A Sweet Little Maid, Amy Ella Blanchard [the reader ebook TXT] 📗

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 up 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, 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 honey 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 absurd 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 little 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.

"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 is 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.


CHAPTER XI


An Uncle and a Wedding

Dimple was up betimes the next morning. Creeping quietly out of bed, she left Florence sound asleep.

"Mamma," she whispered, softly, as she opened her mamma's door, "what time is it? Has Uncle Heath come?"

"It is half-past six," said her mamma, "and Uncle Heath will be here in half an hour."

"May I put on my blue frock?"

"Yes."

Dimple slipped back, and was not long in dressing. Florence sleepily opened her eyes as Dimple was ready to leave the room.

"Oh Dimple, are you dressed?" she said, sitting up in bed. "Has the bell rung?"

"No," said Dimple, "but Uncle Heath is coming, you know, and I want to meet him. Come down when you are ready."

Florence being wide awake by this time, concluded to get up, and Dimple ran downstairs, patting the baluster with one hand as she went.

When she reached the lowest step she was caught up by a pair of arms, and found her face close to her Uncle Heath's whiskers.

"Oh! Uncle Heath," she cried, "do let me hug you. I am so glad to see you. I'm gladder than anybody."

"I hope not," said her father from the doorway.

"Yes, I am," said Dimple, as her uncle carried her into the parlor, and held her on his knee. "Uncle Heath, are you very happy?"

"Indeed, I am," said he, laughing, as did Dimple's papa and mamma.

"Quite a home thrust," said her papa.

"The reason I asked," she went on, playing with her uncle's watch chain, "is, that I heard papa say the other day, 'I am so glad for dear old Heath.'"

"He has reason to be," responded her uncle. "Dimple, how should you like a new aunt and cousin?"

"Oh, uncle! Is it Rock?"

"Well, not Rock altogether," laughed he. "Rock's mother, as well."

"Please tell me, Uncle Heath."

"So I will, little girl. Rock's mother is going to be your grey-headed uncle's wife. That makes Rock your cousin, doesn't it?"

"Yes," said Dimple, cuddling up to him, "but you are not grey-headed, Uncle Heath, only grey-templed," she said, softly patting each side of his face.

"She seems perfectly satisfied," said he, looking at his brother.

"Perfectly," he answered. "You could not have pleased her better."

"But, Uncle Heath," said Dimple, "I didn't know you knew Mrs. Hardy."

"I knew her long ago, when she wasn't Mrs. Hardy, but Dora West. Long ago," he repeated, gently stroking her hair.

"Why didn't you marry her then?"

"I wanted to," said he, simply, "but I couldn't. Do you want to be bridesmaid, Dimple?"

"Oh, uncle! Could I?"

"Yes, indeed; and Rock groomsman. We are such a young, frivolous couple, we couldn't think of having a grown-up young lady for bridesmaid."

Dimple laughed, and sat in supreme content on her uncle's knee till the breakfast bell rang.

"Florence, I know all about it," she cried, as Florence came in, "and I am going to be bridesmaid, and I know why Uncle Heath is happy, and why Rock can be my cousin. Isn't it lovely?"

Florence looked puzzled, but after a clearer explanation agreed with Dimple that it was "perfectly lovely."

Rock came over after breakfast, with a message for Mrs. Dallas, and Dimple ran out to meet him, crying, "Oh, Rock! your papa is here, and you are going to be my cousin, really and truly.