A Sweet Little Maid, Amy Ella Blanchard [great book club books .TXT] 📗

a very ordinary tin coffee-pot, could not be improved.

Dimple whispered to Florence that there was a secret under the grey blanket; and that she half suspected what it was, but she didn't intend to look. Even a delighted giggle from Bubbles did not cause her to turn her head, but when that small hand-maiden, who was bustling about waiting on every one, offered her a saucer of ice cream, Dimple exclaimed, "I guessed it! I guessed it to myself."

"Guessed what?" said Mr. Atkinson, at her side.

"Guessed that it was an ice cream freezer under the blanket," returned Dimple.

"Oho! so you've been trying to find out, have you?"

"No. I didn't try. I only hoped," replied Dimple, gravely. At which Mr. Atkinson laughed heartily; just why, Dimple was puzzled to discover.

When the supper was over and the baskets186 repacked, they played all manner of games till the great round moon rose over the river, and then they rowed home, singing as they floated along in the silvery moonlight.

Florence and Dimple sat side by side, in a sort of waking dream; and Bubbles dreamed too, as was very evident when the boat landed, for she was sound asleep, and had to be called and shaken before she knew where she was. Then she blundered along behind the others, still so sleepy that she forgot to take off her precious blue beads when she went to bed, and in the night the string broke; consequently when she awoke in the morning she found the beads straggling over the floor and strewing the sheets.

"Didn't we have a good time?" said Florence, looking out on the moonlight, as she stood at the window in Dimple's room.

"Yes," was Dimple's reply, "all but the snake. I don't like snakes."

But the next evening it was evident that Bubbles still bore the subject of snakes in her mind. Mr. and Mrs. Dallas had gone out. Dimple, Florence and Bubbles were sitting on the floor by one of the front windows.187

The air was full of the scent of the honeysuckle, and the katydids were contradicting each other in the trees.

"What quarrelsome things they are," said Florence. "Do you suppose they will ever find out whether katy did or not? I'd like to know what she did, anyhow."

"Or what she didn't," said Dimple. "Bubbles, are you asleep?" giving her a shake.

"Thinkin'," said Bubbles, sitting up straight and rubbing her eyes.

"Then what are you rubbing your eyes for?"

"'Cause it's dark. I can't see good," returned Bubbles.

"I declare," Dimple said, "I never know what to do with myself when mamma goes out; it seems to me she is very intimate with Mrs. Hardy. Florence, suppose you tell a story."

"Oh, I can't," replied Florence. "I never could. I never know what to tell about. You tell."

"I don't know any except Cinderella and the Seven Swans, and those. Bubbles will have to do it. Go on Bubbles, you've got to tell us a story."

"Laws! Miss Dimple," giggled Bubbles.188

"You needn't 'laws,' you know you can, for you've often told them to me; now begin, right away; it will keep you awake if it doesn't do anything else."

"Well," said Bubbles, smoothing down her apron, "oncet they was a bummelybee, and a snake, and a bird."

"What kind of a bird?" interrupted Florence.

"Erra—erra—bluebird," said Bubbles.

"All right, go on."

"The snake wanted fur to git the bluebird, and the bummelybee was a-flyin, and a-buzzin' so, it made such a 'straction the snake couldn't git fixed fur to chawm the bird nohow.

"'Jess yuh quit yo' foolin',' said the snake.

"'I no foolin',' said the bummelybee, 'what's got yuh anyhow?'

"'I ain't had no brekfuss,' said the snake.

"'Well go 'long 'n git it; I'm not a hinderin'.'

"'Yes, yuh is,' said the snake, 'I can't do nothin' fur yo' buzzin'.'

"Then the bummelybee flown off, but he didn't go very fur, he wanted to see what the snake was up to. He kinder suspicioned it wasn't up189 to no good, so he jess watched the snake, and bimeby he seen the bluebird come up as peart as anythin', and he set down on the limb of a tree."

Here Bubbles stopped to take breath, and then went on,

"Well, he seen the snake a-crawlin' along the grass, a-crawlin', a-crawlin', as crafty till it got right in front of the bluebird, and the bluebird he jess set and looked, and didn't move, or say nothin'.

"'Hm! hm!' says Mr. Bummelybee, 'hit's time I was a movin',' so he made fur the snake and giv' him one sting on the haid, and he jess rolled up he eyes, and quirled up ontil the grass; and the bluebird said, 'I'm much debliged of you, Mr. Bummelybee. I'm glad to perform yo' acquaintance. I was jess about as nigh chawmed as a bird could be.'

"'Don't say no more about it,' said Mr. Bummelybee, and off he flown."

"I didn't know bumblebees could sting," said Florence.

"Law now don't they?" said Bubbles, "mebbe they doesn't, hit might a been a wass,190 wasses sting I know. Come to think of it, hit was a wass."

"Is that all of it?" asked Dimple. "I don't think it is a very long story."

"Laws, Miss Dimple, you didn't reckon that was all," said Bubbles, loftily. "I laid out to tell more, soon ez my tongue got rested."

"Rest it then, and go on," said Dimple, settling back against a chair, with her hands behind her head.

"Well," said Bubbles, going on with her story, "the wass he flown off, and the bluebird he flown off, and after a while the bluebird he met a squirl. 'Howdy?' says he. 'Howdy,' says the squirl. 'How's all to yo' house?'

"'Tollable, thank you,' says the bluebird. 'Ef yuh see a wass come along—' Laws, Miss Dimple, I can't get along without'n hit's being a bummely," said she, stopping short.

"Well, have it a bummely then," said Dimple. "You don't care, do you, Florence?"

"No," said Florence, "have it a bummely if you want to, Bubbles."

"'Well,' says the bluebird, 'ef you see a bummelybee, don't you let nobody take his honey191 from him, fur he's a pertickeler fren' of mine.' He was sorter shamed to let on to the squirl how nigh chawmed he was.

"'I promise, cross my heart,' says the squirl, and Mr. Bluebird flown off.

"Aftern awhile, up flown Mr. Bummely, and smack behind him comes a little boy layin' out to git his honey.

"Mr. Bummely he flown along and went to hide hissef in a big flower. That's jess what the boy wanted. 'Now I've got yuh,' says he, but he was too forward, fur the squirl clim' down the tree and popped onto the boy's haid jess ez he was gwine to take off his hat to ketch Mr. Bummely, and Mr. Bummely he flown off, and Mr. Squirl he laugh, and Mr. Boy he got mad, and made tracks fur home, and that's all."

The girls laughed, and hearing Sylvy call her, Bubbles went out.

"Isn't she funny?" said Florence. "I never could have made up a story like that, could you, Dimple?"

"No," said Dimple, "she tells me the funniest ones sometimes, so mixed up, and I laugh till I can scarcely speak, and she sings the most absurd192 songs; she gets the words all twisted, she has no idea what they mean. Oh! Florence, I do believe there is a bat in the hall. I hope to goodness it won't come in here."

Florence screamed and hid her head under the piano, while Dimple took refuge in the same place, and called loudly for Bubbles, who came running in with Sylvy after her.

"What's de matter? Where are yuh?" they cried.

"Oh, a bat! a bat!" shrieked Florence, as the creature came swooping in from the hall, beating its wings against the wall.

Sylvy, armed with a broom, and Bubbles, with a duster, soon put an end to the poor bat, and the girls came out from their hiding-place.

"I suppose it is silly to be afraid of them, but they nearly frighten me to death," said Dimple.

"So they do me," Florence said, "and spiders too. Ugh! it makes cold chills run down my back to think of one; let's go to bed, Dimple. We can undress anyhow, and sit in our nightgowns and talk, if we want to."

This Dimple agreed to, and they went upstairs to their rooms to find on the bureau two little193 white paper packages addressed to "Miss Florence Graham," and "Miss Eleanor Dallas."

"Papa did it," said Dimple, "it is just like him; let's see what is inside. No, we'll guess. I say chocolates."

"I say burnt almonds: no, marshmallows," said Florence, giving her package a little squeeze. "Marshmallows and chocolates," exclaimed Florence, as she untied the little pink string and peeped in.

"So are mine," said Dimple. "I don't think we had better eat them all to-night, do you? Suppose we count them and take out some for to-morrow. One, two, three, twelve chocolates, and sixteen marshmallows. How many have you?"

"Thirteen chocolates and fifteen marshmallows," announced Florence.

"Well, let's eat six of them, and put the rest away."

So they were carefully counted out, and the packages retied.

"Now we will undress and sit here in our nightgowns, till we've eaten our candy," said Florence.194

"Dear me," said Dimple, as the last one disappeared, "I wish we had said seven of them."

"Suppose we do say seven."

"Well, suppose we do," and the packages were again untied and again put up. They had hardly finished when Mrs. Dallas came in with a telegram in her hand.

"Not in bed yet?" said she.

"No, mamma, we have been eating candy. Did you see papa put it on the bureau?" said Dimple.

"Yes, and I have a piece of news for you. Your Uncle Heath will be here to-morrow."

"Uncle Heath! I am so glad. Is the telegram from him?"

"Yes, it just came, and he will be here to breakfast."

"How long will he stop?"

"Not very long. Now jump into bed and be ready to get up before he reaches here."

"Is your Uncle Heath your papa's brother?" asked Florence, when they were in bed.

"Yes. Oh! Florence, he is so nice."

"Is he young or old?"

"Not so very old, about forty, I think; he is195 two years older than papa, but he looks older; he has grey hair, a little bit grey, not very, and he looks like papa, only he has blue eyes.

"I wonder why he is coming," mused Dimple. "Now I think of it. I heard papa say yesterday, 'I am so glad for dear old Heath.' I wonder why. Don't grown folks know lots of things, Florence? And we have to just guess and wonder till they choose to tell us.

"Never mind, I am going to sleep, and I shall ask him myself to-morrow. Just think, Florence, he is in the cars now, and they are steaming along, coming nearer and nearer, while we lie still here and sleep. Good-night," and she turned over and was soon fast asleep.