Happy Days for Boys and Girls Part 48

"Wildcats!"

"Are my little sisters here?" asked Rosa.

O, how they wished she was just near enough so they might pull her dress!

"O, no, mem!" said red-headed Ann Matilda, with the door opened on a most inhospitable crack. "O, no, indeed! they haven't been here in a month. I seed 'em a-goin' to school with their books jest as the town clock struck'd two."

"How strange!" thought Rosa. "They wouldn't have gone back to school without their dinners."

And when she reached home, she told uncle Tim that she half believed they were there, though what could entice them to the horrible hut she could not imagine.

"O my! how cramped up my neck is!" said Bunch.

"O, O, how hungry I am!" cried Tiny, remembering the drumsticks.

"I don't like it here, and I want to go home," sobbed Jelly.

"Well, get up, then, and le's hev dinner," said the Midgetts.

Dinner! There were old baked potatoes, and a mess of turnips, and a bite of fried beefsteak, all mixed in a heap in a rusty tin pan on the table; and Tiny whispered to Bunch that there was "a piece of the very codfish b.a.l.l.s which were on mamma's breakfast table." Her appet.i.te had deserted her, Bunch had cried hers away, and Jelly had left hers at her own bountiful table. But the Midgetts ate, and enjoyed.

"Now," said they, "if you'll be real good, and mind, we'll give you a gay old treat. Want to go a-swimmin'? We dunno as we mind a-givin' yer a little pleasure, pervidin' yer'll mind, and not go near the closet where the black snake lives."

"O," shouted the children, "we don't want to go near any snakes!"

"Besides, we can't swim," said Tiny.

"Well, we'll show yer how," said Keziah Jane; "besides, yer all look jest's if a good bath wouldn't hurt yer--don't they, Ann Matilda?"

Ann Matilda laughed, and said yes, looked down at her own bare feet, and bade the children to "be a-takin' off their shoes and stockin's."

"Now, then, foller me," said Keziah Jane, opening the door which led to the cellar stairs.

The children looked down into the black hole, and shrank back with fear. The stairs ended in a pool of black, muddy water, in much the same way that they do in a _bona fide_ swimming-bath. You will remember that a pipe of the sewer had burst, and the dirty water had overflowed the Midgetts' cellar. To wade about in this had been the recreation of the Midgetts for days.

"Come on now," said they; "lift up your dresses, and come along."

The cellar was growing every minute lighter the longer they were in it; and soon the children lost their fear, and began to paddle about with their naked feet, taking excellent care to steer clear of the closet containing the black snake.

"It's getting awful, awful dark," said Jelly.

"That's so," said Bunch, wondering, and looking up to see why the small window gave so little light. Something outside moved just then.

The window was opened, and there were two faces looking down at them--two faces full of astonishment. They belonged to Rosy and uncle Tim.

"Children, get right out of that filth, and go up stairs," ordered Rosy.

Up stairs they went, one hanging behind the other, and entered the room from the cellar just as Rosy came in at the front door. Can you imagine how they must have looked, drenched and spoiled with the impure water from the dainty ruffles at their throats to the very nails of their toes? Like drowned rats! Rosy only said, with a withering glance at the Midgetts,--

"Never come to our house again for cold pieces."

Then bidding the children gather up their stockings and shoes, she marched them off barefooted between herself and uncle Tim. Tiny's new b.u.t.toned shoes had found a watery grave; for, as the bathers came up stairs, one of the Midgett feet pitched them gracefully into the cellar.

"Tiny," said Bunch, as they walked mournfully home, amid the astonished gaze of the returning school children. "I don't believe there was a wildcat there any of the time."

"No, nor a black man in the sewer," said Tiny.

"Nor a black snake in the closet," said Jelly.

But there were a hot bath and clean clothing at home for them, and warm beds. Whether there was anything more severe than a good lecture, I will leave you to guess; for mamma said they were old enough to know better than to believe in any such ridiculous nonsense, all excepting little Jelly.

I should be ashamed to finish the conclusion of the affair; for what do you think, children? It all actually happened, once upon a time, to myself and two of my sisters.

FANNIE BENEDICT.

Mirth is a medicine of life: It cures its ills, it calms its strife; It softly smooths the brow of care, And writes a thousand graces there.

LAME SUSIE.

"Children," said Miss Ware to her little band of scholars, "Susie Dana is coming to school next Monday. She is lame, and I want you to be kind and thoughtful toward her. She does not show her lameness until she commences to walk, and then you can see that one of the fat little legs is longer than the other, which makes her limp. So do not watch her as she walks. Be sure not to run against her in your plays, and don't shut her out from them because she cannot run and jump as you do, but choose, some of the time, plays in which she can take part.

Remember, I make this rule: When you leave the room at recess or after school, wait, every one of you, in your places till she has pa.s.sed out; then she will not be jostled or hurt in any way. Her lameness is a hard trial for a little girl. She would like to run and dance as well as any of you, and I do hope you will feel for her, and at least not make her burden heavier. How many, now, will promise to try to make her happy?"

Every hand was instantly raised, and the children's clear, honest eyes met their teacher's with a look which was a promise.

You have read stories, no doubt, of lame, blind or deformed children, and poor ones in patched clothes, who met treatment from others harder to endure than their poverty, privation or pain. Sometimes their schoolmates have been foolish and cruel enough to shun them, cast them out from their plays and pleasures, brush roughly against them, talk about, and even ridicule, them. But I hope it is not often so. In this case it was by far the reverse.

These children remembered their pledge, and they made Susie so happy that she almost forgot her lameness. She was a cheerful, pleasant, good little girl, and her schoolmates, who had begun by pitying her and trying to help her, soon loved to be with her.

"May I sit with Susie, Miss Ware?" became a frequent request.

"Susie dear, here's a cake I've brought you," one would say at recess.

"Take half my apple, Susie."

[Ill.u.s.tration: NOTHING SHALL HURT YOU.]

One day, as Susie was on her way to school she met a large drove of oxen. Poor little girl! she was very much frightened, and the big blue eyes were fast filling with tears when Harry Barton, one of the school-boys, stepped up before her and said, "Don't cry, Susie. I will take care of you. Nothing shall hurt you while I am here." And right bravely he stood before her until the last one had pa.s.sed, and then took Susie to school, kindly helping her over the rough places.

So the seasons wore on, and Susie, who, though she ardently desired to learn, had dreaded going among other children, was always happy with them. She loved her teacher and schoolmates, and made such progress as she could not have done had these things been different.

The summer vacation was over. The glorious days of early autumn, with sunshine glinting through the crimson foliage, dropping nuts and golden harvests, pa.s.sed swiftly away, and cold weather came.

The school-room was pleasant still with its cheery fire and bright faces. One day, when all were busy as usual, a cry rang out,