“now, children,” hummed phronsie, pausing in the midst of combing her doll's flaxen hair, “you must keep still, and be very good; then i'll get through pretty soon,” and she bowed to the several members of her numerous family set up in a row before her, who were awaiting their turn for the same attention. then she took up the little comb which had dropped to her lap, and set herself busily to her task again.
alexia looked in at the door of the “baby-house,” as phronsie's little room devoted to her family of dolls, was called. “oh my goodness me!” she exclaimed, “don't you ever get tired of everlastingly dressing those dolls, phronsie?”
phronsie gave a sigh, and went patiently on with her work. “yes, alexia, i'm tired sometimes; but i'm their mother, you see.”
“and to comb their hair!” went on alexia, “oh dear me! i never could do it in all this136 world, phronsie. i should want to run and throw them all out of the window.”
“oh alexia!” exclaimed phronsie in horror, “throw them all out of the window! you couldn't do that, alexia.” she tightened her grasp on the doll in her arms.
“yes, i should want to throw every one of those dreadful dolls out of the window, phronsie pepper!” declared alexia recklessly.
“but they are my children,” said phronsie very soberly, trying to get all the others waiting for their hair to be fixed, into her arms too, “and dear grandpapa gave them to me, and i love them, every single one.”
“well, now, you see, phronsie,” said alexia, getting down on the floor in front of the doll's bureau, by phronsie's side, “you could come out with me on the piazza and walk around a bit if it were not for these dreadfully tiresome dolls; and polly is at school, and you are through with your lessons in mr. king's room. now how nice that would be, oh dear me!” alexia gave a restful stretch to her long figure. “my!” at a twinge of pain.
“does your arm hurt you, alexia?” asked phronsie, looking over her dolls up to alexia's face.137
“um—maybe,” said alexia, nursing her arm hanging in the sling; “it's a bad, horrid old thing, and i'd like to thump it.”
“oh, don't, alexia,” begged phronsie, “that will make it worse. please don't, alexia, do anything to it.” then she got up, and went over with her armful of dolls to the sofa, and laid them down carefully in a row. “i'll fix your hair to-morrow, children,” she said; “now i'm going away for a little bit of a minute,” and came back. “let's go down to the piazza,” she said, holding out her hand.
“you blessed child, you!” exclaimed alexia, seizing her with the well hand, “did you suppose i'd be such a selfish old pig as to drag you off from those children of yours?”
“you are not a selfish old pig, alexia, and i like you very much,” said phronsie gravely, trying not to hit the arm in the sling, while alexia flew up to her feet and whirled around the room with her. “and, oh, i'm so afraid you'll make it sick,” she panted. “do stop.”
“i just can't, phronsie,” said alexia; “i shall die if i don't do something! oh, this horrid old arm!” and she came to a sudden standstill, phronsie struggling away to a safe distance.138
“papa fisher would not like it, alexia,” she said in great disapproval, her hair blown about her face, and her cheeks quite pink.
“oh dear me!” alexia, resting the sling in the other palm, and trying not to scream with the pain, burst out, “it's so tiresome to be always thinking that some one won't like things one does. phronsie, there's no use in my trying to be good, because, you see, i never could be. i just love to do bad things.”
“oh no, alexia,” said phronsie greatly shocked, “you don't love to do bad things. please say you don't;” and before alexia could say another word, the tears poured down the round cheeks, wetting phronsie's pinafore. and although she clasped her hands and tried to stop them, it was no use.
“there now, you see,” cried alexia, quite gone in remorse. “oh, what shall i do? i must go and get mrs. fisher,” and she rushed out of the room.
phronsie ran unsteadily after her, to call, “oh alexia!” in such distress that the flying feet turned, and up she came again.
“what is it, pet?” she cried. “oh dear me! what shall i do? i must tell your mother.”139
“i will stop,” said phronsie, struggling hard with her tears, “if you only won't tell mamsie,” and she wiped her cheeks hard with her pinafore. “there, see, alexia,” and tried to smile.
“well, now, come back.” alexia seized her hand, and dragged her up the stairs. “now i'm just going to stay up here with you, if you'll let me, phronsie, and try not to do bad things. i do so want to be good like polly. you can't think how i want to,” she cried in a gust, as she threw herself down on the floor again.
“oh alexia, you never could be good like polly,” said phronsie, standing quite still in astonishment.
“of course not,” said alexia with a little laugh, “but i mean—oh, you know what i mean, phronsie. i want to be good so that polly will say she likes it. well, come on now, get your horrible old—i mean, your dolls, and—”
“i wish very much you wouldn't call them dolls, alexia,” said phronsie, not offering to sit down; “they are my children, and i don't think they like to be called anything else.”
“well, they sha'n't hear it, then,” declared alexia decidedly, “so get some of them, and140 brush their hair, just as you were doing when i came in, and i'm going to read aloud to you out of one of your books, phronsie.”
“oh—oh!” phronsie clapped her hands in glee. next to polly's stories, which of course she couldn't have now as polly was at school, phronsie dearly loved to be read to. but she suddenly grew very sober again.
“are you sure you will like it, alexia?” she asked, coming up to peer into alexia's face.
“yes, yes, pet, to be sure i will,” cried alexia, seizing her to half smother her with kisses. “why, phronsie, it will make me very happy indeed.”
“well, if it will really make you happy, alexia,” said phronsie, smoothing down her pinafore in great satisfaction, “i will get my children.” and she ran over to the sofa, and came back with an armful.
“now what book?” asked alexia, forgetting whether her arm ached or not, and flying to her feet. “i'm going down to your bookshelf to get it.”
“oh alexia,” cried phronsie in great excitement, “will you—could you get 'the little yellow duck'?”141
as this was the book phronsie invariably chose when asked what she wanted read, alexia laughed and spun off, perfectly astonished to find that the world was not all as blue as an indigo bag. and when she came back two steps at a time up the stairs, phronsie was smiling away, and humming softly to herself, while the hair-brushing was going on.
“she had a blue ribbon on yesterday—almira did,” said phronsie, reflecting. “now, wouldn't you put on a pink one to-day, alexia?”
“i surely should,” decided alexia—“that pretty pale pink one that polly gave you last, phronsie.”
“i am so very glad you said that one,” said phronsie, running over on happy feet for her ribbon-basket, “because i do love that ribbon very much, alexia.”
“well, now then,” said alexia, as phronsie began to tie up the pink bow laboriously, “we must hurry and begin, or we never shall see what happened to this 'little yellow duck.'”
“oh, do hurry, alexia,” begged phronsie, as if she hadn't heard the story on an average of half a dozen times a week. so alexia propped herself up against the wall, and began, and presently142 it was so still that all any one could hear was the turning of the leaves and the ticking of the little french clock on the mantel.
“well, dear me, how funny!” and polly rushed in; then burst into a merry laugh.
“polly pepper—you home!” alexia tossed “the little yellow duck” half across the room, flew to her feet again, and spun polly round and round with her well hand.
“yes,” said polly, “i am, and i've been searching for you two all over this house.”
“take me, polly, do.” phronsie laid down almira carefully on the carpet, and hurried over to polly.
“i guess i will. now then, all together!” and the three spun off until out of breath.
“oh dear me!” polly stopped suddenly. “i never thought of your arm, alexia. oh, do you suppose we've hurt it?” it was so very dreadful to think of, that all the color deserted her cheek.
“nonsense, no!” declared alexia, “that spin put new life into me, polly.”
“well, i don't know,” said polly critically; “at any rate, we mustn't do it any more. and we must tell papa-doctor about it as soon as he gets home.”143
“oh, what good is it to worry him?” cried alexia carelessly. “well, polly, tell all the news about school,” as they hurried downstairs to get ready for luncheon.
“we must tell papa-doctor everything about it, alexia,” said polly in her most decided fashion, putting her arm carefully around alexia's waist; and with phronsie hanging to the other hand, down they went, polly retailing the last bit of school news fresh that day.
“and, oh, alexia, miss salisbury said we are not to have the picnic until you get quite well; she said so in the big schoolroom, before us all.”
“did she, polly?” cried alexia, immensely gratified.
“yes, she did.” polly stood on her tiptoes at the imminent danger of going on her nose, and pulling the other's down, to get a kiss on the long sallow cheek. “she said it very distinctly, alexia, and all the girls talked about it afterward.”
“well, she's a dear old thing,” exclaimed alexia, with remorseful little pangs at the memory of certain episodes at the “salisbury school,” “and i shall try—oh, polly, i'll try so hard to be nice and please her.”144
polly gave her two or three little pats on her back.
“and don't you think,” cried polly, flying off to brush her hair, and calling back through the open door, “that the boys are going to have their club meet with ours. just think of that!”
“oh polly!” alexia came flying in, brush in hand. “you don't really mean it!”
“i do. jasper just told me so. well, hurry, alexia, else we'll be late,” warned polly, brushing away vigorously. “yes, phronsie,”—for phronsie had gone off for jane to put on a clean apron,—“we're ready now—that is, almost.”
“when—when?” polly could hear alexia frantically asking, as she rushed back into her room, which was next to polly's own.
“oh, just as soon as you are able,” called polly. “now don't ask any more questions, alexia,” she begged merrily. “yes, mamsie, we're coming!”
that afternoon, percy and joel were rushing back to school from an errand down to the village, and hurrying along with an awful feeling that the half-past-five bell in the big tower on the playground would strike in a minute.145
“hold on,” called percy, considerably in the rear; “how you get over the ground, joe!”
“and you're such a snail,” observed joel pleasantly. nevertheless he paused.
“what's that?” pricking up his ears.
“i don't hear anything.” percy came up panting.
“of course not, when you're puffing like a grampus.”
“what's a grampus?” asked percy irritably.
“i don't know,” said joel honestly.
“well, i wouldn't say words i didn't know what they meant,” said percy in a patronizing tone, and trying not to realize that he was very hot.
“well, do keep still, will you!” roared joel. “there, there it is again.” he stooped down, and peered within a hedge. “something's crying in here.”
“you'll get your eyes scratched out, most likely, by an old, cross cat,” suggested percy.
joel, who cared very little for that or any warning, was now on his knees. “oh whickets!” he exclaimed, dragging out a small yellow dog, who, instead of struggling, wormed himself all up against his rescuer, whining pitifully.146
“he's hurt,” declared joel, tossing back his stubby locks, and patting the dog, who stopped whining, and licked him all over, as much of his face and hands as he could reach.
“oh, that dirty thing—faugh! how can you, joel pepper!” cried percy in distress.
but joel didn't even hear him, being occupied in setting the dog on the ground to try his paces.
“no, he's not hurt, after all, i guess,” he decided, “but look at his ribs,—he's half starved.”
“i don't want to look at them,” said percy, turning his back, “and you ought to let him alone; that bell will ring in half a second, joel pepper!”
“true enough!” cried joel. “come on, perky,” this being the school name of the older whitney, and he picked up the dog, and shot off.
“what are you going to do with that dog?” yelled percy after him. but as well talk to the wind, as joel arrived hot and breathless at the big door long before him.
luckily for him, none of the boys were about; and joel, cramming the dog well under his jacket, plunged up the stairs, and down the hall to his room.
“joe!” roared two or three voices; but he147 turned a deaf ear, and got in safely; slammed to the door, and then drew a long breath.
“whew! almost caught that time,” was all he had the wind to say. “well, now, it's good dave isn't in, 'cause i can tell him slowly, and get him used to it.” all this time he was drawing out his dog from its place of refuge, and putting it first on the bed, then on the floor, to study it better.
it certainly was as far removed from being even a good-looking dog as possible. having never in its life had the good fortune to hear its pedigree spoken of, it was simply an ill-favored cur that looked as if it had exchanged the back yard of a tenement house for the greater dangers of the open street. its yellow neck was marked where a cruel cord had almost worn into the flesh, and every one of its ribs stuck out as joel had said, till they insisted on being counted by a strict observer.
joel threw his arms around the beast. “oh dear!” he groaned, “you're starved to death. what have i got to give you?” he wrinkled his forehead in great distress. “oh goody!” he snatched the dog up, and bore him to the closet, then pulled down a box from the shelf above.148 “mamsie's cake—how prime!” and not stopping to cut a piece, he broke off a goodly wedge. “now then, get in with you,” and he thrust him deep into one corner, cramming the cake up to his nose. “stay there on my side, and don't get over on dave's shoes. whee!”
the dog, in seizing the cake, had taken joel's thumb as well.
“let go there,” cried joel; “well, you can't swallow my thumb,” as the cake disappeared in one lump; and he gave a sigh for the plums with which mamsie always liberally supplied the school cakes, now disappearing so fast, as much as for the nip he had received.
the dog turned his black, beady eyes sharply for more cake. when he saw that it wasn't coming, he licked joel's thumb; and in his cramped quarters on top of a heap of shoes and various other things not exactly classified, he tried hard to wag his stump of a tail.
“whickets! there goes that bell! now see here, don't you dare to stir for your life! you've got to stay in this closet till to-morrow—then i'll see what to do for you. lie down, i tell you.”
there was a small scuffle; and then the dog,149 realizing here was a master, curled himself on top of some tennis shoes, and looked as if he held his breath.
“all right,” said joel, with an approving pat. “now don't you yip, even if dave opens this door.” then he shut it carefully, and rushed off down to the long dining-room to the crowd of boys.
joel ate his supper as rapidly as possible, lost to the chatter going on around him. he imagined, in his feverishness, that he heard faint “yaps” every now and then; and he almost expected to see everybody lay down knife and fork.
“what's the matter with you?” he was aroused by seeing the boy next to him lean forward to peer into his face. and in a minute he was conscious that on the other side he was just as much of an object of attention. he buried his face in his glass of milk; but when he took it out, they were staring still the same.
“ugh! stop your looking at me,” growled joel.
“what's the matter with you, anyway?” asked the other boy.
“get away—nothing,” said joel crossly, and bestowing as much of a kick as he dared on the other boy's shin.150
“ow! there is too.”
“you're awfully funny,” said the first boy, “you haven't spoken a word since you sat down.”
“well, i ain't going to talk, if i don't want to,” declared joel. “do stop, fletcher; everybody's looking.”
but fletcher wouldn't stop, and joel had the satisfaction of seeing the whole table, with the under-teacher, mr. harrow, at the head, making him, between their mouthfuls, the centre of observation. the only alleviation of this misery was that percy was at another table, and with his back to him.
david looked across in a worried way. “are you sick, joe?” he asked.
“no.” joel laughed, and began to eat busily. when he saw that, david gave a sigh of relief.
mr. harrow was telling something just then that seemed of more than common interest, and the boys, hearing joel laugh once more, turned off to listen. “yes,” said the under-teacher, “it was a dog that was—”
“ugh!” cried joel. “oh, beg pardon,” and his face grew dreadfully red, as he tried to get as small as possible on his chair.
“it's a dog i used to own, joel,” said mr.151 harrow, smiling at him. “and i taught him tricks, several quite remarkable ones.”
“yes, sir,” mumbled joel, taking a big bite of his biscuit; and for the next quarter of an hour he was safe, as the funny stories lasted till back went the chairs, and the evening meal was over.
to say that joel's life was an easy one till bedtime, would be very far from the truth. strange to say, david did not go to the closet once. to be sure, there was a narrow escape that made joel's heart leap to his mouth.
“let's have mamsie's cake, joe, to-night,” said david in an aside to him. the room was full of boys; it was just before study hour, and how to tell david of the dog, was racking joe's powers of mind.
“ugh!—no, not to-night, dave.” he was so very decided that although david was puzzled at his manner, he gave it up without a question. and then came study hour when all the boys must be down in “long hall,” and joel lingered behind the others. “i'll be down in a minute.” he flew over to the closet, broke off another generous wedge of mamsie's cake, stifling a second sigh as he thought of the plums. “you haven't eaten my half yet,” he said as the dog swallowed152 it whole without winking. “keep still now.” he slammed to the door again, and was off, his books under his arm.
and after the two boys went up to bed, david was too tired and sleepy to talk, and hopped into his bed so quickly that long before joel was undressed he was off to dreamland.
“that's good,—now i haven't got to tell him till morning.” joel went over to the other bed in the corner, and listened to the regular breathing, then tiptoed softly off to the closet, first putting out the light. “i know what i'm going to do.” he got down on all-fours, and put his hand out softly over the pile of shoes, till he felt the dog's mangy back. “i'm going to take you in my bed; you'll smother in here. now, sir!” the dog was ready enough to be quiet, only occupied in licking joel's hands. so joel jumped into his bed, carrying his charge, and huddled down under the clothes.
after being quite sure that he was really to remain in this paradise, the dog began to turn around and around to find exactly the best position in which to settle down for the night. this took him so long, interrupted as the process was with so many lickings of joel's brown face,153 that it looked as if neither would get very much sleep that night; joel, not averse to this lengthy operation, hugging his dog and patting him, to his complete demoralization just as he was about to quiet down.
at last even joel was tired, and his eyes drooped. “now go to sleep”—with a final pat—“i'm going to call you sinbad.” joel, having always been mightily taken with sinbad the sailor, felt that no other name could be quite good enough for his new treasure. and sinbad, realizing that a call to repose had actually been given, curled up, in as round a ball as he could, under joel's chin, and both were soon sound asleep.
it was near the middle of the night. joel had been dreaming of his old menagerie and circus he had once in the little brown house, in which there were not only trained dogs who could do the most wonderful things,—strange to say, now they were all of them yellow, and had stumpy tails,—but animals and reptiles of the most delightful variety, never seen in any other show on earth; when a noise, that at once suggested a boy screaming “ow!” struck upon his ear, and brought him bolt upright in his bed. he pawed wildly around, but sinbad was nowhere to be found.
