LITTLE BO PEEP.
THE sun was setting at the end of an August day. Everybody was glad tosee the last of him, for the whole world felt scorched and hot,--theground, the houses,--even the ponds looked warm as they stretched inthe steaming distance. On the edge of the horizon the sun winked with ared eye, as much as to say, "Don't flatter yourselves, I shall be backagain soon;" then he slowly sank out of sight. It was comforting to havehim go, if only for a little while. "Perhaps," thought the people, "athunder-storm or something may come along before morning, and cool himoff."
Little Mell Davis was as glad as anybody when the sun disappeared. Ithad been a hard day. Her step-mother had spent it in making soap.Soap-making is ill-smelling, uncomfortable work at all times, andespecially in August. Mrs. Davis had been cross and fractious, hadscolded a great deal, and found many little jobs for Mell to do inaddition to her usual tasks of dish-washing, table-setting, and lookingafter the children. Mell was tired of the heat; tired of the smell ofsoap, of being lectured; and when supper was over was very glad to sitat peace on the door-steps and read her favorite book, a tattered copyof the Fairy Tales. Soon she forgot the trials of the day. "Once upon atime there lived a beautiful Princess," she read, but just then came asharp call. "Mell, Mell, you tiresome girl, see what Tommy is about;"and Mrs. Davis, dashing past, snatched Tommy away from the pump-handle,which he was plying vigorously for the benefit of his small sisters, whostood in a row under the spout, all dripping wet. Tommy was wetterstill, having impartially pumped on himself first of all. Frocks,aprons, jacket, all were soaked, shoes and stockings were drenched, thelong pig tails of the girls streamed large drops, as if they had beenlittle rusty-colored water-pipes.
"Look at that!" cried Mrs. Davis, exhibiting the half-drowned brood."You might as well be deaf and blind, Mell, for any care you take of'em. Give you a silly book to read, and the children might perish beforeyour eyes for all you'd notice. Look at Isaphine, and Gabella Sarah.Little lambs,--as likely as not they've taken their deaths. It shan'thappen again, though. Give me that book--" And, snatching Mell'streasure from her hands, Mrs. Davis flung it into the fire. It flamed,shrivelled: the White Cat, Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast,--all, allwere turned in one moment into a heap of unreadable ashes! Mell gave oneclutch, one scream; then she stood quite still, with a hard, vindictivelook on her face, which so provoked her step-mother that she gave her aslap as she hurried the children upstairs. Mrs. Davis did not often slapMell. "I punish my own children," she would say, "not other people's.""Other people's children" meant poor Mell.
It was not a very happy home, this of the Davis's. Mell's father wascaptain of a whaler, and almost always at sea. It was three years nowsince he sailed on his last voyage. No word had come from him for agreat many months, and his wife was growing anxious. This did notsweeten her temper, for in case he never returned, Mell's would beanother back to clothe, another mouth to fill, when food, perhaps, wouldnot be easily come by. Mell was not anxious about her father. She wasused to having him absent. In fact, she seldom thought of him one way oranother. If Mrs. Davis had been kinder, and had given her more time toread the Fairy Tales, she would have been quite a happy little girl, forshe lived in dreams, and it did not take much to content her. Half hertime was spent in a sort of inward play which never came out in words.Sometimes in these plays she was a Princess with a gold crown, and adelightful Prince making love to her all day long. Sometimes she kept acandy-shop, and lived entirely on sugar-almonds and sassafras-stick.These plays were so real to her mind that it seemed as if they _must_some day come true. Her step-mother and the children did not oftenfigure in them, though once in a while she made believe that they wereall changed into agreeable people, and shared her good luck. There wasone thing in the house, however, which invariably took part in hervisions. This was a large wooden chest with brass handles which stoodupstairs in Mrs. Davis's room, and was always kept locked.
Mell had never seen the inside of this chest but once. Then she caughtglimpses of a red shawl, of some coral beads in a box, and of variousinteresting looking bundles tied up in paper. "How beautiful!" she hadcried out eagerly, whereupon Mrs. Davis had closed the lid with a snap,and locked it, looking quite vexed. "What is it? Are all those lovelythings yours?" asked Mell, and she had been bidden to hold her tongue,and see if the kitchen fire didn't need another stick of wood. It wastwo years since this happened. Mell had never seen the lid raised since,but every day she had played about the big chest and its contents.
Sometimes she played that the chest belonged to the beautiful Princess,and was full of her clothes and jewels. Sometimes a fairy lived there,who popped out, wand in hand, and made things over to Mell's liking.Again, Mell played that she locked her step-mother up into the chest,and refused to release her till she promised never, never again, so longas she lived, to scold about any thing. Mrs. Davis would have been veryvexed had she known about these plays. It made her angry if Mell so muchas glanced at the chest. "There you are again, peeping, peeping," shewould cry, and drive Mell before her downstairs.
So this evening, after the burning of the book, Mell's sore and angryfancies flew as usual to the chest. "It's so big," she thought, "thatall the children could get into it. I'll play that a wicked enchantercame and flew away with mother, and never let her come back. Then Ishould have to take care of the children; and I'd get somebody to nailsome boards, so as to make five dear little cubby-houses inside thechest. I'd put Tommy in one, Isaphine in another, Arabella Jane inanother, Belinda in another, and Gabella Sarah in another. Then I'dshut the lid down and fasten it, and wouldn't I have a good time! Whendinner was ready I'd fetch a plate and spoon, feed 'em all round, andshut 'em up again. It would be just the same when I washed their faces;I'd just take a wet cloth and do 'em all with a couple of scrubs. Theycouldn't get into mischief I suppose in there. Yet I don't know. Tommyis so bad that he would if he could. Let me see,--what could he do? Ifhe had a gimlet he'd bore holes in the boards, and stick pins through tomake the others cry. I must be sure to see if he has any gimlets in hispocket before I put him in. Oh, dear, I hope I shan't forget!"
Mell was so absorbed in these visions that she did not hear the gateopen, and when a hand was suddenly laid on her shoulder she gave alittle cry and a great jump. A tall man had come in, and was standingclose to her.
"Does Mrs. Captain Davis live here?" asked the tall man.
"Yes," said Mell, staring at him with her big eyes.
"Is she to home?"
"Yes," said Mell again. "She's in there," pointing to the kitchen.
The tall man stepped over Mell, and went in. Mell heard the sound ofvoices, and grew curious. She peeped in at the door. Her step-mother wasfolding a letter. She looked vexed about something.
"What time shall you start?" she said.
"Half-past five," replied the man. "I've my hands to pay at ten, and theweather's so hot it's best to get off early."
"I suppose I must go," went on Mrs. Davis, "though I'd rather be whippedthan do it. You can stop if you've a mind to: I'll be ready."
"Very well," said the man. "You haven't got a drink of cider in thehouse, have you? This dust has made me as dry as a chip."
"Mell, run down cellar and fetch some," said Mrs. Davis. "It was goodcider once, but I'm afraid it's pretty hard now." She bustled about;brought doughnuts and a pitcher of water. The man drank a glass of thesour cider and went away. Mrs. Davis sat awhile thinking. Then sheturned sharply on Mell.
"I've got to go from home to-morrow on business," she said. "Perhaps Ishall be back by tea-time, and perhaps I sha'n't. If there was anybody Icould get to leave the house with I would, but there isn't anybody. Now,listen to me, Mell Davis. Don't you open a book to-morrow, not once; butkeep your eyes on the children, and see that they don't get intomischief. If they do, I shall know who to thank for it. I'll make abatch of biscuit to-night before I go to bed; there's a pie in thecupboard, and some cold pork, and you can boil potatoes for thechildren's breakfast and for dinner. Are you l
istening?"
"Yes'm," replied Mell.
"See that the children have their faces and hands washed," went on herstep-mother. "Oh, dear, if you were a different kind of girl how mucheasier would it be! I wish your father would come home and look afterhis own affairs, instead of my having to leave things at sixes andsevens and go running round the country hunting up his sick relationsfor him."
"Is it grandmother who is sick?" asked Mell timidly. She had never seenher grandmother, but she had played about her very often.
"No," snapped Mrs. Davis. "It's your Uncle Peter. Don't ask questions;it's none of your business who's sick. Mind you strain the milk thefirst thing to-morrow, and wring out the dishcloth when you're throughwith it. Oh, dear, to think that I should have to go!"
Mell crept to bed. She was so very tired that it seemed just one momentbefore Mrs. Davis was shaking her arm, and calling her to get up atonce, for it was five o'clock. Slowly she unclosed her sleepy eyes. Sureenough, the night was gone. A fiery red bar in the East showed that thesun too was getting out of bed, and making ready for a hot day's work.Mell rubbed her eyes. She wished that it was all a dream, from which shehad waked only to fall asleep again. But it was no use playing at dreamswith Mrs. Davis standing by.
Mrs. Davis was by no means in a humor for play. People rarely are atfive in the morning. She rushed about the house like a whirlwind, givingMell directions, and scolding her in advance for all the wrong thingsshe was going to do, till the poor child was completely stunned andconfused. By and by the tall man appeared with his wagon. Mrs. Davis gotin and drove away, ordering and lecturing till the last moment. "What'sthe use of telling, for you're sure to get it all wrong," were her lastwords, and Mell thought so too.
She walked back to the house feeling stupid and unhappy. But the quietdid her good, and as gradually she realized that her step-mother wasactually gone,--gone for the whole day,--her spirits revived, and shebegan to smile and sing softly to herself. Very few little girls oftwelve would, I think, have managed better than Mell did for the firsthalf of that morning.
First she got breakfast, only bread and milk and baked potatoes, butthere is a wrong as well as a right way with even such simple things,and Mell really did all very cleverly. She swept the kitchen, strainedthe milk, wound the clock. Then, as a sound of twittering voices beganabove, she ran up to the children, washed and dressed, braided the redpigtails, and got them downstairs successfully, with only one fightbetween Tommy and Isaphine, and a roaring fit from Arabella Jane, whowas a tearful child. After breakfast, while the little ones played onthe door-steps, she tidied the room, mended the fire, washed plates andcups, and put them away in the cupboard, wrung out the dishclothaccording to orders, and hung it on its nail. When this was finished shelooked about with pride. The children were unusually peaceful;altogether, the day promised well. "Mother'll not say that I'm agood-for-nothing girl _this_ time," thought Mell, and tried to recollectwhat should be done next.
The kerosene can caught her eye.
"I'll clean the lamp," she said.
She had never cleaned the lamp before, but had seen her step-mother doit very often. First, she took the lamp-scissors from the table drawerand cut the wick, rather jaggedly, but Mell did not know that. Then shetipped the can to fill the lamp. Here the misfortunes of the day began;for the can slipped, and some of the oil was spilled on the floor. Thisterrified Mell, for that kitchen-floor was the idol of Mrs. Davis'sheart. It was scrubbed every day, and kept as white as snow. Mell knewthat her step-mother's eyes would be keen as Blue Beard's to detect aspot; and, with all the energy of despair, she rubbed and scoured withsoap and hot water. It was all in vain. The spot would not come out.
"I'll put a chair there," thought Mell. "Then perhaps she won't see itjust at first."
"I want that scissors," cried Tommy from the door.
"You can't have it," replied Mell, hurrying them into the drawer. "It'sa bad scissors, Tommy, all oily and dirty. Nice little boys don't wantto play with such dirty scissors as that."
"Yes, they do," whined Tommy, quite unconvinced.
"Now, children," continued Mell, "I'm going upstairs to make the beds.You must play just here, and not go outside the gate till I come downagain. I shall be at the window, and see you all the time. Will youpromise to be good and do as I tell you?"
"Es," lisped Gabella Sarah.
"Es," said Isaphine.
"Yes, yes," clamored the others, headed by Tommy, who was a child ofpromise if ever there was one. All the time his eyes were fixed on thetable drawer!
Mell went upstairs. First into the children's room, then into her own.She put her head out of the window once or twice. The children wereplaying quietly; Tommy had gone in for something, they said. Last ofall, Mell went to her step-mother's room. She had just begun to smooththe bed, when an astonishing sight caught her eyes. _The key was in thelock of the big chest!_
Yes, actually, the fairy treasury, home of so many fancies, was leftunlocked! How Mrs. Davis came to do so careless a thing will never beknown, but that she had done so was a fact.
Mell thought at first that her eyes deceived her. She stole across theroom and touched the key timidly with her forefinger to make sure. Thenshe lifted the lid a little way and let it fall again, looking over hershoulder as if fearing to hear a sharp voice from the stairs. Next,grown bolder, she opened the lid wide. There lay the red shawl, just asshe remembered it, the coral beads in their lidless box, the blue paperparcels, and, forgetting all consequences in a rapture of curiosity,Mell sat down on the floor, lifted out the red shawl, tied the coralbeads round her neck, and plunged boldly into the contents of the bigchest.
Such a delightful chest as it proved to be! Mell thought it a great dealbetter than any fairy tale, as one by one she lifted out and handled thethings which it contained. First and most beautiful was a parasol. Itwas covered with faded pink silk trimmed with fringe, and had a longwhite handle ending in a curved hook. Mell had never seen a parasol sofine. She opened it, shut it, opened it again; she held it over her headand went to the glass to see the effect. It was gorgeous, it was likethe parasols of Fairy-land, Mell thought. She laid it on the floor closebeside her, that she might see it all the while she explored the chest.
Below the parasol was a big paper box. Mell lifted the lid. A muff andtippet lay inside, made of yellow and brown fur like the back of atortoise-shell cat. These were beautiful, too. Then came rolls ofcalico and woollen pieces, some of which were very pretty, and wouldmake nice doll's dresses, Mell thought.
A newspaper parcel next claimed her attention. It held an old-fashionedwork-bag made of melon seeds strung on wire, and lined with green. Melladmired this exceedingly, and pinned it to her waist. Then she found afan of white feathers with pink sticks. This was most charming of all.Mell fanned herself a long time. She could not bear to put it away.Princesses, she thought, must use fans like that. On the paper whichwrapped the fan was something written in pencil. Mell spelled it out."For my little Melicent" was what the writing said.
Was the fan really hers? Perhaps the parasol was hers too, the coralbeads, the muff and tippet! All sorts of delightful possibilitieswhirled through her brain, as she tossed and tumbled the parcels in thechest out on to the floor. More bundles of pieces, someknitting-needles, an old-fashioned pair of bellows (Mell did not knowwhat these were), a book or two, a package of snuff, which flew up intoher face and made her sneeze. Then an overcoat and some men's clothesfolded smoothly. Mell did not care for the overcoat, but there were twodresses pinned in towels which delighted her. One was purple muslin, theother faded blue silk; and again she found her own name pinned on thetowel,--"For my little Mell." A faint pleasant odor came from the foldsof the blue silk dress. Mell searched the pocket, and found there aTonquin bean, screwed up in a bit of paper. It was the Tonquin beanwhich had made the dress smell so pleasantly. Mell pressed the foldsclose to her nose. She was fond of perfumes, and this seemed to her themost delicious thing she ever smelt.
Sud
denly the clock downstairs struck something very long, and Mell,waking up as it were, recollected that it was a good while since she hadheard any sounds from the children in the yard. She jumped up and ranto the window. No children were there.
"Children, children, where are you?" she called; but nobody answered.
"Tiresome little things," thought Mell. "They've gone round to the pumpagain. I must hurry, or they will be all sopping wet." She seized theparasol, which she could not bear to part with, and, leaving the otherthings on the floor, ran downstairs. The red shawl, which had been lyingin her lap, trailed after her as far as the kitchen, and then fell, butMell did not notice it.
"What!" she cried, looking at the clock, "noon already! Why, where hasthe morning gone to?"
Where had the children gone to? was another question. Back yard, sideyard, front yard, cellar, shed, Mell searched. There were no smallfigures ranged about the pump, no voices replied to her calls. Mell ranto the gate. She strained her eyes down the road, this way, that way;not a sign of the little flock was visible in any direction.
Now Mell _was_ frightened. "What _will_ mother say?" she thought, andbegan to run distractedly along the road, crying and sobbing as shewent, and telling herself that it wasn't her fault, that she only wentupstairs to make the beds,--but here her conscience gave a great prick.It was but ten o'clock when she went upstairs to make the beds!
"Oh, dear!" she sobbed. "If only Tommy isn't drowned!" Drowning cameinto her head first, because her step-mother was always in an agonyabout the pond. The pond was a mile off at least, but Mrs. Davis neverlet the children even look that way if she could help it.
Toward the pond poor Mell bent her way; for she thought as Tommy hadbeen strictly forbidden to go there, it was probably the very road hehad taken. The sun beat on her head and she put up the parasol, whichthrough all her trouble she had grasped firmly in her hand. Even underthese dreadful circumstances, with the children lost, and the certaintyof her step-mother's wrath before her, there was joy in carrying aparasol like that.
By and by she met a farmer with a yoke of oxen.
"Oh, please," said Mell, "have you seen five children going thisway,--four girls and one little boy?"
The farmer hummed and hawed. "I did see some children," he said at last."It was a good piece back, nearly an hour ago, I reckon. They was makingfor the pond?"
"Oh, dear!" sighed Mell. She thanked the farmer, and ran on faster thanever.
"Have you passed any children on this road?" she demanded of a boy witha wheelbarrow, who was the next person she met.
"Boys or girls?"
"One boy and four girls."
"Do they belong to you?"
"Yes, they're my brothers and sisters," said Mell. "Where did you seethem?"
"Haven't seen 'em," replied the boy. He grinned as he spoke, seized hisbarrow, and wheeled rapidly away.
Mell's tears broke forth afresh. What a horrid boy!
The pond was very near now. It was a large pond. There were hills on oneside of it; on the other the shore was low, and covered with thickbushes. In and out among these bushes went Mell, hunting for her lostflock. It was green and shady. Flowers grew here and there; brightberries hung on the boughs above her head; birds sang; a saucy squirrelran to the end of a branch, and chippered to her as she passed. But Mellsaw none of these things. She was too anxious and unhappy to enjoy whaton any other day would have been a great pleasure; and she passed theflowers, the berries, and the chattering squirrel unheeded by.
No signs of the children appeared, till at last, in a marshy place, asmall shoe was seen sticking in the mud. Belinda's shoe! Mell knew itin a minute.
She picked up the shoe, wiped the mud from it with a tuft of driedgrass, and, carrying it in her hand, went forward. She was on the tracknow, and here and there prints of small feet in the earth guided her.She called "Tommy! Isaphine! Belinda!" but no answer came. They wereeither hidden cleverly, or else they had wandered a longer distance thanseemed possible in so short a time.
Suddenly Mell gave a shriek and a jump. There on the path before her laya snake, or what looked like one. It did not move. Mell grew bold andwent nearer. Alas! alas! it was not a snake. It was a pigtail of braidedhair,--Isaphine's hair: the red color was unmistakable. She seized it. Asmell of kerosene met her nose. Oh that Tommy!
With the pigtail coiled inside of the lost shoe, Mell ran on. She waspassing a thicket of sassafras bushes, when a sound of crying met herears. Instantly she stopped, and, parting the bushes with her hands,peered in. There they were, sitting in a little circle closetogether,--Arabella and Gabella Sarah fast asleep, with their heads inBelinda's lap; Isaphine crying; Tommy sitting a little apart, an evilsmile on his face, in his hand a pair of scissors!
"You naughty, naughty, naughty boy," screamed Mell, flinging herselfupon him.
With a howl of terror, Tommy started up and prepared to flee. Mellcaught and held him tight. Something flew from his lap and fell to theground. Alas! alas! three more pigtails. Mell looked at the children.Each little head was cropped close. What _would_ mother say?
"He cut off my hair," sobbed Isaphine.
"So did he cut mine," whined Belinda. "He took those nassy scissors youtold him not to take, and he cut off all our hairs. Boo-hoo! boo-hoo!Tommy's a notty boy, he is."
"I'm going to tell Ma when she comes home, see if I don't," addedIsaphine.
"I ain't a bad boy," cried Tommy. "Stop a-shaking of me, Mell Davis. Wewas playing they was sheep. I was a-shearing of em."
"O Tommy, Tommy!" cried poor Mell, hot, angry, and dismayed, "how couldyou do such a thing?"
"They was sheep," retorted Tommy sulkily.
"Boo-hoo! boo-hoo!" blubbered Belinda. "I don't like my hair to be cutoff. It makes my head feel all cold."
"He didn't play nice a bit," sobbed Isaphine. "He's always notty to us."
"I'll cut off your head," declared Tommy, threatening with the scissors.
Mell seized the scissors, and captured them, Tommy kicking andstruggling meantime. Then she waked up the babies, tied on Belinda'sshoe, collected the unhappy pigtails, and said they must all go home.Home! The very idea made her sick with fright.
I don't suppose such a deplorable little procession was ever seenbefore. Isaphine and Belinda went first; then the little ones, verycross after their nap; and, lastly, Mell, holding Tommy's arm, anddriving the poor little shorn sheep before her with the handle of theparasol, which she used as a shepherdess uses her crook. They were alltired and hungry. The babies cried. The sun was very hot. The roadseemed miles long. Every now and then Mell had to let them sit down torest. It was nearly four o'clock when they reached home; and, longbefore that, Mell was so weary and discouraged that it seemed as if sheshould like to lie down and die.
They got home at last. Mell's hand was on the garden gate, when suddenlya sight so terrible met her eyes that she stood rooted to the spot,unable to move an inch further. There in the doorway was Mrs. Davis. Herface was white with anger as she looked at the children. Mell felt thecoral beads burn about her throat. She dropped the parasol as if her armwas broken, the guilty tails hung from her hand, and she wished withall her heart that the earth could open and swallow her up.
It was a full moment before anybody spoke. Then "What does this mean?"asked Mrs. Davis, in an awful voice.
Mell could not answer. But the children broke out in full chorus oflament.
"Tommy was so bad to us." "He lost us in the woods." "He stole thescissors, and they were dirty scissors." "Mell went away and left us allalone."
"Yes," cried Mrs. Davis, her wrath rising with each word, "I know verywell what you were up to, miss. All my things upset. As soon as I foundout that I had forgotten my key, I knew very well--" her voice died awayinto the silence of horror. She had just caught sight of Belinda'scropped head.
"Tommy did it. He cut off all our hairs," blubbered Belinda.
Mell shut her eyes tight. She was too frightened to move. She feltherself clutched, dragge
d in-doors, upstairs, and her ears boxed, allin a moment. Mrs. Davis pushed her violently forward, a door banged, akey turned.
"There you stay for a week, and on bread and water," cried a voicethrough the keyhole; and Mell, opening her eyes, found herself in thedark and alone. She knew very well where she was,--in the closet underthe attic stairs; a place she dreaded, because she had once seen a mousethere, and Mell was particularly afraid of mice.
"Oh, don't shut me up here! Please don't; please let me out, please,"she shrieked. But Mrs. Davis had gone downstairs, and nobody replied.
"They'll come and eat me up as soon as it grows dark," thought Mell; andthis idea so terrified her that she began to beat on the door with herhands, and scream at the top of her voice. No one came. And after awhile she grew so weary that she could scream no longer; so she curledherself up on the floor of the closet and went to sleep.
When she woke the closet was darker than ever. Mell felt weak and illfor want of food. Her head ached; her bones ached from lying on the hardfloor; she was feverish and very miserable.
"It's dark; she's going to leave me here all night," sobbed Mell. "Oh!won't somebody come and let me out?" Now _would_ have been a chance toplay that she was a princess shut up in a dark dungeon! But Mell didn'tfeel like playing. She was a real little girl shut up in a closet, andit wasn't nice at all. There was no "make believe" left in her justthen.
Suddenly a fine scratching sound began in the wall close to her head."The mouse, the mouse," thought Mell, and she gave a shriek so loud thatit would have scared away a whole army of mice. The shriek sounded allover the house. It woke the children in their beds, and rang in the earsof Mrs. Davis, who was sitting down to supper in the kitchen withsomebody just arrived,--a big, brown, rough-bearded somebody, who smeltof salt-water; Mell's father, in short, returned from sea.
"What's that?" asked Captain Davis, putting down his cup.
Mrs. Davis was frightened. In the excitement of her husband's suddenreturn she had quite forgotten poor Mell in her closet.
"Some of the children," she answered, trying to speak carelessly. "I'llrun up."
Another terrible shriek. Captain Davis seized a candle, and hurriedupstairs after his wife.
He was just in time to see her unlock the closet door, and poor Melltumble out, tear-stained, white, frightened almost out of her wits. Sheclutched her step-mother's dress with both hands.
"Oh, don't make me go in there again!" she pleaded. "I will be good.I'll never meddle with the things in the chest any more. There are micein there, hundreds of 'em; they'll run all over me; they'll eat me up.Oh, _don't_ make me go in there again!"
"Why, it's my little Mell!" cried the amazed Captain. "Shiver mytimbers! what does this mean?" He lifted Mell into his arms and lookedsternly at his wife.
"She's been a _very_ naughty girl," said Mrs. Davis, trying to speakboldly. "So naughty that I had to shut her up. Stop crying so, Mell. Iforgive you now. I hope you'll never be so bad again."
"Oh, may I come out?" sobbed Mell, clinging to her father's neck. "Yousaid I must stay a week, but I couldn't do that, the mice would kill me.Mice are so awful!" She shuddered with horror as she spoke.
"This ain't a pleasant welcome for a man just in from sea," remarkedCaptain Davis.
Mrs. Davis explained and tried to smooth the matter over, but theCaptain continued very sober all that evening. Mell thought it wasbecause he was angry with her, but her step-mother knew very well thatshe also was in disgrace. The truth was that the Captain was thinkingwhat to do. He was not a man of many words, but he felt that affairs athome must go very wrong when he was away, and that such a state ofthings was bad for his wife, and very bad for Mell.
So in a day or two he went off to Cape Cod, "to see his old mother," ashe said, in reality to consult her as to what should be done. When hecame back, he asked Mell how she would like to go and live withGrandmother and be her little girl.
"Will she shut me up in closets?" asked Mell apprehensively.
"No, she'll be very kind to you if you are a good girl. Grandma's an oldlady now. She wants a handy child about the house to help, and sort ofpet and make much of."
"I--guess--I'll--like--it," said Mell slowly. "It's a good way fromhere, isn't it?"
"Yes,--a good way."
Mell nodded her head in a satisfied manner. "_She'll_ not often comethere," she thought. "She" meant Mrs. Davis.
Mrs. Davis was unusually pleasant for the few remaining days which Mellspent at home. I do not think she had ever meant to treat Mell unkindly,but she had a hot temper, and the care of five unruly children is a gooddeal for one woman to undertake, without counting in a littlestep-daughter with a head stuffed with fairy stories. She washed andironed, mended and packed for Mell as kindly as possible, and did notsay one cross word, not even when her husband brought the coral necklacefrom the big chest and gave it to Mell for her very own. "The child hada right to her mother's necklace," he said. All was peaceful and serene,and when Mell said good-by she surprised herself by feeling quite sorryto go, and kissed Gabella Sarah's small face with tears in her eyes.
Grandmother was just such a dear old woman as one reads about in books.Her cheeks were all criss-crossed with little wrinkles, which made herlook as if she were always smiling. Her forehead was smooth, her eyeskind and blue. She was small, thin, and wiry. Her laugh was as fresh asa young woman's. Mell loved her at once, and was sure that she should behappy to live with her and be her little girl.
"Why, Bethuel, you've brought me a real good helper," said Grandmother,as Mell ran to and fro, setting the tea-table, cutting bread, andlearning where things were kept. "I shall sit like a lady and do nothingbut rock in my cheer now that I've got Mell." Mell heard the kind words,and sprang about more busily than ever. It was a new thing to bepraised.
Before Captain Davis went next day he walked over to Barnstable, andcame back with a parcel in his hand. The parcel was for Mell. Itcontained the Fairy Tales,--all new and complete, bound in beautiful redcovers.
"You shall read them aloud to me in the evenings," said Grandmother.
That night, if anybody had peeped through the window of Grandmother'slittle house he would have seen a pleasant sight. The kitchen was allin order; the lamp burned clear; Grandmother sat in her rocking-chairwith a smile on her kind old face, while Mell, at her feet on a littlestool, opened the Fairy Tales, and prepared to read. "Once upon a timethere lived a beautiful Princess," she began;--then a sudden sense ofthe delightfulness of all this overcame her. She dropped the book intoher lap, clasped her hands tight, and said, half to herself, half toGrandmother, "_Isn't_ it nice?"