CURLY LOCKS.
WHEN a little girl is six and a little boy is six, they like pretty muchthe same things and enjoy pretty much the same games. She wears anapron, and he a jacket and trousers, but they are both equally fond ofrunning races, spinning tops, flying kites, going down hill on sleds,and making a noise in the open air. But when the little girl gets to beeleven or twelve, and to grow thin and long, so that every two months atuck has to be let down in her frocks, then a great difference becomesvisible. The boy goes on racing and whooping and comporting himselfgenerally like a young colt in a pasture; but she turns quiet and shy,cares no longer for rough play or exercise, takes droll littlesentimental fancies into her head, and likes best the books which makeher cry. Almost all girls have a fit of this kind some time or other inthe course of their lives; and it is rather a good thing to have itearly, for little folks get over such attacks more easily than big ones.Perhaps we may live to see the day when wise mammas, going through thelist of nursery diseases which their children have had, will wind uptriumphantly with, "Mumps, measles, chicken-pox,--and they are all overwith 'Amy Herbert,' 'The Heir of Redclyffe,' and the notion that theyare going to be miserable for the rest of their lives!"
Sometimes this odd change comes after an illness when a little girlfeels weak and out of sorts, and does not know exactly what is thematter. This is the way it came to Johnnie Carr, a girl whom some of youwho read this are already acquainted with. She had intermittent feverthe year after her sisters Katy and Clover came from boarding-school,and was quite ill for several weeks. Everybody in the house was sorry tohave Johnnie sick. Katy nursed, petted, and cosseted her in thetenderest way. Clover brought flowers to the bedside and read booksaloud, and told Johnnie interesting stories. Elsie cut out paper dollsfor her by dozens, painted their cheeks pink and their eyes blue, andmade for them beautiful dresses and jackets of every color and fashion.Papa never came in without some little present or treat in his pocketfor Johnnie. So long as she was in bed, and all these nice things weredoing for her, Johnnie liked being ill very much, but when she began tosit up and go down to dinner, and the family spoke of her as almost wellagain, _then_ a time of unhappiness set in. The Johnnie who got out ofbed after the fever was not the Johnnie of a month before. There weretwo inches more of her for one thing, for she had taken the opportunityto grow prodigiously, as sick children often do. Her head ached attimes, her back felt weak, and her legs shook when she tried to runabout. All sorts of queer and disagreeable feelings attacked her. Herhair had fallen out during the fever so that Papa thought it best tohave it shaved close. Katy made a pretty silk-lined cap for her to wear,but the girls at school laughed at the cap, and that troubled Johnnievery much. Then, when the new hair grew, thick and soft as the plumydown on a bird's wing, a fresh affliction set in, for the hair came outin small round rings all over her head, which made her look like ababy. Elsie called her "Curly," and gradually the others adopted thename, till at last nobody used any other except the servants, who stillsaid "Miss Johnnie." It was hard to recognize the old Johnnie, squareand sturdy and full of merry life, in poor, thin, whining Curly, alwayscomplaining of something, who lay on the sofa reading story-books, andbegging Phil and Dorry to let her alone, not to tease her, and to go offand play by themselves. Her eyes looked twice as big as usual, becauseher face was so small and pale, and though she was still a pretty child,it was in a different way from the old prettiness. Katy and Clover werevery kind and gentle always, but Elsie sometimes lost patience entirely,and the boys openly declared that Curly was a cross-patch, and hadn't abit of fun left in her.
One afternoon she was lying on the sofa with the "Wide Wide World" inher hand. Her eyelids were very red from crying over Alice's death, butshe had galloped on, and was now reading the part where EllenMontgomery goes to live with her rich relatives in Scotland.
"Oh, dear," sighed Johnnie. "How splendid it was for her! Just think,Clover, riding lessons, and a watch, and her uncle takes her to see allsorts of places, and they call her their White Rose! Oh, dear! I wish_we_ had relations in Scotland."
"We haven't, you know," remarked Clover, threading her needle with afresh bit of blue worsted.
"I know it. It's too bad. Nothing ever does happen in this stupid place.The girls in books always do have such nice times. Ellen could leap, andshe spoke French _beau_tifully. She learned at that place, you know, theplace where the Humphreys lived."
"Litchfield Co., Connecticut," said Clover mischievously. "Katy wasthere last summer, you recollect. I guess they don't _all_ speak suchgood French. Katy didn't notice it."
"Ellen did," persisted Johnnie. "Her uncle and all those people were sosurprised when they heard her. Wouldn't it be grand to be an adoptedchild, Clover?"
"To be adopted by people who gave you your bath like a baby when youwere thirteen years old, and tapped your lips when they didn't want youto speak, and stole your Pilgrim's Progresses? No, thank you. I wouldmuch rather stay as I am."
"I wouldn't," replied Johnnie pensively. "I don't like this place verymuch. I should love to be rich and to travel in Europe."
At this moment Papa and Katy came in together. Katy was laughing, andPapa looked as if he had just bitten a smile off short. In his hand wasa letter.
"Oh, Clovy," began Katy, but Papa interposed with "Katy, hold yourtongue;" and though he looked quizzical as he said it, Katy saw that hewas half in earnest, and stopped at once.
"We're about to have a visitor," he went on, picking Johnnie up andsettling her in his lap,--"a distinguished visitor. Curly, you must puton your best manners, for she comes especially to see you."
"A visitor! How nice! Who is it?" cried Clover and Johnnie with onevoice. Visitors were rare in Burnet, and the children regarded themalways as a treat.
"Her name is Miss Inches,--Marion Joanna Inches," replied Dr. Carr,glancing at the letter. "She's a sort of godmother of yours, Curly;you've got half her name."
"Was I really named after her?"
"Yes. She and Mamma were school-friends, and though they never met afterleaving school, Mamma was fond of her, and when little No. 4 came, shedecided to call her after her old intimate. That silver mug of yours wasa present from her."
"Was it? Where does she live?"
"At a place called Inches Mills, in Massachusetts. She's the rich ladyof the village, and has a beautiful house and grounds, where she livesall alone by herself. Her letter is written at Niagara. She is going tothe Mammoth Cave, and writes to ask if it will be convenient for us tohave her stop for a few days on the way. She wants to see her oldfriend's children, she says, and especially her namesake."
"Oh, dear!" sighed Johnnie, ruffling her short hairs with her fingers."I wish my curls were longer. What _will_ she think when she sees me?"
"She'll think
"There is a little girl, and she has a little curl Right in the middle of her forehead; When she is good she is very, very good, And when she is bad she is horrid--"
said Dr. Carr, laughing. But Johnnie didn't laugh back. Her liptrembled, and she said,--
"I'm not horrid _really_, am I?"
"Not a bit," replied her father; "you're only a little goose now andthen, and I'm such an old gander that I don't mind that a bit."
Johnnie smiled and was comforted. Her thoughts turned to the comingvisitor.
"Perhaps she'll be like the rich ladies in story-books," she said toherself.
Next day Miss Inches came. Katy was an experienced housekeeper now, anddid not worry over coming guests as once she did. The house was alwaysin pleasant, home-like order; and though Debby and Alexander hadfulfilled Aunt Izzie's prediction by marrying one another, both stayedon at Dr. Carr's and were as good and faithful as ever, so Katy had noanxieties as to the dinners and breakfasts. It was late in the afternoonwhen the visitor arrived. Fresh flowers filled the vases, for it wasearly June, and the garden-beds were sweet with roses and lilies of thevalley. The older girls wore new summer muslins, and Johnn
ie in white,her short curls tied back with a blue ribbon, looked unusually prettyand delicate.
Miss Inches, a wide-awake, handsome woman, seemed much pleased to seethem all.
"So this is my name-child," she said, putting her arm about Johnnie."This is my little Joanna? You're the only child I have any share in,Joanna; I hope we shall love each other very deeply."
Miss Inches' hand was large and white, with beautiful rings on thefingers. Johnnie was flattered at being patted by such a hand, andcuddled affectionately to the side of her name-mamma.
"What eyes she has!" murmured Miss Inches to Dr. Carr. She lowered hervoice, but Johnnie caught every word. "Such a lambent blue, and so fullof soul. She is quite different from the rest of your daughters, Dr.Carr; don't you think so?"
"She has been ill recently, and is looking thin," replied the prosaicPapa.
"Oh, it isn't _that_! There is something else,--hard to put into words,but I feel it! You don't see it? Well, that only confirms a theory ofmine, that people are often blind to the qualities of their nearestrelations. We cannot get our own families into proper perspective. Itisn't possible."
These fine words were lost on Johnnie, but she understood that she waspronounced nicer than the rest of the family. This pleased her: shebegan to think that she should like Miss Inches very much indeed.
Dr. Carr was not so much pleased. The note from Miss Inches, over whichhe and Katy had laughed, but which was not shown to the rest, hadprepared him for a visitor of rather high-flown ideas, but he did notlike having Johnnie singled out as the subject of this kind of praise.However, he said to himself, "It doesn't matter. She means well, andjolly little Johnnie won't be harmed by a few days of it."
Jolly little Johnnie would not have been harmed, but the pale,sentimental Johnnie left behind by the recently departed intermittentfever, decidedly _was_. Before Miss Inches had been four days in Burnet,Johnnie adored her and followed her about like a shadow. Never hadanybody loved her as Miss Inches did, she thought, or discovered suchfine things in her character. Ten long years and a half had she livedwith Papa and the children, and not one of them had found out that hereyes were full of soul, and an expression "of mingled mirth andmelancholy unusual in a childish face, and more like that of _Goethe'sMignon_ than any thing else in the world of fiction!" Johnnie had neverheard of "_Mignon_," but it was delightful to be told that she resembledher, and she made Miss Inches a present of the whole of her foolishlittle heart on the spot.
"Oh, if Papa would but give you to me!" exclaimed Miss Inches one day."If only I could have you for my own, what a delight it would be! Mywhole theory of training is so different,--you should never waste yourenergies in house-work, my darling, (Johnnie had been dusting theparlor); it is sheer waste, with an intelligence like yours lying fallowand only waiting for the master's hand. Would you come, Johnnie, ifPapa consented? Inches Mills is a quiet place, but lovely. There are afew bright minds in the neighborhood; we are near Boston, and not toofar from Concord. Such a pretty room as you should have, darling, fittedup in blue and rose-buds, or--no, Morris green and Pompeian-red would beprettier, perhaps. What a joy it would be to choose pictures forit,--pictures, every one of which should be an impulse in the best Artdirection! And how you would revel in the garden, and in the fruit! Mystrawberries are the finest I ever saw; I have two Alderney cows andquantities of cream. Don't you think you could be happy to come and bemy own little Curly, if Papa would consent?"
"Yes, yes," said Johnnie eagerly. "And I could come home sometimes,couldn't I?"
"Every year," replied Miss Inches. "We'll take such lovely journeystogether, Johnnie, and see all sorts of interesting places. Would youlike best to go to California or to Switzerland next summer? I think, onthe whole, Switzerland would be best. I want you to form a good Frenchaccent at once, but, above all, to study German, the language of_thought_. Then there is music. We might spend the winter at_Stuttgard_--"
Decidedly Miss Inches was counting on her chicken before hatching it,for Dr. Carr had yet to be consulted, and he was not a parent whoenjoyed interference with his nest or nestlings. When Miss Inchesattacked him on the subject, his first impulse was to whistle withamazement. Next he laughed, and then he became almost angry. Miss Inchestalked very fast, describing the fine things she would do with Johnnie,and for her; and Dr. Carr, having no chance to put in a word, listenedpatiently, and watched his little girl, who was clinging to her newfriend and looking very eager and anxious. He saw that her heart was seton being "adopted," and, wise man that he was, it occurred to him thatit might be well to grant her wish in part, and let her find out byexperiment what was really the best and happiest thing. So he did notsay "No" decidedly, as he at first meant, but took Johnnie on his knee,and asked,--
"Well, Curly, so you want to leave Papa and Katy and Clover, and go awayto be Miss Inches' little girl, do you?"
"I'm coming home to see you every single summer," said Johnnie.
"Indeed! That will be nice for us," responded Dr. Carr cheerfully. "Butsomehow I don't seem to feel as if I could quite make up my mind to givemy Curly Locks away. Perhaps in a year or two, when we are used to beingwithout her, I may feel differently. Suppose, instead, we make acompromise."
"Yes," said Miss Inches, eagerly.
"Yes," put in Johnnie, who had not the least idea of what a compromisemight be.
"I can't _give_ away my little girl,--not yet,"--went on Dr. Carrfondly. "But if Miss Inches likes I'll _lend_ her for a little while.You may go home with Miss Inches, Johnnie, and stay four months,--to thefirst of October, let us say." ("She'll miss two weeks' schooling, butthat's no great matter," thought Papa to himself.) "This will give you,my dear lady, a chance to try the experiment of having a child in yourhouse. Perhaps you may not like it so well as you fancy. If you do, andif Johnnie still prefers to remain with you, there will be time enoughthen to talk over further plans. How will this answer?"
Johnnie was delighted, Miss Inches not so much so.
"Of course," she said, "it isn't so satisfactory to have the thing leftuncertain, because it retards the regular plan of development which Ihave formed for Johnnie. However, I can allow for a parent's feelings,and I thank you very much, Dr. Carr. I feel assured that, as you havefive other children, you will in time make up your mind to let me keepJohnnie entirely as mine. It puts a new value into life,--this chance ofhaving an immortal intelligence placed in my hands to train. It will bea real delight to do so, and I flatter myself the result will surpriseyou all."
Dr. Carr's eyes twinkled wickedly, but he made Miss Inches the politestof bows, and said: "You are very kind, I am sure, and I hope Johnniewill be good and not give you much trouble. When would you wish hervisit to commence?"
"Oh--now, if you do not object. I should so enjoy taking her with me tothe Mammoth Cave, and afterward straight home to Massachusetts. Youwould like to see the Cave and the eyeless fish, wouldn't you, darling?"
"Oh yes, Papa, yes!" cried Johnnie. Dr. Carr was rather taken aback, buthe made no objection, and Johnnie ran off to tell the rest of the familythe news of her good fortune.
Their dismay cannot be described. "I really do think that Papa iscrazy," said Clover that night; and though Katy scolded her for usingsuch an expression, her own confidence in his judgment was puzzled andshaken. She comforted herself with a long letter to Cousin Helen,telling her all about the affair. Elsie cried herself to sleep threenights running, and the boys were furious.
"The _idea_ of such a thing," cried Dorry, flinging himself about, whilePhil put a tablespoonful of black pepper and two spools of thread intohis cannon, and announced that if Miss Inches dared to take Johnnieoutside the gate, he would shoot her dead, he would, just as sure as hewas alive!
In spite of this awful threat, Miss Inches persisted in her plan.Johnnie's little trunk was packed by Clover and Katy, who watered itscontents with tears as they smoothed and folded the frocks and aprons,which looked so like their Curly as to seem a part of herself,--theirCurly, who was so gl
ad to leave them!
"Never mind the thick things," remarked Dr. Carr, as Katy came throughthe hall with Johnnie's winter jacket on her arm. "Put in one warmishdress for cool days, and leave the rest. They can be sent on _if_Johnnie decides to stay."
Papa looked so droll and gave such a large wink at the word "if," thatKaty and Clover felt their hearts lighten surprisingly, and finished thepacking in better spirits. The good-by, however, was a sorry affair. Thegirls cried; Dorry and Phil sniffed and looked fiercely at Miss Inches;old Mary stood on the steps with her apron thrown over her head; and Dr.Carr's face was so grave and sad that it quite frightened Johnnie. Shecried too, and clung to Katy. Almost she said, "I won't go," but shethought of the eyeless fish, and didn't say it. The carriage drove off,Miss Inches petted her, everything was new and exciting, and before longshe was happy again, only now and then a thought of home would come tomake her lips quiver and her eyes fill.
The wonderful Cave, with its vaults and galleries hung with glitteringcrystals, its underground river and dark lake, was so like a fairy tale,that Johnnie felt as if she _must_ go right back and tell the family athome about it. She relieved her feelings by a long letter to Elsie,which made them all laugh very much. In it she said, "Ellen Montgomerydidn't have any thing half so nice as the Cave, and Mamma Marion nevertaps my lips." Miss Inches, it seemed, wished to be called "MammaMarion." Every mile of the journey was an enjoyment to Johnnie. MissInches bought pretty presents for her wherever they stopped: altogether,it was quite like being some little girl taking a beautiful excursion ina story-book, instead of plain Johnnie Carr, and Johnnie felt that to bean "adopted child" was every bit as nice as she had supposed, and evennicer.
It was late in the evening when they reached Inches Mills, so nothingcould be seen of the house, except that it was big and had trees aroundit. Johnnie went to sleep in a large bedroom with a huge double bed allto herself, and felt very grown-up and important.
The next day was given to unpacking and seeing the grounds; after that,Miss Inches said they must begin to lead a regular life, and Johnniemust study. Johnnie had been to school all winter, and in the naturalcourse of things would have had holidays now. Mamma Marion, however,declared that so long an idle time would not do at all.
"Education, my darling, is not a thing of periods," she explained. "Itshould be like the air, absorbed, as it were, all the time, not like ameal, eaten just so often in the day. This idea of teaching by paroxysmsis one of the fatal mistakes of the age."
So all that warm July Johnnie had French lessons and German, and lessonsin natural philosophy, beside studying English literature after a planof Miss Inches' own, which combined history and geography and geology,with readings from various books, and accounted for the existence ofall the great geniuses of the world, as if they had been made after aregular recipe,--something like this:--
TO MAKE A POET.
Take a political situation, add a rocky soil, and the western slope of a great water-shed, pour into a mould and garnish with laurel leaves. It will be found delicious!
The "lambent blue" of Johnnie's eyes grew more lambent than ever as shetried to make head and tail of this wonderful hash of people and facts.I am afraid that Mamma Marion was disappointed in the intelligence ofher pupil, but Johnnie did her best, though she was rather aggrieved atbeing obliged to study at all in summer, which at home was alwaysplay-time. The children she knew were having a delightful vacationthere, and living out of doors from morning till night.
As the weeks went on she felt this more and more. Change of air wasmaking her rosy and fat, and with returning strength a good deal of theold romping, hearty Johnnie came back; or would have come, had therebeen anybody to romp with. But there was nobody, for Miss Inchesscarcely ever invited children to her house. They were brought up sopoorly she said. There was nothing inspiring in their contact. Shewanted Johnnie to be something quite different.
So Johnnie seldom saw anybody except "Mamma Marion" and her friends, whocame to drink tea and talk about "Protoplasm," and the "Higher Educationof Women," which wasn't at all interesting to poor Curly. She always satby, quietly and demurely, and Miss Inches hoped was listening and beingimproved, but really she was thinking about something else, or longingto climb a tree or have a good game of play with real boys and girls.Once, in the middle of a tea-party, she stole upstairs and indulged in ahearty cry all to herself, over the thought of a little house which sheand Dorry and Phil had built in Paradise the summer before; a house ofstumps and old boards, lined with moss, in which they had had _such_ agood time.
Almost as soon as they got home, Miss Inches sent to Boston for papersand furniture, and devoted her spare time to fitting up a room for heradopted child. Johnnie was not allowed to see it till all was done, thenshe was led triumphantly in. It was pretty--and queer--perhaps queererthan pretty. The walls were green-gray, the carpet gray-green, thefurniture pale yellow, almost white, with brass handles and hinges, andlines of dull red tiles set into the wood. Every picture on the wallshad a meaning, Miss Inches explained.
"Some of these I chose to strengthen your mind, Johnnie, dear," shesaid. "These portraits, for example. Here are Luther, Mahomet, andTheodore Parker, three of the great Protestants of the world. Life, tobe worthy, must be more or less of a protest always. I want you torenumber that. This photograph is of Michael Angelo's Moses. I got youthat too, because it is so strong. I want you to be strong. Do you likeit?"
"I think it would be prettier without the curl-papers," faltered thebewildered Johnnie.
"Curl-papers! My dear child, where are your eyes? Those are horns. Hewore horns as a law-giver."
"Yes, ma'am," said Johnnie, not daring to ask any more questions forfear of making more mistakes.
"These splendid autotypes are from the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel inRome, the glory of the world," went on Miss Inches. "And here, Johnnie,is the most precious of all. This I got expressly for you. It is aneducation to have such a painting as that before your eyes. I rely verymuch upon its influence on you."
The painting represented what seemed to be a grove of tall yellow-greensea-weeds, waving against a strange purple sky. There was a path betweenthe stems of the sea-weeds, and up this path trotted a pig, rather softand smudgy about his edges, as if he were running a little into thebackground. His quirly tail was smudgy also; and altogether it was morelike the ghost of a pig than a real animal, but Miss Inches said _that_was the great beauty of the picture.
Johnnie didn't care much for the painted pig, but she liked him betterthan the great Reformers, who struck her as grim and frightful; whilethe very idea of going to sleep in the room with the horned Moses scaredher almost to death. It preyed on her mind all day; and at night, afterJohnnie had gone to bed, Miss Inches, passing the door, heard a littlesob, half strangled by the pillows. She went in.
"What _is_ the matter?" she cried.
"It's that awful man with horns," gasped Johnnie, taking her head outfrom under the bedclothes. "I can't go to sleep, he frightens me so."
"Oh, my darling, what, _what_ weakness," cried Mamma Marion.
She was too kind, however, to persist in any plan which made Johnnieunhappy, so Moses came down, and Johnnie was allowed to choose a pictureto fill his place. She selected a chromo of three little girls in aswing, a dreadful thing, all blue and red and green, which Miss Inchesalmost wept over. But it was a great comfort to Johnnie. I think it wasthe chromo which put it into Mamma Marion's head that the course ofinstruction chosen for her adopted child was perhaps a little above heryears. Soon after she surprised Johnnie by the gift of a doll, a boydoll, dressed in a suit of Swedish gray, with pockets. In one hand thedoll carried a hammer, and under the other arm was tucked a smallportfolio.
"I like to make your sports a little instructive when I can," she said,"so I have dressed this doll in the costume of Linnaeus, the greatbotanist. See what a nice little herbarium he has got under his arm.There are twenty-four ti
ny specimens in it, with the Latin and Englishnames of each written underneath. If you could learn these perfectly,Johnnie, it would give you a real start in botany, which is the mostbeautiful of the sciences. Suppose you try. What will you name yourdoll, darling?"
"I don't know," replied Johnnie, glaring at the wax-boy with veryhostile feelings.
"Linnaeus? No, I don't quite like to give that name to a doll. Suppose,Johnnie, we christen him _Hortus Siccus_. That's the Latin name for aherbal, and will help you to remember it when you form one of your own.Now take him and have a good play."
How was it possible to have a good play with a doll named _HortusSiccus_? Johnnie hated him, and could not conceal the fact. Miss Incheswas grieved and disappointed. But she said to herself, "Perhaps she isjust too old for dolls and just too young to care for pictures. It isn'tso easy to fix a child's mental position as I thought it would be. Imust try something else."
She really loved Johnnie and wished to make her happy, so the thoughtoccurred of giving her a child's party. "I don't approve of them," shetold her friends. "But perhaps it may be possible to combine someinstruction with the amusements, and Johnnie is _so_ pleased. Dearlittle creature, she is only eleven, and small things are great at thatage. I suppose it is always so with youth."
Twenty children were asked to the party. They were to come at four, playfor two hours in the garden, then have supper, and afterward games inthe parlor.
Johnnie felt as if she had taken a dose of laughing-gas, at the sight oftwenty boys and girls all at once, real boys, real girls! How long itwas since she had seen any! She capered and jumped in a way whichastonished Miss Inches, and her high spirits so infected the rest that ageneral romp set in, and the party grew noisy to an appalling degree.
"Oh, Johnnie dear, no more 'Tag,'" cried poor Mamma Marion, catchingher adopted child and wiping her hot face with a handkerchief. "It isreally too rude, such a game as that. It is only fit for boys."
"Oh, please!--please!--_please_!" entreated Johnnie. "It is splendid.Papa always let us; he did indeed, he always did."
"I thought you were my child now, and anxious for better things thantag," said Miss Inches gravely. Johnnie had to submit, but she pouted,shrugged her shoulders, and looked crossly about her, in a way whichMamma Marion had never seen before, and which annoyed her very much.
"Now it is time to go to supper," she announced. "Form yourselves into aprocession, children. Johnnie shall take this tambourine and WillyParker these castanets, and we will march in to the sound of music."
Johnnie liked to beat the tambourine very much, so her sulks gave placeat once to smiles. The boys and girls sorted themselves into couples,Miss Inches took the head of the procession with an accordion, WillyParker clashed the castanets as well as he could, and they all marchedinto the house. The table was beautifully spread with flowers and grapesand pretty china. Johnnie took the head, Willy the foot, and Dinah thehousemaid helped them all round to sliced peaches and cream.
Miss Inches meanwhile sat down in the corner of the room and drew alittle table full of books near her. As soon as they were all served,she began,--
"Now, dear children, while you eat, I will read aloud a little. I shouldlike to think that each one of you carried away one thought at leastfrom this entertainment,--a thought which would stay by you, and be, asit were, seed-grain for other thoughts in years to come. First, I willread 'Abou Ben Adhem,' by Leigh Hunt, an English poet."
The children listened quietly to Abou Ben Adhem, but when Miss Inchesopened another book and began to read sentences from Emerson, a deepgloom fell upon the party. Willy Parker kicked his neighbor and made aface. Lucy Hooper and Grace Sherwood whispered behind their napkins, andgot to laughing till they both choked. Johnnie's cross feelings cameback; she felt as if the party was being spoiled, and she wanted to cry.A low buzz of whispers, broken by titters, went round the table, andthrough it all Miss Inches' voice sounded solemn and distinct, as sheslowly read one passage after another, pausing between each to let themeaning sink properly into the youthful mind.
Altogether the supper was a failure, in spite of peaches and cream and adelicious cake full of plums and citron. When it was over they went intothe parlor to play. The game of "Twenty Questions" was the first onechosen. Miss Inches played too. The word she suggested was "iconoclast."
"We don't know what it means," objected the children.
"Oh, don't you, dears? It means a breaker of idols. However, if you arenot familiar with it we will choose something else. How would 'MichaelAngelo' do?"
"But we never heard any thing about him."
Miss Inches was shocked at this, and began a little art-lecture on thespot, in the midst of which Willy Parker broke in with, "I've thought ofa word,--'hash'?"
"Oh, yes! Capital! Hash is a splendid word!" chorussed the others, andpoor Miss Inches, who had only got as far as Michael Angelo's fourteenthyear, found that no one was listening, and stopped abruptly. Hash seemedto her a vulgar word for the children to choose, but there was no helpfor it, and she resigned herself.
Johnnie thought hash an excellent word. It was so funny when Lucy askedwhether the thing chosen was animal, vegetable, or mineral? and Willyreplied, "All three," for he explained in a whisper, there was alwayssalt in hash, and salt was a mineral. "Have you all seen it?"questioned Lucy. "Lots of times," shouted the children, and there wasmuch laughing. After "Twenty Questions," they played "Sim sayswiggle-waggle," and after that, "Hunt the Slipper." Poor, kind, puzzledMiss Inches was relieved when they went away, for it seemed to her thattheir games were all noisy and a fearful waste of time. She resolvedthat she would never give Johnnie any more parties; they upset the childcompletely, and demoralized her mind.
Johnnie _was_ upset. After the party she was never so studious or sodocile as she had been before. The little taste of play made her dislikework, and set her to longing after the home-life where play and workwere mixed with each other as a matter of course. She began to thinkthat it would be only pleasant to make up her bed, or dust a room again,and she pined for the old nursery, for Phil's whistle, for Elsie and thepaper-dolls, and to feel Katy's arms round her once more. Her lettersshowed the growing home-sickness. Dr. Carr felt that the experiment hadlasted long enough. So he discovered that he had business in Boston, andone fine September day, as Johnnie was forlornly poring over her lessonin moral philosophy, the door opened and in came Papa. Such a shriek asshe gave! Miss Inches happened to be out, and they had the house tothemselves for a while.
"So you are glad to see me?" said Papa, when Johnnie had dried her eyesafter the violent fit of crying which was his welcome, and had raisedher head from his shoulder. His own eyes were a little moist, but hespoke gaily.
"Oh, Papa, _so_ glad! I was just longing for you to come. How did ithappen?"
"I had business in this part of the world, and I thought you might bewanting your winter clothes."
Johnnie's face fell.
"_Must_ I stay all winter?" she said in a trembling voice. "Aren't yougoing to take me home?"
"But I thought you wanted to be 'adopted,' and to go to Europe, and haveall sorts of fine things happen to you."
"Oh, Papa, don't tease me. Mamma Marion is ever so kind, but I want tocome back and be your little girl again. Please let me. If you don't, Ishall _die_--" and Johnnie wrung her hands.
"We'll see about it," said Dr. Carr. "Don't die, but kiss me and washyour face. It won't do for Miss Inches to come home and find you withthose impolite red rims to your eyes."
"Come upstairs, too, and see my room, while I wash 'em," pleadedJohnnie.
All the time that Johnnie was bathing her eyes, Papa walked leisurelyabout looking at the pictures. His mouth wore a furtive smile.
"This is a sweet thing," he observed, "this one with the pickledasparagus and the donkey, or is it a cat?"
"Papa! it's a pig!"
Then they both laughed.
I think there was a little bit of relief mixed with Miss Inches'disappointment
at hearing of Johnnie's decision. The child of theory wasa delightful thing to have in the house, but this real child, with moodsand tempers and a will of her own, who preferred chromos to Raphael, andpined after "tag," tried her considerably. They parted, however, mostaffectionately.
"Good-by, dear Mamma Marion," whispered Johnnie. "You've been just asgood as good to me, and I love you so much,--but you know I am _used_ tothe girls and Papa."
"Yes, dear, I know. You're to come back often, Papa says, and I shallcall you my girl always." So, with kisses, they separated, and MissInches went back to her old life, feeling that it was rather comfortablenot to be any longer responsible for a "young intelligence," and thatshe should never envy mammas with big families of children again, asonce she had done.
"So we've got our Curly Locks back," said Katy, fondly strokingJohnnie's hair, the night after the travellers' return. "And you'llnever go away from us any more, will you?"
"Never, never, never!" protested Johnnie, emphasizing each word by akiss.
"Not even to be adopted, travel in Europe, or speak Litchfield Co.French?" put in naughty Clover.
"No. I've been adopted once, and that's enough. Now I'm going to bePapa's little girl always, and when the rest of you get married I shallstay at home and keep house for him."
"That's right," said Dr. Carr.