Five Little Peppers at School Part 53

"Well, I'm not in the least like mamma, Battles; I can't be."

"No, indeed, you ain't. But you can try," said Battles encouragingly.

"Why, Battles Whitney!" exclaimed d.i.c.k, whirling around on her. In astonishment, or any excitement, d.i.c.ky invariably gave her the whole name that he felt she ought to possess; "Mrs. Mara Battles" not being at all within his comprehension. "What an _awful_ story!"

"d.i.c.ky--d.i.c.ky!" reproved Mrs. Whitney.

"Well, I can't help it, mamma." d.i.c.k now escaped from Battles' hands altogether, and fled into the other room, the comfortable person following. "She said"--plunging up to her chair in great excitement--"that I could be like you."

"I said you could try to be," corrected Battles, smoothing down her ap.r.o.n.

"And she knows I can't ever be, in all this world," declared d.i.c.k, shaking his short curls in decision, and glancing back to see the effect, "for you're a woman, and I'm always going to be a man. Why, see how big I am now!" He squared off, and strutted up and down the little boudoir.

"And you'd be bigger if you'd let me fix your blouse and b.u.t.ton it up,"

declared Battles, laughing, and bearing down on him to fasten the band and tuck in the vest. "And if you were more like your mother in disposition--that's what I mean--'twould be a sight comfortabler for you and every one else. Now, says I, your hair's got to be brushed." And she led him back into the nursery, laughing all the way.

"What makes you shake so when you laugh, Battles?" asked d.i.c.k suddenly, and ignoring all references to his disposition.

"Can't help it," said Battles, beginning work on the curls; "that's because there's so much of me, I suppose," and she laughed more than ever.

"There's so very much of you, Battles," observed d.i.c.k with a critical look all over her rotund figure. "What makes it?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Battles. "Stand still, d.i.c.ky, and I'll be through all the sooner. Some folks is big and round, and some folks is little and scrawny."

"What's scrawny?" asked d.i.c.k, who always got as many alleviations by conversation as possible out of the detested hair-brushing.

"Why, thin and lean."

"Oh, well, go on, Battles."

"And I'm one of the big and round ones," said Battles, seeing no occasion in that statement to abate her cheerfulness. So she laughed again.

"I like you big and round, Battles," cried little d.i.c.k affectionately, and whirling about so suddenly as to endanger his eye with the comb doing good execution. And he essayed to put his arms around her waist, which he was always hoping to be able to accomplish.

"That's good," said Battles, laughing, well pleased. "But you mustn't jump around so. There now, in a minute you shall be off." And she took up the brush.

"I must," declared d.i.c.k, remembering his sight of Phronsie running across the lawn; "do hurry, Battles," he pleaded, which so won her heart that she abridged part of the brushing, and let him scamper off.

Phronsie was kneeling down in front of Sinbad's kennel.

"Can't you untie him to-day, Michael?" she asked, a question she had propounded each morning since the boys went back to school.

"Yes, Miss Phronsie, I think I can; he's wonted now, and the other dogs are accustomed to him. Besides, I've locked up Jerry since he fit him."

"I know," said Phronsie sorrowfully; "that was naughty of Jerry when Sinbad had only just come."

Michael scratched his head. He couldn't tell her what was on his mind, that Sinbad was scarcely such a dog as any one would buy, and therefore his presence was not to be relished by the high-bred animals already at home on the place.

"Well, you know, Miss Phronsie," he said at last, "it's kinder difficult like, to expect some dogs to remember their manners; and Jerry ain't like all the others in that respect."

"Please tell him about it," said Phronsie earnestly, "how good Prince is to Sinbad, and then I guess he'll want to be like him." For Phronsie had never swerved in her allegiance to Prince ever since he saved her from the naughty organ man in the little-brown-house days. And in all her conversations with the other dogs she invariably held up Jasper's big black dog, his great friend and companion since pinafore days, as their model.

And just then d.i.c.ky ran up breathlessly.

"d.i.c.k," announced Phronsie excitedly, "Michael is going to let Sinbad out to-day." And she clasped her hands in delight.

"Jolly!" exclaimed d.i.c.k, capering about.

"Now, Master d.i.c.k, you must let the dog alone," cried Michael. "It's time to try him with his freedom a bit. He's chafin' at that chain." He looked anxiously at d.i.c.k. "Stand off there, both of you," and he slipped the chain off.

Sinbad gave a little wiggle with his hind legs, and stretched his yellow body. It was too good to be true! But it was, though; he was free, and he shot out from his kennel, which was down in the gardener's quarters, and quite removed from the other dogs, and fairly tore--his ragged little tail straight out--across the west lawn.

"Oh, he'll run back to Joel at school," cried d.i.c.k, who had heard Joel say he must be tied at first when everything was strange; and he started on a mad run after him.

"You stay still," roared Michael; "that dog is only stretchin' his legs.

He'll come back." But as well tell the north wind to stop blowing.

d.i.c.ky's blouse puffed out with the breeze, as his small legs executed fine speed.

"Oh, Michael!" cried Phronsie in the greatest distress, "make d.i.c.ky come back."

"Oh, he'll come back," said Michael rea.s.suringly, though he quaked inwardly. And so d.i.c.ky did. But it was now a matter of Sinbad chasing him; for as Michael had said, the dog, after stretching his legs as the mad rush across the lawn enabled him to do, now was very much pleased to return for a little petting at the hands of those people who had given him every reason to expect that he should receive it; and supposing, from d.i.c.k's chase after him, that a race was agreeable, he set forth; his ears, as ragged as his tail, p.r.i.c.ked up in the fullest enjoyment of the occasion.

But d.i.c.k saw nothing in it to enjoy. And exerting all his strength to keep ahead, which he couldn't do as well for the reason that he was screaming fearfully, Sinbad came up with him easily. d.i.c.ky, turning his head in mad terror at that instant, stumbled and fell. Sinbad, unable to stop at short notice, or rather no notice at all, rolled over with him in a heap.

This brought all the stable-boys to the scene, besides Mrs. Whitney who had seen some of the affair from her window; and finally, when everything was beginning to be calmed down, Battles reached the lawn.

Sinbad was in Phronsie's lap, who sat on the gra.s.s, holding him tightly.

"Oh, Phronsie!" gasped Mrs. Whitney at that. "Michael, do take him away," as she fled by to d.i.c.k. One of the stable-boys was brushing off the grime from his sailor suit.

"The dog is all right, ma'am," said Michael, "'twas only play; I s'pose Master Joel has raced with him."

"'Twas only play," repeated little d.i.c.k, who, now that he found himself whole, was surprised the idea hadn't occurred to him before. "Hoh! I'm not hurt, and I'm going to race with him again."

"Not to-day, d.i.c.ky," said Mrs. Whitney, looking him all over anxiously.

"He's all right, ma'am," declared Michael; "they just rolled over together, 'cause, you see, ma'am, the dog couldn't stop, he was a-goin'

so fast, when the youngster turned right in his face."

And d.i.c.k, to prove his soundness of body and restoration of mind, ran up to Phronsie, and flung himself down on the gra.s.s by her side.

Sinbad received him as a most pleasant acquaintance, c.o.c.ked up his ragged ears, and tried to wag his poor little scrubby tail, never quite getting it into his head that it wasn't long and graceful. And then he set upon the task of licking d.i.c.k's hands all over, and as much of his face as was possible to compa.s.s.

"See that now," cried Michael triumphantly, pointing, "that dog mayn't be handsome, but he hain't got a bad bone in his body, if he does look like the Evil One hisself."

This episode absorbing all their attention, n.o.body heard or saw Alexia Rhys, running lightly up over the terrace. "Oh, my! what _are_ you doing? And where's Polly?" she asked of Mrs. Whitney.

It being soon told, Alexia, who evidently had some exciting piece of news for Polly, ran into the house.