, her cup of happiness was
overflowing.
A Debt of Wears
A DEBT OF YEARS.
GHAPTE RI:
“Well, old fellow, I shouldn’t object to being in your
boots,†was. the way Will Mortimer announced himself as
he entered the room where his chum Paul Channing was
studying. ‘ You’re in luck.â€
“Tf I’m no more in luck than I am in boots,†returned
Paul, with a laugh, as he glanced at his slippers, ‘I don’t
believe the news will turn my head. A fortune left me, of
course ?â€
“Not exactly, but possibly the beginning of one. One
of the Senior societies has offered a prize of a hundred dol-
lars for the best design for its invitations.â€
“1 don’t know how I’m particularly interested in that,â€
said Paul.
“You certainly are.â€
tO
““ Because you're going to try for it, and going to win ifs
said Mortimer, coolly.
Ios
106 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.—
‘Don’t talk nonsense,†said Paul.
“T’m not,†returned the other. “Didn't you design the
programme for the theatricals last winter? ’T was said you
did.â€
“T had something to do with it,†admitted Paul, “but.
Captain Eckels worked up the thing. It would never have
appeared otherwise.â€
“Well, what’s to prevent your designing now, and his
contributing the fine work?†suggested Will.
‘His being at present in the Bahamas makes it a little
awkward,†laughed Paul.
“Come to think, I believe it’s open only to the college
fellows,†corrected Mortimer ; “but even so, if the design is
good, the’ engraver, I should think, could do the fine work.
You'll try anyway, Channing? Get your name’ up, you
know.â€
‘‘ Which society is it?†questioned Paul.
‘‘ Something sensible from you at last!†exclaimed Morti-
mer, as he answered him, and went on to urge: ‘“ You ’ve six
weeks before you, and even if you shouldn’t come in first,
you might second or third, and like enough your design
would be exhibited, and in that way you’d get your name
up.â€
“This getting one’s name up will be your hobby yet,
Mortimer,†laughed Paul.
‘I left some of the fellows copying the notice,†said Will,
A DEBT OF YEARS. cor
“to slip under Doane’s door, with a note bidding him. go
to work, as we wanted the honor in the Freshman Class;
and when some one suggested your name, they said: ‘All
the better ; we’ll spur him on too.’â€
‘No harm in trying,†thought Paul, as he read the notice
that evening, “though I’m about sure Horton or Weaver
will get it; still, as Willsays, there is the one chance. ‘ De-
cision to be made May 15.’ Why, mother’s birthday ! If it
isn’t! Imagine sending her a check for a hundred dollars!
Think of Ethel—she’d go wild. But, pshaw! here I am
building castles equal to the little sister herself. But I’m
resolved to try for it,†he repeated, ‘‘and to go to work to-
morrow.â€
He was as good as his word, so far as going to the society
rooms to look over invitations of past years and get a gen-
eral idea of what was required was concerned ; but it did not
advance his work to any great degree, for no sooner did he
begin to outline a design than those he had examined rose
before him, until he almost came to the conclusion that
everything had been used.
It was not until a fortnight after that he exclaimed sud-
denly, “Something that will do at last!†and got out his
crayons. ‘ NowI wonderif I ‘ll go to the rooms to-morrow,
and find that I’ve seen this ?†as he gave a few delicate strokes
and then held off the paper. ‘Not a bad idea,†he com-
mented, as he went on. ‘Why didn’t I think of it before?â€
108 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
That beginning led to his setting aside a daily half-hour or
more, and as the work grew under his hand his interest so
deepened that it was not even lessened when he heard that
the prize was being competed for by students from every
class.
‘ Now if I could only think of a novel way to introduce
the society motto,†mused Paul, one morning, as he took
down the sketch from the topmost shelf of his closet and
looked thoughtfully at it. “I’m determined not to have a
scroll, nor anything that has been used.â€
An idea struck him not an hour afterward, and as soon as
the recitation was finished he hurried to his room with the
intention of making a few strokes, for fear the afternoon
might find the suggestion less clear in his mind.
He clambered up the shelves and reached for the sketch.
Lt was gone |
“Why, I couldn’t have put it anywhere else, could I?â€
Paul exclaimed, calling to mind that he had once or twice
thrust it in the table drawer when some of the boys had
entered unexpectedly.
‘‘No,†as he pulled the drawer out, ‘I remember per-
fectly putting it up there. Let me look again.â€
He did, searching through the papers, until there was no
doubt left in his mind that the sketch was gone.
Paul stood amazed.
“Stolen!†he cried, his face pale with anger. ‘But it
A DEBT OF YEARS. a 109
was here an hour ago,†he went on, excitedly, ‘so I may get
track of it—if it isn’t destroyed.â€
He sank into a chair, and tried to think the matter over
calmly.
“No one has ever seen me put the sketch there, except
Will. Could he, I wonder,†and a light broke over his face
—‘ could he have taken a look at it before he went home,
thinking that perhaps the telegram he got summoned him
there for really more than a day, and that he might not have
another chance? I believe he has,†he concluded, ‘‘ and
that in some of his absent-mindedness he has locked it up
or even put it in his satchel. That’s more like him yet!
I’ll probably have a note to-night explaining it all) How
little the old fellow dreamed what would come of it! Here
I’ve missed nearly a whole recitation !â€
CHAPTER II.
“ But I wish I knew where Mortimer had put that design,â€
Paul said to himself, later in the day, as he pulled out the
drawers of a desk absently.. “ This is my regular time for
working, and I miss it ; besides, that motto is just going to
work in beautifully.†:
He looked about the room for some time in an aimless
sort of way; then, scarce knowing what he did, mounted a
chair which brought his head on a level with the top shelf
of the closet.
“Well!†he exclaimed, a moment later, in a tone where
surprise, pleasure, and inquiry were blended, as he waved
the lost design in the air, ‘‘ Will is back !â€
He looked about the room for other signs of Mortimer's
arrival, while a cloud gathered on his face as he noticed
there were none, and that the room was exactly as he had
left it a few hours before.
‘“Exceptâ€â€”and he spoke aloud in his earnestness—“ this
design was not here.- Of that I am positive. Now what’s
the meaning of this? Halloo!†another exclamation as he
was closing the closet door, ‘‘ what’s this ?â€
I1o
A DEBT OF VEARS. 111
He turned something over and over in his fingers while a
strange expression flitted across his face.
“Tf here isn’t a clew!â€
He examined it closely. A horn button indistinctly
plaided, such as were fashionable at the time.
“And not Will’s either,†Paul declared a moment after,
“‘or I greatly mistake. So it seems I’ve two fellows to
look up,†and he smiled grimly. ‘I only hope Ill light on
Mortimer first. He’s just fond enough of detective stories
to enjoy all this,â€
‘The plot is decidedly thickening,†he added, as he went
toward the college buildings, wondering what course to take
in the event of further developments, There was one nearer
at hand than he imagined. ,
A squad of his class fellows was coming toward him, to
whom he called:
“Any one seen Mort?â€
“No,†was the answer as he joined them.
“Gone home, has n’t he?†ventured some one casually,
But Paul did not hear. He had started back, stifling the
cry that rose to his lips as his eyes fell upon Philip Doane
in a passing squad.
The buttons Philip wore corresponded, to the one Paul
had found, and there was one missing from his coat !
An hour later Paul sealed a note to Philip Doane which
read :
I12 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
“T would return the button from your coat did I not conclude that you
. left it in exchange for the use of my design. Bear in mind that I do not
accept it as such, but retain it as evidence should any question arise
regarding our claims to the Senior prize.â€
“There,†said he, reading it over, “I call that the fair
thing. I show him I don’t mean to expose him unless he
defrauds me. I guess that'll settle him. Ill get it off
before Will comes. I’ve thought better of telling him any-
thing about it.â€
As he turned to ring a bell summoning Dan, the general
errand-runner of the floor, he caught sight of a letter that
had been slipped under his door.
‘‘From mother,†he exclaimed, tearing it open. Finding
the letter a long one, he pulled down the shades, lit the gas,
and threw himself in an easy-chair as if the more thoroughly
to enjoy it, forgetful for the moment of what the last few
hours had revealed.
He read the first page with evident enjoyment, and
laughed aloud over something that Ethel had said. But as
he went on his brow clouded. Before he had finished the
second sheet, he tessed them on the table impatiently. 3
“What was it?†he asked, half aloud. “Do all in my
power for Philip Doane? No; that wasn’t it.â€
He sat down again and took the letter, his eye finding
these words :
A DEBT OF YVEARS. 113
“T came across an old school friend the week that Ethel and I were
away. Can you guess? None other than the dear one I have so often
talked of and wondered over—Margaret Grenville. I will tell you some
time how strangely our meeting came about. She is now Mrs. Clayton
. Doane, and has a son in your class—Philip. Do you know him? His
mother’s has been asad life, but I pray with her that she may find in her
son the comfort she hopes. She is anxious about Philip. He has been
thrown in the past with those whose influence has been bad, and she fears
his associates at college are not the ones she would choose. If you do
not know him, seek him out, and do him all the good you can.
“ Remember what Margaret Grenville did for me. How I owe every
bright spot in my childhood through God to her. Help him if in your
power to be worthy such a mother that he may give her the pleasure that
seems reserved for him only to give. I need not suggest ways to you, my
dear boy, who probably know far better than I how to repay in part that
debt of many years ago.†:
Paul leaned his head upon his hand while the letter fell
to the floor. He sat there SO long, so quiet, that no one
would have dreamed of the battle within. After a time he
lowered the gas, but still sat there. When he did leave his
seat long afterward, it was to take the note he had addressed
to Philip Doane and hold it in the flame of gas until it had
burned entirely away. He then slipped his design hastily in
an envelope, and sat down to think a moment before he
wrote:
“ My Dear Doane,—I had intended trying for the Seniors’ prize, but
this evening decides me to give it up. I understand you mean to com-
8
114 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
pete. Will this attempt of mine be of any use to you? ‘If so, accept it
with wishes for your success.
_ Paut CHANNING.â€
Again he sealed an envelope, and this time rang the bell
so sharply that Dan was almost immediately at the door.
“Take it at once. Philip Doane. No answer,†he said,
quietly ; then, as the door closed, he threw himself on the
bed and half sobbed, half moaned :
“Oh, mother, you can never know, nor Ethel, how hard
it was! Only God who helped me ever can.â€
The few remaining days before the 15th of May passed
quickly. Philip Doane had acknowledged Paul’s design by
a card on which he had hastily pencilled, ‘‘ With many
thanks.â€
The boys met the day following, ae Philip began: “ It
was awfully kind of you, Channing:
But Paul interrupted him with, ‘I only hope it will be Ei
some good to you,†(in a tone which said, “ Don’t let’s talk
about it.â€
“Well, I should rather think so,†returned Doane. ‘“ My
only wonder is that you did n’t finish it up yourself, It strikes
me as admirable. All done but the motto, was n't it?†he
ventured, cunningly.
‘Yes,’ said Paul, exhibiting interest in spite of himself.
“and I was going to introduce that at the left.†He took —
UNTIL IT HAD BURNED ENTIRELY AWAY.
A DEBT OF VEARS. 117
a pencil from his pocket and made a few lines in his note-
book, with Philip intent on every stroke.
“Tt seems to me that’s the place for it?†he said, half
questioningly. ; |
‘“‘ Decidedly,†said Philip, and there they left the subject.
““When does Mortimer come back ?†inquired Philip.
‘Not for a week yet,†returned the other. “I’m quite
lonely too.†He paused a moment before he added: ‘‘ Come
in, Doane, and see me when you can.â€
CHARTER TH:
The evening of the 15th-was come. Paul
was lighting up his room in honor of the re-
——y/ Uy pa
- ‘ 5 > j e
turn of Mortimer, when he
M heard a great shouting in the
hall.
“What noise is
| that?†he won-
, dered, going to-
ward the door and
opening it. ‘‘ What
are the fellows
shouting?†as he
““ WHAT ARE THE : :
FELLOWS SHOUTING ?†listened intently.
The sound came nearer and nearer. A
moment later and Will Mortimer bounded
into the room.
‘They ’re coming!†he cried, excitedly,
“right here; but let me congratulate you
first,†and he made one of his well-known
rushes for Channing. ‘Don’t look so inno--
cent, old boy. It’s yours as sure as I’m
118
A DEBT OF YEARS. 119
alive!†and he wrung Paul’s hand, and called, in answer to
the voices in the hall.
‘“‘ Mine—what?†stammered Paul, trembling with excite-
ment as he heard ‘“ C-h-a-n-n-i-n-gâ€â€ shouted outside his door,
followed by a cheer that seemed to shake the room.
‘The prize!†screamed Mortimer in his ear, as the fellows
rushed in and caught Paul in their arms, crying at the top
of their voices:
‘Three cheers for Channing !â€
Paul essayed to speak, but his voice was drowned.
“Hear! hear!†cried some one, at which the uproar par-
tially subsided, until Channing’s name, given and responded
to somewhere out-of-doors, found a ready and deafening
echo in his room.
‘A mistake. I did not compete,’ Paul managed to make
heard.
“Good fortune has turned his head!†shouted Will, at
which the din commenced again, while he and Philip locked
themselves with two others, and in an instant Paul was car-
ried out of the room, through the halls, into one building and
out of another, the air still ringing with cheers.
“Mortimer,†said Paul, ‘I tell you this is all a mistake.â€
“No, it is not,†said a voice at the other side.
“Doane! You ?†began Paul.
But he got no answer, save from the chorus of voices.
It was far into the night, when quiet had succeeded the
120 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
noisy enthusiasm of the evening, that Philip Doane tapped
at Channing’s door.
‘What ’s that for?†asked Paul, fancying it to be Mor-
timer. Then as there was no answer, he turned his head,
and on seeing Philip sprang to his feet.
“The very one I was thinking of,†he cried, putting out
his hand. ‘Oh! Doane, what can I say ?â€
‘Nothing yet,†returned Philip. ‘Nothing until I tell
you something. Perhaps then you will not care to offer me
your hand.â€
?
‘But I already know what you would say, Doane,†said
Paul, earnestly. :
_ “You do not know that our keys are alike ; that I once
came into this room, and made use of your design.â€
‘“T do—I do,†repeated Paul.
Philip drew back. ‘And knowing that, you wrote me
what you did?†he cried. ‘“ Why did you not despise me
as I despised myself, even before your note came? Oh,
Channing, I can never explain what led me on. I tried to
think I wanted the prize more to please mother than the
boys, but â€â€”his voice had sunk to. almost a whisper—‘ had
I won, I could never have told her, knowing that I had
gained by theft. Channing, I thank God you wrote me
what you did, and that this way was given me to show I am
not all you must have thought me.â€
“Philip,†said Paul, ‘let me tell you how years ago your
A DEBT OF YEARS. 121
mother was the only friend mine had. I thought in this
way to pay the debt. But now that you have made me win
the prize,†he added, with a faint smile, ‘the debt is heavier
still. And your mother?†he questioned, ina low tone. ‘I
thought it would make her happy.â€
“For mother to know,†said Philip, forcing back the tears,
‘that I have broken away from the others; that I resolve
to give up the past, to begin anew, will be more to her
than any college triumph; and for her to know, too, that I
â€
have a hope of gaining your friendship
“A hope! When it is yours already?†said Paul, in a
voice he tried to control as their hands met.
Al Ibappy Thought
‘©WHAT A LOOKING ROOM!â€
A HAPPY THOUGHT.
“What a looking room !†ex-
claimed Olive Kendall, as she
came in from school and added
to the confusion of the sitting-
room by throwing her satchel
on the lounge. ‘“ Why doesn’t
somebody fix it up?†But no
one answered. Only Leila and
Nora were there to answer, and
both their heads weré bent over
a geographical puzzle.
125
126 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
Olive threw herself into an easy-chair and looked out of
the large bay-window. It was pleasanter to turn her head
that way than to look around the disordered room. She
only wished she could turn her thoughts away from the
room as easily, but she could not so long as that voice kept
saying :
“You know that Bridget is out with the twins, and that
Kate is busy getting dinner, and that there is no one but
yourself to put the room in order—you and your little sis-
ters. Why not go to work and have a surprise for Mamma
when she comes in?â€
“Leila and Nora, we really ought to fix up the room,â€
said Olive, with a half-yawn. ‘The twins have scattered
their things. Won't you help?â€
“Tn a minute,†answered Nora. ‘We only want a little
crooked piece to go right in there.â€
“Yes,†responded Leila, “it’s Finland. I remember the
very piece—colored yellow, and with a bit of sea-coast,â€
as she turned to look for it.
‘Aren't you coming?†asked Olive, as she listlessly folded
an afghan. Again the answer was:
‘Just as soon as we find Finland.â€
Olive looked about the room in a hopeless, helpless sort
of way. ‘ With Leila and Nora both in Finland,†she
thought, ‘I may as well give up expecting their help. If
â€
it were only a game
A HAPPY THOUGHT. 127
She stood a moment in thought. Her face suddenly
brightened. She went to. Mamma’s desk and cut six slips
of paper, then wrote a word on each.
‘Are you getting some strips ready for Consequences?â€
asked Leila, a new interest in her face, as she looked up
from the pieces of map.
“No,†replied Olive, at which the search for Finland was
renewed.
“Are you going to play Anagrams?†ventured Nora, to
whom Leila had just whispered something as she motioned
toward Olive.
‘“No, but you’ve guessed pretty well,†admitted Olive,
“for it’s a game—a new one.â€
‘OA game | 2A new oned 7 echoed the little sisters, not
only losing interest in Finland, but letting the whole of
Europe fall apart. ‘ Let’s play it ! we’re tired of this map-
“Ves, Olive, tell us how,†pleaded Leila, ‘‘and then we ll
puzzle.â€
help with the room. We truly will.â€
“J don’t know that you’ll like the game,†said Olive,
“but I’m sure that Mamma will.â€
“ Then we shall, of course,†said Nora, very decidedly.
“Let’s begin it now.â€
So Olive laid the slips on the table—the written side
downward. Then she said: ‘Now we are to draw in turn,
the youngest first. Come, Nora!â€
128 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
Nora looked at the different pieces of paper, put her finger
on the last, and then suddenly changed her mind and took
the one nearest her.
“Don’t look at it yet, Nora,†said Olive.
‘Oh, I shall certainly look, if Leila doesn’t hurry,†said
Nora, excitedly, shutting her eyes very tight, but soon open-
ing them to ask: ‘Is there a prize, Olive?†and jumping
up and down as Olive nodded that there was.
After Leila had settled upon one of the slips, she and
Nora made Olive shut her eyes while they changed all about
the papers that were left, for fear that Olive, having made
them, might choose a better one than they. At last they
all had slips.
‘Now read!†signalled Olive.
‘© Table,†said Leila consulting her paper.
“‘ Chazrs,’ read Nora,. from hers.
“Carpet,†announced Olive.
‘““Now what?†asked Nora. ‘Do I pass mine on to
Leila?†But Olive was on her knees, picking up a lot of
playthings.
‘Mine was caret,†she said, as she hastily put a handful
of toys into a little cart belonging to the twins, ‘‘so I’m to
take everything off the carpet that does n’t belong there.
You are to put in order whatever your paper tells. you,
and the game is to do it as well and as quickly as you can,â€
â€
‘© Tye GAME IS TO DO IT AS WELL AND AS QUICKLY AS YOU CAN,
A HAPPY THOUGHT. 131
saying which she ran into the hall with Teddy’s hat, and
into the nursery with Freddy’s whip.
Leila flew to the table. She gathered up the pieces of
the map-puzzle and put them in their box. Then she got a
brush and prepared to sweep off the table-cover. To do this
she piled some books from the table on one of the chairs.
“My paper says chazrs,†cried Nora, ‘and there are eight
of them! If you put those books there, I’ll never get
through.â€
“The other table is yours also, Leila,†said Olive, as she
straightened the rug in front of the fire. ‘Look on your
paper.†es
Sure enough, there was an s that Leila had overlooked!
So the books found a place on the little stand while the big
table was being brushed, and were then piled nicely up, and
the magazines and papers laid together, after which Leila
stood off and viewed the effect with such satisfaction as
almost to forget the smaller table.
She was reminded of it, however, by Nora, who was
flourishing a duster about as she went from one chair to
another, fastening a tidy here and shaking up a cushion
there, until she was ready to say: ‘The whole eight are
done.â€
_“ T’ve finished, too,†said Olive, as she brushed the hearth
and hung the little broom at one side of the open fire-place.
‘“‘ Now, we all draw again.â€
132 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
MAMMA CAME TO THE SITTING-
ROOM DOOR,
Nora chose quickly this time,
and went right at her work when
she saw the word “Mandel,†hardly
hearing Leila say ‘ Desh,†and
Olive “ Lounge.â€
‘Well, what do you think of the
game?†asked Olive a while after,
as, having left the room to put away
her school satchel, she returned and
found Leila and Nora putting the
finishing touches to their tasks,
and rejoicing over the finding of
Finland in Mamma’s desk.
“Why, we think it a great suc-
cess—don’t we, Nora? And we
see now why you didn’t know the
name,†added Leila, laughingly.
“Here comes Mamma up the
walk,†announced Nora from the
bay-window.
“Well, don’t say anything, and
see if she notices the room,†sug-
gested Leila.
Mamma came to the sitting-room
door, and looked in. No wonder
she smiled at the picture. -The
room a model of neatness, the
A HAPPY THOUGHT. 133
winter's sun streaming in at the window, the fire crackling
on the hearth, and three faces upturned for a kiss.
‘So Bridget is home,†said Mamma, in a tone of relief, as
she glanced about the room. “I left her getting rubbers
for the twins, and feared she would n't return till dinner-
time.â€
“She isn’t home, Mamma,†said Olive, while Nora and
Leila exchanged happy glances, and Nora couldn’t keep
from saying (though she said afterward she tried hard not
to tell) :
‘We fixed it, Mamma. It’s Olive’s game!â€
Then, of course, Mamma had to hear all about it, and
Papa, too, when he came to dinner. Otherwise he might
not have brought up those slips of red card-board that he
did that evening, nor have seated himself in the midst of
them all, and said: “Now, I propose we make a set of cards
in fine style,†as he proceeded to write on each the word
that Olive or Leila or Nora would tell him.
‘‘And now, what shall we call the game?†asked Papa,
with pen ready to put the name on the other side of the six
bright cards. |
“How would the ‘Game of Usefulness’ do?†suggested
Olive.
“Or ‘Daily Duty’?†put in Leila; “for we’ve promised
to play it every day.â€
“Would n’t ‘Helping Hands’ sound well?†asked
Mamma. And they probably agreed upon that, for, when
134 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
Nora went up to bed, one of her plump hands, held the new
cards, and the name that Mamma had proposed was written
on each, eee
“JT wonder what the prize was?†she asked Leila the last
thing that night.
“T think it must have been Mamma’s smile when she
looked in,†said Leila.
And was not that a prize worth trying for?
Sammy's Turkey
SAMMY’S TURKEY.
It was a snowy November morning that Tim and Bobby
started out. Tim with his shovel thrown over his shoulder
whistling a lively air, and Bobby dragging his behind him, |
for though he liked to do about as Tim did, the shovel was
too much for him. He had, however, just about made up
his mind to join in the whistling when Tim suddenly stopped
on a high note with a “ Well, if it isn’t!â€
“Isn't what ?†asked Bobby, looking around.
“Why, Thanksgiving to-morrow.â€
“Did you just find that out ?†said Bobby, patronizingly.
“Why Sammy and me has known it for weeks. That’s
what Sammy meant when he called, ‘I’m goin’ to begin
countin’ to-day.’ â€
“Counting ! Counting what ?†asked Tim.
“Why, turkeys. Don’t you remember how he sat in the
window Thanksgiving time last year and kept account of all
as went past, and how father brought ours right in while he
was countin’?†chuckled Bobby. “And that, too, after all
137
138 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
father had said, as he always does to tease us, ‘ Now don’t any
of you be countin’ on turkey this year, nor countin’ on pie,
nor nothin’ ;’ and then you know, Tim, as how we’d all say:
‘Oh, no, sir, nothin’ this year,’ though we’d smelled the
pies for a week, and knowed as how turkey would come in
the door just so sure as father told us not to expect it.â€
Yes, Tim remembered it all. There was something, too,
he felt he ought to tell Bobby, but he hated to send away
that happy look from Bobby’s face, so he let him go on.
«Ain't smelled many pies this year, have you, Tim?â€
Bobby asked, with a twinkle in his eye.
Tim felt relieved. Perhaps Bobby knew after all that
there would be a different Thanksgiving this year, and was
going to make the best of it, so he tried to answer in the
same cheerful tone Bobby had used.
“Thought you had n’t,†said Bob, knowingly. ‘“ Know
the reason ?â€
‘* Ves, Bob.â€
“Lets hear. :
“Well, times are hard, Bobby,†said Tim, looking away,
‘Cand it takes a good deal to keep us all goin’ you know, and
then Sammy’s had the doctor so much that it’s sort of eatin’
into things. We must make up our minds,†he went on
hurriedly, ‘to a slim sort of a Thanksgiving as regards eat-
â€
in’, but other ways
He got no further, for Bobby had stopped short, and was
SAMMY’S TURKEY. 139.
sort of bracing himself against the shovel and laughing
quietly.
“Well, if this isn’t the best, the very best!†he kept re-
peating. ‘Oh, wouldn’t I like torun back and tell Sammy!
"T would do him a world of good. To think as how us two
has seen through things all along as you has n’t seen through.
Why, I suppose you don’t think we’re going to havea tur-
key?â€
BOBBY WAS BRACING HIMSELF AGAINST THE SHOVEL.
“T’m sure we’re not,†said Tim, “for father told me last
â€
week—
“The very best!†laughed Bobby again ; ‘don’t he al-
ways tell us not to expect nothin’ ?â€
‘But, Bobby,†began Tim.
‘But Bobby was so anxious to tell Tim all that he and
140 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
Sammy had seen through that he didn’t notice Tim’s earn-
est tone, but interrupted with: ‘You know father has n’t
said a word about Thanksgiving, Tim, not a word. ‘Well,
Sammy and me takes that to mean that we’re goin’ to have
a bigger one than ever. And mother hasn’t said a word
about pies. Do you know why? ’Cause she’s been makin’
‘em over to Mrs. Coit’s so as we wouldn’t suspect. Oh,
Sammy and me found that out, and to think as how you
didn’t. Well, if it isn’t the best!†finished Bobby, laugh-
ing all the time.
“Bobby,†began Tim, a while after, and his voice trem-
bled, “I hate to tell you. I wish it could be true, but it
isn’t, and it can’t be, and we must tell Sammy to-night.
Bobby, we’re very poor just now. We've nothing except
what we earn every day, and that goes as fast as we get it
you know, now that the rent is raised, and that the doctor
keeps comin’. It’s all we can do to live, but we must be
thankful for that, father says, thankful that we have a roof
to cover us, and that we can have the doctor for Sammy,
â€
and fire, and
“Tim, you don’t mean it!†cried Bobby, clinging to his
arm. ‘Oh, Tim, you can’t mean it!†his eyes full of tears.
“But the pies?†he asked, unwilling to give up that sign of
a Thanksgiving.
‘‘Mother’s makin’ them for Mrs. Coit. She works there
now, Bobby, two or three hours a day. If she didn’t, per-
haps we should n’t be so warm, nor have lights every evening.â€
SAMMY'S TURKEY. 141
There were big tears rolling down Bobby’s face.
“I don’t so much care for me,†he managed to say, “but
Sammy. Oh! Tim, I’ve told him and was sure of it, and
when once of twice he says to me, ‘ Don’t let’s talk so loud,
Bobby, something makes me think it won’t come true,’ I ’ve
laughed at him till he’s got to believin’ it all. Why, asim
he’s even been keepin’ count of the time mother’s been at
Mrs. Coit’s, and we ’ve figured as how she must have been
makin’ ’ém for all winter.†And here Bobby quite broke
down,
“Well, we ‘Il do something nice for Sammy,†said Tim, in
a comforting tone. ‘“We’ll work hard to-day, and if mother
finds there’s anything over, we'll get Sammy a present.
Eh, Bobby? Now here’s a walk this minute—if we can both
go at it 'we’ll have a quarter in less than no time.†—
So Bobby mounted guard over the two shovels while Tim
went into the store. Dees
Now as Bobby looked through his tears, feeling pretty
blue after what Tim had told him, he saw right down in the
snow before him, something bright and glittering, gold and
red.
He dropped the shovels and picked it up. A tiny gold
piece with a bit of red ribbon through it. His first thought
was, “ Well, if that isn’t pretty!†as he looked around half
expecting to see the owner. His second, ‘ Would n't
Sammy like a look at it!†but then his thoughts became so
many, good and bad all mixed up, that, listening to the bad,
142 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
and forgetting the good, he put the glittering little thing in
his pocket, picked up the shovels, and stood there when Tim
came out, as though nothing had happened. But two per-
‘sons came out with Tim; one, a fine-looking old gentleman,
who was saying very kindly, “You ’re sure you had it here,
Eleanor ?â€
‘Perfectly, papa,†answered a young girl. ‘I remember
it caught on my sleeve as I put down the umbrella, but I
did n’t miss it until a moment ago. I’m positive it’s either
here or in the store.â€
“Well, with all these young eyes it ought to be found,†he
said, as he left them.
So there they hunted for a long time for that very shining
little piece that was in Bobby’s pocket. And Bobby searched
too, feeling very guilty, but trying to quiet conscience by
saying: “Sammy won't have a turkey if I give it up, and
anyway she has so many more.â€
Yes, there were a number of others dangling from a slight
gold band on her wrist, but still Eleanor looked for the miss-
ing as though it were the only one. Atlast she said: “It’s
snowing so fast that I don’t believe there is any need of
lookinglonger. If it had been one of the others I would n’t
have cared so much. I thank you for helping me. You'll
let me give you this?†and she held a quarter towards Tim.
“Oh, no, miss,†said Tim, “your father is going to let us
clean the walk if the regular man isn’t here by nine, and is
going to give us half a dollar.â€
E YOUNG
â€
YES IT OUGHT TO BE FOUND
E
TH ALL THES.
‘WI
SAMMY'S TURKEY. 145
J
‘But that won't be from me,†said Eleanor, kindly, and
I’ve taken your time. Won't you take it?†to Bobby.
‘Oh, no,†said Bobby, drawing back with a frightened
look, and not even responding to her pleasant good-by.
‘These walks are pretty well cleaned,†said Tim, as they
went on; ‘let's take a run into the avenue.â€
‘Let me tell you something first, Tim,†said Bobby, very
ill at ease ; ‘Sammy will count our turkey in after all.â€
‘Should n’t wonder a bit,†said Tim, “if we get fifty cents
a walk.â€
“But I mean,†and here Bobby put his hand into his
pocket and then slipped something into Tim’s hand.
Tim said never a word, but he gave Bobby so surprised,
pained, and disappointed a look, that Bobby had ever after-
wards a very indistinct idea of what happened. He only
knew that Tim dropped his shovel and that his heels went
round the corner. There was the sleigh just driving off.
“Wait, wait!†screamed Tim, waving his arms in the air.
“T’ve got it,†as he dashed breathlessly up to the side of the
sleigh.
“How can I thank you!†exclaimed Eleanor, joyfully. .
‘‘Where did you find it? Do tell me about it. You'll let
me reward you now?†taking out her purse.
“Oh, no, miss,†said Tim, ‘not now, more than ever not
now,†shutting his eyes to the coin she held in her fingers.
“But why not?†began Eleanor.
‘Oh, miss, he had it in his pocket, Bobby had I mean ;
146 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
but he would n’t have done it, miss,I’m sure he would n’t, if it
had n’t been for Sammy’s turkey—to buy him one, you know.â€
‘“He’s sorry now, I’m sure,†said the forgiving Eleanor,
“and. he’s given it up; and you—you’ve done nothing
wrong,†she said, holding out the coin again.
‘But Bobby’s my brother, and Id rather not buy Sammy’s
2
turkey with that sort of money,†stammered Tim.
‘“Who is this wonderful Sammy that’s going to have a
turkey all to himself?†said Eleanor, with a happy laugh, as
she tied the little golden piece on her bangle.
“It’s really all our turkey, if we get one,†explained Tim,
“but we call it Sammy’s cause he sits in the window and
counts all that go by. He’sa cripple,†he added.
“Qh, how dreadful! I’m so sorry. What can I do for
him, I wonder. Can he ride?†she asked a moment later.
‘ He’s never tried it, miss,†said Tim.
‘“‘ Never tried it!†cried Eleanor. ‘Then after I go home
for mamma we’ll go for him, if you’ll tell me where.â€
So it turned out that Sammy had his first sleigh-ride that
day, and a long and delightful one it was. He told the boys
that evening over and over about it all: how he had one robe
under him and one over, and another for his feet, and a great
big one over all, and how he was promised a ride once a
week all winter.
Then Bobby told all about the coin, and his mother cried,
and he cried himself to think he could have kept even for a
moment anything that did not belong to him. But when
SAMMY’S TURKEY. 147
Bobby confessed how sorry he had felt all day, and how
heavy the little gold piece had seemed to carry, and that he
never had felt so glad in his life as when Tim had given it
back, and when Tim said that Bobby had worked like a
major to get something over, and when Bobby’s mother
found there was something over, and when Bobby’s father
came in with two of Mrs. Coit’s pies and a chicken that they
all declared would look exactly like a turkey when it was
roasted, they all seemed very thankful and very happy.
Sammy sat in the window till it grew quite dark. ‘One
hundred and seventeen,†he called. ‘See it go by! There’s
another, making a hundred and eighteen. Oh, one hundred
and nineteen! And what a fat one! Why, Bobby and Tim,
it’s a-comin’ right in here!â€
Why the Doll’s Mame was
never Changed
WHY THE DOLL’S NAME WAS NEVER
CHANGED.
Eugene stood in one of the front windows of the sitting
room. It was Christmas-Day, but the Parkhurst house bore
no traces of a visit from Santa Claus. In fact, had not the
calendar over the mantel showed the day to be Thursday,
December Twenty-fifth, and had not the household come to
regard that. calendar as infallible—inasmuch as Grandma
Parkhurst had never been known to-néglect changing it—
one might have thought it was any day of the winter season.
Eugene looked out upon acres of snow, for there was no
house opposite the Parkhursts’, only that stretch of fields
known as Cauldwell’s Mowin’.. He was not even thinking
of Christmas! Thanksgiving-Day and the Fourth of July
were the days in the year to whose coming he and Susie al-
ways looked forward. Christmas was not to be mentioned
in the same breath, unless indeed every Christmas were to
be like the one that Eugene spent at Aunt Margaret’s when
he was eight years old. But even that could never be re-
151
152 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
called without thoughts of the jaundice that came on after
Eugene’s return to Peru, which Dr. Kirkham pronounced a
probable effect of over-eating, and which kept Aunt Mar-
garet’s nephew housed for the rest of the winter.
So Eugene and Susie never having known a-celebration
of Christmas in their home at Peru, and secure in the thought
that none of their neighbors were making more of the day
than themselves, were spending this twenty-fifth of Decem-
ber exactly as they might spend the twenty-fifth of January
or of February.
Everything went on as usual. The stage had gone by as
was its wont early in the morning. Not too early, however,
for Eugene, who had had his breakfast and was ready to run
out with his shovel as soon as he spied something black and
moving coming up the hill.
It was a great place for snowdrifts at Peru, and when any
drifts were to be foundin Massachusetts, one might be reason-
ably sure that one of the deepest was in front of the Park-
hursts’ house. People driving were liable to get out of the
road unless the way was clear by the Parkhursts’, and the
stage had been blocked there so many times, and the driver
obliged to get out and shovel a path for the horses—Eugene
or his father generally running out with a shovel to assist
him—that Eugene had come to take upon himself the keep-
ing of a way clear in front of the house.
As Eugene watched this afternoon for the stage on its
WHY THE DOLL’S NAME WAS NEVER CHANGED. 153
way back to Worthington it was not with his shovel ready
in the hallway, for he had made so good a job of his morn-
ing’s work, that, unless the wind should come up, quite a fall
of snow would not block the way.
This being Thursday the weekly paper would come and
Eugene and Susie always liked to see Mr. Andrews drive
up and put the paper in the mail-box. Mr. Parkhurst had
put this box on a stake right by the road-side, and Mr. An-
drews generally slipped the paper in so 0) that the stage
did not have to stop at all.
To-day; however, the stage did stop, and even after the
paper had been dropped in the box, Mr. Andrews did not
start on.
‘He thinks he can’t get by,†said Eugene to Susie as he
started for the front door.
“ He thinks he can’t get by,†said Susie, who generally re-
peated Eugene’s remarks, but who stayed by the window with
her doll.
“Tt’s all right, Mr. Andrews,†called Eugene from the
door. ‘It looks deeper than it is.â€
“T’ve got a box for you,†said Mr. Andrews as he rum-
maged under the robes.
‘He’s got a box for us,†said Eugene, in explanation of
the draught that had sent Grandma Parkhurst over to the
other side of the stove, and which was bringing no small
amount of snow into the hall.
154 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
“It’s your father’s drain-tile,’†said Eugene’s mother,
“though I didn’t know as ’t was comin’ down till spring,â€
and she threw a shawl over her head and ran to the door
after having said ‘“ Drain-tile†very distinctly in Grandma
Parkhurst’s ear.
‘“T believe it’s something from Aunt Margaret,†said
Eugene, excitedly, as he thrust his head in at the sitting-
room door. :
“From Aunt Margaret,†echoed Susie, while Grandma
Parkhurst hurried to the window and peered out.
Eugene and his mother soon came in. Eugene bore the
box, his excitement such that he scarcely could speak.
‘‘ Addressed to me!†he gasped, looking around for a place
to set the box and finally depositing it on the floor.
“It may be a sample of the drain-tile,†said Eugene’s
mother, who was too true a New Englander not to hope her
first surmise might be a correct one.
“But, mother, it’s ‘ Master Eugene Parkhurst,’ and Aunt
Margaret put that on when she sent me my skates, you
know !â€
Grandma Parkhurst wiped her glasses and peered at the
address, while Eugene tried to untie the knots of the string.
It was coarse twine, and twine was never cut at the Park-
hursts’, but kept in a box labelled Zzwzwe, in grandma’s closet.
It was some time therefore before the paper was taken off,
and when it was, more wrappings were brought to light
‘¢ ] BELIEVE IT’s SOMETHING FROM AUNT MARGARET,â€
WHY THE DOLL’S NAME WAS NEVER CHANGED. 157
and a quantity of fine shavings, Soon, however, a square
box presented itself, at which Susie clapped her hands and
Eugene's face grew even brighter than before.
The box was gayly tied with a Roman ribbon, which also
tied inva silk-fringed Christmas-card.
‘Well, now, that is handsome,†said the younger Mrs,
Parkhurst, “ain’t it, mother?†as she picked up the card and
ribbon from among the wrappings. “ Margaret always does
seem to buy us handsome things—why, here’s quite a letter
to you on the back of it, Eugene!â€
“Oh! I must look at this first, mother,†begged Eugene,
as he turned a tiny key on the box and raised the cover.
Some cotton only had to be lifted before he and Susie gave
that cry of delight.
“OQ mother! grandma! did you ever see anything so
beautiful !†and Eugene held towards them a box of water-
colors. Each color was wrapped in tin-foil with just an end
visible. Besides the colors there were a number of brushes,
long and short, coarse and fine, and at either end of the box
two little china plates rimmed with gilt.
“It lifts up,†discovered Susie when the box had been
placed on the table and she was standing tiptoe to see it.
‘See, these little ribbons—just like the tapes on mamma’s
Pittsfield trunk!†and she raised a tray underneath which
lay more surprises.
There were six pencils, each lying in a groove of its own
158 STORIES FOR ALL THE YEAR.
—groove and pencil marked in corresponding letters. In
one of two compartments was a sketch-book with a picture
on its cover of a boy drawing, under which were the words
e
“The Little Artist,†while in the other compartment was
a package of sketches with a band of paper around them,
on which was written, ‘‘ These are to be colored.â€
“See, mother, Aunt Margaret has written here, too!â€
cried Eugene.
“You’d better read her letter,†said Grandma Parkhurst
as she rolled up the twine, and put the shavings in the box
for light stuff, next the woodbox. ‘ Like enough shell say
how the mittens fitted Alec.â€
Eugene took the prettily fringed card to the window, for
it was growing late in the afternoon, and he had to strain
his eyes, as it was, to read what was on the card.
‘Why, mother, see here,†he said, “it isn’t from Aunt
Margaret after all!â€
“Tt isn’t!†the rest cried in chorus.
“Oh! it must be, Eugene,†said his mother. ‘ Cousin
Harriet perhaps has written it,†and she joined Eugene at
the window.
“But it says about my shovelling them out and—oh!
mother, just read it.â€
‘“T can’t see a thing till I get a light,†said his mother as
she hastened to the lamp-shelf. “I hope you have n’t
opened a package that belongs by rights to somebody
else !â€
WHY THE DOLL’S NAME WAS NEVER CHANGED. 159
Eugene's heart sank. Heseemed to see the box of colors
drifting out of sight, and through: his brain flitted the figure
of Will Lansing—the squire’s son—coming for the package.
“But it was addressed to me, it certainly was!†he cried,
speaking the last of his thought.
“The papers are allhere,†said Grandma Parkhurst as she
unfolded the heavy outside wrappings. ‘I don’t think
there’s a doubt, Sarah, but what it’s for him.â€
‘“No, I don’t suppose there is,†said Mrs. Parkhurst as
she broke a third match in her endeavor to get a light, “but
it certainly isn’t Margaret’ s writing !
Eugene gazed at the address until the figure of Will Lan-
sing had dissolved into nothingness.
‘‘T know it’s for me,†he said.
‘He knows it’s for him,†confided Susie to. her doll.
‘‘Of course it’s for you, Eugene; and from the young
lady ; don’t you see ?†though Mrs. Parkhurst bent over the
card-to such an extent as to decidedly mar the view of any
one else. ‘Why, yes, child, she sends it to you. You
shovelled them out, you see!â€
This explanation, clear only to Mrs. Parkhurst, had the
effect of making the rest cry out: “Oh, read it, read it all
aloud !â€
“ Well, well,†went on Mrs. Parkhurst,†if this is n’t one of
the strangest things! Let me see,†she pondered, ‘‘‘ early
in. November’ she says; why, that must have been about
the time that
160 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR,
‘‘ Sarah,†said Grandma Parkhurst, who had in her excite-
ment pulled out the wrong needle from her stocking, “ why
on airth don’t you read that letter to them children!â€
And this was what was on the back of the Christmas-
card :
Lhis box of water-colors ts sent to Master Eugene Park-
hurst by the young lady whom, with her father, he shoveled
out of the snow one day early in November.
She wishes him many a Merry Christmas and hopes each
one will find his hands ready to be useful, and his heart
always «n hts work.
Grandma Parkhurst’s knitting fell to the floor. She
reached out her hand for the card. She too read it aloud.
Then Eugene read it over and over.
“TI can’t seem to remember it at all? he Saide* ‘
shovelled out so many single teams. Let me see—why,
perhaps theirs wasn’t a single! Perhaps ’t was a double-
team! Seems to me I do remember a double-team’s get-
ting into the snow—yes, and there was a lady and gentle-
man! Don’t you remember, mother, my telling you about
his long fur gloves? The lady’s face I didn’t see. It was
done up in veils, but I supposed it was his wife.â€
“Then you can’t tell how she looked,†said Grandma
Parkhurst, disappointedly. “ But did n’t he call her by name?â€
But Eugene could recall nothing then save the mere fact
that he had shovelled out a double-team early in November
WHY THE DOLL’S NAME IVAS NEVER CHANGED. 161
whose occupants were a lady and gentleman. Later, how:
ever, he recollected that they had asked for the West road,
and said they were driving through to Albany:
THEY ASKED FOR THE WEST ROAD.
“Well, this express is billed from Albany,†said Eugene’s
father as they all sat after supper surmising as to the day,
the team, and the sender of Eugene’s present.
‘Strange my paper didn’t come,†said Farmer Parkhurst
as he settled down to the last week’s Observer. ‘It’s gen-
erally reg’lar as the day.â€
“The paper! Why, nobody ’s thought opiate
162 ' STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
“Well, well,†laughed Eugene's father as he came in a
few minutes after, _paper. in’ hand, and stamping the snow
off his boots ; “I don’t believe it ever happened before that
we let the paper lie four hours or more in that ’ere box. I
reckon your young lady would take it as quite a compliment
that we didn’t think o’ nuthin’ but her present all after-
noon; eh, Eugene? You say you couldn’t find no trace of
her name?â€
“No,†said Eugene, disappointedly. ‘Don’t you suppose
there’s any way of finding out, father? I should so like to
know, and if I could find out, I’d like to write and thank
her for the paints.â€
“Well, let ’s see,†ruminated Farmer Parkhurst:
‘“Where’s the wrappin’s? I’d like to take a look at’em
myself. If you’ve only saved ‘em we may search out a
name there.†;
Grandma Parkhurst produced all the papers.
‘“Here’s certainly some writin’,†announced Farmer Park-
hurst as he adjusted his spectacles. ‘I don’t know, though,
but what it’s mere slantin’ scratches of a pen. No, it’s
writin’, and there’s words if anybody can make ’em out.â€
The words wrztzrg and words brought Mrs. Parkhurst and
Eugene to his chair.
“Can you make it out, mother?†he asked his wife.
“It’s a good deal that kind of writing that Margaret's
Harriet does,†said Mrs. Parkhurst, with a sigh, as she took
the paper nearer the light.
WHY THE DOLL’S NAME WAS NEVER CHANGED. 163
“Yes, I believe I’m going to make out something.
Here’s ‘Miss—Daisy—Per—Per—rine. Miss Daisy Per-
rine, and then there’s some number below the name; what
is it, father ?â€
Mr. Parkhurst shook his head. ‘Figgers match the
writin’,†he said as he turned to the paper. “I’m ekal to
neither.â€
‘Well, I know her name, anyway,†rejoiced Eugene.
“‘ Mess Daisy Perrine, and it’s pretty too!â€
‘“Sukey has been wishin’ for a name for her doll—why
not call her Daisy?†suggested Farmer Parkhurst, looking
over the top of his paper. ie
Susie was sitting with her doll at her father’s feet. Eu-
gene had given her the Roman ribbon for her hair, and her
mother had tied it on, and she was now intently regarding
the Christmas-card, and altogether having the most event-
ful Christmas she ever had known. It did not take her
long to decide she would call her doll “ Daisy.â€
“T can make out State Street,†said Eugene’s mother,
who had the bit of wrapping paper still in her hand.
“You can!†cried Eugene. ‘!O mother, that will be
enough for me to write and thank her, won’t it 2â€
Mrs. Parkhurst was never very enthusiastic over letter-
writing.
“T don’t believe I would, Eugene,†she said discourag-
ingly. “The young lady evidently did n’t expect you to,
or she would have sent her name.â€
164 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
‘‘O mother, please let me! I think she did'n’t send her
name because she thought this would be nicer—not to pa-
rade it, you know,†and Eugene’s voice grew very earnest.
Farmer Parkhurst peered over his paper. “I think I’d
let him write, mother,†he said.
So it was agreed that Eugene should write Miss Perrine
the next day, and have the letter ready for Mr. Andrews the
morning following.
“Tell her I ve named Daisy after her,†whispered Susie
to Eugene.
‘“T will,†he agreed.
“And tell her that Daisy is a big beautiful doll, or she ’Il
think it ’s a little bit of a china one! And tell her that I’m
going to have Daisy sit in the corner on the window-sill
every day, and if she ever drives past she'll see the doll
and know it’s our house!â€
“First-rate,†said Eugene. ‘And I'll not only tell her
Daisy is a beauty, but I’ll write that she measures a foot long!â€
‘“A foot ! She measures more ’n that,†declared Susie, in-
dignantly. ‘We ’ll just measure her and see !â€
And by bringing the tape measure into the question it
was found that Miss Perrine’s namesake measured a foot
and a half. :
“I told you so!†declared Susie, pressing a kiss of tri-
umph on the newly named.
‘She ’s growed six inches since she was named!†chuck-
WHY THE DOLL’S NAME WAS NEVER CHANGED, 165
led Farmer Parkhurst, who had apparently been buried in
his Observer.
‘“ SHE ’LL SEE THE DOLL AND KNOW IT’S OUR HOUSE.â€
Two days after an Albany postman left a eck at the
Perrines’ on State Street for Miss Daisy.
“Why, from whom can this be?†she asked herself, her
face continuing to show surprise as she opened and read the
letter.
166 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.,
“Mamma, the strangest thing!†she exclaimed, as she
went into the next room where Mrs. Perrine was. “Just _
let me read!â€
My Dear Friend Miss Daisy Perrine :—I thank you very much for your
present. Father found your name on one of the papers that were round
the box. My little sister Susie has named her doll after you. It is a beau-
tiful doll that my Aunt Margaret brought her Thanksgiving. She is wax
and measures eighteen inches. When you go past again you will see your
namesake in the window. Father says forme to say you must not go past.
I am going to color my name.
Under these words was the name “ Eugene Parkhurstâ€
in purple and orange.
Mrs. Perrine could throw no light upon the mystery.
“Parkhurst, Parkhurst,†she repeated wonderingly. « Why,
I cannot recall ever knowingany Parkhursts! Where is the
letter dated !â€
‘There is no heading, mamma,†answered Daisy, “but on
the envelope the stamp looks like ‘ Peru, Mass.’â€
‘Peru—Peru,†said Mrs. Perrine. “Why, I’ve never
even heard of the place!â€
‘“O mamma, I see it all!†cried Daisy, suddenly. ‘You
see the little boy has colored his name. The present he
mentions was a box of water-colors, I was with Hannah
Humphrey when-she got them. We went to Seely’s for
some Christmas things and stopped at Madge Hammond's
on our way home to show them to her. Hannah left the
colors at the Hammonds’ and Madge thinking they were
WHY THE DOLL'’S NAME WAS NEVER CHANGED. 167
mine sent them here addressed to. me; and then, don’t you
remember, mamma, Dennis’ was just going out on some
errands so I gave him the package to leave at Hannah’s ?
Don’t you see, mamma, that Hannah probably used the
same paper that Madge had written my name on? I am
going up to .Hannah’s to tea to-day, you know, and I must
tell her all about it !â€
Daisy proved more of a success in the line of surmising
than had Mrs. Parkhurst, and the letter signed ‘in purple
and orange passed into Hannah Humphrey’s hands as its
rightful owner, and thence it went into her scrap-book for
preservation. |
‘“He was the brightest little fellow,†she told Daisy after
giving her a description of their horses getting into the drift,
‘‘and‘he shovelled us out with such a will that I asked him
his name and made up my mind I'd send him something.
They live in the most out-of-the-way place and I got to
wondering what the little fellow had to amuse himself with.
How nice of him to write me; wasn’t it?â€
But Daisy had gone into a brown study.
After a while she said: ‘I’m going to write and tell him
it wasn’t I that sent it, unless you'll write, Hannah.â€
“Oh, never mind, Daisy. The boy would n’t know me if
he saw me, and there’s no need of disturbing his peace of
mind. Besides the doll’s name would have to be changed—
a Legislative proceeding, you know!†and she laughed.
‘I’m going to write,†insisted Daisy, ‘and tell the little
163 STORIES FOR ALL THE VEAR.
fellow he owes the colors to you; but if you’re willing,
‘Hannah, that the doll should keep its name, I’ll write that.
too, and send some things for my namesake. What is his
name—Eugene Parkhurst, Peru, Mass.?†and Daisy madea
careful note of it.
“Splendid!†cried Hannah, enthusiastically.
“I’m going down to Seely’s the first thing Monday
morning,†continued Daisy, “and see if I cannot get an
eighteen inch doll!â€
“To make the things by?†asked Hannah.
“Yes,†said Daisy, pulling on her gloves, ‘and if mamma
thinks well of it, I’ll send that set of doll’s furs that I’ve
had put away for years—you remember it ?â€
‘“And you must let me knit one of those little hoods like
those I sent to the fair,†begged Hannah. “How. soon will
you need ‘it ?â€
‘“T think it would be nice to have ue things get there on
New Year Day, don’t you?â€
“The very thing,†agreed Hannah; “and, Daisy, you
must promise you ’ll come over to Worthington next sum-
mer when I go to visit Aunt Hannah. We'll drive to Peru.
It is n’t more than five miles from there !â€
“I hope the little Susie won’t change the doll’s name,â€
said Daisy a while after.
“T’m’sure she won’t,†said Hannah.
And she did n't.
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