The man spoke pleasantly, and the boy
went on, feeling much cheered by the
words. Through the soft spring rain that fell
on sprouting grass and budding trees, Nat
saw a large square house before him a
hospitable-looking house, with an old-
fashioned porch, wide steps, and lights
shining in many windows. Neither curtains
nor shutters hid the cheerful glimmer; and,
pausing a moment before he rang, Nat saw
many little shadows dancing on the walls,
heard the pleasant hum of young voices,
and felt that it was hardly possible that the
light and warmth and comfort within could
be for a homeless "little chap" like him.

"I hope the lady will see to me," he thought,
and gave a timid rap with the great bronze
knocker, which was a jovial griffin's head.

A rosy-faced servant-maid opened the
door, and smiled as she took the letter
which he silently offered. She seemed used
to receiving strange boys, for she pointed to
a seat in the hall, and said, with a nod:

"Sit there and drip on the mat a bit, while I
take this in to missis."

Nat found plenty to amuse him while he
waited, and stared about him curiously,
enjoying the view, yet glad to do so
unobserved in the dusky recess by the door.

The house seemed swarming with boys,

-1-

farther out of his corner; and when one very
lively boy came down so swiftly that he
could not stop himself, but fell off the
banisters, with a crash that would have
broken any head but one rendered nearly as
hard as a cannon-ball by eleven years of
constant bumping, Nat forgot himself, and
ran up to the fallen rider, expecting to find
him half-dead. The boy, however, only
winked rapidly for a second, then lay calmly
looking up at the new face with a surprised,
"Hullo!"

"Hullo!" returned Nat, not knowing what else
to say, and thinking that form of reply both
brief and easy.

"Are you a new boy?" asked the recumbent
youth, without stirring.

"Don't know yet."

"What's your name?"

"Nat Blake."

"Mine's Tommy Bangs. Come up and have
a go, will you?" and Tommy got upon his
legs like one suddenly remembering the
duties of hospitality.

"Guess I won't, till I see whether I'm going to
stay or not," returned Nat, feeling the desire
to stay increase every moment.

"I say, Demi, here's a new one. Come and
see to him;" and the lively Thomas returned
to his sport with unabated relish.

At his call, the boy reading on the stairs
looked up with a pair of big brown eyes,
and after an instant's pause, as if a little
shy, he put the book under his arm, and
came soberly down to greet the new-
comer, who found something very attractive
in the pleasant face of this slender, mild-

-2-

"No, I think Greenland, where the icebergs
and seals are, is more interesting. But I'm
fond of Plumfield, and it is a very nice place
to be in," returned Demi, who was
interested just now in a book on Greenland.
He was about to offer to show Nat the
pictures and explain them, when the servant
returned, saying with a nod toward the
parlor-door:

"All right; you are to stop."

"I'm glad; now come to Aunt Jo." And Daisy
took him by the hand with a pretty protecting
air, which made Nat feel at home at once.

Demi returned to his beloved book, while
his sister led the new-comer into a back
room, where a stout gentleman was
frolicking with two little boys on the sofa,
and a thin lady was just finishing the letter
which she seemed to have been re-
reading.

"Here he is, aunty!" cried Daisy.

"So this is my new boy? I am glad to see
you, my dear, and hope you'll be happy
here," said the lady, drawing him to her, and
stroking back the hair from his forehead
with a kind hand and a motherly look, which
made Nat's lonely little heart yearn toward
her.

She was not at all handsome, but she had a
merry sort of face that never seemed to
have forgotten certain childish ways and
looks, any more than her voice and manner
had; and these things, hard to describe but
very plain to see and feel, made her a
genial, comfortable kind of person, easy to
get on with, and generally "jolly," as boys
would say. She saw the little tremble of
Nat's lips as she smoothed his hair, and her
keen eyes grew softer, but she only drew
the shabby figure nearer and said, laughing:

-3-

"All winter. I got cold, and it wouldn't get
better, somehow."

"No wonder, living in that damp cellar with
hardly a rag to his poor dear back!" said
Mrs. Bhaer, in a low tone to her husband,
who was looking at the boy with a skillful
pair of eyes that marked the thin temples
and feverish lips, as well as the hoarse
voice and frequent fits of coughing that
shook the bent shoulders under the patched
jacket.

"Robin, my man, trot up to Nursey, and tell
her to give thee the cough-bottle and the
liniment," said Mr. Bhaer, after his eyes had
exchanged telegrams with his wife's.

Nat looked a little anxious at the
preparations, but forgot his fears in a hearty
laugh, when Mrs. Bhaer whispered to him,
with a droll look:

"Hear my rogue Teddy try to cough. The
syrup I'm going to give you has honey in it;
and he wants some."

Little Ted was red in the face with his
exertions by the time the bottle came, and
was allowed to suck the spoon after Nat
had manfully taken a dose and had the bit of
flannel put about his throat.

These first steps toward a cure were hardly
completed when a great bell rang, and a
loud tramping through the hall announced
supper. Bashful Nat quaked at the thought
of meeting many strange boys, but Mrs.
Bhaer held out her hand to him, and Rob
said, patronizingly, "Don't be 'fraid; I'll take
care of you."

Twelve boys, six on a side, stood behind
their chairs, prancing with impatience to
begin, while the tall flute-playing youth was
trying to curb their ardor. But no one sat

-4-

them.

"Who is that boy next the girl down at the
other end?" whispered Nat to his young
neighbor under cover of a general laugh.

"That's Demi Brooke. Mr. Bhaer is his
uncle."

"What a queer name!"

"His real name is John, but they call him
Demi-John, because his father is John too.
That's a joke, don't you see?" said Tommy,
kindly explaining. Nat did not see, but
politely smiled, and asked, with interest :

"Isn't he a very nice boy?"

"I bet you he is; knows lots and reads like
any thing."

"Who is the fat one next him?"

"Oh, that's Stuffy Cole. His name is
George, but we call him Stuffy 'cause he
eats so much. The little fellow next Father
Bhaer is his boy Rob, and then there's big
Franz his nephew; he teaches some, and
kind of sees to us."

"He plays the flute, doesn't he?" asked Nat
as Tommy rendered himself speechless by
putting a whole baked apple into his mouth
at one blow.

Tommy nodded, and said, sooner than one
would have imagined possible under the
circumstances, "Oh, don't he, though? And
we dance sometimes, and do gymnastics
to music. I like a drum myself, and mean to
learn as soon as ever I can."

"I like a fiddle best; I can play one too," said
Nat, getting confidential on this attractive
subject.

-5-

Nat felt this, and had made several small
confidences during supper, which gave
Mrs. Bhaer the key to the new boy's
character, better than if she had talked to
him herself.

In the letter which Mr. Laurence had sent
with Nat, he had said:

"DEAR JO: Here is a case after your own
heart. This poor lad is an orphan now, sick
and friendless. He has been a street-
musician; and I found him in a cellar,
mourning for his dead father, and his lost
violin. I think there is something in him, and
have a fancy that between us we may give
this little man a lift. You cure his overtasked
body, Fritz help his neglected mind, and
when he is ready I'll see if he is a genius or
only a boy with a talent which may earn his
bread for him. Give him a trial, for the sake
of your own boy,

TEDDY."

"Of course we will!" cried Mrs. Bhaer, as
she read the letter; and when she saw Nat
she felt at once that, whether he was a
genius or not, here was a lonely, sick boy
who needed just what she loved to give, a
home and motherly care. Both she and Mr.
Bhaer observed him quietly; and in spite of
ragged clothes, awkward manners, and a
dirty face, they saw much about Nat that
pleased them. He was a thin, pale boy, of
twelve, with blue eyes, and a good
forehead under the rough, neglected hair;
an anxious, scared face, at times, as if he
expected hard words, or blows; and a
sensitive mouth that trembled when a kind
glance fell on him; while a gentle speech
called up a look of gratitude, very sweet to
see. "Bless the poor dear, he shall fiddle all
day long if he likes," said Mrs. Bhaer to
herself, as she saw the eager, happy
expression on his face when Tommy talked

-6-

"I say, you do that first rate," cried Tommy,
who considered Nat his prot‚g‚.

"You shall be the first fiddle in my band,"
added Franz, with an approving smile.

Mrs. Bhaer whispered to her husband:

"Teddy is right: there's something in the
child." And Mr. Bhaer nodded his head
emphatically, as he clapped Nat on the
shoulder, saying, heartily:

"You play well, my son. Come now and play
something which we can sing."

It was the proudest, happiest minute of the
poor boy's life when he was led to the place
of honor by the piano, and the lads gathered
round, never heeding his poor clothes, but
eying him respectfully and waiting eagerly
to hear him play again.

They chose a song he knew; and after one
or two false starts they got going, and violin,
flute, and piano led a chorus of boyish
voices that made the old roof ring again. It
was too much for Nat, more feeble than he
knew; and as the final shout died away, his
face began to work, he dropped the fiddle,
and turning to the wall sobbed like a little
child.

"My dear, what is it?" asked Mrs. Bhaer,
who had been singing with all her might,
and trying to keep little Rob from beating
time with his boots.

"You are all so kind and it's so beautiful I
can't help it," sobbed Nat, coughing till he
was breathless.

"Come with me, dear; you must go to bed
and rest; you are worn out, and this is too
noisy a place for you," whispered Mrs.
Bhaer; and took him away to her own

-7-

simmering there, he watched the
performances of the two women, who
scrubbed, clean night-gowned, and
bundled into bed four or five small boys,
who, of course, cut up all sorts of capers
during the operation, and kept every one in
a gale of merriment till they were
extinguished in their beds.

By the time Nat was washed and done up in
a blanket by the fire, while Nursey cut his
hair, a new detachment of boys arrived and
were shut into the bath-room, where they
made as much splashing and noise as a
school of young whales at play.

"Nat had better sleep here, so that if his
cough troubles him in the night you can see
that he takes a good draught of flax-seed
tea," said Mrs. Bhaer, who was flying about
like a distracted hen with a large brood of
lively ducklings.

Nursey approved the plan, finished Nat off
with a flannel night-gown, a drink of
something warm and sweet, and then
tucked him into one of the three little beds
standing in the room, where he lay looking
like a contented mummy and feeling that
nothing more in the way of luxury could be
offered him. Cleanliness in itself was a new
and delightful sensation; flannel gowns
were unknown comforts in his world; sips of
"good stuff" soothed his cough as
pleasantly as kind words did his lonely
heart; and the feeling that somebody cared
for him made that plain room seem a sort of
heaven to the homeless child. It was like a
cosy dream; and he often shut his eyes to
see if it would not vanish when he opened
them again. It was too pleasant to let him
sleep, and he could not have done so if he
had tried, for in a few minutes one of the
peculiar institutions of Plumfield was
revealed to his astonished but appreciative
eyes.

-8-

"It's a beautiful plan," said Nat, feeling that
he should like to join in the fray, but not
venturing to propose it the first night. So he
lay enjoying the spectacle, which certainly
was a lively one.

Tommy Bangs led the assailing party, and
Demi defended his own room with a
dogged courage fine to see, collecting
pillows behind him as fast as they were
thrown, till the besiegers were out of
ammunition, when they would charge upon
him in a body, and recover their arms. A few
slight accidents occurred, but nobody
minded, and gave and took sounding
thwacks with perfect good humor, while
pillows flew like big snowflakes, till Mrs.
Bhaer looked at her watch, and called out:

"Time is up, boys. Into bed, every man jack,
or pay the forfeit!"

"What is the forfeit?" asked Nat, sitting up in
his eagerness to know what happened to
those wretches who disobeyed this most
peculiar, but public-spirited school-ma'am.

"Lose their fun next time," answered Mrs.
Bhaer. "I give them five minutes to settle
down, then put out the lights, and expect
order. They are honorable lads, and they
keep their word."

That was evident, for the battle ended as
abruptly as it began a parting shot or two, a
final cheer, as Demi fired the seventh pillow
at the retiring foe, a few challenges for next
time, then order prevailed. And nothing but
an occasional giggle or a suppressed
whisper broke the quiet which followed the
Saturday-night frolic, as Mother Bhaer
kissed her new boy and left him to happy
dreams of life at Plumfield.

Chapter 2 The Boys

-9-

for soul and body worked harmoniously
together. The natural refinement which
nothing but home influence can teach, gave
him sweet and simple manners: his mother
had cherished an innocent and loving heart
in him; his father had watched over the
physical growth of his boy, and kept the little
body straight and strong on wholesome
food and exercise and sleep, while
Grandpa March cultivated the little mind with
the tender wisdom of a modern
Pythagoras, not tasking it with long, hard
lessons, parrot-learned, but helping it to
unfold as naturally and beautifully as sun
and dew help roses bloom. He was not a
perfect child, by any means, but his faults
were of the better sort; and being early
taught the secret of self-control, he was not
left at the mercy of appetites and passions,
as some poor little mortals are, and then
punished for yielding to the temptations
against which they have no armor. A quiet,
quaint boy was Demi, serious, yet cheery,
quite unconscious that he was unusually
bright and beautiful, yet quick to see and
love intelligence or beauty in other children.
Very fond of books, and full of lively fancies,
born of a strong imagination and a spiritual
nature, these traits made his parents
anxious to balance them with useful
knowledge and healthful society, lest they
should make him one of those pale
precocious children who amaze and delight
a family sometimes, and fade away like
hot-house flowers, because the young soul
blooms too soon, and has not a hearty body
to root it firmly in the wholesome soil of this
world.

So Demi was transplanted to Plumfield,
and took so kindly to the life there, that Meg
and John and Grandpa felt satisfied that
they had done well. Mixing with other boys
brought out the practical side of him, roused
his spirit, and brushed away the pretty
cobwebs he was so fond of spinning in that

-10-

every morning, in her little wrapper, trotted
to tap at his door with a motherly "Get up, my
dear, it's 'most breakfast time; and here's
your clean collar."

Rob was an energetic morsel of a boy, who
seemed to have discovered the secret of
perpetual motion, for he never was still.
Fortunately, he was not mischievous, nor
very brave; so he kept out of trouble pretty
well, and vibrated between father and
mother like an affectionate little pendulum
with a lively tick, for Rob was a chatterbox.

Teddy was too young to play a very
important part in the affairs of Plumfield, yet
he had his little sphere, and filled it
beautifully. Every one felt the need of a pet
at times, and Baby was always ready to
accommodate, for kissing and cuddling
suited him excellently. Mrs. Jo seldom
stirred without him; so he had his little finger
in all the domestic pies, and every one
found them all the better for it, for they
believed in babies at Plumfield.

Dick Brown, and Adolphus or Dolly
Pettingill, were two eight year-olds. Dolly
stuttered badly, but was gradually getting
over it, for no one was allowed to mock him
and Mr. Bhaer tried to cure it, by making him
talk slowly. Dolly was a good little lad, quite
uninteresting and ordinary, but he flourished
here, and went through his daily duties and
pleasures with placid content and propriety.

Dick Brown's affliction was a crooked
back, yet he bore his burden so cheerfully,
that Demi once asked in his queer way, "Do
humps make people good-natured? I'd like
one if they do." Dick was always merry, and
did his best to be like other boys, for a
plucky spirit lived in the feeble little body.
When he first came, he was very sensitive
about his misfortune, but soon learned to
forget it, for no one dared remind him of it,

-11-

him tumble over the chairs, bump against
the tables, and knock down any small
articles near him. He bragged a good deal
about what he could do, but seldom did any
thing to prove it, was not brave, and a little
given to tale-telling. He was apt to bully the
small boys, and flatter the big ones, and
without being at all bad, was just the sort of
fellow who could very easily be led astray.

George Cole had been spoilt by an over-
indulgent mother, who stuffed him with
sweetmeats till he was sick, and then
thought him too delicate to study, so that at
twelve years old, he was a pale, puffy boy,
dull, fretful, and lazy. A friend persuaded her
to send him to Plumfield, and there he soon
got waked up, for sweet things were
seldom allowed, much exercise required,
and study made so pleasant, that Stuffy
was gently lured along, till he quite amazed
his anxious mamma by his improvement,
and convinced her that there was really
something remarkable in Plumfield air.

Billy Ward was what the Scotch tenderly call
an "innocent," for though thirteen years old,
he was like a child of six. He had been an
unusually intelligent boy, and his father had
hurried him on too fast, giving him all sorts
of hard lessons, keeping at his books six
hours a day, and expecting him to absorb
knowledge as a Strasburg goose does the
food crammed down its throat. He thought
he was doing his duty, but he nearly killed
the boy, for a fever gave the poor child a
sad holiday, and when he recovered, the
overtasked brain gave out, and Billy's mind
was like a slate over which a sponge has
passed, leaving it blank.

It was a terrible lesson to his ambitious
father; he could not bear the sight of his
promising child, changed to a feeble idiot,
and he sent him away to Plumfield, scarcely
hoping that he could be helped, but sure that

-12-

bandages, plasters, and salves for his
especial use, for Tommy was always being
brought in half dead; but nothing ever killed
him, and he arose from every downfall with
redoubled vigor.

The first day he came, he chopped the top
off one finger in the hay-cutter, and during
the week, fell from the shed roof, was
chased by an angry hen who tried to pick his
out because he examined her chickens, got
run away with, and had his ears boxed
violent by Asia, who caught him luxuriously
skimming a pan of cream with half a stolen
pie. Undaunted, however, by any failures or
rebuffs, this indomitable youth went on
amusing himself with all sorts of tricks till no
one felt safe. If he did not know his lessons,
he always had some droll excuse to offer,
and as he was usually clever at his books,
and as bright as a button in composing
answers when he did not know them, he go
on pretty well at school. But out of school, Ye
gods and little fishes! how Tommy did
carouse!

He wound fat Asia up in her own clothes line
against the post, and left here there to fume
and scold for half an hour one busy Monday
morning. He dropped a hot cent down Mary
Ann's back as that pretty maid was waiting
at table one day when there were
gentlemen to dinner, whereat the poor girl
upset the soup and rushed out of the room in
dismay, leaving the family to think that she
had gone mad. He fixed a pail of water up in
a tree, with a bit of ribbon fastened to the
handle, and when Daisy, attracted by the
gay streamer, tried to pull it down, she got a
douche bath that spoiled her clean frock
and hurt her little feelings very much. He put
rough white pebbles in the sugar-bowl
when his grandmother came to tea, and the
poor old lady wondered why they didn't melt
in her cup, but was too polite to say
anything. He passed around snuff in church

-13-

Chapter 3 Sunday

The moment the bell rang next morning Nat
flew out of bed, and dressed himself with
great satisfaction in the suit of clothes he
found on the chair. They were not new,
being half-worn garments of one of the
well-to-do boys; but Mrs. Bhaer kept all
such cast-off feathers for the picked robins
who strayed into her nest. They were hardly
on when Tommy appeared in a high state of
clean collar, and escorted Nat down to
breakfast.

The sun was shining into the dining-room
on the well-spread table, and the flock of
hungry, hearty lads who gathered round it.
Nat observed that they were much more
orderly than they had been the night before,
and every one stood silently behind his chair
while little Rob, standing beside his father
at the head of the table, folded his hands,
reverently bent his curly head, and softly
repeated a short grace in the devout
German fashion, which Mr. Bhaer loved and
taught his little son to honor. Then they all sat
down to enjoy the Sunday-morning
breakfast of coffee, steak, and baked
potatoes, instead of the bread and milk fare
with which they usually satisfied their young
appetites. There was much pleasant talk
while the knives and forks rattled briskly, for
certain Sunday lessons were to be learned,
the Sunday walk settled, and plans for the
week discussed. As he listened, Nat
thought it seemed as if this day must be a
very pleasant one, for he loved quiet, and
there was a cheerful sort of hush over every
thing that pleased him very much; because,
in spite of his rough life, the boy possessed
the sensitive nerves which belong to a
music-loving nature.

"Now, my lads, get your morning jobs done,
and let me find you ready for church when
the 'bus comes round," said Father Bhaer,

-14-

"Yes; to be good, and to love to be good. It
is hard work sometimes, I know very well;
but we all help one another, and so we get
on. This is one of the ways in which I try to
help my boys," and she took down a thick
book, which seemed half-full of writing,
and opened at a page on which there was
one word at the top.

"Why, that's my name!" cried Nat, looking
both surprised and interested.

"Yes; I have a page for each boy. I keep a
little account of how he gets on through the
week, and Sunday night I show him the
record. If it is bad I am sorry and
disappointed, if it is good I am glad and
proud; but, whichever it is, the boys know I
want to help them, and they try to do their
best for love of me and Father Bhaer."

"I should think they would," said Nat,
catching a glimpse of Tommy's name
opposite his own, and wondering what was
written under it.

Mrs. Bhaer saw his eye on the words, and
shook her head, saying, as she turned a
leaf

"No, I don't show my records to any but the
one to whom each belongs. I call this my
conscience book; and only you and I will
ever know what is to be written on the page
below your name. Whether you will be
pleased or ashamed to read it next Sunday
depends on yourself. I think it will be a good
report; at any rate, I shall try to make things
easy for you in this new place, and shall be
quite contented if you keep our few rules,
live happily with the boys, and learn
something."

"I'll try ma'am;" and Nat's thin face flushed
up with the earnestness of his desire to
make Mrs. Bhaer "glad and proud," not

-15-

When the church-goers came back and
dinner was over, every one read, wrote
letters home, said their Sunday lessons, or
talked quietly to one another, sitting here
and there about the house. At three o'clock
the entire family turned out to walk, for all the
active young bodies must have exercise;
and in these walks the active young minds
were taught to see and love the providence
of God in the beautiful miracles which
Nature was working before their eyes. Mr.
Bhaer always went with them, and in his
simple, fatherly way, found for his flock,
"Sermons in stones, books in the running
brooks, and good in everything."

Mrs. Bhaer with Daisy and her own two
boys drove into town, to pay the weekly visit
to Grandma, which was busy Mother
Bhaer's one holiday and greatest pleasure.
Nat was not strong enough for the long
walk, and asked to stay at home with
Tommy, who kindly offered to do the honors
of Plumfield. "You've seen the house, so
come out and have a look at the garden,
and the barn, and the menagerie," said
Tommy, when they were left alone with
Asia, to see that they didn't get into
mischief; for, though Tommy was one of the
best-meaning boys who ever adorned
knickerbockers, accidents of the most
direful nature were always happening to
him, no one could exactly tell how.

"What is your menagerie?" asked Nat, as
they trotted along the drive that encircled the
house.

"We all have pets, you see, and we keep
'em in the corn-barn, and call it the
menagerie. Here you are. Isn't my guinea-
pig a beauty?" and Tommy proudly
presented one of the ugliest specimens of
that pleasing animal that Nat ever saw.

"I know a boy with a dozen of 'em, and he

-16-

"The big dog is Emil's. His name is
Christopher Columbus. Mrs. Bhaer named
him because she likes to say Christopher
Columbus, and no one minds it if she
means the dog," answered Tommy, in the
tone of a show-man displaying his
menagerie. "The white pup is Rob's, and
the yellow one is Teddy's. A man was going
to drown them in our pond, and Pa Bhaer
wouldn't let him. They do well enough for the
little chaps, I don't think much of 'em myself.
Their names are Castor and Pollux."

"I'd like Toby the donkey best, if I could have
anything, it's so nice to ride, and he's so
little and good," said Nat, remembering the
weary tramps he had taken on his own tired
feet.

"Mr. Laurie sent him out to Mrs. Bhaer, so
she shouldn't carry Teddy on her back when
we go to walk. We're all fond of Toby, and
he's a first-rate donkey, sir. Those pigeons
belong to the whole lot of us, we each have
our pet one, and go shares in all the little
ones as they come along. Squabs are great
fun; there ain't any now, but you can go up
and take a look at the old fellows, while I
see if Cockletop and Granny have laid any
eggs."

Nat climbed up a ladder, put his head
through a trap door and took a long look at
the pretty doves billing and cooing in their
spacious loft. Some on their nests, some
bustling in and out, and some sitting at their
doors, while many went flying from the
sunny housetop to the straw-strewn
farmyard, where six sleek cows were
placidly ruminating.

"Everybody has got something but me. I
wish I had a dove, or a hen, or even a turtle,
all my own," thought Nat, feeling very poor
as he saw the interesting treasures of the
other boys. "How do you get these things?"

-17-

"You may have one and I'll have the other,
that will just make up my last dozen, and to-
morrow we'll start fresh.

Here, you chalk your accounts up near
mine, and then we'll be all straight," said
Tommy, showing a row of mysterious
figures on the side of an old winnowing
machine.

With a delightful sense of importance, the
proud possessor of one egg opened his
account with his friend, who laughingly
wrote above the figures these imposing
words,

"T. Bangs & Co."

Poor Nat found them so fascinating that he
was with difficulty persuaded to go and
deposit his first piece of portable property
in Asia's store-room. Then they went on
again, and having made the acquaintance
of the two horses, six cows, three pigs, and
one Alderney "Bossy," as calves are called
in New England, Tommy took Nat to a
certain old willow-tree that overhung a noisy
little brook. From the fence it was an easy
scramble into a wide niche between the
three big branches, which had been cut off
to send out from year to year a crowd of
slender twigs, till a green canopy rustled
overhead. Here little seats had been fixed,
and a hollow place a closet made big
enough to hold a book or two, a dismantled
boat, and several half-finished whistles.

"This is Demi's and my private place; we
made it, and nobody can come up unless
we let 'em, except Daisy, we don't mind
her," said Tommy, as Nat looked with
delight from the babbling brown water
below to the green arch above, where bees
were making a musical murmur as they
feasted on the long yellow blossoms that
filled the air with sweetness.

-18-

Some folks don't; my other master didn't. If
we missed a word, didn't we get raps on
the head!" and Tommy rubbed his own pate
as if it tingled yet with the liberal supply of
raps, the memory of which was the only
thing he brought away after a year with his
"other master."

"I think I could read this," said Nat, who had
been examining the books.

"Read a bit, then; I'll help you," resumed
Tommy, with a patronizing air.

So Nat did his best, and floundered through
a page with may friendly "boosts" from
Tommy, who told him he would soon "go it"
as well as anybody. Then they sat and
talked boy-fashion about all sorts of things,
among others, gardening; for Nat, looking
down from his perch, asked what was
planted in the many little patches lying below
them on the other side of the brook.

"These are our farms," said Tommy. "We
each have our own patch, and raise what
we like in it, only have to choose different
things, and can't change till the crop is in,
and we must keep it in order all summer."

"What are you going to raise this year?"

"Wal, I cattleated to hev beans, as they are
about the easiest crop a-goin'."

Nat could not help laughing, for Tommy had
pushed back his hat, put his hands in his
pockets, and drawled out his words in
unconscious imitation of Silas, the man who
managed the place for Mr. Bhaer.

"Come, you needn't laugh; beans are ever
so much easier than corn or potatoes. I tried
melons last year, but the bugs were a
bother, and the old things wouldn't get ripe
before the frost, so I didn't have but one

-19-

gravely as if the food for the family
depended on the harvest. From this
pleasant topic they went to others, and Nat
had many new and helpful thoughts put into
a mind that received them as gratefully as
the thirsty earth had received the warm
spring rain. All supper time he brooded over
them, often fixing his eyes on Mr. Bhaer with
an inquiring look, that seemed to say, "I like
that, do it again, sir." I don't know whether
the man understood the child's mute
language or not, but when the boys were all
gathered together in Mrs. Bhaer's parlor for
the Sunday evening talk, he chose a subject
which might have been suggested by the
walk in the garden.

As he looked about him Nat thought it
seemed more like a great family than a
school, for the lads were sitting in a wide
half-circle round the fire, some on chairs,
some on the rug, Daisy and Demi on the
knees of Uncle Fritz, and Rob snugly
stowed away in the back of his mother's
easy-chair, where he could nod unseen if
the talk got beyond his depth.

Every one looked quite comfortable, and
listened attentively, for the long walk made
rest agreeable, and as every boy there
knew that he would be called upon for his
views, he kept his wits awake to be ready
with an answer.

"Once upon a time," began Mr. Bhaer, in the
dear old-fashioned way, "there was a great
and wise gardener who had the largest
garden ever seen. A wonderful and lovely
place it was, and he watched over it with the
greatest skill and care, and raised all
manner of excellent and useful things. But
weeds would grow even in this fine garden;
often the ground was bad and the good
seeds sown in it would not spring up. He
had many under gardeners to help him.
Some did their duty and earned the rich

-20-

because the gardener had been very kind to
him in many ways. So he gladly took the little
plots and fell to work. They were all sorts of
shapes and sizes, and some were very
good soil, some rather stony, and all of
them needed much care, for in the rich soil
the weeds grew fast, and in the poor soil
there were many stones."

"What was growing in them besides the
weeds, and stones?" asked Nat; so
interested, he forgot his shyness and spoke
before them all.

"Flowers," said Mr. Bhaer, with a kind look.
"Even the roughest, most neglected little
bed had a bit of heart's-ease or a sprig of
mignonette in it. One had roses, sweet
peas, and daisies in it," here he pinched the
plump cheek of the little girl leaning on his
arm. "Another had all sorts of curious plants
in it, bright pebbles, a vine that went
climbing up like Jack's beanstalk, and
many good seeds just beginning to sprout;
for, you see, this bed had been taken fine
care of by a wise old man, who had worked
in gardens of this sort all his life."

At this part of the "arrygory," Demi put his
head on one side like an inquisitive bird,
and fixed his bright eye on his uncle's face,
as if he suspected something and was on
the watch. But Mr. Bhaer looked perfectly
innocent, and went on glancing from one
young face to another, with a grave, wistful
look, that said much to his wife, who knew
how earnestly he desired to do his duty in
these little garden plots.

"As I tell you, some of these beds were easy
to cultivate, that means to take care of
Daisy, and others were very hard. There
was one particularly sunshiny little bed that
might have been full of fruits and vegetables
as well as flowers, only it wouldn't take any
pains, and when the man sowed, well, we'll

-21-

"I shall devote the whole of my plot to the
largest crop of patience I can get, for that is
what I need most," said Mrs. Jo, so soberly
that the lads fell to thinking in good earnest
what they should say when their turns came,
and some among them felt a twinge of
remorse, that they had helped to use up
Mother Bhaer's stock of patience so fast.

Franz wanted perseverance, Tommy
steadiness, Ned went in for good temper,
Daisy for industry, Demi for "as much
wiseness as Grandpa," and Nat timidly said
he wanted so many things he would let Mr.
Bhaer choose for him. The others chose
much the same things, and patience, good
temper, and generosity seemed the favorite
crops. One boy wished to like to get up
early, but did not know what name to give
that sort of seed; and poor Stuffy sighed
out,

"I wish I loved my lessons as much as I do
my dinner, but I can't."

"We will plant self-denial, and hoe it and
water it, and make it grow so well that next
Christmas no one will get ill by eating too
much dinner. If you exercise your mind,
George, it will get hungry just as your body
does, and you will love books almost as
much as my philosopher here," said Mr.
Bhaer; adding, as he stroked the hair off
Demi's fine forehead, "You are greedy
also, my son, and you like to stuff your little
mind full of fairy tales and fancies, as well
as George likes to fill his little stomach with
cake and candy. Both are bad, and I want
you to try something better. Arithmetic is not
half so pleasant as 'Arabian Nights,' I
know, but it is a very useful thing, and now is
the time to learn it, else you will be ashamed
and sorry by and by."

"But, 'Harry and Lucy,' and 'Frank,' are not
fairy books, and they are all full of

-22-

they trooped up to bed.

The light of the shaded lamp that burned in
the nursery shone softly on a picture
hanging at the foot of Nat's bed. There were
several others on the walls, but the boy
thought there must be something peculiar
about this one, for it had a graceful frame of
moss and cones about it, and on a little
bracket underneath stood a vase of wild
flowers freshly gathered from the spring
woods. It was the most beautiful picture of
them all, and Nat lay looking at it, dimly
feeling what it meant, and wishing he knew
all about it.

"That's my picture," said a little voice in the
room. Nat popped up his head, and there
was Demi in his night-gown pausing on his
way back from Aunt Jo's chamber, whither
he had gone to get a cot for a cut finger.

"What is he doing to the children?" asked
Nat.

"That is Christ, the Good Man, and He is
blessing the children. Don't you know about
Him?" said Demi, wondering.

"Not much, but I'd like to, He looks so kind,"
answered Nat, whose chief knowledge of
the Good Man consisted in hearing His
name taken in vain.

"I know all about it, and I like it very much,
because it is true," said Demi.

"Who told you?"

"My Grandpa, he knows every thing, and
tells the best stories in the world. I used to
play with his big books, and make bridges,
and railroads, and houses, when I was a
little boy," began Demi.

"How old are you now?" asked Nat,

-23-

they must not be cross to them, and they
loved Him dearly, dearly," cried Demi, with
enthusiasm.

"Was He rich?"

"Oh no! He was born in a barn, and was so
poor He hadn't any house to live in when He
grew up, and nothing to eat sometimes, but
what people gave Him, and He went round
preaching to everybody, and trying to make
them good, till the bad men killed Him."

"What for?" and Nat sat up in his bed to look
and listen, so interested was he in this man
who cared for the poor so much.

"I'll tell you all about it; Aunt Jo won't mind;"
and Demi settled himself on the opposite
bed, glad to tell his favorite story to so good
a listener.

Nursey peeped in to see if Nat was asleep,
but when she saw what was going on, she
slipped away again, and went to Mrs.
Bhaer, saying with her kind face full of
motherly emotion,

"Will the dear lady come and see a pretty
sight? It's Nat listening with all his heart to
Demi telling the story of the Christ-child,
like a little white angel as he is."

Mrs. Bhaer had meant to go and talk with
Nat a moment before he slept, for she had
found that a serious word spoken at this
time often did much good. But when she
stole to the nursery door, and saw Nat
eagerly drinking in the words of his little
friends, while Demi told the sweet and
solemn story as it had been taught him,
speaking softly as he sat with his beautiful
eyes fixed on the tender face above them,
her own filled with tears, and she went
silently away, thinking to herself,

-24-

ease and accuracy.

"You know a good many things which they
don't," said Mr. Bhaer, sitting down beside
him, while Franz led a class of small
students through the intricacies of the
multiplication table.

"Do I?" and Nat looked utterly incredulous.

"Yes; for one thing, you can keep your
temper, and Jack, who is quick at numbers,
cannot; that is an excellent lesson, and I
think you have learned it well. Then, you can
play the violin, and not one of the lads can,
though they want to do it very much. But,
best of all, Nat, you really care to learn
something, and that is half the battle. It
seems hard at first, and you will feel
discouraged, but plod away, and things will
get easier and easier as you go on."

Nat's face had brightened more and more
as he listened, for, small as the list of his
learning was, it cheered him immensely to
feel that he had anything to fall back upon.
"Yes, I can keep my temper father's beating
taught me that; and I can fiddle, though I
don't know where the Bay of Biscay is," he
thought, with a sense of comfort impossible
to express. Then he said aloud, and so
earnestly that Demi heard him:

"I do want to learn, and I will try. I never went
to school, but I couldn't help it; and if the
fellows don't laugh at me, I guess I'll get on
first rate you and the lady are so good to
me."

"They shan't laugh at you; if they do, I'll I'll tell
them not to," cried Demi, quite forgetting
where he was.

The class stopped in the middle of 7 times 9,
and everyone looked up to see what was
going on.

-25-

from the rough sports of the elder lads. Mr.
Laurence did not forget him, but sent
clothes and books, music and kind
messages, and now and then came out to
see how his boy was getting on, or took him
into town to a concert; on which occasions
Nat felt himself translated into the seventh
heaven of bliss, for he went to Mr.
Laurence's great house, saw his pretty wife
and little fairy of a daughter, had a good
dinner, and was made so comfortable, that
he talked and dreamed of it for days and
nights afterward.

It takes so little to make a child happy that it
is a pity, in a world so full of sunshine and
pleasant things, that there should be any
wistful faces, empty hands, or lonely little
hearts. Feeling this, the Bhaers gathered up
all the crumbs they could find to feed their
flock of hungry sparrows, for they were not
rich, except in charity. Many of Mrs. Jo's
friends who had nurseries sent her they toys
of which their children so soon tired, and in
mending these Nat found an employment
that just suited him. He was very neat and
skillful with those slender fingers of his, and
passed many a rainy afternoon with his
gum-bottle, paint-box, and knife, repairing
furniture, animals, and games, while Daisy
was dressmaker to the dilapidated dolls. As
fast as the toys were mended, they were put
carefully away in a certain drawer which
was to furnish forth a Christmas-tree for all
the poor children of the neighborhood, that
being the way the Plumfield boys
celebrated the birthday of Him who loved
the poor and blessed the little ones.

Demi was never tired of reading and
explaining his favorite books, and many a
pleasant hour did they spend in the old
willow, revelling over "Robinson Crusoe,"
"Arabian Nights," "Edgeworth's Tales," and
the other dear immortal stories that will
delight children for centuries to come. This

-26-

offered you."

Nat went, and did so well that when he
came home he had two dollars in his
pocket, which he displayed with intense
satisfaction, as he told how much he had
enjoyed the afternoon, how kind the young
people were, and how they had praised his
dance music, and promised to have him
again.

"It is so much nicer than fiddling in the street,
for then I got none of the money, and now I
have it all, and a good time besides. I'm in
business now as well as Tommy and Jack,
and I like it ever so much," said Nat, proudly
patting the old pocketbook, and feeling like
a millionaire already.

He was in business truly, for picnics were
plenty as summer opened, and Nat's skill
was in great demand. He was always at
liberty to go if lessons were not neglected,
and if the picnickers were respectable
young people. For Mr. Bhaer explained to
him that a good plain education is
necessary for everyone, and that no amount
of money should hire him to go where he
might be tempted to do wrong. Nat quite
agreed to this, and it was a pleasant sight to
see the innocent-hearted lad go driving
away in the gay wagons that stopped at the
gate for him, or to hear him come fiddling
home tired but happy, with his well-earned
money in one pocket, and some "goodies"
from the feast for Daisy or little Ted, whom
he never forgot.

"I'm going to save up till I get enough to buy a
violin for myself, and then I can earn my own
living, can't I?" he used to say, as he brought
his dollars to Mr. Bhaer to keep.

"I hope so, Nat; but we must get you strong
and hearty first, and put a little more
knowledge into this musical head of yours.

-27-

about him; Mr. Laurie said so, and he ought
to know. However that might be, Father
Bhaer took pleasure in fostering poor Nat's
virtues, and in curing his faults, finding his
new pupil as docile and affectionate as a
girl. He often called Nat his "daughter" when
speaking of him to Mrs. Jo, and she used to
laugh at his fancy, for Madame liked manly
boys, and thought Nat amiable but weak,
though you never would have guessed it, for
she petted him as she did Daisy, and he
thought her a very delightful woman.

One fault of Nat's gave the Bhaers much
anxiety, although they saw how it had been
strengthened by fear and ignorance. I regret
to say that Nat sometimes told lies. Not very
black ones, seldom getting deeper than
gray, and often the mildest of white fibs; but
that did not matter, a lie is a lie, and though
we all tell many polite untruths in this queer
world of ours, it is not right, and everybody
knows it.

"You cannot be too careful; watch your
tongue, and eyes, and hands, for it is easy
to tell, and look, and act untruth," said Mr.
Bhaer, in one of the talks he had with Nat
about his chief temptation.

"I know it, and I don't mean to, but it's so
much easier to get along if you ain't very
fussy about being exactly true. I used to tell
'em because I was afraid of father and
Nicolo, and now I do sometimes because
the boys laugh at me. I know it's bad, but I
forget," and Nat looked much depressed by
his sins.

"When I was a little lad I used to tell lies! Ach!
what fibs they were, and my old
grandmother cured me of it how, do you
think? My parents had talked, and cried,
and punished, but still did I forget as you.
Then said the dear old grandmother, 'I shall
help you to remember, and put a check on

-28-

was he who had run over his garden and
broken down his best hills of corn, Nat
declared he didn't, and then was ashamed
to own up that he did do it, when Jack was
chasing him the night before.

He thought no one would find it out, but
Tommy happened to see him, and when
Emil spoke of it a day or two later, Tommy
gave his evidence, and Mr. Bhaer heard it.
School was over, and they were all standing
about in the hall, and Mr. Bhaer had just set
down on the straw settee to enjoy his frolic
with Teddy; but when he heard Tommy and
saw Nat turn scarlet, and look at him with a
frightened face, he put the little boy down,
saying, "Go to thy mother, b�bchen, I will
come soon," and taking Nat by the hand led
him into the school and shut the door.

The boys looked at one another in silence
for a minute, then Tommy slipped out and
peeping in at the half-closed blinds, beheld
a sight that quite bewildered him. Mr. Bhaer
had just taken down the long rule that hung
over his desk, so seldom used that it was
covered with dust.

"My eye! He's going to come down heavy
on Nat this time. Wish I hadn't told," thought
good-natured Tommy, for to be feruled was
the deepest disgrace at this school.

"You remember what I told you last time?"
said Mr. Bhaer, sorrowfully, not angrily.

"Yes; but please don't make me, I can't
bear it," cried Nat, backing up against the
door with both hands behind him, and a
face full of distress.

"Why don't he up and take it like a man? I
would," thought Tommy, though his heart
beat fast at the sight.

"I shall keep my word, and you must

-29-

the hall, looking so excited and sober that
the boys crowded round him to ask what
was being done to Nat.

In a most impressive whisper Tommy told
them, and they looked as if the sky was
about to fall, for this reversing the order of
things almost took their breath away.

"He made me do the same thing once," said
Emil, as if confessing a crime of the
deepest dye.

"And you hit him? dear old Father Bhaer?
By thunder, I'd just like to see you do it
now!" said Ned, collaring Emil in a fit of
righteous wrath.

"It was ever so long ago. I'd rather have my
head cut off than do it now," and Emil mildly
laid Ned on his back instead of cuffing him,
as he would have felt it his duty to do on any
less solemn occasion.

"How could you?" said Demi, appalled at
the idea.

"I was hopping mad at the time, and thought
I shouldn't mind a bit, rather like it perhaps.
But when I'd hit uncle one good crack,
everything he had ever done for me came
into my head all at once somehow, and I
couldn't go on. No sir! If he'd laid me down
and walked on me, I wouldn't have minded,
I felt so mean," and Emil gave himself a
good thump in the chest to express his
sense of remorse for the past.

"Nat's crying like anything, and feels no end
sorry, so don't let's say a word about it; will
we?" said tender-hearted Tommy.

"Of course we won't, but it's awful to tell
lies," and Demi looked as if he found the
awfulness much increased when the
punishment fell not upon the sinner, but his

-30-

his very best, and found much help, not only
from the earnest little prayers he prayed to
his Friend in heaven, but also in the patient
care of the earthly friend whose kind hand
he never touched without remembering that
it had willingly borne pain for his sake.

Chapter 5 Pattypans

"What's the matter, Daisy?"

"The boys won't let me play with them."

"Why not?"

"They say girls can't play football."

"They can, for I've done it!" and Mrs. Bhaer
laughed at the remembrance of certain
youthful frolics.

"I know I can play; Demi and I used to, and
have nice times, but he won't let me now
because the other boys laugh at him," and
Daisy looked deeply grieved at her
brother's hardness of heart.

"On the whole, I think he is right, deary. It's
all very well when you two are alone, but it is
too rough a game for you with a dozen boys;
so I'd find some nice little play for myself."

"I'm tired of playing alone!" and Daisy's
tone was very mournful.

"I'll play with you by and by, but just now I
must fly about and get things ready for a trip
into town. You shall go with me and see
mamma, and if you like you can stay with
her."

"I should like to go and see her and Baby
Josy, but I'd rather come back, please.
Demi would miss me, and I love to be here,
Aunty."

-31-

sometimes the one little girl was harder to
amuse than the dozen boys.

Daisy ran off, and while she worked, Aunt
Jo racked her brain for a new play. All of a
sudden she seemed to have an idea, for
she smiled to herself, slammed the doors of
the wardrobe, and walked briskly away,
saying, "I'll do it, if it's a possible thing!"

What it was no one found out that day, but
Aunt Jo's eyes twinkled so when she told
Daisy she had thought of a new play, and
was going to buy it, that Daisy was much
excited and asked questions all the way into
town, without getting answers that told her
anything. She was left at home to play with
the new baby, and delight her mother's
eyes, while Aunt Jo went off shopping.
When she came back with all sorts of queer
parcels in corners of the carry-all, Daisy
was so full of curiosity that she wanted to go
back to Plumfield at once. But her aunt
would not be hurried, and made a long call
in mamma's room, sitting on the floor with
baby in her lap, making Mrs. Brooke laugh
at the pranks of the boys, and all sorts of
droll nonsense.

How her aunt told the secret Daisy could not
imagine, but her mother evidently knew it,
for she said, as she tied on the little bonnet
and kissed the rosy little face inside, "Be a
good child, my Daisy, and learn the nice
new play aunty has got for you. It's a most
useful and interesting one, and it is very kind
of her to play it with you, because she does
not like it very well herself."

This last speech made the two ladies laugh
heartily, and increased Daisy's
bewilderment. As they drove away
something rattled in the back of the
carriage.

"What's that?" asked Daisy, pricking up her

-32-

Daisy groaned and then smiled all over her
face, for through a little hole in the paper she
caught a glimpse of something bright.

"How can I wait so long? Couldn't I see it
today?"

"Oh dear, no! It has got to be arranged, and
ever so many parts fixed in their places. I
promised Uncle Teddy that you shouldn't
see it till it was all in apple-pie order."

"If uncle knows about it then it must be
splendid!" cried Daisy, clapping her hands;
for this kind, rich, jolly uncle of hers was as
good as a fairy godmother to the children,
and was always planning merry surprises,
pretty gifts, and droll amusements for them.

"Yes; Teddy went and bought it with me,
and we had such fun in the shop choosing
the different parts. He would have
everything fine and large, and my little plan
got regularly splendid when he took hold.
You must give him your very best kiss when
he comes, for he is the kindest uncle that
ever went and bought a charming little coo
Bless me! I nearly told you what it was!" and
Mrs. Bhaer cut that most interesting word
short off in the middle, and began to look
over her bills, as if afraid she would let the
cat out of the bag if she talked any more.
Daisy folded her hands with an air of
resignation, and sat quite still trying to think
what play had a "coo" in it.

When they got home she eyed every bundle
that was taken out, and one large heavy
one, which Franz took straight upstairs and
hid in the nursery, filled her with amazement
and curiosity. Something very mysterious
went on up there that afternoon, for Franz
was hammering, and Asia trotting up and
down, and Aunt Jo flying around like a will-
o'-the-wisp, with all sort of things under her
apron, while little Ted, who was the only

-33-

door.

"Do you hear anything?" asked Aunt Jo,
catching Ted back by his little frock as he
was making straight for one side of the
room.

Daisy did hear an odd crackling, and then a
purry little sound as of a kettle singing.
These noises came from behind a curtain
drawn before a deep bay window. Daisy
snatched it back, gave one joyful, "Oh!" and
then stood gazing with delight at what do
you think?

A wide seat ran round the three sides of the
window; on one side hung and stood all
sorts of little pots and pans, gridirons and
skillets; on the other side a small dinner and
tea set; and on the middle part a cooking-
stove. Not a tin one, that was of no use, but
a real iron stove, big enough to cook for a
large family of very hungry dolls. But the best
of it was that a real fire burned in it, real
steam came out of the nose of the little tea-
kettle, and the lid of the little boiler actually
danced a jig, the water inside bubbled so
hard. A pane of glass had been taken out
and replaced by a sheet of tin, with a hole
for the small funnel, and real smoke went
sailing away outside so naturally, that it did
one's heart good to see it. The box of wood
with a hod of charcoal stood near by; just
above hung dust-pan, brush and broom; a
little market basket was on the low table at
which Daisy used to play, and over the back
of her little chair hung a white apron with a
bib, and a droll mob cap. The sun shone in
as if he enjoyed the fun, the little stove
roared beautifully, the kettle steamed, the
new tins sparkled on the walls, the pretty
china stood in tempting rows, and it was
altogether as cheery and complete a
kitchen as any child could desire.

Daisy stood quite still after the first glad

-34-

Daisy, dancing round the room with a new
saucepan in one hand and the tiny poker in
the other.

"All in good time. This is to be a useful play, I
am to help you, and you are to be my cook,
so I shall tell you what to do, and show you
how. Then we shall have things fit to eat,
and you will be really learning how to cook
on a small scale. I'll call you Sally, and say
you are a new girl just come," added Mrs.
Jo, settling down to work, while Teddy sat
on the floor sucking his thumb, and staring
at the stove as if it was a live thing, whose
appearance deeply interested him.

"That will be so lovely! What shall I do first?"
asked Sally, with such a happy face and
willing air that Aunt Jo wished all new cooks
were half as pretty and pleasant.

"First of all, put on this clean cap and apron.
I am rather old-fashioned, and I like my
cook to be very tidy."

Sally tucked her curly hair into the round
cap, and put on the apron without a murmur,
though usually she rebelled against bibs.

"Now, you can put things in order, and wash
up the new china. The old set needs
washing also, for my last girl was apt to
leave it in a sad state after a party."

Aunt Jo spoke quite soberly, but Sally
laughed, for she knew who the untidy girl
was who had left the cups sticky. Then she
turned up her cuffs, and with a sigh of
satisfaction began to stir about her kitchen,
having little raptures now and then over the
"sweet rolling pin," the "darling dish-tub," or
the "cunning pepper-pot."

"Now, Sally, take your basket and go to
market; here is the list of things I want for
dinner," said Mrs. Jo, giving her a bit of

-35-

With the wheaten cake so fine,

The new-made pot of butter,

And the little flask of wine."

"Put everything but the apple into the store-
closet for the present," said Mrs. Jo, when
the cook got home.

There was a cupboard under the middle
shelf, and on opening the door fresh
delights appeared. One half was evidently
the cellar, for wood, coal, and kindlings
were piled there. The other half was full of
little jars, boxes, and all sorts of droll
contrivances for holding small quantities of
flour, meal, sugar, salt, and other household
stores. A pot of jam was there, a little tin
box of gingerbread, a cologne bottle full of
currant wine, and a tiny canister of tea. But
the crowning charm was two doll's pans of
new milk, with cream actually rising on it,
and a wee skimmer all ready to skim it with.
Daisy clasped her hands at this delicious
spectacle, and wanted to skim it
immediately. But Aunt Jo said:

"Not yet; you will want the cream to eat on
your apple pie at dinner, and must not
disturb it till then."

"Am I going to have pie?" cried Daisy,
hardly believing that such bliss could be in
store for her.

"Yes; if your oven does well we will have two
pies, one apple and one strawberry," said
Mrs. Jo, who was nearly as much interested
in the new play as Daisy herself.

"Oh, what next?" asked Sally, all impatience
to begin.

"Shut the lower draught of the stove, so that
the oven may heat. Then wash your hands

-36-

little knife went clipping round the doll's
plate poised on her hand.

All cooks, even the best, meet with mishaps
sometimes, and Sally's first one occurred
then, for the knife went so fast that the plate
slipped, turned a somersault in the air, and
landed the dear little pie upside down on the
floor. Sally screamed, Mrs. Jo laughed,
Teddy scrambled to get it, and for a
moment confusion reigned in the new
kitchen.

"It didn't spill or break, because I pinched
the edges together so hard; it isn't hurt a bit,
so I'll prick holes in it, and then it will be
ready," said Sally, picking up the capsized
treasure and putting it into shape with a
child-like disregard of the dust it had
gathered in its fall.

"My new cook has a good temper, I see,
and that is such a comfort," said Mrs. Jo.
"Now open the jar of strawberry jam, fill the
uncovered pie, and put some strips of paste
over the top as Asia does."

"I'll make a D in the middle, and have
zigzags all round, that will be so interesting
when I come to eat it," said Sally, loading
the pie with quirls and flourishes that would
have driven a real pastry cook wild. "Now I
put them in!" she exclaimed; when the last
grimy knob had been carefully planted in the
red field of jam, and with an air of triumph
she shut them into the little oven.

"Clear up your things; a good cook never
lets her utensils collect. Then pare your
squash and potatoes."

"There is only one potato," giggled Sally.

"Cut it in four pieces, so it will go into the
little kettle, and put the bits into cold water till
it is time to cook them."

-37-

then have some coals kindling ready for the
steak."

What a thing it was to see the potatoes
bobbing about in the little pot; to peep at the
squash getting soft so fast in the tiny
steamer; to whisk open the oven door every
five minutes to see how the pies got on, and
at last when the coals were red and
glowing, to put two real steaks on a finger-
long gridiron and proudly turn them with a
fork. The potatoes were done first, and no
wonder, for they had boiled frantically all the
while. The were pounded up with a little
pestle, had much butter and no salt put in
(cook forgot it in the excitement of the
moment), then it was made into a mound in
a gay red dish, smoothed over with a knife
dipped in milk, and put in the oven to brown.

So absorbed in these last performances
had Sally been, that she forgot her pastry till
she opened the door to put in the potato,
then a wail arose, for alas! alas! the little
pies were burnt black!

"Oh, my pies! My darling pies! They are all
spoilt!" cried poor Sally, wringing her dirty
little hands as she surveyed the ruin of her
work. The tart was especially pathetic, for
the quirls and zigzags stuck up in all
directions from the blackened jelly, like the
walls and chimney of a house after a fire.

"Dear, dear, I forgot to remind you to take
them out; it's just my luck," said Aunt Jo,
remorsefully. "Don't cry, darling, it was my
fault; we'll try again after dinner," she
added, as a great tear dropped from Sally's
eyes and sizzled on the hot ruins of the tart.

More would have followed, if the steak had
not blazed up just then, and so occupied the
attention of cook, that she quickly forgot the
lost pastry.

-38-

a bit of gingerbread for lunch. To-day,
being the first time, I don't mind, but we
must keep our rules. This afternoon you can
make something for tea if you like," said
Mrs. Jo, who had enjoyed the dinner-party
very much, though no one had invited her to
partake.

"Do let me make flapjacks for Demi, he
loves them so, and it's such fun to turn them
and put sugar in between," cried Daisy,
tenderly wiping a yellow stain off
Annabella's broken nose, for Bella had
refused to eat squash when it was pressed
upon her as good for "lumatism," a
complaint which it is no wonder she
suffered from, considering the lightness of
her attire.

"But if you give Demi goodies, all the others
will expect some also, and then you will
have your hands full."

"Couldn't I have Demi come up to tea alone
just this one time? And after that I could
cook things for the others if they were
good," proposed Daisy, with a sudden
inspiration.

"That is a capital idea, Posy! We will make
your little messes rewards for the good
boys, and I don't know one among them
who would not like something nice to eat
more than almost anything else. If little men
are like big ones, good cooking will touch
their hearts and soothe their tempers
delightfully," added Aunt Jo, with a merry
nod toward the door, where stood Papa
Bhaer, surveying the scene with a face full
of amusement.

"That last hit was for me, sharp woman. I
accept it, for it is true; but if I had married
thee for thy cooking, heart's dearest, I
should have fared badly all these years,"
answered the professor, laughing as he

-39-

Daisy a list of things he would like to have
cooked for him as fast as he earned them.
Daisy, whose faith in her stove was
unlimited, promised everything, if Aunt Jo
would tell her how to make them. This
suggestion rather alarmed Mrs. Jo, for
some of the dishes were quite beyond her
skill wedding-cake, for instance, bull's-eye
candy; and cabbage soup with herrings and
cherries in it, which Mr. Bhaer proposed as
his favorite, and immediately reduced his
wife to despair, for German cookery was
beyond her.

Daisy wanted to begin again the minute
dinner was done, but she was only allowed
to clear up, fill the kettle ready for tea, and
wash out her apron, which looked as if she
had a Christmas feast. She was then sent
out to play till five o'clock, for Uncle Fritz
said that too much study, even at cooking
stoves, was bad for little minds and bodies,
and Aunt Jo knew by long experience how
soon new toys lose their charm if they are
not prudently used.

Everyone was very kind to Daisy that
afternoon. Tommy promised her the first
fruits of his garden, though the only visible
crop just then was pigweed; Nat offered to
supply her with wood, free of charge; Stuffy
quite worshipped her; Ned immediately fell
to work on a little refrigerator for her kitchen;
and Demi, with a punctuality beautiful to see
in one so young, escorted her to the nursery
just as the clock struck five. It was not time
for the party to begin, but he begged so
hard to come in and help that he was
allowed privileges few visitors enjoy, for he
kindled the fire, ran errands, and watched
the progress of his supper with intense
interest. Mrs. Jo directed the affair as she
came and went, being very busy putting up
clean curtains all over the house.

"Ask Asia for a cup of sour cream, then your

-40-

"Put the soda into the cream, and when it
'fizzles,' as Demi says, stir it into the flour,
and beat it up as hard as ever you can. Have
your griddle hot, butter it well, and then fry
away till I come back," and Aunt Jo vanished
also.

Such a clatter as the little spoon made, and
such a beating as the batter got, it quite
foamed, I assure you; and when Daisy
poured some on to the griddle, it rose like
magic into a puffy flapjack that made
Demi's mouth water. To be sure, the first
one stuck and scorched, because she
forgot the butter, but after that first failure all
went well, and six capital little cakes were
safely landed in a dish.

"I think I like maple-syrup better than sugar,"
said Demi, from his arm-chair where he
had settled himself after setting the table in
a new and peculiar manner.

"Then go and ask Asia for some,"
answered Daisy, going into the bath-room
to wash her hands.

While the nursery was empty something
dreadful happened. You see, Kit had been
feeling hurt all day because he had carried
meat safely and yet got none to pay him. He
was not a bad dog, but he had his little faults
like the rest of us, and could not always
resist temptation. Happening to stroll into
the nursery at that moment, he smelt the
cakes, saw them unguarded on the low
table, and never stopping to think of
consequences, swallowed all six at one
mouthful. I am glad to say that they were very
hot, and burned him so badly that he could
not repress a surprised yelp. Daisy heard it,
ran in, saw the empty dish, also the end of a
yellow tail disappearing under the bed.
Without a word she seized that tail, pulled
out the thief, and shook him till his ears
flapped wildly, then bundled him down-

-41-

all that was necessary.

"It is the dearest play ever made!" cried
Daisy, hugging her little dish-tub as she
proposed to wash up the cups. "I just wish
everybody had a sweet cooking stove like
mine," she added, regarding it with
affection.

"This play out to have a name," said Demi,
gravely removing the syrup from his
countenance with his tongue.

"It has."

"Oh, what?" asked both children eagerly.

"Well, I think we will call it Pattypans," and
Aunt Jo retired, satisfied with the success
of her last trap to catch a sunbeam.

Chapter 6 A Fire Brand

"Please, ma'am, could I speak to you? It is
something very important," said Nat,
popping his head in at the door of Mrs.
Bhaer's room.

It was the fifth head which had popped in
during the last half-hour; but Mrs. Jo was
used to it, so she looked up, and said,
briskly,

"What is it, my lad?"

Nat came in, shut the door carefully behind
him, and said in an eager, anxious tone,

"Dan has come."

"Who is Dan?"

"He's a boy I used to know when I fiddled
round the streets. He sold papers, and he
was kind to me, and I saw him the other day
in town, and told him how nice it was here,

-42-

Nat, eagerly.

Something in his speech and face made
Mrs. Jo put her hand on his shoulder, and
say in her kindest tone:

"Bring in your friend, Nat; I think we must
find room for him without giving him your
place."

Nat joyfully ran off, and soon returned
followed by a most unprepossessing boy,
who slouched in and stood looking about
him, with a half bold, half sullen look, which
made Mrs. Bhaer say to herself, after one
glance,

"A bad specimen, I am afraid."

"This is Dan," said Nat, presenting him as if
sure of his welcome.

"Nat tells me you would like to come and
stay with us," began Mrs. Jo, in a friendly
tone.

"Yes," was the gruff reply.

"Have you no friends to take care of you?"

"No."

"Say, 'No, ma'am,' " whispered Nat.

"Shan't neither," muttered Dan.

"How old are you?"

"About fourteen."

"You look older. What can you do?"

"'Most anything."

"If you stay here we shall want you to do as
the others do, work and study as well as

-43-

consisting of a pocket-comb blown upon by
Ned, and a toy drum beaten spasmodically
by Rob.

"He's company, so I'll pay for both," said
Nat, handsomely, as he stuck two crooked
pins in the dried mushroom which served as
money-box.

With a nod to the company they seated
themselves on a couple of boards, and the
performance went on. After the monkey act,
Ned gave them a fine specimen of his
agility by jumping over an old chair, and
running up and down ladders, sailor
fashion. Then Demi danced a jig with a
gravity beautiful to behold. Nat was called
upon to wrestle with Stuffy, and speedily
laid that stout youth upon the ground. After
this, Tommy proudly advanced to turn a
somersault, an accomplishment which he
had acquired by painful perseverance,
practising in private till every joint of his little
frame was black and blue. His feats were
received with great applause, and he was
about to retire, flushed with pride and a rush
of blood to the head, when a scornful voice
in the audience was heard to say,

"Ho! that ain't any thing!"

"Say that again, will you?" and Tommy
bristled up like an angry turkey-cock.

"Do you want to fight?" said Dan, promptly
descending from the barrel and doubling up
his fists in a business-like manner.

"No, I don't;" and the candid Thomas retired
a step, rather taken aback by the
proposition.

"Fighting isn't allowed!" cried the others,
much excited.

"You're a nice lot," sneered Dan.

-44-

A howl of wrath from Tommy was followed
by a general uproar, which did not subside
till Dan, finding himself in a minority,
proposed that they should play stick-knife,
and whichever won should have the
treasure. Tommy agreed, and the game
was played in a circle of excited faces,
which all wore an expression of
satisfaction, when Tommy won and
secured the knife in the depth of his safest
pocket.

"You come off with me, and I'll show you
round," said Nat, feeling that he must have a
little serious conversation with his friend in
private.

What passed between them no one knew,
but when they appeared again, Dan was
more respectful to every one, though still
gruff in his speech, and rough in his
manner; and what else could be expected
of the poor lad who had been knocking
about the world all his short life with no one
to teach him any better?

The boys had decided that they did not like
him, and so they left him to Nat, who soon
felt rather oppressed by the responsibility,
but too kind-hearted to desert him.

Tommy, however, felt that in spite of the
jack-knife transaction, there was a bond of
sympathy between them, and longed to
return to the interesting subject of
somersaults. He soon found an opportunity,
for Dan, seeing how much he admired him,
grew more amiable, and by the end of the
first week was quite intimate with the lively
Tom.

Mr. Bhaer, when he heard the story and saw
Dan, shook his head, but only said quietly,

"The experiment may cost us something,
but we will try it."

-45-

event upset all their plans, and banished
Dan from Plumfield.

Tommy, Nat, and Demi began by
patronizing Dan, because the other lads
rather slighted him; but soon they each felt
there was a certain fascination about the
bad boy, and from looking down upon him
they came to looking up, each for a different
reason. Tommy admired his skill and
courage; Nat was grateful for past
kindness; and Demi regarded him as a sort
of animated story book, for when he chose
Dan could tell his adventures in a most
interesting way. It pleased Dan to have the
three favorites like him, and he exerted
himself to be agreeable, which was the
secret of his success.

The Bhaers were surprised, but hoped the
lads would have a good influence over Dan,
and waited with some anxiety, trusting that
no harm would come of it.

Dan felt they did not quite trust him, and
never showed them his best side, but took a
wilful pleasure in trying their patience and
thwarting their hopes as far as he dared.

Mr. Bhaer did not approve of fighting, and
did not think it a proof of either manliness or
courage for two lads to pommel one
another for the amusement of the rest. All
sorts of hardy games and exercises were
encouraged, and the boys were expected
to take hard knocks and tumbles without
whining; but black eyes and bloody noses
given for the fun of it were forbidden as a
foolish and a brutal play.

Dan laughed at this rule, and told such
exciting tales of his own valor, and the many
frays that he had been in, that some of the
lads were fired with a desire to have a
regular good "mill."

-46-

"Dan," answered several voices.

"Don't you know that it is forbidden?"

"Yes," growled Dan, sullenly.

"Then why break the rule?"

"They'll all be molly-coddles, if they don't
know how to fight."

"Have you found Emil a molly-coddle? He
doesn't look much like one," and Mr. Bhaer
brought the two face to face. Dan had a
black eye, and his jacket was torn to rags,
but Emil's face was covered with blood
from a cut lip and a bruised nose, while a
bump on his forehead was already as
purple as a plum. In spite of his wounds
however, he still glared upon his foe, and
evidently panted to renew the fight.

"He'd make a first-rater if he was taught,"
said Dan, unable to withhold the praise
from the boy who made it necessary for him
to do his best.

"He'll be taught to fence and box by and by,
and till then I think he will do very well without
any lessons in mauling. Go and wash your
faces; and remember, Dan, if you break
any more of the rules again, you will be sent
away. That was the bargain; do your part
and we will do ours."

The lads went off, and after a few more
words to the spectators, Mr. Bhaer followed
to bind up the wounds of the young
gladiators. Emil went to bed sick, and Dan
was an unpleasant spectacle for a week.

But the lawless lad had no thought of
obeying, and soon transgressed again.

One Saturday afternoon as a party of the
boys went out to play, Tommy said,

-47-

mood, for she had been lately bereft of her
calf, and mourned for the little thing most
dismally. Just now she regarded all
mankind as her enemies (and I do not
blame her), so when the matadore came
prancing towards her with the red
handkerchief flying at the end of his long
lance, she threw up her head, and gave a
most appropriate "Moo!" Tommy rode
gallantly at her, and Toby recognizing an old
friend, was quite willing to approach; but
when the lance came down on her back with
a loud whack, both cow and donkey were
surprised and disgusted. Toby back with a
bray of remonstrance, and Buttercup
lowered her horns angrily.

"At her again, Tom; she's jolly cross, and
will do it capitally!" called Dan, coming up
behind with another rod, while Jack and
Ned followed his example.

Seeing herself thus beset, and treated with
such disrespect, Buttercup trotted round the
field, getting more and more bewildered
and excited every moment, for whichever
way she turned, there was a dreadful boy,
yelling and brandishing a new and very
disagreeable sort of whip. It was great fun
for them, but real misery for her, till she lost
patience and turned the tables in the most
unexpected manner. All at once she
wheeled short round, and charged full at her
old friend Toby, whose conduct cut her to
the heart. Poor slow Toby backed so
precipitately that he tripped over a stone,
and down went horse, matadore, and all, in
one ignominious heap, while distracted
Buttercup took a surprising leap over the
wall, and galloped wildly out of sight down
the road.

"Catch her, stop her, head her off! run,
boys, run!" shouted Dan, tearing after her at
his best pace, for she was Mr. Bhaer's pet
Alderney, and if anything happened to her,

-48-

that he should say too much in the first
moments of impatience. Buttercup was
made comfortable in her stall, and the boys
sent to their rooms till supper-time. This
brief respite gave them time to think the
matter over, to wonder what the penalty
would be, and to try to imagine where Dan
would be sent. He whistled briskly in his
room, so that no one should think he cared a
bit; but while he waited to know his fate, the
longing to stay grew stronger and stronger,
the more he recalled the comfort and
kindness he had known here, the hardship
and neglect he had felt elsewhere. He knew
they tried to help him, and at the bottom of
his heart he was grateful, but his rough life
had made him hard and careless,
suspicious and wilful. He hated restraint of
any sort, and fought against it like an
untamed creature, even while he knew it
was kindly meant, and dimly felt that he
would be the better for it. He made up his
mind to be turned adrift again, to knock
about the city as he had done nearly all his
life; a prospect that made him knit his black
brows, and look about the cosy little room
with a wistful expression that would have
touched a much harder heart than Mr.
Bhaer's if he had seen it. It vanished
instantly, however, when the good man
came in, and said in his accustomed grave
way,

"I have heard all about it, Dan, and though
you have broken the rules again, I am going
to give you one more trial, to please Mother
Bhaer."

Dan flushed up to his forehead at this
unexpected reprieve, but he only said in his
gruff way,

"I didn't know there was any rule about bull-
fighting."

"As I never expected to have any at

-49-

his old wilful ways. Mr. Bhaer was called
from home on business one day, and the
boys had no lessons. They liked this, and
played hard till bedtime, when most of them
turned in and slept like dormice. Dan,
however, had a plan in his head, and when
he and Nat were alone, he unfolded it.

"Look here!" he said, taking from under his
bed a bottle, a cigar, and a pack of cards,
"I'm going to have some fun, and do as I
used to with the fellows in town. Here's
some beer, I got if of the old man at the
station, and this cigar; you can pay for 'em
or Tommy will, he's got heaps of money and
I haven't a cent. I'm going to ask him in; no,
you go, they won't mind you."

"The folks won't like it," began Nat.

"They won't know. Daddy Bhaer is away,
and Mrs. Bhaer's busy with Ted; he's got
croup or something, and she can't leave
him. We shan't sit up late or make any noise,
so where's the harm?"

"Asia will know if we burn the lamp long, she
always does."

"No, she won't, I've got a dark lantern on
purpose; it don't give much light, and we
can shut it quick if we hear anyone coming,"
said Dan.

This idea struck Nat as a fine one, and lent
an air of romance to the thing. He started off
to tell Tommy, but put his head in again to
say,

"You want Demi, too, don't you?"

"No, I don't; the Deacon will rollup eyes and
preach if you tell him. He will be asleep, so
just tip the wink to Tom and cut back again."

Nat obeyed, and returned in a minute with

-50-

But Tommy was very sleepy, and Nat's
head began to ache with the beer and the
smoke, so neither of them was very quick to
learn, and the game dragged. The room
was nearly dark, for the lantern burned
badly; they could not laugh loud nor move
about much, for Silas slept next door in the
shed-chamber, and altogether the party
was dull. In the middle of a deal Dan
stopped suddenly, and called out, "Who's
that?" in a startled tone, and at the same
moment drew the slide over the light. A
voice in the darkness said tremulously, "I
can't find Tommy," and then there was the
quick patter of bare feet running away down
the entry that led from the wing to the main
house.

"It's Demi! he's gone to call some one; cut
into bed, Tom, and don't tell!" cried Dan,
whisking all signs of the revel out of sight,
and beginning to tear off his clothes, while
Nat did the same.

Tommy flew to his room and dived into bed,
where he lay, laughing till something burned
his hand, when he discovered that he was
still clutching the stump of the festive cigar,
which he happened to be smoking when the
revel broke up.

It was nearly out, and he was about to
extinguish it carefully when Nursey's voice
was heard, and fearing it would betray him
if he hid it in the bed, he threw it underneath,
after a final pinch which he thought finished
it.

Nursey came in with Demi, who looked
much amazed to see the red face of Tommy
reposing peacefully upon his pillow.

"He wasn't there just now, because I woke
up and could not find him anywhere," said
Demi, pouncing on him.

-51-

whole house. A flock of white goblins with
scared faces crowded into the hall, and for
a minute every one was panic-stricken.

Then Mrs. Bhaer found her wits, bade
Nursey see to the burnt boys, and sent
Franz and Silas down-stairs for some tubs
of wet clothes which she flung on the bed,
over the carpet, and up against the curtains,
now burning finely, and threatening to kindle
the walls.

Most of the boys stood dumbly looking on,
but Dan and Emil worked bravely, running to
and fro with water from the bath-room, and
helping to pull down the dangerous curtains.

The peril was soon over, and ordering the
boys all back to bed, and leaving Silas to
watch lest the fire broke out again, Mrs.
Bhaer and Franz went to see how the poor
boys got on. Demi had escaped with one
burn and a grand scare, but Tommy had not
only most of his hair scorched off his head,
but a great burn on his arm, that made him
half crazy with the pain. Demi was soon
made cosy, and Franz took him away to his
own bed, where the kind lad soothed his
fright and hummed him to sleep as cosily as
a woman. Nursey watched over poor
Tommy all night, trying to ease his misery,
and Mrs. Bhaer vibrated between him and
little Teddy with oil and cotton, paregoric
and squills, saying to herself from time to
time, as if she found great amusement in
the thought, "I always knew Tommy would
set the house on fire, and now he has done
it!"

When Mr. Bhaer got home next morning he
found a nice state of things. Tommy in bed,
Teddy wheezing like a little grampus, Mrs.
Jo quite used up, and the whole flock of
boys so excited that they all talked at once,
and almost dragged him by main force to
view the ruins. Under his quiet management

-52-

don't do well here. Mr. Page is a kind man,
and Dan will be happy there if he chooses to
do his best."

"Will he ever come back?" asked Demi.

"That will depend on himself; I hope so."

As he spoke, Mr. Bhaer left the room to
write his letter to Mr. Page, and the boys
crowded round Dan very much as people
do about a man who is going on a long and
perilous journey to unknown regions.

"I wonder if you'll like it," began Jack.

"Shan't stay if I don't," said Dan coolly.

"Where will you go?" asked Nat.

"I may go to sea, or out west, or take a look
at California," answered Dan, with a
reckless air that quite took away the breath
of the little boys.

"Oh, don't! stay with Mr. Page awhile and
then come back here; do, Dan," pleaded
Nat, much affected at the whole affair.

"I don't care where I go, or how long I stay,
and I'll be hanged if I ever come back here,"
with which wrathful speech Dan went away
to put up his things, every one of which Mr.
Bhaer had given him.

That was the only good-bye he gave the
boys, for they were all talking the matter
over in the barn when he came down, and
he told Nat not to call them. The wagon
stood at the door, and Mrs. Bhaer came out
to speak to Dan, looking so sad that his
heart smote him, and he said in a low tone,

"May I say good-bye to Teddy?"

"Yes, dear; go in and kiss him, he will miss

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Chapter 7 Naughty Nan

"Fritz, I've got a new idea," cried Mrs.
Bhaer, as she met her husband one day
after school.

"Well, my dear, what is it?" and he waited
willingly to hear the new plan, for some of
Mrs. Jo's ideas were so droll, it was
impossible to help laughing at them, though
usually they were quite sensible, and he
was glad to carry them out.

"Daisy needs a companion, and the boys
would be all the better for another girl
among them; you know we believe in
bringing up little men and women together,
and it is high time we acted up to our belief.
They pet and tyrannize over Daisy by turns,
and she is getting spoilt. Then they must
learn gentle ways, and improve their
manners, and having girls about will do it
better than any thing else."

"You are right, as usual. Now, who shall we
have?" asked Mr. Bhaer, seeing by the look
in her eye that Mrs. Jo had some one all
ready to propose.

"Little Annie Harding."

"What! Naughty Nan, as the lads call her?"
cried Mr. Bhaer, looking very much amused.

"Yes, she is running wild at home since her
mother died, and is too bright a child to be
spoilt by servants. I have had my eye on her
for some time, and when I met her father in
town the other day I asked him why he did
not send her to school. He said he would
gladly if he could find as good a school for
girls as ours was for boys. I know he would
rejoice to have her come; so suppose we
drive over this afternoon and see about it."

"Have not you cares enough now, my Jo,

-54-

"I only hope she won't turn out another
firebrand."

"My poor Dan! I never can quite forgive
myself for letting him go," sighed Mrs.
Bhaer.

At the sound of the name, little Teddy, who
had never forgotten his friend, struggled
down from his father's arms, and trotted to
the door, looked out over the sunny lawn
with a wistful face, and then trotted back
again, saying, as he always did when
disappointed of the longed-for sight,

"My Danny's tummin' soon."

"I really think we ought to have kept him, if
only for Teddy's sake, he was so fond of
him, and perhaps baby's love would have
done for him what we failed to do."

"I've sometimes felt that myself; but after
keeping the boys in a ferment, and nearly
burning up the whole family, I thought it safer
to remove the firebrand, for a time at least,"
said Mr. Bhaer.

"Dinner's ready, let me ring the bell," and
Rob began a solo upon that instrument
which made it impossible to hear one's self
speak.

"Then I may have Nan, may I?" asked Mrs.
Jo.

"A dozen Nans if you want them, my dear,"
answered Mr. Bhaer, who had room in his
fatherly heart for all the naughty neglected
children in the world.

When Mrs. Bhaer returned from her drive
that afternoon, before she could unpack the
load of little boys, without whom she seldom
moved, a small girl of ten skipped out at the
back of the carry-all and ran into the house,

-55-

future.

"I can bat; let me play," said Nan, who could
turn her hand to any thing, and did not mind
hard knocks.

"We ain't playing now, and our side beat
without you."

"I can beat you in running, any way,"
returned Nan, falling back on her strong
point.

"Can she?" asked Nat of Jack.

"She runs very well for a girl," answered
Jack, who looked down upon Nan with
condescending approval.

"Will you try?" said Nan, longing to display
her powers.

"It's too hot," and Tommy languished
against the wall as if quite exhausted.

"What's the matter with Stuffy?" asked Nan,
whose quick eyes were roving from face to
face.

"Ball hurt his hand; he howls at every thing,"
answered Jack scornfully.

"I don't, I never cry, no matter how I'm hurt;
it's babyish," said Nan, loftily.

"Pooh! I could make you cry in two minutes,"
returned Stuffy, rousing up.

"See if you can."

"Go and pick that bunch of nettles, then,"
and Stuffy pointed to a sturdy specimen of
that prickly plant growing by the wall.

Nan instantly "grasped the nettle," pulled it
up, and held it with a defiant gesture, in

-56-

every day of your life," called out the
Commodore, who just then hove in sight.

"I don't hurt her; do I, Daisy?" and Demi
turned to his sister, who was "pooring"
Nan's tingling hands, and recommending
water for the purple lump rapidly developing
itself on her forehead.

"You are the best boy in the world," promptly
answered Daisy; adding, as truth
compelled her to do, "You hurt me
sometimes, but you don't mean to."

"Put away the bats and things, and mind
what you are about, my hearties. No fighting
allowed aboard this ship," said Emil, who
rather lorded it over the others.

"How do you do, Madge Wildfire?" said Mr.
Bhaer, as Nan came in with the rest to
supper. "Give the right hand, little daughter,
and mind thy manners," he added, as Nan
offered him her left.

"The other hurts me."

"The poor little hand! what has it been doing
to get those blisters?" he asked, drawing it
from behind her back, where she had put it
with a look which made him think she had
been in mischief.

Before Nan could think of any excuse,
Daisy burst out with the whole story, during
which Stuffy tried to hide his face in a bowl
of bread and milk. When the tale was
finished, Mr. Bhaer looked down the long
table towards his wife, and said with a
laugh in his eyes,

"This rather belongs to your side of the
house, so I won't meddle with it, my dear."

Mrs. Jo knew what he meant, but she liked
her little black sheep all the better for her

-57-

and "thank you," "yes, sir," and "no, ma'am,"
with unusual elegance and respect. Nan
said nothing, but kept herself quiet and
refrained from tickling Demi, though
strongly tempted to do so, because of the
dignified airs he put on. She also appeared
to have forgotten her hatred of boys, and
played "I spy" with them till dark. Stuffy was
observed to offer her frequent sucks on his
candy-ball during the game, which evidently
sweetened her temper, for the last thing she
said on going to bed was,

"When my battledore and shuttle-cock
comes, I'll let you all play with 'em."

Her first remark in the morning was "Has my
box come?" and when told that it would
arrive sometime during the day, she fretted
and fumed, and whipped her doll, till Daisy
was shocked. She managed to exist,
however, till five o'clock, when she
disappeared, and was not missed till
supper-time, because those at home
thought she had gone to the hill with Tommy
and Demi.

"I saw her going down the avenue alone as
hard as she could pelt," said Mary Ann,
coming in with the hasty-pudding, and
finding every one asking, "Where is Nan?"

"She has run home, little gypsy!" cried Mrs.
Bhaer, looking anxious.

"Perhaps she has gone to the station to look
after her luggage," suggested Franz.

'That is impossible, she does not know the
way, and if she found it, she could never
carry the box a mile," said Mrs. Bhaer,
beginning to think that her new idea might
be rather a hard one to carry out.

"It would be like her," and Mr. Bhaer caught
up his hat to go and find the child, when a

-58-

me this, or I shall not dare to trust you out of
my sight," said Mrs. Bhaer, wiping the dust
off Nan's little hot face.

"Well, I won't, only papa tells me not to put
off doing things, so I don't."

"That is rather a poser; I think you had better
give her some supper now, and a private
lecture by and by," said Mr. Bhaer, too much
amused to be angry at the young lady's
exploit.

The boys thought it "great fun," and Nan
entertained them all supper-time with an
account of her adventures; for a big dog
had barked at her, a man had laughed at
her, a woman had given her a doughnut,
and her hat had fallen into the brook when
she stopped to drink, exhausted with her
exertion.

'I fancy you will have your hands full now, my
dear; Tommy and Nan are quite enough for
one woman," said Mr. Bhaer, half an hour
later.

"I know it will take some time to tame the
child, but she is such a generous, warm-
hearted little thing, I should love her even if
she were twice as naughty," answered Mrs.
Jo, pointing to the merry group, in the
middle of which stood Nan, giving away her
things right and left, as lavishly as if the big
band-box had no bottom.

It was those good traits that soon made little
"Giddygaddy," as they called her, a favorite
with every one. Daisy never complained of
being dull again, for Nan invented the most
delightful plays, and her pranks rivalled
Tommy's, to the amusement of the whole
school. She buried her big doll and forgot it
for a week, and found it well mildewed
when she dragged it up. Daisy was in
despair, but Nan took it to the painter who

-59-

that girls could do most things as well as
boys, and some things better. There were
no rewards in school, but Mr. Bhaer's "Well
done!" and Mrs. Bhaer's good report on the
conscience book, taught them to love duty
for its own sake, and try to do it faithfully,
sure sooner or later the recompense would
come. Little Nan was quick to feel the new
atmosphere, to enjoy it, to show that it was
what she needed; for this little garden was
full of sweet flowers, half hidden by the
weeds; and when kind hands gently began
to cultivate it, all sorts of green shoots
sprung up, promising to blossom beautifully
in the warmth of love and care, the best
climate for young hearts and souls all the
world over.

Chapter 8 Pranks And Plays

As there is no particular plan to this story,
except to describe a few scenes in the life
at Plumfield for the amusement of certain
little persons, we will gently ramble along in
this chapter and tell some of the pastimes of
Mrs. Jo's boys. I beg leave to assure my
honored readers that most of the incidents
are taken from real life, and that the oddest
are the truest; for no person, no matter how
vivid an imagination he may have, can
invent anything half so droll as the freaks
and fancies that originate in the lively brains
of little people.

Daisy and Demi were full of these whims,
and lived in a world of their own, peopled
with lovely or grotesque creatures, to whom
they gave the queerest names, and with
whom they played the queerest games. One
of these nursery inventions was an invisible
sprite called "The Naughty Kitty-mouse,"
whom the children had believed in, feared,
and served for a long time. They seldom
spoke of it to any one else, kept their rites
as private as possible; and, as they never
tried to describe it even to themselves, this

-60-

"Is Rob coming too," asked Daisy.

"Yes, and he is going to bring his toy village;
it is all made of wood, you know, and will
burn nicely. We'll have a grand bonfire, and
see them blaze up, won't we?"

This brilliant prospect consoled Daisy, and
she ate her dinner with a row of paper dolls
before her, as a sort of farewell banquet.

At the appointed hour the sacrificial train set
forth, each child bearing the treasures
demanded by the insatiable Kitty-mouse.
Teddy insisted on going also, and seeing
that all the others had toys, he tucked a
squeaking lamb under one arm, and old
Annabella under the other, little dreaming
what anguish the latter idol was to give him.

"Where are you going, my chickens?" asked
Mrs. Jo, as the flock passed her door.

"To play by the big rock; can't we?"

"Yes, only don't do near the pond, and take
good care of baby."

"I always do," said Daisy, leading forth her
charge with a capable air.

"Now, you must all sit round, and not move
till I tell you. This flat stone is an altar, and I
am going to make a fire on it."

Demi then proceeded to kindle up a small
blaze, as he had seen the boys do at
picnics. When the flame burned well, he
ordered the company to march round it
three times and then stand in a circle.

"I shall begin, and as fast as my things are
burnt, you must bring yours."

With that he solemnly laid on a little paper
book full of pictures, pasted in by himself;

-61-

blazed up, fired a tree of the palm species,
which fell on to the roof of a large family
mansion, and in a few minutes the whole
town was burning merrily. The wooden
population stood and stared at the
destruction like blockheads, as they were,
till they also caught and blazed away without
a cry. It took some time to reduce the town to
ashes, and the lookers-on enjoyed the
spectacle immensely, cheering as each
house fell, dancing like wild Indians when
the steeple flamed aloft, and actually
casting one wretched little churn-shaped
lady, who had escaped to the suburbs, into
the very heart of the fire.

The superb success of this last offering
excited Teddy to such a degree, that he first
threw his lamb into the conflagration, and
before it had time even to roast, he planted
poor Annabella on the funeral pyre. Of
course she did not like it, and expressed her
anguish and resentment in a way that
terrified her infant destroyer. Being covered
with kid, she did not blaze, but did what was
worse, she squirmed. First one leg curled
up, then the other, in a very awful and lifelike
manner; next she flung her arms over her
head as if in great agony; her head itself
turned on her shoulders, her glass eyes fell
out, and with one final writhe of her whole
body, she sank down a blackened mass on
the ruins of the town. This unexpected
demonstration startled every one and
frightened Teddy half out of his little wits. He
looked, then screamed and fled toward the
house, roaring "Marmar" at the top of his
voice.

Mrs. Bhaer heard the outcry and ran to the
rescue, but Teddy could only cling to her and
pour out in his broken way something about
"poor Bella hurted," "a dreat fire," and "all
the dollies dorn." Fearing some dire
mishap, his mother caught him up and
hurried to the scene of action, where she

-62-

"Dear me, that is something like the bean
story," said Aunt Jo, laughing again.

"Tell about it," suggested Daisy, to change
the subject.

"Once there was a poor woman who had
three or four little children, and she used to
lock them up in her room when she went out
to work, to keep them safe. On day when
she was going away she said, 'Now, my
dears, don't let baby fall out of window,
don't play with the matches, and don't put
beans up your noses.' Now the children had
never dreamed of doing that last thing, but
she put it into their heads, and the minute
she was gone, they ran and stuffed their
naughty little noses full of beans, just to see
how it felt, and she found them all crying
when she came home."

"Did it hurt?" asked Rob, with such intense
interest that his mother hastily added a
warning sequel, lest a new edition of the
bean story should appear in her own family.

"Very much, as I know, for when my mother
told me this story, I was so silly that I went
and tried it myself. I had no beans, so I took
some little pebbles, and poked several into
my nose. I did not like it at all, and wanted to
take them out again very soon, but one
would not come, and I was so ashamed to
tell what a goose I been that I went for hours
with the stone hurting me very much. At last
the pain got so bad I had to tell, and when
my mother could not get it out the doctor
came. Then I was put in a chair and held
tight, Rob, while he used his ugly little
pincers till the stone hopped out. Dear me!
how my wretched little nose did ache, and
how people laughed at me!" and Mrs. Jo
shook her head in a dismal way, as if the
memory of her sufferings was too much for
her.

-63-

few privileged persons who have studied
them are inclined to think them a
remarkable mixture of the monkey, the
sphinx, the roc, and the queer creatures
seen by the famous Peter Wilkins.

This game was a great favorite, and the
younger children beguiled many a rainy
afternoon flapping or creeping about the
nursery, acting like little bedlamites and
being as merry as little grigs. To be sure, it
was rather hard upon clothes, particularly
trouser-knees, and jacket-elbows; but
Mrs. Bhaer only said, as she patched and
darned,

"We do things just as foolish, and not half so
harmless. If I could get as much happiness
out of it as the little dears do, I'd be a Brop
myself."

Nat's favorite amusements were working in
his garden, and sitting in the willow-tree
with his violin, for that green nest was a fairy
world to him, and there he loved to perch,
making music like a happy bird. The lads
called him "Old Chirper," because he was
always humming, whistling, or fiddling, and
they often stopped a minute in their work or
play to listen to the soft tones of the violin,
which seemed to lead a little orchestra of
summer sounds. The birds appeared to
regard him as one of themselves, and
fearlessly sat on the fence or lit among the
boughs to watch him with their quick bright
eyes. The robins in the apple-tree near by
evidently considered him a friend, for the
father bird hunted insects close beside him,
and the little mother brooded as confidingly
over her blue eggs as if the boy was only a
new sort of blackbird who cheered her
patient watch with his song. The brown
brook babbled and sparkled below him, the
bees haunted the clover fields on either
side, friendly faces peeped at him as they
passed, the old house stretched its wide

-64-

heavier.

He established a sort of auction-room, and
now and then sold off all the odds and ends
he had collected, or helped the lads
exchange things with one another. He got
bats, balls, hockey-sticks, etc., cheap,
from one set of mates, furbished them up,
and let them for a few cents a time to
another set, often extending his business
beyond the gates of Plumfield in spite of the
rules. Mr. Bhaer put a stop to some of his
speculations, and tried to give him a better
idea of business talent than mere
sharpness in overreaching his neighbors.
Now and then Jack made a bad bargain,
and felt worse about it than about any failure
in lessons or conduct, and took his revenge
on the next innocent customer who came
along. His account-book was a curiosity;
and his quickness at figures quite
remarkable. Mr. Bhaer praised him for this,
and tried to make his sense of honesty and
honor as quick; and, by and by, when Jack
found that he could not get on without these
virtues, he owned that his teacher was right.

Cricket and football the boys had of course;
but, after the stirring accounts of these
games in the immortal "Tom Brown at
Rugby," no feeble female pen may venture
to do more than respectfully allude to them.

Emil spent his holidays on the river or the
pond, and drilled the elder lads for a race
with certain town boys, who now and then
invaded their territory. The race duly came
off, but as it ended in a general shipwreck,
it was not mentioned in public; and the
Commodore had serious thoughts of
retiring to a desert island, so disgusted was
he with his kind for a time. No desert island
being convenient, he was forced to remain
among his friends, and found consolation in
building a boat-house.

-65-

control. The proceedings of this club were
somewhat peculiar, for it met at all sorts of
places and hours, had all manner of queer
ceremonies and amusements, and now
and then was broken up tempestuously,
only to be re-established, however, on a
firmer basis.

Rainy evenings the members met in the
schoolroom, and passed the time in games:
chess, morris, backgammon, fencing
matches, recitations, debates, or dramatic
performances of a darkly tragical nature. In
summer the barn was the rendezvous, and
what went on there no uninitiated mortal
knows. On sultry evenings the Club
adjourned to the brook for aquatic
exercises, and the members sat about in
airy attire, frog-like and cool. On such
occasions the speeches were unusually
eloquent, quite flowing, as one might say;
and if any orator's remarks displeased the
audience, cold water was thrown upon him
till his ardor was effectually quenched.
Franz was president, and maintained order
admirably, considering the unruly nature of
the members. Mr. Bhaer never interfered
with their affairs, and was rewarded for this
wise forbearance by being invited now and
then to behold the mysteries unveiled, which
he appeared to enjoy much.

When Nan came she wished to join the
Club, and caused great excitement and
division among the gentlemen by
presenting endless petitions, both written
and spoken, disturbing their solemnities by
insulting them through the key-hole,
performing vigorous solos on the door, and
writing up derisive remarks on walls and
fences, for she belonged to the
"Irrepressibles." Finding these appeals in
vain, the girls, by the advice of Mrs. Jo, got
up an institution of their own, which they
called the Cosy Club. To this they
magnanimously invited the gentlemen

-66-

"Oh, we just play be men, and sit round stiff
and stupid like grown-up folks, and dance
to please the girls. Then we eat up
everything, and come away as soon as we
can."

"I think I could do that," said Nat, after
considering Tommy's description for a
minute.

"I'll write and say we'll come;" and Demi
despatched the following gentlemanly reply,

"We will all come. Please have lots to eat. J.
B. Esquire."

Great was the anxiety of the ladies about
their first ball, because if every thing went
well they intended to give a dinner-party to
the chosen few.

"Aunt Jo likes to have the boys play with us,
if they are not rough; so we must make them
like our balls, then they will do them good,"
said Daisy, with her maternal air, as she set
the table and surveyed the store of
refreshments with an anxious eye.

"Demi and Nat will be good, but Tommy will
do something bad, I know he will," replied
Nan, shaking her head over the little cake-
basket which she was arranging.

"Then I shall send him right home," said
Daisy, with decision.

"People don't do so at parties, it isn't
proper."

"I shall never ask him any more."

"That would do. He'd be sorry not to come to
the dinner-ball, wouldn't he?"

"I guess he would! we'll have the
splendidest things ever seen, won't we?

-67-

"Good day, mum," said Demi, in a deep
voice, which was so hard to keep up that his
remarks had to be extremely brief.

Every one shook hands and then sat down,
looking so funny, yet so sober, that the
gentlemen forgot their manners, and rolled
in their chairs with laughter.

"Oh, don't!" cried Mrs. Smith, much
distressed.

"You can't ever come again if you act so,"
added Miss Smith, rapping Mr. Bangs with
her bottle because he laughed loudest.

"I can't help it, you look so like fury," gasped
Mr. Bangs, with most uncourteous candor.

"So do you, but I shouldn't be so rude as to
say so. He shan't come to the dinner-ball,
shall he, Daisy?" cried Nan, indignantly.

"I think we had better dance now. Did you
bring your fiddle, sir?" asked Mrs. Smith,
trying to preserve her polite composure.

"It is outside the door," and Nat went to get
it.

"Better have tea first," proposed the
unabashed Tommy, winking openly at Demi
to remind him that the sooner the
refreshments were secured, the sooner
they could escape.

"No, we never have supper first; and if you
don't dance well you won't have any supper
at all, not one bit, sir," said Mrs. Smith, so
sternly that her wild guests saw she was not
to be trifled with, and grew overwhelmingly
civil all at once.

"I will take Mr. Bangs and teach him the
polka, for he does not know it fit to be
seen," added the hostess, with a

-68-

The gentlemen applauded so
enthusiastically that she gave them
"Bounding Billows," "Little Bo-Peep," and
other gems of song, till they were obliged to
hint that they had had enough. Grateful for
the praises bestowed upon her daughter,
Mrs. Smith graciously announced,

"Now we will have tea. Sit down carefully,
and don't grab."

It was beautiful to see the air of pride with
which the good lady did the honors of her
table, and the calmness with which she
bore the little mishaps that occurred. The
best pie flew wildly on the floor when she
tried to cut it with a very dull knife; the bread
and butter vanished with a rapidity
calculated to dismay a housekeeper's soul;
and, worst of all, the custards were so soft
that they had to be drunk up, instead of
being eaten elegantly with the new tin
spoons.

I grieve to state that Miss Smith squabbled
with the maid for the best jumble, which
caused Bess to toss the whole dish into the
air, and burst out crying amid a rain of falling
cakes. She was comforted by a seat at the
table, and the sugar-bowl to empty; but
during this flurry a large plate of patties was
mysteriously lost, and could not be found.
They were the chief ornament of the feast,
and Mrs. Smith was indignant at the loss,
for she had made them herself, and they
were beautiful to behold. I put it to any lady if
it was not hard to have one dozen delicious
patties (made of flour, salt, and water, with
a large raisin in the middle of each, and
much sugar over the whole) swept away at
one fell swoop?

"You hid them, Tommy; I know you did!"
cried the outraged hostess, threatening her
suspected guest with the milk-pot.

-69-

suddenly, as Aunt Jo's voice was heard on
the stairs.

"P'r'aps we had," and Nat hastily dropped a
stray jumble that he had just picked up.

But Mrs. Jo was among them before the
retreat was accomplished, and into her
sympathetic ear the young ladies poured
the story of their woes.

"No more balls for these boys till they have
atoned for this bad behavior by doing
something kind to you," said Mrs. Jo,
shaking her head at the three culprits.

"We were only in fun," began Demi.

"I don't like fun that makes other people
unhappy. I am disappointed in you, Demi,
for I hoped you would never learn to tease
Daisy. Such a kind little sister as she is to
you."

"Boys always tease their sisters; Tom says
so," muttered Demi.

"I don't intend that my boys shall, and I must
send Daisy home if you cannot play happily
together," said Aunt Jo, soberly.

At this awful threat, Demi sidled up to his
sister, and Daisy hastily dried her tears, for
to be separated was the worst misfortune
that could happen to the twins.

"Nat was bad, too, and Tommy was
baddest of all," observed Nan, fearing that
two of the sinners would not get their fair
share of punishment.

"I am sorry," said Nat, much ashamed.

"I ain't!" bawled Tommy through the
keyhole, where he was listening with all his
might.

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longer, and fearing that the eclipse might
become total, went to Mr. Bhaer for help
and counsel.

It is my private opinion that he had received
instructions how to behave if the case
should be laid before him. But no one
suspected it, and he gave the afflicted boys
some advice, which they gratefully
accepted and carried out in the following
manner:

Secluding themselves in the garret, they
devoted several play-hours to the
manufacture of some mysterious machine,
which took so much paste that Asia
grumbled, and the little girls wondered
mightily. Nan nearly got her inquisitive nose
pinched in the door, trying to see what was
going on, and Daisy sat about, openly
lamenting that they could not all play nicely
together, and not have any dreadful secrets.
Wednesday afternoon was fine, and after a
good deal of consultation about wind and
weather, Nat and Tommy went off, bearing
an immense flat parcel hidden under many
newspapers. Nan nearly died with
suppressed curiosity, Daisy nearly cried
with vexation, and both quite trembled with
interest when Demi marched into Mrs.
Bhaer's room, hat in hand, and said, in the
politest tone possible to a mortal boy of his
years,

"Please, Aunt Jo, would you and the girls
come out to a surprise party we have made
for you? Do it's a very nice one."

"Thank you, we will come with pleasure;
only, I must take Teddy with me," replied
Mrs. Bhaer, with a smile that cheered Demi
like sunshine after rain.

"We'd like to have him. The little wagon is all
ready for the girls; you won't mind walking
just up to Pennyroyal Hill, will you Aunty?"

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"Now, you all get out and stand still, and the
surprise party with come in;" with which
remark he retired behind a rock, over which
heads had been bobbing at intervals for the
last half-hour.

A short pause of intense suspense, and
then Nat, Demi, and Tommy marched forth,
each bearing a new kite, which they
presented to the three young ladies. Shrieks
of delight arose, but were silenced by the
boys, who said, with faces brimful of
merriment, "That isn't all the surprise;" and,
running behind the rock, again emerged
bearing a fourth kite of superb size, on
which was printed, in bright yellow letters,
"For Mother Bhaer."

"We thought you'd like one, too, because
you were angry with us, and took the girls'
part," cried all three, shaking with laughter,
for this part of the affair evidently was a
surprise to Mrs. Jo.

She clapped her hands, and joined in the
laugh, looking thoroughly tickled at the joke.

"Now, boys, that is regularly splendid! Who
did think of it?" she asked, receiving the
monster kite with as much pleasure as the
little girls did theirs.

"Uncle Fritz proposed it when we planned to
make the others; he said you'd like it, so we
made a bouncer," answered Demi,
beaming with satisfaction at the success of
the plot.

"Uncle Fritz knows what I like. Yes, these
are magnificent kites, and we were wishing
we had some the other day when you were
flying yours, weren't we, girls?"

"That's why we made them for you," cried
Tommy, standing on his head as the most
appropriate way of expressing his

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the clouds.

By and by every one got tired, and fastening
the kite-strings to trees and fences, all sat
down to rest, except Mr. Bhaer, who went
off to look at the cows, with Teddy on his
shoulder.

"Did you ever have such a good time as this
before?" asked Nat, as they lay about on the
grass, nibbling pennyroyal like a flock of
sheep.

"Not since I last flew a kite, years ago, when
I was a girl," answered Mrs. Jo.

"I'd like to have known you when you were a
girl, you must have been so jolly," said Nat.

"I was a naughty little girl, I am sorry to say."

"I like naughty little girls," observed Tommy,
looking at Nan, who made a frightful
grimace at him in return for the compliment.

"Why don't I remember you then, Aunty? Was
I too young?" asked Demi.

"Rather, dear."

"I suppose my memory hadn't come then.
Grandpa says that different parts of the
mind unfold as we grow up, and the
memory part of my mind hadn't unfolded
when you were little, so I can't remember
how you looked," explained Demi.

"Now, little Socrates, you had better keep
that question for grandpa, it is beyond me,"
said Aunt Jo, putting on the extinguisher.

"Well, I will, he knows about those things,
and you don't," returned Demi, feeling that
on the whole kites were better adapted to
the comprehension of the present company.

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"Splendid!" answered every one.

"Do you know why? It is because your
guests have behaved themselves, and tried
to make everything go well. You understand
what I mean, don't you?"

"Yes'm," was all the boys said, but they
stole a shamefaced look at one another, as
they meekly shouldered their kites and
walked home, thinking of another party
where the guests had not behaved
themselves, and things had gone badly on
account of it.

Chapter 10 Home Again

July had come, and haying begun; the little
gardens were doing finely and the long
summer days were full of pleasant hours.
The house stood open from morning till
night, and the lads lived out of doors, except
at school time. The lessons were short, and
there were many holidays, for the Bhaers
believed in cultivating healthy bodies by
much exercise, and our short summers are
best used in out-of-door work. Such a rosy,
sunburnt, hearty set as the boys became;
such appetites as they had; such sturdy
arms and legs, as outgrew jackets and
trousers; such laughing and racing all over
the place; such antics in house and barn;
such adventures in the tramps over hill and
dale; and such satisfaction in the hearts of
the worthy Bhaers, as they saw their flock
prospering in mind and body, I cannot begin
to describe. Only one thing was needed to
make them quite happy, and it came when
they least expected it.

One balmy night when the little lads were in
bed, the elder ones bathing down at the
brook, and Mrs. Bhaer undressing Teddy in
her parlor, he suddenly cried out, "Oh, my
Danny!" and pointed to the window, where
the moon shone brightly.

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Ragged, dirty, thin, and worn-out he
looked; one foot was bare, the other tied up
in the old gingham jacket which he had
taken from his own back to use as a clumsy
bandage for some hurt. He seemed to have
hidden himself behind the hay-cock, but in
his sleep had thrown out the arm that had
betrayed him. He sighed and muttered as if
his dreams disturbed him, and once when
he moved, he groaned as if in pain, but still
slept on quite spent with weariness.

"He must not lie here," said Mrs. Bhaer, and
stooping over him she gently called his
name. He opened his eyes and looked at
her, as if she was a part of his dream, for he
smiled and said drowsily, "Mother Bhaer,
I've come home."

The look, the words, touched her very much,
and she put her hand under his head to lift
him up, saying in her cordial way,

"I thought you would, and I'm so glad to see
you, Dan." He seemed to wake thoroughly
then, and started up looking about him as if
he suddenly remembered where he was,
and doubted even that kind welcome. His
face changed, and he said in his old rough
way,

"I was going off in the morning. I only
stopped to peek in, as I went by."

"But why not come in, Dan? Didn't you hear
us call you? Teddy saw, and cried for you."

"Didn't suppose you'd let me in," he said,
fumbling with a little bundle which he had
taken up as if going immediately.

"Try and see," was all Mrs. Bhaer
answered, holding out her hand and
pointing to the door, where the light shone
hospitably.

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"All the way?"

"Yes, the man didn't pay me, and I wouldn't
ask for it. Took it out in beating the boy," and
Dan laughed, yet looked ashamed, as he
glanced at his ragged clothes and dirty
hands.

"How did you live? It was a long, long tramp
for a boy like you."

"Oh, I got on well enough, till I hurt my foot.
Folks gave me things to eat, and I slept in
barns and tramped by day. I got lost trying to
make a short cut, or I'd have been here
sooner."

"But if you did not mean to come in and stay
with us, what were you going to do?"

"I thought I'd like to see Teddy again, and
you; and then I was going back to my old
work in the city, only I was so tired I went to
sleep on the hay. I'd have been gone in the
morning, if you hadn't found me."

"Are you sorry I did?" and Mrs. Jo looked at
him with a half merry, half reproachful look,
as she knelt down to look at his wounded
foot.

The color came up into Dan's face, and he
kept his eyes fixed on his plate, as he said
very low, "No, ma'am, I'm glad, I wanted to
stay, but I was afraid you "

He did not finish, for Mrs. Bhaer interrupted
him by an exclamation of pity, as she saw
his foot, for it was seriously hurt.

"When did you do it?"

"Three days ago."

"And you have walked on it in this state?"

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eyes brimmed over and rolled down his
dusty cheeks. No one saw them, for he
brushed them hastily away; but in that little
pause I think Dan's old distrust for these
good people vanished for ever, the soft
spot in his heart was touched, and he felt an
impetuous desire to prove himself worthy of
the love and pity that was so patient and
forgiving. He said nothing, he only wished
the wish with all his might, resolved to try in
his blind boyish way, and sealed his
resolution with the tears which neither pain,
fatigue, nor loneliness could wring from
him.

"Come and see his foot. I am afraid it is
badly hurt, for he has kept on three days
through heat and dust, with nothing but
water and an old jacket to bind it up with. I
tell you, Fritz, that boy is a brave lad, and will
make a fine man yet."

"I hope so, for your sake, enthusiastic
woman, your faith deserves success. Now,
I will go and see your little Spartan. Where is
he?"

"In my room; but, dear, you'll be very kind to
him, no matter how gruff he seems. I am
sure that is the way to conquer him. He
won't bear sternness nor much restraint, but
a soft word and infinite patience will lead
him as it used to lead me."

"As if you ever like this little rascal!" cried
Mr. Bhaer, laughing, yet half angry at the
idea.

"I was in spirit, though I showed it in a
different way. I seem to know by instinct
how he feels, to understand what will win
and touch him, and to sympathize with his
temptations and faults. I am glad I do, for it
will help me to help him; and if I can make a
good man of this wild boy, it will be the best
work of my life."

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