All the children except Tommy clapped
their hands when Luella finished. It did indeed
sound sweet and she spoke it very prettily, waving
her hand and winking her own eye at the end.
Rosanna and Myron felt that their
time had come. They looked at each other, but
Minnie settled the question.
“Now it is Miss Rosanna’s
turn,” she said, “and then Myron’s.
Ladies first. Give us a real nice story, Miss
Rosanna.”
“About robbers,” said Tommy, chewing on
a grass stem.
“I don’t know any about
robbers,” said Rosanna pleasantly, “but
I do know one about a cat, or a kitten rather, and
it really happened. Helen told one about a dog,
and this is about a cat.
“Once there were two little
boys, Walter and Harold, and they were going a long,
long way to their new home in the West where they were
going to live. And they had a pet kitten that
they wanted to take along so badly that fin’ly
their mother and father said they might take it if
they would carry it in its basket all the way and
never ask anyone else to take care of it. So
they said they would, and by-and-by they had everything
packed up and ready, and when the time came, they started
off and got on the train, kitten and all.
“They had things for it to eat
and milk for it to drink, and when the conductor was
not in the car they used to take it out of its basket
and pet it and play with it. And the kitten didn’t
mind it a bit.
“Well, when they had been on
the train a couple of days they let the kitten out,
and Harold had it on his lap sound asleep.
“But just when they were at
a station and the train was standing still, something
awfully exciting happened outside the window, and both
boys forgot the kitten. She jumped down from
Harold’s lap and went along under the seats
toward the end of the car. She thought she was
going to have a nice little walk, but just then the
brakeman came into the car and there was a kitten
under one of the seats. He thought of course it
had hopped on the car there at the station, so he took
it up and put the poor little thing off the train,
and then that very minute the whistle blew
and off they went.
“It was a vestibule train, and
when Walter and Harold found out that their kitten
was gone they hunted every inch of the car over, and
then hunted through the next car, thinking that she
might have gone across the vestibule and into the
other car. But she was not there. Just then
along came the brakeman again and when the boys asked
him if he had seen a kitten, he said, ’Why,
sure! Was that your cat? I thought
she had hopped on the train back there at the last
station, and I took her and put her off.’
“Well, the boys felt so badly
they didn’t know what to do, and the
brakeman said they would not stop at any station for
sixty miles. Walter said he was going back to
see if he could find her, but the brakeman said she
was most likely gone by this time or somebody had picked
her up. He was awfully sorry about it.
“When they had gone the sixty
miles the car stopped, but the boys didn’t care
to look out or anything. They just sat and thought
about their little kittie, and Harold said, ‘Seems
as though I can hear her cry,’ and Walter said,
‘Don’t say that again,’ and then
he looked funny, because he thought he could hear
her himself!
“Harold said, ‘I suppose
she is dead, and that is her ghost.’ Walter
said, ’No, it’s not; even kitten ghosts
don’t make a noise. There it is again.’
“And then they looked around
very slowly, the way you do when you think something
is going to happen and you don’t know just what
it will be, and there in the seat back of them was
the brakeman and he was holding that kitten!
“When he opened the car door
he found her squeezed up in a corner of the top step,
where she had ridden all that long way. When the
brakeman tossed her off she knew that the boys were
on the train, so she climbed right back, but she didn’t
get on quick enough to get into the vestibule before
the door was shut, so she had to hang on and ride
outside. She was scared nearly to death and jumped
at every sound and trembled for days, but the boys
petted her and comforted her, and by-and-by she felt
all right. And there were lots of mice in the
house they went to live in, and that took her mind
off herself. And that’s all of that,”
said Rosanna, smiling.
“That’s a nice story,”
said Minnie. “Now let’s hear what
Myron has to tell.”
Myron shook his head. “Oh,
go on, Myron,” said Helen. “Tell us
a story, please, even if it is short!”
“Once there was a little boy,”
said Myron, without waiting to be teased. “Once
there was a little boy and he had a mamma and two brothers
and three sisters, and he grew up and made lots of
money, and bought lots of nice things for his mamma,
and his two brothers and his three sisters and that’s
all.”
“The dear lamb!” said
Minnie. “That’s the best story of
the lot.”
“Mine was better,” said Tommy. “Mine
was a real feller.”
“Oh,” murmured Minnie,
“Louisa Cordelia has just got to get hold
of you, young man!”
“I suppose it is my turn now,”
said Mary, “as long as you want to save Minnie
for the last. Could you let me say you a little
poetry, or was Luella’s enough? I think
some poetry sort of mixes things up a little.”
“I think poetry is lovely,”
said Rosanna sweetly. “We loved Luella’s
verses.”
“Well, then I will say some
instead of a story.” Mary cleared her throat
and, rising, made a little bow.
UNAFRAID
The day I die, I’ll quickly go
Past all the angels, row on row,
Straight up to God; I’ll know His face
Even up there in that new place.
In Sunday School, the way they teach,
God is almost too great to reach.
They act a little bit afraid;
Because the world and all He made.
But if He made the heavens blue,
He made the sweet wild violets too;
And Oh, what careful work it took
To plan the small trout in the brook.
I know He’s just the very size
Of father; with most loving eyes.
Just big enough so one like me
Can safely lean against His knee.
“Those were lovely verses,”
said Minnie when Mary had finished. “I
wonder who wrote them.”
“My teacher wrote them,” said Mary.
“I think they are real nice.”
“I do think it is a waste of
time for me to tell a story,” said Minnie.
“First you know the machine will be here and
then we will have to hurry home.”
“I would like to hear you tell
a story ever so much,” said Mary. “I
know it would be a nice one, but I must be starting
along pretty soon. It is a long way from here
to the car track, and I have to stop so often on account
of the baby being so heavy. It is so funny about
babies, they seem to get so heavy toward night.”
“Indeed they do after you have
lugged them about all day,” said Minnie.
“I say I know all about it, dearie.”
“We are not going to let you
walk at all,” said Rosanna. “We are
going to take you wherever you live right in the car.”
“Nautomobile ride! Nautomobile
ride!” chanted Tommy, tossing his cap.
“I think you are just too good,”
said Mary. “Will your automobile hold such
a lot?”
“Oh, yes, indeed, and more too!”
said Rosanna, glad for once that she had a big Pierce-Arrow.