A Dear Little Girl, Amy Ella Blanchard [bts book recommendations .txt] 📗

in a twinkling, the cause of the sudden departure of her uncle and aunt lost sight of in this "happening" of a cosy time.

There was something particularly cheery and comfortable about the clean kitchen. Louis was already there playing with Moggins; the little kitty was whisking around after a string, his prancings and sidewise jumps making the children laugh merrily. Edna left this play to make a little short cake from some dough which Ellen gave her. She baked it on top of the stove, and, although it was neither very clean nor well baked, and was rather ragged looking, it was heartily enjoyed by the children and Moggins, who was a little cat ready to taste anything offered to him.

Edna poured out the cambric tea and mixed it with great gravity, giving Louis plenty of sugar in his, while the amount of short cake and syrup indulged in would have been considered shocking by Aunt Elizabeth. But the children had never so enjoyed a meal in that house.

Edna's doll, Ada, occupied a place at the table, being mounted upon a firkin placed upon a chair, and as Edna had to eat both her own and her doll's share of the short cake it was no wonder that the supply was more than she could manage.

Louis took Moggins under his care, but Moggins, it must be confessed, did not behave so well as Ada, for he slyly whipped off with his paw pieces of food from Louis' fork, and began lapping the cambric tea from his neighbor's cup, so finally he was sent from the table, a disgrace which did not affect him in the least, as it gave him a chance to scamper around after his tail, and race about without restraint.

"O, Louis," said Edna, when bedtime came, "aren't you afraid to sleep down here alone?"

Louis flushed up. "What did you say that for?" he replied. "I wasn't going to think about it, and now you've made me. I'm not exactly afraid, but it is a long way up to you and Ellen if anything should happen."

Ellen stood thoughtfully considering the question, one hand on her hip, and the other stroking her puckered-up lips. "Thrue for ye," she said. "I promised the mistress to hev an eye on ye, an' how can an eye pinitrate through the two flures? I'll bring a cot down for mesilf to your aunt's room, an' Edna shall sleep in the big bed, whilst I take the cot, so we'll all be commojus and neighborlylike."

There was much fun and laughter getting the cot down stairs, and Edna thought it a great experience to sleep in her aunt's big bed, while Louis was very glad not to be so far removed from the others, although he professed great indifference upon the subject after his first confession.

The next morning the school children began to gather. Nine o'clock came and no teacher, for, strange to say, even Miss Ashurst did not make her appearance. A note from her did arrive, but as it was addressed to Professor Horner no one opened it, and the cause of her absence was not explained.

"O, fun!" cried one of the girls. "No school to-day. We'll have a holiday."

"We'd better wait a little while," said Agnes Evans, who was the eldest as well as the brightest pupil in the school. "Professor and Mrs. Horner may come in any minute; we'll wait till ten o'clock. Come here, little sobersides," she said to Edna. "What are you so solemn about? What word did your aunt and uncle leave?"

"They left word that they would be back this morning," replied Edna. "Of course they supposed Miss Ashurst would be here, and that she would be able to get along till they came. Don't you think--" and Edna looked up hesitatingly.

"What, monkey dear?" said Agnes, passing her arm around the child. "Out with it."

"Don't you think we might have school just the same if you big girls were to take the teachers' places? Don't you think we ought to try to do the best we can?"

"You dear child," responded Agnes. "The idea of your having more conscience than us big girls! Of course that is what we should do. Miss Ashurst has been absent once or twice before, and one of us has always taken charge of the little girls. Helen Darby, come here," she called to one of her classmates. "Will you take charge of the little girls? We're going to be good and have school the best way we can. Find Florence Gittings and see if she'll undertake the boys. She'll be just the one to manage them," and springing forward to Professor Horner's desk, Agnes rapped sharply.

The girls who had been chattering like magpies suddenly became silent. "Girls!" said Agnes, "how many of you will stand by me, and do their best to-day? This little midget has made me ashamed of myself by telling me my duty, and I'll do my best to teach those in this room. Anyone who can't trust to my judgment can go home immediately, and any girl who can't promise to behave just as well as if the professor were here can also go home."

Not a girl left the room.

"Good!" cried Agnes. "Now let us go to work," and school was opened without further delay.

Agnes conscientiously kept strictly to the order of the day as mapped out by Professor Horner, and the girls, with good will, entered into the spirit of the occasion. "You are on your honor, girls," Agnes told them, "and I don't believe there is one here mean enough to slight her work." So even the most careless tried to keep up to the standard set for her, while the bright young teacher made everything as interesting as possible.

Florence Gittings managed the little boys fairly well, and Helen Darby did her best with the little girls. The latter, however, belonged to the most troublesome class, and Edna felt very much ashamed of some of them.

"O, dear!" she said to Miss Evans, "our class didn't behave well at all, and it will have to be reported to Uncle Justus."

"You dear thing!" replied Agnes, "you shall be reported for good behavior, I can tell you. I shall just tell your uncle what a dear little soul you were, and how you really were the one who started the plan of our day's doings."

Edna blushed at the praise. She was not often commended by Aunt Elizabeth, who did not believe in praising children, and so the little girl was very grateful for this.

"If anything happens to detain our teachers to-morrow, girls," said Agnes, at parting, "we shall do just as well, I hope. So please all put in an appearance."

Dinner was not served in the kitchen, and the two children ate their meal feeling a little forlorn at being so long left to themselves. It was very well for a time, but, as the day wore on, Edna missed Uncle Justus from his place in his easy chair, missed Aunt Elizabeth's heavy tread, and told Louis she did.

"Ho! that's just like a girl," he said. "I don't miss them that way, I can tell you. I'm glad enough to get a chance to have a fling. I know what I'm going to do this afternoon."

"What?" asked Edna.

"I'm going to have a lot of the boys in and have some fun."

"O!" exclaimed his cousin, with round eyes of disapproval.

"Why shouldn't I?" asked Louis, sharply. "I guess I have a right to do as I choose when there's nobody here to tell me I sha'n't."

Edna could not always answer Louis' arguments, but she knew it would be against the wishes of her aunt and uncle. "I wouldn't do it," she said.

"O, no, _you_ wouldn't, good little baby girl; you're too much of a saint. I suppose you'll tattle, too."

The tears came into Edna's eyes. "Now, Louis, you know I never tell on you."

"Well, no, you don't; but if you're so down on a fellow's having any fun, what's he to expect?"

"I'm not down on your having fun, but I think we ought to do just as well as we can while uncle and aunt are away; better even, for it seems sort of--sort of dishonest to do things behind people's backs that you wouldn't do before their faces."

"Do you mean to say I am dishonest?" began Louis, blustering.

"O, no," cried Edna; "but--but--"

"Humph! I don't believe you know what you do mean. Now, see here; my father and mother ain't wicked people, are they?"

"Of course not."

"Well, then, if they let me have boys to come in and play with me at home, why isn't it just as right here? Answer me that!"

Edna could not answer, so she got up and walked away, Louis calling after her, "You needn't have anything to do with it, Miss Goody-goody. I don't suppose the boys will insist upon your playing with them." And a moment after Edna heard him go out of the house.

About a half hour later she heard him return, a troop of boys following him. They clattered into the house and up into the schoolroom. Ellen, hearing the noise, went up, but, as might have been expected, the boys only jeered at her, and paid no attention to what she said.

"Masther Louis must study his lessons," she told them.

"I don't have to," replied Louis. "I don't call that any school we had to-day, and I'm not going to study the same lessons twice. You don't know anything about it, Ellen. You just go along and tend to your business. We're not going to do any harm." And Ellen, after standing helplessly looking at them for a moment, went back to her work.

"Will she tell on you, Louis?" asked the boys.

"I don't care if she does," returned he. "If they make a fuss, I know what I can do. I can run away."

"Good for you!" cried Phil Blaney. "Of course you can. You can go out West. You can make your way to California, where your father and mother are. You'll have a fine time, Lou, for you'll meet cowboys, and maybe you'll have a whack at the Indians. That's what I'd like to do. You're no baby, to be ordered around by a little girl and a servant."

"You bet I'm not," returned Louis, feeling very big. "They'd better try bossing me. I'll let 'em know they can't do it."

The boys' play became more and more boisterous as time went on. The schoolroom presented a fine field for sport, and Edna, in her room above, trembled as now and then came a crash which made her jump.

"O, my!" she exclaimed; "I hope they won't go to Uncle Justus's chemical closet. I'm so afraid they will!" And, indeed, the boys were bent on investigating everything, with the intention of putting all in order before they left.

But in the midst of the din came a sudden quiet. Edna could stand it no longer, and she ran down stairs and peeped in the room. In flinging a book across the room one of the boys had upset a bottle of ink, the contents of which spattered floor and wall. The boys were busy mopping it up.

"You can say the cat got up here and did it," Phil Blaney was saying.

"No, he sha'n't," cried Edna, from the door, ready to defend Moggins.