ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE.
THE old clock on the stairs was drowsy. Its ticks, now lower, nowlouder, sounded like the breathings of one asleep. Now and then came adistincter tick, which might pass for a little machine-made snore. Asstriking-time drew near, it roused itself with a quiver and shake. "One,two, three, four, five," it rang in noisy tones, as who should say,"Behold, I am wide awake, and have never closed an eye all night." Thesounds sped far. Marianne the cook heard them, rubbed her eyes, and putone foot out of bed. The nurse, Louisa, turned over and began to dreamthat she was at a wedding. Perhaps the sun heard too, for he stood up ontip-toe on the edge of the horizon, looked about him, then launched along yellow ray directly at the crack in the nursery shutter. The raywas sharp: it smote full on Archie's eyelids, as he lay asleep,surrounded by "Robinson Crusoe," two red apples, a piece of gingerbread,and a spade, all of which he had taken to bed with him. When he felt theprick of the sun-ray he opened his eyes wide. "Why, morning's come!" hesaid, and without more ado raised himself and sat up.
"What'll I do to-day?" he thought. "I know. I'll go into the wood andbuild a house, a nice little house, just like Wobinson Cwusoe's, allmade of sticks, Nobody'll know where my house is; I'll not tell, noteven Mamma, where it is. Then when I don't want to study or any thing, Ican run away and hide, and they won't know where to find me. That'll benice! I guess I'll go and begin it now, 'cause the days are gettingshort. Papa said so once. I wonder what makes 'em get short? Pr'apssometime they'll be so short that there won't be any days at all, onlynights. That wouldn't be pleasant, I think. Mamma'd have to buy lots ofcandles then, or else we couldn't see."
With this he jumped out of bed.
"I must be very quiet," he thought, "else Loo--isa'll hear, and then shewon't let me go till I've had my bekfast. Loo--isa's real crosssometimes; only sometimes she's kind when she makes my kite fly."
His clothes were folded on a chair by the bedside. Archie had neverdressed himself before, but he managed pretty well, except that heturned the small ruffled shirt wrong-side out. The other things went onsuccessfully. There were certain buttons which he could not reach, butthat did not matter. The small stocking toes were folded neatly in, allready to slip on to the feet. But the shoes _were_ a difficulty; theyfastened with morocco bands and buckles, and Archie couldn't manage themat all.
"Oh, dear!" he said to himself, "I wish Loo--isa would come and bucklemy shoes for me. No, I don't, though, 'cause p'raps she'd say, 'Go backto bed, naughty boy; it isn't time to get up.' I wouldn't like that.Sometimes Loo--isa does say things to me."
So he put on the shoes without buckling them, and, not stopping to brushhis hair or wash his face, he clapped on his broad-brimmed straw hat,took "Robinson Crusoe" and the spade, dropped the red apples and thegingerbread into his pocket, and stole softly downstairs. The littlefeet made no noise as they passed over the thick carpets. Marianne, whowas lighting the kitchen fire and clattering the tongs, heard nothing.He reached the front door, and, stretching up, pulled hard at the bolt.It was stiff, and would not move.
"Oh, dear!" sighed Archie, "I wish somebody _would_ come and open thisdoor for me."
He looked at the bolt a minute. Then an idea struck him, and, laying"Robinson Crusoe" and the little spade down on the floor, he went intothe dining-room pantry, where was a drawer with tools in it.
"I'll get Papa's hammer," he thought to himself, "and I'll pound thatold bolt to pieces."
While he was gone, Marianne, who had lighted her fire, came from thekitchen with a broom in her hand. She opened the door, shook the mat,and began to sweep the steps. A sharp tinkle, tinkle met her ear fromthe back gate. It was the milkman ringing for some one to come and takein the milk. Marianne set her broom against the side of the door, andhurried back to the kitchen. Her foot struck against "Robinson Crusoe"as she went. She picked it up and laid it on the table.
"Why, the door's open!" exclaimed Archie, who at that moment came fromthe dining-room, hammer in hand.
He did not trouble himself to speculate as to how the door happened tobe open, but, picking up the spade, wandered forth into the garden. Thegate gave no trouble. He walked fast, and long before Marianne came backto her sweeping he had gained the woods, which were near, and enclosedthe house on two sides in a shady half-circle. They were pretty woods,full of flowers and squirrels and winding, puzzling paths. Archie hadnever been allowed to go into them alone before.
The morning was delicious, so full of snap and sunshine that it set himto dancing and skipping as he went along. All the wood-flowers were aswide awake as he. They nodded at Archie, as if saying "Good-morning,"and sent out fresh smells into the air. Busy birds flapped and flew,doing their marketing, and fetching breakfast to hungry nestlings,chirping and whistling to each other, as they did so, that the sun wasup and it was a fine day. A pair of striped squirrels frisked andlaughed and called out something saucy as Archie trotted by. None ofthese wild things feared the child: he was too small and too quick inhis movements to be fearful. They accepted him as one of themselves,--afeatherless bird, or a squirrel of larger growth; while he, on his part,smiled vaguely at them and hurried past, intent on his projects for ahouse and careless of every thing else.
The sun rose higher and higher. But the thick branching trees kept offthe heat, and the wood remained shady and cool. The paths twisted in andout, and looped into each other like a tangled riband. No grown personcould have kept a straight course in their mazes. Archie did not eventry, but turned to right or to left just as it happened, taking alwaysthe path which looked prettiest, or which led into deepest shade. If hesaw anywhere a particularly red checkerberry, he went that way;otherwise it was all one to him where he went. So it came to pass that,by the end of an hour, he was as delightfully and completely lost asever little boy has succeeded in being since woods grew or the world wasmade.
"I dess this is a nice place for my house," he said suddenly, as thepath he had been following led into a small open space, across which laya fallen tree, with gray moss, which looked like hair, hanging to itstrunk. It _was_ a nice place; also, Archie's feet were tired, and he wasgrowing hungry, which aided in the decision. The ground about the fallentree was carpeted with thick mosses. Some were bright green, with stemsand little branches like tiny, tiny pine-trees. Others had horn-shapedcups of yellow and fiery red. Others still were bright beautiful brown,while here and there stood round cushion-shaped masses which looked assoft as down.
Into the very middle of one of these pretty green cushions plumpedArchie. He rested his back against a tree trunk, and gave a sigh ofcomfort. It was like an easy chair, except that it had no arms; but whatdoes a little boy want of arms to chairs? He put his hand into hispocket and pulled out, first the red apples, and then the gingerbread.The gingerbread was rather mashed; but it tasted most delicious, onlythere was too little of it.
"I wish I'd brought a hundred more pieces," soliloquized Archie, as henibbled the last crumb. "One isn't half enough bekfast."
The red apples, however, proved a consolation; and, quite rested andrefreshed now, he jumped from the moss cushion and prepared to begin hishouse-building.
"First, I must pick up some sticks," he thought,--"a great many, manysticks, heaps of 'em. Then I'll hammer and make a house. Only--Ihaven't got any nails," he added with an after-thought.
There were plenty of sticks to be had in that part of the wood; twigsand branches from the dead tree, fragments of bark, odds and ends of drybrush. Close by stood a white birch. The thin, paper-like covering hungloose on its stem, like grey-white curls. Archie could pull off largepieces, and he enjoyed this so much that he pulled till the birch trunk,as far up as he could reach, was perfectly bare. Some of the boughs werecrooked. Archie tried to lay them straight with the others, but theywouldn't fit in nicely, and stuck their stiff angles out in alldirections.
"Those are naughty sticks," said Archie, giving the crookedest a shove."They shan't go into my house at all."
The want of nails became serio
us as the heap of wood grew large andArchie was ready to build. What was the use of a hammer without nails?He tried various ways. At last he laid the longest boughs in a rowagainst the side of the fallen tree. This left a little place beneaththeir slope into which it was possible to creep. Archie smiled withsatisfaction, and proceeded to thatch the sloping roof with moss andbits of bark. Then he grubbed up the green cushion and transferred itbodily to his house.
"This'll be my chair," he said to himself. "I dess I don't want any morefurnture except just a chair. Loo--isa, she said, 'so many things todust is a bodder.'"
At that moment came a rustling sound in the underbrush. "P'raps it'ssavages," thought Archie, and, half pleased, half frightened at theidea, he gave a loud whoop. Out flew a fat motherly hen, cackling andscreaming. What she was doing there in the woods I cannot imagine.Perhaps she had lost her way. Perhaps she had private business therewhich only hens can understand. Or it may be that she, too, had built alittle house and hidden it away so that no one should know where itwas.
Archie was enchanted. "A hen, a hen," he cried. "I'll catch her and keepher for my own. Then I'll have eggs, and I'll give 'em to Mamma, andI'll make custards. Custards _is_ made of eggs. Loo--isa said so."
"Chicky, chicky, chicky," he warbled in a winning voice, waving hisfingers as if he were sprinkling corn on the ground for the hen to eat.But the hen was not to be enticed in that manner, and, screaming louderthan ever, ran into the bushes again. Then Archie began to run too.Twice he almost seized her brown wings, but she slipped through hishands. Had the hen been silent she would easily have escaped him, butshe cackled as she flew, and that guided him along. His shoe came off,next the hammer flew out of his hand, but he did not stop for either.Running, plunging, diving, on he went, the frightened hen just before,till at last a root tripped him up and he fell forward on his face. Thehen vanished into the thicket. Her voice died away in distance. By thetime Archie had picked himself up there was not even the rustling of aleaf to show which way she had gone.
He rose from the ground disconsolate. His nose bled from the fall, andthere was a bump on his forehead, which ached painfully. A strong desireto cry came over him. But, like a brave fellow, he would not give way toit, and sat down under a tree to rest and decide what was to be donenext.
"I'll go back again to my house," was his decision. But where _was_ thehouse? He ran this way, that way; the paths all looked alike. The househad vanished like the hen. Archie had not the least idea which way heought to turn to find it.
One big tear did force its way to his eyes when this fact becameevident. House and hen, it was hard to lose both at once. The hammer,too, was gone. Only the spade remained, and, armed with this, Archie,like a true hero, started to find a good place and build another house.Surely nowhere, save in the histories of the great Boston and Chicagofires, is record to be found of parallel pluck and determination!
House-building was not half so easy in this part of the wood where hethen was, for the bushes were thick and stood closely together. Theirbranches hung so low, that, small as Archie was, he had to bend forwardand walk almost double to avoid having his eyes scratched by them. Atlast, in the middle of a circle of junipers, he found a tolerably freespace which he thought would do. The ground, however, was set thick withsharp uncomfortable stones, and the first thing needed was to get rid ofthem.
So for an hour, with fingers and spade, Archie dug and delved among thestones. It was hard work enough, but at last he cleared a place somewhatlarger than his small body, which he carpeted with soft mosses broughtfrom another part of the wood. This done, he lay down flat on his back,and looked dreamily up at the pretty green roof made by the juniperboughs overhead. "I dess I'll take a nappy now," he murmured, and infive minutes was sleeping as soundly as a dormouse. Two stripedsquirrels, which may or may not have been the same which he had seen inthe early morning, came out on a bough not a yard from his head,chattered, winked, put their paws to their noses and made disrespectfulremarks to each other about the motionless figure. Birds flew and sang,bees hummed, the wind went to and fro in the branches like the notes ofa low song. But Archie heard none of these things. The hen herself mighthave come back, cackled her best, and flapped her wings in his very facewithout arousing him, so deep was his slumber.
Meantime at home, two miles away, there was great commotion over thedisappearance of Master Archie. Marianne had lingered quite a long timeat the back gate. The milkman was a widower, looking out for a wife,and Marianne, as she said, could skim cream with anybody; so it wasonly natural that they should have a great deal to say to each other,and that measuring the milk at that particular gate should be a slowbusiness. This morning their talk was so interesting that twenty minutesat least went by before Marianne, with very rosy cheeks and very brighteyes, came back, pail in hand, along the garden walk. As she took up thebroom to finish her sweeping, she heard a great commotion overhead,steps running about, voices exclaiming; but her mind was full of themilkman, and she paid no attention, till Louisa came flying downstairs,half-dressed, and crying,--
"Sake's alive, Marianne, where's Master Archie?"
"How should I know? Not down here, anyway," was Marianne's reply.
"But he _must_ be down here," persisted Louisa. "He's gone out of thenursery, and so are his clothes. Whatever's taken him I can't imagine.I've searched the closets, and looked under the beds, and up in theattic, and I took Mr. Gray his hot water, and he isn't there. Hisspade's gone too, and his ap-- Oh, mercy! there's his story-book now,"and she pounced on "Robinson Crusoe," where it lay on the table. "He'sbeen down here certain sure, for that book was on his bed when he wentto sleep last night. Don't stand there, Marianne, but come and help mefind him."
Into the parlor, the dining-room, the pantry, ran the maids, calling"Archie! Archie!" at the tops of their voices. But Archie, who as weknow was a good mile away by that time, did not hear them. They searchedthe kitchen, the cellar, the wood-shed, the store-closet. Marianne evenlifted the lid of the great copper boiler and peeped in to make surethat he was not there! Louisa ran wildly about the garden, lookingbehind currant bushes and raspberry vines, and parting the tall feathersof the asparagus lest Archie should have chosen to hide among them. Shetapped the great green watermelons with her fingers as shepassed,--perhaps she fancied that Archie might be stowed away inside ofone. All was in vain. Archie was not behind the currant bushes, not evenin the melon patch. Louisa began to sob and cry, Marianne, neverbackward, joined her with a true Irish howl; and it was in thiscondition that Archie's Papa found things when he came downstairs tobreakfast.
Then ensued a fresh confusion.
"Where did you say the book was lying, Louisa?" said Mr. Gray, trying tomake out the meaning of her sobbing explanation.
"Just here, sir, on the hall table. Oh, the darling child, whatever hascome to him?"
"Oh, wurra! wurra!" chimed in Marianne. "He been and got took away bywicked people, perhaps. Well niver get him back, niver!"
"The hall table? Then he must have passed out this way. Surely you musthave seen him or heard him open the door, Marianne?"
"Is it I see him, sir? I'd niver forget it if I had. Oh, the pretty faceof him! Wurra! wurra!"
"But, now I think of it, the child couldn't have opened the door forhimself," went on Papa, growing impatient. "Did you leave it standingopen at all, Marianne?"
"Only for a wee moment while I fetched in the milk," faltered Marianne,growing rosy-red as she reflected on the length of the "moment" whichshe had passed at the gate with the milkman.
"That must have been the time, then," said Mr. Gray. "Probably thelittle fellow has set off by himself for a walk. I'll go after and lookfor him. Don't frighten Mrs. Gray when she comes down, Louisa, but justsay that Archie and I are both gone out. Try to look as you usually do."
This, however, was beyond Louisa's powers. Her eyes were as red as aferret's, and her cheeks the color of purple cherries from crying andexcitement of mind. Mrs. Gray saw at once that something was w
rong. Shebegan to question, Louisa to cry, and the secret came out in a burst ofsobs and tears. "Master Archie--bless his little heart!--has got out ofbed and ran away into the woods. The master was gone after him, but he'dniver find him at all at all"--(this was Marianne's addition). "Thetramps had him fast by this time, no doubt. They'd niver let him go."
"How could he get away all by himself?" asked poor frightened Mrs. Gray.
"Ah, who knows? Like as not the thaves came into the room and lifted himout of his very bed. They're iverywhere, thim tramps! There's noproviding against thim. Oh, howly St. Patrick! who'd have thought it?"
This happy idea of tramps having lodged itself in Marianne's mind, thestory grew rapidly. The butcher was informed of it when he came, thefishmonger, and the grocer's boy. By noon all the village had heard thetale, and farmers' wives for ten miles round were shuddering over thesehorrible facts, that three men in black masks, with knives as long asyour arm, had broken into Mr. Gray's house at midnight, gagged thefamily, stowed the silver and money in pillow-cases, token the littleboy from his bed,--that pretty little boy with curly hair, you know, mydear,--and, paying no attention to his screams and cries, had carriedhim off nobody knew where. Poor Mrs. Gray was half dead with grief, ofcourse, and Mr. Gray had gone in pursuit; but law! my dear, he'll nevercatch 'em, and if he did, what could he do against three men?
"He'd a ought to have taken the constable with him," said old Mrs.Fidgit, "then perhaps he'd have got him back. I guess the thieves won'tkeep the boy long though, he's too troublesome! His ma sent him overonce on an errand, and I'd as lieve have a wild-cat in the house anyday. Mark my word, they'll let him drop pretty soon!"
As the day went on, Louisa began to disbelieve this theory aboutrobbers. It was Marianne's theory for one thing; for another, sherecollected that Archie must have taken his apples and gingerbread withhim, and his spade. "Is it likely that thieves would stop to pack upthings like that?" she asked Marianne, who was highly indignant at thequestion. The afternoon came, still Mr. Gray had not returned, and therewere no tidings of Archie. Mrs. Gray, half ill with anxiety andheadache, went to her room to lie down. Marianne was describing theexact appearance of the imaginary robbers to a crony, who stood outsidethe kitchen window. "Six foot high, ivery bit, and a face as black aschimney sut," Louisa heard her say. "Pshaw," she called out; but sittingstill became unbearable; and the motion of her needle in and out of thework made her feel half crazy. She flung down the work,--it was a jacketfor Archie,--and, tying on her bonnet, set off by herself in thedirection of the woods. Where she was going she did notknow,--somewhere, anywhere, to search for her lost boy!
The blind wood paths puzzled Louisa more than they had puzzled Archie inthe morning; for she wanted to keep her way, which he did not. She lostit, however, continually. Her eyes were scratched by boughs andbrambles, the tree roots tripped her up, her dress caught in a briar andwas torn. "Archie! Archie!" she cried, as she went along. Her voice cameback from the forest in strange echoing tones which made her start. Atlast, after winding and turning for a long time, she found herself againupon the main path, not far from the place where she had entered thewood. She was hot, tired, and breathless; her voice was hoarse withcrying and calling. "I'll wait here awhile," she thought. "Perhaps theblessed little dear'll come this way; but, whether he does or not, I'mtoo tired to move another step till I've had some rest." She found asmooth place under an oak, sat down, and leaned her back against thestem.
"Cheep, cheep, chickeree," sang one bird to another. "What a stupid girlthat is! I could tell her which way to go. Why, there's the mark of hisbig foot on the moss close by. Why doesn't she see it and follow? Cheep,cheep."
"Cluck, cluck, whirr, whillahu," sang the other bird. "Human beings are_too_ stupid."
Poor stupid Louisa, her eyes blurred with tears, did not heed the birds'songs or understand those plain directions for finding Archie which theywere so ready to give. The tree trunk felt comfortable against her back.The air came cool and spicy from the wood depths to steal the smart fromher hot face. The rustle of the leaves was pleasant in her ear. So thefaithful maid waited.
Mr. Gray meantime had tracked Archie for a little way by the traces ofhis small feet on the dewy grass. Then the marks became too confused tohelp him longer; he lost the track, and, after a long and weary walk,found himself on the far side of the wood, near a little village. Therehe hired a wagon, and drove home; resolving to rouse the neighbors, andgive the wood a thorough search, even should it keep them out all night.
While he was bargaining for his wagon in the distant village, Archie, inthe midst of his nest of moss, was waking up. He had slept three hours,and so soundly that, at first arousing, he could not in the leastremember where he was. He rubbed his eyes, and stared about himwonderingly. "Why, I'm out in the woods!" he said in a surprised voice.Gradually he recollected how he had built the house, chased a hen, andlost his hammer. This last accident troubled him a little. "Papa said Imustn't touch that big hammer ever," he thought to himself, "'cause I'dbe sure to spoil it. But I'll tell him it isn't spoiled, and he can pickit up and put it back into the drawer; then he won't mind."
One of the striped squirrels came down from a bough overhead, andstopped just in front of the place where Archie sat. Archie looked athim; he looked at Archie. The squirrel put its paws together and rubbedits nose. It chippered a minute, twinkled its bead-like eyes, then, witha final flick of its tail, it was off, and up the tree again like aflash. Archie looked after it delighted.
"What a pretty bunny!" he said out loud.
"Now I'll go home," was his next remark, getting suddenly up from theground.
The cause of this resolution was a little gnawing sensation which hadbegun within him and was getting stronger every moment. In other words,he was hungry. Gingerbread and apples do not satisfy little boys asroast beef does. Archie's stomach was quite empty, and began to cry withan unmistakable voice, "I want my dinner, I want my dinner. Give me mydinner quick, or I shall do something desperate." Everybody in the worldhas to listen when voices like these begin to sound inside of them. Allat once home seemed the most attractive spot in the world to Archie.Visions of Mamma and bread and milk and a great plate full of somethinghot arose before his eyes, and an immense longing for these delightstook possession of him. So he shouldered his spade and set forth, nothaving the least notion--poor little soul!--as to which side home lay,but believing, with the confidence of childhood, that now he wanted togo that way, the way was sure to be easily found. Refreshed by his longsleep, he marched sturdily on, taking any path which struck his eyefirst.
There is a pretty picture--I wonder if any of you have ever seen it?--inwhich a little child is seen walking across a narrow plank which bridgesa deep chasm, while behind flies a tall, beautiful angel, with a hand oneither side the child, guiding it along. The child does not see theangel, and walks fearlessly; but the heavenly hands are there, and thelittle one is safe. It may be that just such a good angel flew behindour little Archie that afternoon to guide him through the mazes of thewood. Certain it is that, without knowing it, he turned, or somethingturned him, in the direction of home. It was far for such small feet togo, and he made the distance farther by straying, now to left and now toright; but, after each of these strayings, the unseen hands brought himback again to the right path and led him on. He did not stop to playnow, for the hungry voices grew louder each minute, and he was in ahurry to get home. Speculations as to whether dinner would be all eatenup crossed his mind. "But I dess not," he said confidently, "'cause itisn't very long since morning." It was really four in the afternoon, butArchie's long nap had cheated the time, and he had no idea that it wasso late.
The path grew wider, and was hedged with barberries and wild roses. Thelovely pink of the roses pleased Archie's eye. He stopped and tugged ata great branch till it broke, then he laid it across his shoulder tocarry to Mamma. Suddenly, as he tramped along, a gasp and exclamationwas heard, and a tall figure rose up from under a tree and caught h
im inits arms. It was Louisa, who had fallen half asleep at her post, and hadbeen roused by the sound of the well-known little feet as they went by.
"Master Archie, dear," she cried, sobbing, "how could you run away andscare us so?"
"Why, it's Loo--isa," said Archie wonderingly. "Did you come out here tobuild a house too, Loo--isa?"
"Where _have_ you been?" clamored Louisa, holding him tight in her arms.
"Oh, out there," explained Archie, waving his hand toward the woodsgenerally.
"How could you slip away and frighten Nursey so, and poor Mamma andPapa? Papa's been all the day hunting you. And where are you going now?"
"Home! Stop a squeezing of me, Loo--isa. I don't like to be squeezed.Has the dinner-bell runged yet? I want my dinner."
"Dinner! Why it's most evening, Master Archie. And nobody could eat,because we was so frightened at your being lost."
"I wasn't lost!" cried Archie indignantly. "I was building a house. Comealong, Loo--isa, I'll show you the way."
So Archie took Louisa's hand and led her along. Neither of them knew thepath, but they were in the right direction, and by and by the trees grewthinner, and they could see where they were, on the edge of Mr.Plimpton's garden, not far from home.
Mr. and Mrs. Gray were consulting together on the piazza, when the clickof the gate made them look up, and behold! the joyful Louisa, displayingArchie, who walked by her side.
"Here he is, ma'am," she cried. "I found him way off in the wood. He'drun away."
"I didn't," said Archie, squirming out of his mother's arms. "I wasbuilding houses. And you didn't find me a bit, Loo--isa. I found you,and I showed you the way home!"
"Never mind who found who, so long as we have our little runaway back,"said Mr. Gray, stooping to kiss Archie. "Another time we must have atalk about boys who go to build houses without leave from their Mamma'sand Papa's, and make everybody anxious. Meantime, I fancy somebody Iknow about is half-starved. Tell Marianne to send some dinner in atonce, Louisa."
"Yes, sir, I will." And Louisa hastened off to triumph over her friendMarianne.
"Archie, darling, how could you go away and frighten us so?" asked Mrs.Gray, taking him in her lap.
"Why, Mamma, were you frightened?" replied Archie wonderingly. "I wasbuilding a house. It's a _beau_-tiful house. I'll let you come and sitin it if you want to. And I've got a hen, and I'll give you all the eggsshe lays, to cook, you know. Only the hen's runned away, and I couldn'tfind my house any more, and the hammer tumbled down, and I lost myshoe. I know where the hammer is, I dess, and to-morrow I'll go back andget it."--Here the expression of Archie's face changed. Louisa hadappeared at the door with a plate of something which smelt excessivelynice, and sent a little curl of steam into the air. She beckoned. Hejumped down from Mamma's lap, ran to the door, and both disappeared.Nothing more was heard of him except his feet on the stairs, and by andby the sound of Louisa's rocking-chair, as she sat beside his bedsinging Archie to sleep. Mamma and Papa went in together a little laterand stood over their boy.
"Oh, the comfort of seeing him safe in his little bed to-night!" saidMrs. Gray.
Roused by her voice, Archie stirred. "I _dess_ I know where the hammeris," he said drowsily. Then his half-opened eyes closed, and he wassound asleep.