The Corner House Girls' Odd Find Part 35

"You bad, bad girl!" the unwise mother was saying to the sullen Mabel.

"I should think your little brother _would_ cry whenever you come near him. You don't deserve to have a dear, baby brother. Get out of my sight, you naughty child!"

When Mabel appeared at her gate to face the wondering Dot, she did not look heart-broken because Bubby had taken a sudden dislike to her.

"What ever is the matter, Mabel Creamer?" asked the smallest Corner House girl.

"Oh-nothin'. Only I just fixed that kid for once," declared Mabel, with impish satisfaction. "I don't believe they'll leave me to watch him all the time while Lyddy and Peg go off to a movin' pitcher show."

"Oh, my!" said the awe-struck Dot. "What ever did you do?"

"I'll tell you what I did, Dot Kenway," said Mabel, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Bubby wants to be played with all the time. You don't get a minute to call your soul your own," she added, quoting some of her elders.

"So, if he wanted to be amused all so fine, I amused him. I smeared mola.s.ses on his fingers and then I gave him a feather out of the pillow.

Oh, he was amused! He was trying to pick that feather off his fingers for half an hour, and was just as still as _still!_ It might ha' lasted longer, too, only he got mad with the feather, and bawled."

Dot did not know whether to laugh at, or be horrified by, such depravity as this. But she was glad that Mabel was free to go home with her at this time, for Tess had been kept after school.

"We've got four of just the cunningest kittens," Dot said, to her visitor. "Of course, they are really Almira's. Santa Claus got them for her. But we _call_ them ours."

"My! isn't that fine?" cried Mabel. "We've got two cats, but they're lazy old things. _They_ never have any kittens. We call them Paul and Timothy."

Almira's young family still nested upon Unc' Rufus' old coat in the woodshed. Dot put two in her ap.r.o.n to bring them out on the porch where the cunning little things could be seen. But when Mabel grabbed up the other two there was a good deal of noise attending the operation.

"Oh, Mabel! don't hurt them," cried Dot.

"I'm not hurting them," responded Mabel, sharply. "I'm carrying them just as careful as I can by their stems."

"Oh, dear-_don't!_" shrieked Dot, quite horrified. "Them's their tails, Mabel Creamer."

"Huh! what else are they for, I'd like to know?" propounded the visitor.

"A cat's tail is made for it to be grabbed by."

"You-you--You're cruel, Mabel Creamer!" gasped Dot. "Put them down!"

She tumbled the two staggering kittens out of her own lap and ran to rescue the poor, squalling mites in Mabel's hands. Mabel was not a child to be driven in any case. There was a struggle. Dot rescued the two little mites, but Mabel slapped the little Corner House girl's cheek twice-and her hand left its mark.

"You're a nasty little thing, Dot Kenway!" scolded Mabel, marching down the steps and out at the gate. "I never _did_ like you much, and I just _hate_ you, now."

Dot sat down, sobbing, on the step, and nursed the bruised cheek. The four little kittens squirmed all over her lap and tumbled about like drunken caterpillars-and that helped some. For soon the tears were dried and Dot began to laugh at their antics. Just the same, Mabel's blow had left a bruise upon the smallest Corner House girl's heart which she long remembered.

Tess had had a rather hard day, too. Of course, there was a new teacher ruling over the eighth grade; and strict as Miss Pepperill had been, even Sammy Pinkney would have been glad to "swap back" for the red-haired teacher, after a session's experience with Miss Grimsby.

Miss Grimsby was young, but she looked a lot older than most of the other teachers. She wore her sleek, black hair brushed straight back from a high, blue-veined forehead. She wore enormous, sh.e.l.l-bowed spectacles.

Miss Grimsby was what is known as a subst.i.tute teacher. She had brought to her work in the eighth grade the very newest ideas about teaching taught in the normal schools. She knew all about her textbooks, and how to teach the studies allotted her; but she did not know the first living thing about those small animals known as boys and girls.

She was fond of standing up before the cla.s.s and giving little lectures upon a mult.i.tude of subjects. This method of teaching was much approved by the faculty of the normal college from which Miss Grimsby had just graduated.

Poor Jakey Gerlach had already come into conflict with the new teacher, and once having decided that Jakey was a "bad" boy, Miss Grimsby saw him only in that peculiar light, no matter what he did.

"Children," said she, on one occasion, "you should be able to do anything equally well with either hand. That is called 'being ambidextrous.' See! I write with either hand, like this," and she ill.u.s.trated with chalk upon the blackboard.

"With a little practice you will find it just as easy to do anything with one hand as it is with the other. Will you try? Jakey Gerlach! What are you squirming there for in that disgraceful manner?"

"I-I-please, Teacher," stammered Jakey, "I was only trying to put mine left hand in mine right-hand trousers' pocket."

And Jakey remained after school for this. He was not alone in his punishment. More than half the eighth grade began to report late at their homes nowadays.

On this special "blue Monday," Tess Kenway was one of the unfortunates.

Without being a goody-goody girl, Tess had a remarkable record for deportment. It hurt her cruelly to be told to remain with the other culprits on this occasion.

Nor did she think she deserved the punishment. It came about through her trying to help Etta Spears, who sat across the aisle from Tess.

Etta got up to recite and dropped her slate pencil. When the next girl, Julia Bowen, was called to arise, she would be sure to put her foot upon the pencil and break it. So Tess leaned from her seat to rescue the pencil.

"What are you doing-crawling on the floor there-Theresa?" demanded Miss Grimsby, sharply.

"I-I was reaching for this pencil, please, Teacher," said Tess, holding up her prize.

"Bring it here instantly! If you can't keep your pencils in their proper place in your desk, you must lose them."

"Oh, but _please_, Miss Grimsby! It isn't my pencil," gasped Tess.

"Then, what are you doing with it?" demanded the teacher, severely.

"Oh, Teacher!" almost sobbed Tess.

"Bring that pencil here!"

"But it is Etta's!" Tess, in desperation, cried.

"How came it on the floor?"

"She dropped it, Teacher."

"Bring it here. Etta will go without her pencil for a day. You, Theresa, will remain after school for interfering with the pencil and for interrupting the cla.s.s.

"Next girl! Julia Bowen! Rise!"

So Tess was not at home when Mabel Creamer slapped Dot and broke the truce that had endured for a long time between the Creamer cottage and the old Corner House.

Of course, Dot told her all about it. Tess was the gentlest child imaginable, but that Dot should have been struck, stirred the older sister "all up."

"The awful thing!" she gasped. "Why-why didn't you call Ruthie-or Aggie?"

"Why-ee!" said Dot, slowly. "What good would that do, Tessie? They couldn't put the slap back. My face would have ached just the same."

"Never mind, dear," crooned Tess. "I'll give you my best pencil. I don't much care for pencils any more, anyway."