A Little Girl in Old New York, Amanda Minnie Douglas [e book reader for pc txt] 📗

pretty, the girl with long, light curls, the boy with dark ones. But of all mischief, of all tormenting deeds and antics with which they nearly set grandpapa crazy and threw the audience into convulsions! They took the nice fat boiled ham off the table and greased the doorstep so thoroughly you would have thought every bone in the old man's body would have been broken by the repeated falls. They cut the seat out of the chair, and when he went to sit down he doubled up equal to any modern folding-bed, and he kicked and turned summersaults until the maid came out and rescued him. Then he spied the author of the mischief asleep on a grassy bank, and he found a big strap and went creeping up cautiously, when--whack! and the little boy flew all to pieces, and the old man was so amazed at his cruelty that he sat down and began to weep and bewail when the little lad peeped from behind a tree and, seeing poor grandfather's grief, ran out, hugged him and kissed him and wiped his eyes, and you could see he was promising never to do anything naughty again. But that didn't hinder him from cutting out the bottom of the basket into which the old man was cutting some very splendid grapes. There were not more than half a dozen bunches, and the children ran away with them. The old man descended so carefully, put his hand in the basket, his whole arm, and not a grape. There was none on the ground. Where had they gone! Oh, there was the cat. But pussy was much spryer than the old man, and the audience knew she had not touched a grape.

After that some Indians came on the scene of action, fierce red men of the forest, and their language was decidedly Jabberwocky. The little girl was quite frightened at the fierce brandishing of tomahawks. Then they had a war dance. And oh, then came the marvel of all! Four beautiful Shetland ponies with the daintiest carriage and six lads in livery. There sat General Tom Thumb, the curiosity of the time, the smallest dwarf known. He was not much bigger than a year-old baby, but he dismounted from his carriage, gave orders to his servants; a bright-eyed little fellow with rosy cheeks, graceful and with a variety of pretty tricks. He sang a song or two, then sprang into his carriage and the ponies trotted off the stage. The curtain came down.

The children were breathless at first. The crowd was surging out and the place nearly empty before they found their tongues. And then there was so much else to see. The various stuffed animals, the giraffe with his three-story neck, the mermaid, the wax figures, the birds and beasts and serpents, and a model of Paris, of London, and of Jerusalem. The place looked quite gorgeous all lighted up.

The people were beginning to thin out. They had not seen half, Jim thought.

"Oh, we haven't been up-stairs!" exclaimed Walter. "There's a great roof-garden. And you can see all the city."

They trudged up-stairs. Dele kept tight hold of the little girl's hand. It was quite light up here. What a great space it was! One large flag was flying, and around the edge of the roof numberless smaller ones. Some evergreen shrubs in boxes stood around, and there were wooden arm-chairs, beside some settees. It was rather chilly, though the day had been very pleasant. And oh, how splendid the lights of Broadway looked to them, two long rows stretching up and up until lost in indistinctness. The stores were all open and lighted as brilliantly as one could with gas. No one thought of Saturday half-holidays then. It was very grand. But what would they have said to the Columbian nights and electric lights?

"I don't feel as if I had seen it half," said Jim. He was not grudging his quarter. "If we had come about one o'clock."

"We'll have to piece it on this end," and Walter laughed. "We must get our money's worth."

"We might stay over," suggested Dele mirthfully.

"Just the thing," returned Jim, "and all for the same money."

The children glanced at each other in sudden surprise. The glory of a grand conspiracy shone in their eyes.

"Well, that's too good!" declared Walter. "Won't I just brag of that at school on Monday. Oh, yes, let's stay."

"We had better go down, for it is getting cool up here. If we only had something to eat. Hanny, are you hungry? I don't believe Nora ever knows whether she has eaten or not. Mother says she's just the worst. I don't mind a bit, but you all----"

"I wouldn't give a copper for supper. It's ever so much more fun staying," rejoined Walter.

"I'm always hungry as a bear, but I'd a hundred times rather stay," Jim replied. "Hanny, will you mind?"

"I'm not a bit hungry," answered Hanny. "It's all so beautiful. Oh, do let's stay!"

"That settles it. Dele, you are a trump."

They picked their way carefully down-stairs. The room was not very brilliantly lighted, but they found many curiosities that had escaped their attention before. They espied the diorama and it interested them very much. Half a dozen people straggled in. The janitor turned on more light, and began to arrange a platform in a recess.

How any one would feel at home Jim never thought. The rest were in the habit of doing quite as they liked, and Delia often stayed at her aunt's until nine o'clock.

At seven the main hall was quite full. The people were crowding up around the platform. The children went too. The curtain was swung aside and out stepped Tom Thumb, to be received with cheers. He sang a song and went through with some military evolutions. There was a railing around and no one could crowd upon him, but a number spoke to him and shook hands.

"My little girl," said a tall gentleman who had watched Hanny's ineffectual efforts to make herself taller, "will you let me hold you up? Wouldn't you like to shake hands? You're not much bigger yourself."

"Oh, please do," entreated Dele in her eager young voice. "She is so small."

Hanny was a little startled, but the man held her in his arms and she smiled hesitatingly. As she met the kindly eyes she said, "Oh, thank you. It's so nice."

The general came down that end.

"Here is a little lady wants to shake hands with you," the gentleman said, who was quite a friend of Tom Thumb's.

The small hand was proffered. Hanny was almost afraid, but she put hers in it and the gallant little general hoped she was well. Then he made a bow and retired behind the curtain, and it was announced that he would appear again after the lecture-room performance.

They went in and took their seats. Nora was tired, and leaning her head on Dele's shoulder went sound asleep. Hanny was getting tired; perhaps, too, she missed her supper.

It wasn't quite so much fun, for the play was just the same. The audience enjoyed it greatly. The Indians were more obstreperous, and sang a hideous song. The vocalists sang many popular songs of the day, "Old Dan Tucker," "Lucy Long," "Zip Coon," and several patriotic songs. There was more dancing than in the afternoon, and the boys enjoyed the Juba in song and dance by a "real slave darkey" who had been made so by a liberal application of burnt cork, and who could clap and pat the tune on his knee.

They did not stop to see Tom Thumb again, but went straight down-stairs. Walter said good-night and declared he had had a splendid time, and Dele must thank Cousin The again. The four others bundled into the stage, which was crowded, but some kindly disposed people held both Nora and Hanny. They had quite a habit of doing it then.

Jim had been wondering what they would say at home. Of course he knew now he ought not have stayed. But nothing _had_ happened, and Hanny was all right, and--well, he would face the music whatever it was. If Dele could be trusted, why not he?

There had been a good deal of anxiety. Mrs. Underhill had expected them home by six, but their father said: "Oh, give them a little grace." But when seven o'clock came she went down to Whitney's to inquire. The table was still standing. Mrs. Whitney sat at the head with a book in her hand; Dave, the second son, was smoking and reading his paper. Both girls had gone out.

"Oh, Mrs. Underhill, don't feel a bit worried! They'll come home all safe. I shouldn't wonder if Dele had taken them over to her aunt's, and she'll never let them come home without their supper. She's the greatest hand for children I ever saw. And Dele's so used to going about. Then everybody's out on Saturday night. Dear me! I haven't given it an anxious thought," declared Mrs. Whitney.

But Mrs. Underhill could not take it so comfortably.

"There's so many of them we should hear if anything had happened," said John. "And there is no use looking, for we shouldn't know where they are; Jim's pretty good stuff too, for a country boy. Now, mother, don't be foolish."

But she grew more and more uneasy. If she had not let Hanny go! What could she have been thinking of to do such a thing?

After nine Mr. Underhill walked out to the Bowery, and watched every stage that halted at the corner. Men, women, and children alighted, but no little girl. Oh, where could she be? He felt almost as if the world was coming to an end.

Then a familiar group all talking at the same time stepped out on the sidewalk. A big girl and two little ones.

"O father, father!" cried Hanny.

He wanted to hug her there in the street. It seemed to him he had never been so glad and relieved in all his life, or loved her half so well.

"Where _have_ you stayed so long?"

"We went to two museums," said Hanny, before the elders could find their tongues. "And oh, father, we saw Tom Thumb and he's just as little and cunning as a baby! And he shook hands with me. A gentleman held me up. It was beautiful, but I'm awful tired."

"Oh, _were_ you troubled?" cried Delia. "Why didn't you just go in to ma and she would have told you that I always come up right, and that nothing ever happens to me, I'm so used to taking care of children. Why, when we lived down town I used to take out the neighbors' children--over to Staten Island and to Williamsburg, and always brought them home safely. Then we hadn't half seen the curiosities, and we should have missed the nice time with that lovely little Tom Thumb. And we thought it such capital fun!"

Mr. Underhill really could not say a word. Tired as she was, the little girl was full of delight. Jim tried to make some explanations and take part of the blame, but Delia talked them all down and was so fresh and merry that you couldn't imagine she had gone without her supper.

Mrs. Underhill stood at the area gate with a shawl about her shoulders. The little girl let go of her father's hand and ran to her.

"Dear Mrs. Underhill," began Dele, "I expect you'll almost want to kill me, but I never