Kalifnrnia -Sfiif=i -^. <»>..«^ )i/fr rccclrcd \ ex: T R, -A. C T .4'-^ Itrennribinj /{itlen fur the Guventnu iil of llie State Librdry , piiHued March 8th, 1861. „., $ Section 1 1 . The Lil)r.iriaii .-hall cause to be kept a register of all b( ueil anvay." Ainslee looked grave, as if he were studying out something. " The water's all ready for me," said he, " and nurse is putting baby to sleep, so there'll be time enougli to try it. You come right along, Sinny." Sinny ran after, quite charmed with the thought of it, and the two boys went quickly up the back-stairs to the nursery. The nice tin bathing-tub stood on a piece of oil-cloth near the wash-stand, and nurse had laid out towels and soap, and Ainslee's clean white suit all ready for him. " Pull off" your clothes quick, Sinny," said Ainslee. " It's nice you're barefoot. Now step in soft, so 't nurse won't hear, and I'll soap you good." Sinny's little spider-like figure was quite lost in the big tub, and Ainslee found it necessary, if he wovild reach him easily, to get in himself. So he undressed as fast as possible for fear some one would come. One shoe-string, in a hard knot, would not be untied. 6 THE AINSLEE STORIES. " I'll not iniiul one slioe," said lie, " 'cause I can take it off after I've done Sinny,'' and in he got. " Stand up good now, Sinny," he said, and he lathered him from head to foot. " You're white now in spots — ain't you ? " said Ainslee, as he rubbed on the cake of soap. " Oh-h-h ! '' howled Sinny. " There's soap in my eye ! Ow ! Yow I " The nursery door opened, and mamma looked in. Ainslee, Avith his back toward her, did not see her, but he looked up as Sinny suddenly be- came silent. " Why, what's the matter ? " said he. " What made you stop hollerin' ? " " Yes, what is the matter ? " said his mother's voice. " What are you doing now, Ainslee ? " Ainslee sat right down in the tub, he was so overcome, and Sinny began to cry again. " I'm only trying to get Sinny white, mamma, an' I haven't but just begun." " You've done quite enough for this time," said his mother, and then, to Ainslee's astonish- ment, she began and laughed and laughed. ' o o o Sinny, feeling a sense of injury, roared louder than before, and nurse appeared in the door-way with the wide-awake baby. " Mercy on us ! " said she, " but what's that in the tub ? ''' AINSLEE. 7 " Only one of Ainslee's experiments, nurse," answered his mother. " Since you have begun the work, you may get out now and wipe Sinny dry, and then he can put on his clothes and go home for to-day." Ainslee put out one fat leg. " Save us ! " cried the nurse ; " but he's got his shoes on ! " " No I haven't," said Ainslee, glad to be quite settled on one point. " I've only got one on." Sinny hurried into his jacket and trousers with- out waiting for much wiping, and scudded down the stairs. " Now, Ainslee," said his mother, " what does this mean ? Don't you see how much trouble you have made ? Poor nurse must go and get clean water for you, and your shoe is soaked so that it will take it a long time to dry. What made you bring Sinny here to wash him ? " " 'Cause I wanted to get him white, mamma. He's awful black, an' he was dirty besides." " But Sinny has a mother who can wash him, Ainslee, and then God made him so black, and no one could rub him white." " Couldn't they ever ? " said Ainslee. " I don't believe his mother w^ashes him good, 'cause he said he'd never had a bath, only been washed with a rao;." 8 THE AINSLEE STORIES. " He looks pretty clean and neat," said his mother ; " if he had nobody to do anything for him, I should have been willing to . have him washed here, but not by you, for you see you have made a good deal of trouble by it. You have splashed grandma's pretty carpet, and used up almost a whole cake of soap. It is not the kind of work little boys are to do, and the next time you want to do such things, come and ask mamma first whether it is best." Ainslee promised, and in the mean time nurse brought fresh water, pulled off the soaked shoe, and put him again in his tub for a rinse. " This is your only clean suit of white clothes," said his mother, as he ran into her room, " and as there will be a good many people here to din- ner, I want you to keep it very nice and neat. Play in the house, and don't go out again." " Can't I just run up to Sinny's ? " said Ainslee. " No, dear. Stay down-stairs with grandma. This evening before you go to bed, Uncle Ainslee will tell you a story, I think ; so rest now, that you may keep awake then." " Are they nice stories ? " said Ainslee. " Very," answered his mother. " When we were children together, he used to tell me splen- did ones, and I don't believe he has forgotten how, if he is grown up." AINSLEE. 9 By this time Ainslee was all dressed, looking very fresh and clean, and started down-stairs in high spirits. Grandpa had gone to the station, to bring back the visitors, and grandma sat all ready for them in her rocking-chair. Ainslee ran up, intending to ask for a story, but grandma's head lay against the back, and her handkerchief was thrown over her face. "Oh dear, she's asleep ! " said he, and then stood and watched the handkerchief moving lightly up and down as grandma breathed. A big fly was anxious to get under it, and he lit, first on one spot and then another ; and then he drove off another fly that had lit on it, by walkino; rioht over him. " What a fly ! " said Ainslee. " I'm going to catch him." This was easier said than done, but at last Ainslee penned him in a corner of the window, and put his fat hand over him. Then he walked softly to the hall-door to let him fly off" in the open air. Up the road he saw Sinny holding a stick in his hand and very busy about something. " Oh dear ! " said Ainslee, " I want to go there. What made mother say I mustn't go out again ? " He walked back to the parlor. Grandma was still sleeping. He heard nurse singing to baby ov^erhead, and his mother he knew was dressing. 10 THE AINSLEE STORIES. He looked at ;v ])icture-book for a few moments, then played with his parlor-ball, but through the front windows Sinnj was still in sight. " I'll just go up a little minute," said Ainslee, " and see what he's doing." Down the ])ath and out of the front gate he ran. It had rained the day before, and some little pools of water lay along the road side. " What you doing, Sinny ? " called Ainslee. " Fishin'," said Sinny. " What for ? " " Tadpoles." " What's they ? " said Ainslee. • " Why, they're tadpoles ; pollywogs, mother calls 'em." " Have you got any? " asked Ainslee. " No," said Sinny, " not yet. I guess I won't try any more now you've come. Did you know we'd got a new pig ? " "Why, no," said Ainslee, "I didn't know you'd got any pigs." " Ho ! " said Sinny. " Why, we've got 'leven, — only seven of 'em has just come. They're all white 'cept the black one, and gran'ther says I may have it, 'cause it's a runt. Our old cat's got kittens, too. There's three of 'em up in the barn, and they can't one o' them open their eyes." AINSLEE. H " Why," said Ainslee. " 'Cause 'tain't time," said Sinny. " 'T won't be for two days. Come and see 'em." Three kittens who couldn't or wouldn't open their eyes were too great a temptation for Ainslee, and he trotted along by Sinny, till they reached the barn. There the cunnino- little things so moved him, that they neai'ly met the fate of the chicky, for he squeezed them till they gave sharp little mews, and the old cat grew quite anxious and carried them off one by one down into the hay under the rafters. " Let's come and see the pigs now," said Sinny ; and so they went down the ladder and out into the barn-yard. Old Peter Smith was at one end, and he looked quite surprised as he saw Sinny's companion. " What little boy are you ? " said he. " I'm Ainslee Barton," said Ainslee, " and I live down to grandpa's." " Oh you do — do you ? " said old Peter. " You an' Sinny look out, an' not get into mis- chief" " I never do such a thing," said Ainslee, walk- ing off after Sinny. The barn-yard was dirty and his nice boots suffered, but he was too intent on seeing the seven little pigs to think of that. The pig-pen lay at 12 THE AINSLEE STORIES. the farther end of the yard, and a loose board in the side enabled them to climb up and look over. After all it was nicer to hear about than to see, for the pigs were all very dirty, and the smell quite dreadful. " Pigs are nasty — ain't they, Sinny ? " said Ainslee. " Mostly, I guess," said Sinny ; " ours are." " Was there ever a clean pig ? " said Ains- lee. " I do' know," said Sinny. " Gran'ther says that once tliere was a pig that knowed its letters and could spell pig^ " I don't believe it," said Ainslee ; " there wasn't ever such a pig." " There was, too," said Sinny. " I'll ask mamma if there was" " My gran'ther knows more than your mam- ma," said Sinny. " No he don't," shouted Ainslee, quite red in the face ; " he don't know notiiin'." This was too much. Sinny could not stand it, and gave Ainslee a push which, if he had been holding on, would have done no harm. As it was, in his excitement he had let go of the top board, and stood balancing himself on the loose one ; and as the push came he wavered a moment, and then fell, heels over head, into the pig-pen. AINSLEE. 13 The old pig had sat astonished through tlie con- versation going on above her, and as Ainslee came tumbhng in, seemed to consider him something good to eat, for she stood up and walked slowly toward him. "Gran'ther! gran'ther ! " screamed Sinny. " He's in the pig-pen. Oh, he's in the pig- pen ! " Old Peter ran to them. Ainslee, half suffocated, was trying to get to his feet, and the pig was dangerously near. Old Peter caught him, and held him out at arm's length. " Wall, if I ever ! " said he. " You're the boy that don't never get inter mischief ; what do ye call this ? " Sinny's mother had run out, as the children screamed, and now came up. " Mercy on us ! " said she, looking at poor Ainslee, streaming with filth and crying miser- ably. " What ever will I do with him ? " " Put him in a tub, mother," said Sinny ; " he did me." Ainslee was really too dirty to touch, but old Peter said he'd soon fix him, and taking him to the barn-yard pump, he pumped slowly over him till he was somewhat washed ofi; Then Sinny's mother pulled off his clothes and threw them into a pail, and picking him up, carried him into the house. 14 THK AIXSI.KE STORIES. "■ Vou couldirt got Sinny's clothes on any- how," said she, " for you're as fat as he's lean, so ril just have to take you home in a shawl." So down the road presently a procession went. Nancy with Ainslee wrapped in a shawl, and looking too ashamed to hold up his head, and Sinny following in the rear, crying for sorrow and sympathy. Grandma and mother both met them at the door. " Well, if ever I did ! " said grandma. " What that child will do next is past telling." Somebody's strong arms took Ainslee and car- ried him up to the nursery. He knew in a moment that it must be Uncle Ainslee, for father was not there, and grandpa never carried him, because he had rheumatism. Whoever it was went right out, however, and Ainslee was left alone. It seemed a long while before anybody came. He heard children's voices and wondered Avho they were, and the smell of green peas came up, and made him remember how hungry he was. By and by the door opened and mother came in. She looked quite sad, and Ainslee began to cry. " I didn't mean to run away, mamma," he said, " but I couldn't help it. Grandma was asleep, and I got so lonesome, and there wasn't anything but a fly to play with." "And do you always mean to do what you AINSLEE. 15 want instead of what mamma tells yon ? " said his mother. " No, oh no ! " sobbed Ainslee. " I will mind, but I do smell so bad." " You must have another bath," said his mother, " but you have only one of your morning suits to put on, because you have soiled all your others. You may come down to dinner when you are clean." " Don't tell 'em I tumbled," said Ainslee. " They all know," said his mother ; " for Sin- ny's mother told me before them. Sinny was a good boy, and took all the blame of your fall. His mother said she should whip him, but I told her you had been more naughty than he, and that your fright had been sufficient punishment for both." Just then the dinner-bell rang, and nurse came in in a hurry. She doused him into the water, and brushed his hair very hard, but Ainslee felt too ashamed to object to anything. But when he looked at the coarse linen suit lying on the bed, he did feel tried. " Are there any little boys down-stairs, Jane ? " he asked. " One," said Jane. " What's he got on ? " " White clothes like those you lent the pigs." 16 TFIE AIXSLEE STORIES. " Arc there any little girls ? " " One." " Oh clear I " said Ainslee, beginning to cry again, "I don't want to wear my hateful old clothes, and I haven't got any but copper-toed shoes. Go 'way Jane. I won't have on the ugly things." " Then you shouldn't a-put your best ones in the pig-pen," said nurse. Ainslee wanted to slap her, but a sudden feel- ing of how really naughty he had been came over him. Baby cried out just then, and nurse left him hastily. " I can't go down looking so," said Ainslee, who thought a good deal of nice clothes. " There's everybody down there ; and they'll all know I spoiled my best clothes in the pig-pen, an' I don't want to see 'em." Voices came up from the dining-room, and he heard the children laughing. " I wish I was a little pig," said Ainslee, " then I wouldn't care how I looked." Suddenly his face brightened. " I'm going to be good inside, if I ain't pretty outside," said he. He put on his clothes and pushed into the cop- per-toes himself, so that nurse had little to do when she came back. Then he went bravely down the stairs, and on to the dining-room door, AINSLEE. 17 where he stood, looking so good and sweet, that Grandpa Walton caught him and gave him a hug. Then Ainslee saw a pair of very bright brown eyes looking at him, and was sure it was Uncle Ainslee. Mamma had kept a seat for him, and this tall gentleman lifted him into it, and kissed him, as he passed him on. There were several strangers, but Ainslee felt too hungry to think about anything else just then. By and by he raised his eyes to find the two children opposite looking at him very hard. " Who are they ? " he whispered to his mother. " Uncle John's two children, John and Lizzie," said his mother. Ainslee felt too shy to say anything then, but after dinner, before he really knew it, they were talking together on the piazza, and he was giving them a full and particvilar account of all he had been doing. Soon Uncle Ainslee and mamma came walking out, and then Ainslee looking up, said, " Do tell us a story, Uncle Ainslee." "Well, really!" said Uncle Ainslee, "I've left part of my stories in California and part in China, and I don't believe I've brought home one." " Oh yes, you have ! " said Ainslee, " because mamma said she guessed you'd, tell us one to- night." 2 18 THE AINSLEE STORIES. " Oil, she did — did she ? " said Uncle Ainslee ; " then she must tell one first." So mamma told a short story, and then Uncle Ainslee, leaning back m his camp chair, began, but for what he told you must look in the next chapter. TI. UNCLE AINSLEe's SQUIRREL STORY. Far up in the top of the tallest tree you can see in the wood, began Uncle Ainslee, there lived once a red squirrel. He was a great-great- grandson of that very squirrel I used to read about, who went off to see the world, and got picked up and carried away by a hawk. This sad event made such an impression on all the family, that the story was told to every child and grandchild, so that all of them became almost afraid of their shadows, and always had a crick in their necks from looking up to see if a hawk were coming. Our squirrel was one of a very large family, who, as they grew old enough not to feel afraid, had one after another left for other trees, till he only remained at home. Naturally of a very timid and gentle disposition, he seldom went out alone ; and so when after a time both father and mother died he shut himself up in his hole, and grew quite thin for want of exercise. One morning he put his head out of the hole, 20 THE AINSLEE STORIES. feeling very forlorn and lonesome. The sun was shining gloriously, and Mrs. Robin, who had a nest on the branch below, sat on the smallest twig on tlie end, swinging and swaying and sing- ing, as if she were crazy. " There's no hawk there, I'm sure," said Mr. Squirrel, and he ran down a little way. " Why, Mr. Squirrel ! " said Mrs. Robin, " I thought you had gone away." " Oh no, indeed," said Mr. Squirrel ; " I never should think of such a thing. How good the sun feels ! " and he gave a little jump of de- light. " Why do you stay in your hole all the time ? " said Mrs. Robin. " Because I am afraid to come out," said Mr. Squirrel, " and there's lots in there to eat yet." " I wouldn't live on last year's nuts," said Mrs. Robin, " when there are fresh strawberries not a dozen trees off." Mr. Squirrel looked thoughtful. "That's very true, Mrs. Robin," said he; " but suppose I'm snapped up by the same hawk that carried off my great-grandfather ? " " Ah ! " said she. " But you know there are no hawks now to speak of. I'm an old bird, a good deal older than you, and I've never seen one yet. If your great-grandfather hadn't been UNCLE AINSLEE'S SQUIRREL STORY. 21 wandering in the open fields, he would never have been carried off. Any squirrel could get away from a dozen hawks, by running into any one of the holes close by." Here Mrs. Robin shook her head, and began her song again, but just then spying a lovely green caterpillar climbing up the tree, she flew down to get it for her nest full of young ones. Mr. Squirrel ran back to his hole, to think the matter over. It was really very dingy in there. The bed and bedroom were in sad disorder, for the moss sheets had not been changed for nobody could tell how long a time, and he had piled up nutshells till hardly a ray of light could get in. " I'll clean house, I think," said he. So he pitched out all the old shells, and sent all the musty moss flying after. " Now," said he, " I'll get some more." So, forgetting altogether that he had gone home to think about matters, he raced down the tree, and off" to the edge of the brook where grew such green moss as never was seen. Mr. Squirrel stood on a stone just at the edge, and drank some water. As he did so, he saw him- self plainly, as if it had been a looking-glass. " My gracious ! " said Mr. Squirrel, " can this be me ? " and indeed there was reason for ask- ing. Bits of dead moss were all through his 22 THE AINSLEE STORIES. hair, his face was du'ty, and his tail in a perfect tangle, with a burr stuck on the end. " I must look better than this," said Mr. Squirrel, " before I do another thing." So he darted home as fast as he could go, ■washed his face, and combed his hair and tail with his little paws till they shone. Then he ran down to the brook again. " If I were only a little fatter," said Mr. Squirrel, " I should be almost as good looking as my father. I must eat more. How nice it is to be clean again ; I I'eally believe I don't feel half as much afraid as I did when I was dirty." With that he pulled off the fresh moss as much as he could carry, and ran back and forth in this way to the tree, till he made a delightful bed, and his house was in perfect order. " Now," said Mr. Squirrel, " I've earned a good supper, and I'll have strawberries." So he scampered off to the foot of a great oak, where he had often been for them with an older brother, who was gone now, he could not tell where. There they were red and ripe, and Mr. Squirrel had such an appetite that he came very near being greedy and making himself sick. Just as he was about to take one too much, such a beautiful little squirrel came running to the old oak, that he dropped his berry and sat star- UNCLE AINSLEE'S SQUIRREL STORY. 23 ing at her. Her eyes were bright as black beads, and her tail was so fine and bushy that it quite covered her back when she sat up to eat her berry. Mr. Squirrel would have spoken, but feeling very bashful, he ran home as fast as he could go. Mrs. Robin spoke as he passed her nest. It was twilight now, and she was chirping a little soft chirp to the wee birdies under her wing. " How nice you look," she said. " Do get fat, and you'll be the best looking squirrel about here." Mr. Squirrel slept better that night than he had for a long time, and was on the very tip-top of the tree before sunrise, whisking from one limb to another, and wondering why he had not given himself this good time before. Mrs. Robin, who was having an early breakfast, flew up just then with a small black bug in her bill, and handed it to her oldest. There was such a chirping for another, that Mr. Squirrel thought he could not stand such a noise, and almost made up his mind to tell Mrs. Robin that she must keep the children more quiet. Then he remembered what a noise he had been making himself, chattering as loud as he could while he jumped qJpout, and so he ran off to the old oak-tree without saying a word. There sat 2-1 THE AINSLEE STORIES. Miss Squirrel, holding a big red berry in her dainty little paws. " Good mornino; ! " said Mr. Squirrel ; and then, quite in a tremble to think how bold he had been, turned about and raced home without a single berry. Back in his house eating a musty nut, things seemed quite dismal, and Mrs. Robin coming up to make a short call, wondered at his sad face. " Don't come in," said Mr. Squirrel. " You'll be more comfortable outside on a twig, and I'll sit in the door and talk to you." So he told her of his meeting with little Miss Squiri'el ; how charming she was, and how much he wanted to talk to her, but had been so bashful, he had only dared to say " Good morning." " My house is in beautiful order," said he ; " big enough for ten, and how nice it would be to get in our winter nuts together, instead of all alone ; yet I 'm afraid to ask her if she'll come." " Wait awhile," said Mrs. Robin, " and let me think it over." So she rocked back and forth on her twig, and sang a little as she always did when she wanted to compose her mind, and then at last she flew right away without another \vord. What did she do, but fly at once to Miss UNCLE AINSLEE'S SQUIRREL STORY. 25 Squirrel, who sat in her house not a dozen trees ofF. " My dear," said Mrs. Robin, " h'fe is very- short, jou know, and I'm sure you'll be more comfortable in a nice tree near me, than here all alone. There is not a better squirrel in the whole wood, and I'm sure if he were not so bashful, he would come and tell you himself how anxious he is that you should marry him, and come and live in his tree." " Dear me ! " said Miss Squirrel ; " it's very sudden." " I know it is," said Mrs. Robin ; " but where's the use of wasting time ? He loves you dearly, and you will him ; " and off she flew. All this time Mrs. Robin had not once said who " he " was, but Miss Squirrel knew very well, and sat still thinking about it. Getting thirsty after a while, she ran down her tree for a berry. As it happened, Mr. Squirrel, being thirsty too, had started out for the same purpose, and both met under a big root. "Oh!" said Mr. Squirrel; and "My gra- cious ! " said Miss Squirrel ; and then they both looked at each other. " Will you ? " said Mr. Squirrel. " I will ! " said Miss Squirrel, without waiting a minute, and then they rubbed noses, for that 26 THE AINSLEE STORIES. is the way tliey kiss in Squirrel Land. Tiien they each took a berry, and running home to Mr. Squirrel's tree, went up to the branch oppo- site his hole, and ate them. jNIrs. Robin, perfectly delighted, sat below, and looked up at them, singing such a song that the leaves were quite excited, and whispered to each other that something more than common must be the matter. " You'll never leave me — will you ? " said Mr. Squirrel. " No," said Miss Squirrel, " only to get my winter things, — my checkerberries, you know, that I'd packed away in moss." So they ran back to her tree, and spent the rest of the day in moving the best nuts and ber- ries, and so little Miss Squirrel changed into Mrs. Squirrel, and both began housekeeping together. I could not begin to tell you all the good times they had, for it might take all niglit, and perhaps all next day too. Tiny little squirrels came, grew up, and left the home tree for another, but Mrs. Squirrel could jump as far and as high as the quickest of her children, and laid in a won- derful store of nuts every fall. Mrs. Robin builded her nest each year, and sang sweetly every morning, and Mr. Squii-rel grew feebler. UNCLE AINSLEE'S SQUIRREL STORY. 27 He gathered fewer nuts, slept many hours longer by (lay, and grew fonder and fonder of telling stories of his early life. One morning Mrs. Squirrel did not get up ; she had a bad headache, she said, and must keep still. Mr. Squirrel sat in the door and warned off all the visitors, and they had a great many, for they were a very sociable family. By and by, looking in and seeing her fast asleep, he thought a fresh checkerberry would be the very thing for her, and so started down the tree to get it. He went slowly, for his legs were quite stiff now in the morning, and he never thought of jumping before noon, when they began to be more limber. Only a little way from the spot where the berries were thickest, sat a square box ; in it lay deli- cious looking nuts, and Mr. Squirrel, never sus- pecting anything, and only thinking what a treat he could carry poor Mrs. Squirrel, walked in and picked up one. Click ! went something behind him, and turning, he saw a set of wires where = the door had been. Poor Squirrel! he bit and tore at them in vain, and finally, all faint and exhausted, lay down and wished he could die. Soon there were steps and voices. Mr. Squirrel knew very well what it meant, for long, long ago, a friend of one of his cousins had been caught in a trap and carried away by a bad boy. 28 THE AINSLEE STORIES. " Poor little squirrel ! " said a gentle voice over him. " I'd let you out if I could, but Tom won't let me." " No, I guess Tom won't," said a voice. " I'm going to have him in a cage, with a big wheel, and teach him to come when I call." Alas ! for Mr. Squirrel ! Tom carried him home, and an elegant tin house was provided, with four rooms, a circular staircase, and a large wheel, but only one of all these would Mr. Squirrel use. Into the bedroom he dragged every bit of cotton and wool furnished him, and then rolling himself up in a round ball, lay day after day and thought of poor INIrs. Squirrel. Sometimes the children poked him out with a stick, and then he looked at them so sadly and forlornly that little Mary's heart was quite broken. " He's a hateful old thing," said Tom one day, " and getting thin just to spite me." " Poke him into the wheel," said Mary. " Maybe he'll like to run round." So the two pushed and poked, till Mr. Squir- rel was in the wheel, but run round he would not. Tom, very angry, gave the cage a push which threw it to the floor. Tom did not notice, as he picked up scattered nuts and bits of cloth, that one bar in the door had flown out, but Mr. UNCLE AINSLEE'S SQUIRREL STORY. 29 Squirrel saw it the very minute he came to his senses. " I do really think," said he, " that I've got thin enough to squeeze through there." Half an hour later, Tom, coming into the room, caught a glimpse of a bushy tail disappear- ing through the open window. " Oh ! " said he ; " can that be our squirrel? " Sure enough it was. " I don't care," said Tom ; " he wasn't any good ; " and so the matter ended. Whether he reached home safely or not, you will soon see. In the mean time I will tell you how poor Mrs. Squirrel fared. Fast asleep when Mr. Squirrel went out for his checkerberry, she soon awoke, and feeling better, went to the door and looked out. Mrs. Robin was hopping up from twig to twig. " Where's my husband ? " said Mrs. Squirrel. "Why, isn't he at home?" asked Mrs. Robin. "No," answered Mrs. Squirrel, and then, quite anxious, sat down in the door to watch. By and by there was a rustling, but it was only Little Squirrel, the last one at home. So the two sat and waited till night came, and then went to bed sad. 30 TFIE AINSLEE STORIES. Days and days passed, and no Mr. Squirrel came. Little Squirrel had always had very poor health, and though their stock of nuts and berries ran low, he looked for no fresh ones ; so Mi's. Squirrel worked harder than ever, and each night said, " I think Mr. Squirrel will come to-morrow." Mrs. Robin shook her head, and said to her- self, " He'll never come back ; but it is just as well she should keep busy, for that shiftless Little Squirrel will never do anything." One day there came walking through the wood a man with a gun on his shoulder. No- body had ever fired a gun in those woods, and Mrs. Squirrel ran back and forth with her berries fearlessly. " Ha! " said the man ; " there's a fat one ! " and he fired. Little Squirrel eating nuts in the hole, heard a noise. " It's thundering," said he, and went on eating. By and by he heard a little faint sound at the bottom of the tree, and he went out, and down to the end of the bough where Mrs. Robin lived. Looking from it to the ground, he saw her standing perfectly still over some little red lump. He ran fast down to it. Ah ! how dreadful ! A shot had broken Mrs. Squirrel's leg, and she lay there all bloody with- out stirring. He thought she was dead. UNCLE AINSLEE'S SQUIRREL STORY. 31 " Oh, what shall I do ? " cried he ; " there won't he anybody to get my nuts." " Hush about your nuts," said Mrs. Robin, " and go for Dr. Owl fast as ever you can." Dr. Owl would not come at first, because the sun hurt his eyes, and made him wink so hard that he Avas sure he could not see her long enough at a time to do any good. Finally he did, how- ever, and between them they carried poor Mrs. Squirrel to her bed, and there she lay for many, many days. She was so old that Dr. Owl said her bones did not join well, and then she was always \^rrying about Mr. Squirrel, till she grew so thin that nobody knew her. She lay one day, aching and -miserable, when a shadow passed between her and the light, and a squirrel came in, old, and gray, and thin, and almost dead. For just a moment Mrs. Squirrel looked, and then she knew Mr. Squirrel. He lay down by her on the moss, and cuddled up close. Then they kept very still, for they were too glad to say one word. They had lived their life through, and all their last strength had gone in waiting. So when, after a time, Mrs. Robin and Dr. Owl came up together, there was nothing more to do, for little Mr. and Mrs. Squirrel had shut their bright eyes, and laid down their little 32 THE AINSLEE STORIES. heads for the last time, and they would never raise them again. " Ah ! " said Mrs. Robin, crying, " there'll never be such another pair in this tree, and not one left that's fit to take their place." Then she sent to all the birds and all the squirrels, and they tolled the bluebells and the wild harebells, that grew on the rocks, and there was mourning in Squirrel Land and in Bird Land. And by and by they made a little nest for them, under the great roots of the old oak, where they had first met, and one day, they cari'ied them to it and laid them softly in. Then the Sand Mar- tin shut them in with a clay covering, so that nothing could harm or reach them more, and there they left them. And this story is told by one who knows the language of Bird Land and of Squirrel Land ; and this is the end. III. CULLIGAN. "Speckle's a wicked hen," said Ainslee, com- ing in a few days after the squirrel story had been told. " She's a drefful wicked hen. See what she did, mamma," and Ainslee opened his hand, and showed a little yellow chicken, with bloody head and closed eyes. " That isn't one of Speckle's chickens," said grandma ; " it's a week younger than her's if it's a day. How came it with Speckle's ? " " I looked at Speckle," Ainslee said. " I looked into the coop, an' her eyes shined at me. I thought she was lonesome, 'cause I'd squeezed one o' her chickens all to deff, an' I took one o' the white hen's chickies, an' put it close to her, an' she bited it most to deff, grandma." "Didn't you know any better than that?" asked grandma. " There's some hens might take a strange chicken and keep it, but Speckle isn't one of that sort. Don't ever do such a thing again, unless you want to kill every chicken we've got." 34 THE AINSLEE STORIES. " I don't," s:iid Ainslee. " This cliickey isn't dead ; it kicks just a speck, grandma. Can't I have it ? " " Yes," grandma said, walking away, while mamma took the little downy thing into her hands. " We'll put it in a basket, on some cotton," she said, " and perhaps it will get well by and by." Ainslee ran for his little basket, and after the cotton had been put in, made a nest in it for the chicken, and set it before the fire, and then stood near for a time to keep pussy away, while mam- ma went back to grandma's room. He was hot with playing, and soon, between the fire and the sun, which poured in at the window, grew so much hotter, he did not know what to do. Ann came in with a pail of water, and looked surprised to see him standing still by the stove, with big drops of perspiration chasing one another over his nose. " For the land's sake, what you roasting your- self alive for?" she said, setting down the pail with a thump. " I should think you'd be hot enough running." " I am," said Ainslee, turning around. " I'm most all choked ; but then if I go away the chickey'U get eaten up, maybe. Pussy keeps a-smellin' so." CDLLIGAN. 35 " Shut her up," said Ann. " Put her in the meal-room, an' maybe she'll get a mouse. I saw. one there this morning." Pussy must have understood what was said, for as Ainslee started after her, she walked under the sink, quite behind the waste pipe, and dabbed at his hand with her sharp claws every time he reached forward. " I can't get her," he said at last, " an' I'm hotter'n hotter every minute." " Give her this an' she'll come out fast enough," said Ann, handing him a bit of cheese-ji'ind, which brought pussy out the moment she smelled it. Ainslee lugged her into the meal-room, a sort of long closet, with small covered bins on one side, where rye, Indian meal, and such things were kept. A mouse scampered across the shelf as the door opened, and pussy, whose tail grew as big as three, the minute she spied it, dropped the cheese and whisked after it. Ainslee stood still, long enough to see the tip end of the mouse's tail going into a hole, and pussy's paw almost on it, and then shut the door and went back to the chicken, which was holding up its head a little, and trying to look over the edge of the basket. " I guess it's hungry," he said. " Let me have some breffas for it, Ann." Ann gave him a little meal and water in a cup. 36 THE AINSLEE STORIES. and Ainslee put some l)efore tlie chicken, wliich took no notice of it. " It isn't liuno-ry a bit," he said, looking dis- appointed, " Oh, there's Sinny ! SInny, this chickey won't eat a bit." "What chickey?" said Sinny, coming into the kitchen, and Ainslee told him how it hap- pened to be there. " They picks up bugs, mostly," said Sinny. " Them's what the old hen scratches up for 'em, you know. Let's us get some." So the t^vo went out to the side of the barn where all the coops stood, and watched for a little while, to find out just what bugs were scratched up, but could not very well see, because when- ever they tried to get near, the old hen, the only one out with a brood, clucked fiercely, and looked as if she meant to fly at them. " I'm tired o' waiting," said Ainslee at last. " I'm goin' to get a speckled worm off the fennel. I saw some there a little while ago. Maybe they've crawled away, though." Sinny fan on before him, but stopped at the asparagus-bed. " Here's a first-rate one," he said, picking it up ; " real slim, so't the chickey can swallow it easy." " Come along then," said Ainslee, taking it CULLIGAN. 37 from Sinny ; and going at once to the kitchen, he put it down in the basket, out of which the worm began to crawl, as if it knew the best thing to be done was to get away as fast as possible. " Look a-here," Sinny said, stopping it ; " that ain't the way you've got to go. Let's put it in the chickey's mouth, 'cause, you see, if w^e don't, it'll get out-doors right away." "Well," said Ainslee ; "only look out not to touch its sore head," and he pulled open the chicken's bill, while Sinny put in the little worm, which hung half in and half out, as the bill shut again. " What are you doing, children ?" said mamma, who just then went through the room. " Givin' the chickey things it loves," Ainslee answered ; " but it won't eat." "I should think not," said mamma. "It is sick now, and wants nothing but to be let alone. Run away with your worm, and I will see that chickey is taken care of myself." Mamma hung the little basket on a nail near the window, so that even if pussy cam6' out, there would be hardly any danger of her getting it, and Ainslee and Sinny walked back to the garden, where Mr. Culligan was busy weeding the onion and beet beds, throwing the weeds into the path behind him as he worked. There was quite a 38 THE AINSLEE STORIES. pile already, and Sinny whispered something as he looked at them, which must liave been " wheel- barrow," for the next moment Ainslee said, — " You goin' to put 'em in the wheelbarrow pretty soon, Mr. Culligan ? " " Yes an' I am," said Mr. Culligan. " You throw thim in if I bring it along, an' maybe I'll be givin' you a ride." " That's just what I kept a-wishin' you'd say," said Ainslee, jumping up and down, and Culligan, in a few moments, brought the wheelbarrow from a side path, and the children picked up the weeds and threw them in. There was really no need of carrying them away till the barrow was full ; but Culligan, who was ready to do anything for Ainslee that could be done, and who said he was "intirely the finest o' all the grandchildren," stopped very soon, and said, " Now, in with yees ; it's in the barn-yard they've got to go." " Then drive us through the barn," said Ains- lee, tumbling in, and though there was the little gate wide open at the back of the barn-yard, so that one minute would have brought them to it, Culligan mumbled something about not stopping to undo the back gate, and, turning his head carefully so that he could not see it, went around through the carriage-gate, and in at the great front door of the barn, and so out to the yard. CULLIGAN. 39 " An' did you iver ? " he said, as he dumped children and weeds together in -one corner. " If there isn't the back gate open afther all, an' me a-ridin' yees all the way round, whin the day's hotter'n blazes." " You knowed it every minute," said Ainslee, jumping up ; " only you wasn't goin' to tell. Ain't you fust-rate ? " " It's stoppin' me wurruk you are," said Culli- gan, shaking his head. " Be off wid yees," and lifting up his hoe he chased them about the gar- den, till, quite tired out with running and laugh- ing, they sat down on the shady bank where the Stars of Bethlehem grew in the early spring, and watched the weeding, which went on fast now, to make up for lost time. You will hear of Cul- ligan every now and then as these stories go on, and so I will tell you now who he was, and what place he held at Grandpa Walton's. Years and years ago, when mamma was quite a little girl, he had come to Windsor, a young Irishman, fresh from the old country, and among the first of the many thousands who, since then, have crossed the wide water, which separates America from Europe. How he had wandered from Boston, where the ship came in, to this spot far up among the Green Mountains, he hardly knew himself, except that no work could be found 40 THE AINSLEE STORIES. in Boston, and somebody bad told him farmers in the country mioht hire liim. So from one village to another he had journeyed on with his young wife, growing more and more discouraged as be found nothing to do, till at last, late one afternoon, riding home from Cornish, grandpa saw the couple turn away from a house near the bridge, and sit down on a log, as if there w-as nothing more to hope for. Irishmen were a new tiling then, and no farmer or farmer's wife wanted a " furriner " about, and Culligan sat with bis bead bent down, while his wife, with her apron over her face, cried silently. " What is the trouble? " grandpa asked, stop- ping before them, and though Culligan's brogue was not very easy to understand, he soon knew the whole story, and then stopped to think a few moments, looking at them the while. Both had good faces, and grandpa determined that be would, at least, help them a little in the effort to earn an honest living. " Come home with me to-night," he said, " and I will see that you have a bed, and something to eat ; " and he rode slowly along, while the two followed, pouring out a flood of the warm-hearted, grateful words, Irish people know so well how to speak. Grandma liked them quite as well as grandpa. CULLIGAN. 41 and so it happened that the room over the car- riage-house was finally given up to them, and both stayed on. Culligan proved to be a very good gardener, though he knew nothing what- ever about anything else. Both were anxious to learn, and so of course did, as everybody can who goes to work with a will, and before a vear had passed, grandpa said he should be as sorry to part with them, as he had been to think of taking them. The room over the carriage-house was ex- changed for a little house down in the meadow. Children came, and grew up in the quiet town, going to school, and gaining an education, of which Culligan was proud enough, though he himself could barely read and write. Out of the nine, three boys were in good trades, one ap- prenticed to a carpenter, and the others, both boys and girls, still at home, all promising to do as well as the elder ones. Culligan had never lost the brogue, and, as he was growing old, probably never would ; but his wife, from many years of going about as washer- woman, had grafted on her original language a wonderful stock of Yankeeisms, while the chil- dren were all growing up to speak quite as good English as the majority of those who went to dis- trict school. 42 THE AINSLEE STORIES. Culliiran still had a little sore feeliiio; against Americans, and sometimes spoke his mind when asked why he would never work for anybody but Grandpa Walton. " In the time o' my nade," he said, " wliin 1 came sore futted, an' sorer hearted to the town, there was niver a one to give bite nor sup, nor the chance of wurruk to an honest man. Hard- hearted ye were, an' there is not one among ye that's the gintleman an' the Christian like the Squire. May the blissid saints make his bed in glory ! " Knowing all the family for the last twenty years, "you can see that Culligan was quite an important person at grandpa's, and though his day's works grew shorter and shorter, granjdpa never would hint tliat they might be longer. Ainslee had been two or three times to see " Mrs. Cully," as he called her, and, if Sinny had not been so near, would ])robably have become very intimate with little Pat, the smallest of all the Cullio-ans. The little house in the meadow had gone to pieces long ago ; but its place had been filled by a very nice one the boys had helped to build, and which stood on the same spot as the old one. Ainslee had heard some of this from Ann, and some from Culligan himself; but would have liked him all the same, probably, if he CULLIGAN. 43 had only been there one year instead of twenty, so long as he did pretty much everything that was asked him, and once in a while, when smoking his pipe, told wonderful stories about the " ould counthry." Mamma called, as Ainslee and Sinny sat on the bank, and both ran in, to find that something- had happened, about which I shall tell you in another chapter. IV. CHICKEN LITTLE. Uncle Ainslee stood by tlie window, where the Httle basket had been hunf^j, and mamma by him : and as Ainslee came in, he saw that basket and cotton were on the floor, and the chicken in Uncle Ainslee's hand. "Oh, what is it?" he said; and then almost cried as he looked at the chicken's little legs, one of which hung by a bit of skin just ready to break. " Now it's deaded, I know. Who did doit?" '* Pussy, after all," mamma answered. " Some- body opened the meal-room door, and pussy saw the basket stirring, I suppose, and must have jumped from the sink, and struck it with her paw, till she knocked it from the nail. I came out just in time to find chickey struggling to get away, and pussy nolding it by this poor little leg, which, Uncle Ainslee says, must be cut oflP." Ainslee cried now in good earnest, till his uncle said, " The chicken won't die, I think, and CHICKEN LITTLE. 45 I shall tie up the stump nicely till it is all well, and then, perhaps, make a wooden leg." " Like Jim Field's, down in the village ? " said Ainslee, smiling a little. " Not quite so big," Uncle Ainslee answered. " But maybe the chickey'll die before it can get on the leg," Ainslee said, looking sober again. " No, I guess not," Uncle Ainslee said, taking out his penknife, and cutting the bit of skin which held the leg. " People who go thi'ough a great many adventui'es and hair-breadth escapes often live longer than those wdio stay quietly at home ; and this chicken, having had all her troubles early in life, will very likely be a great- great-grandmother, and see dozens of her de- scendants made into chicken pies." Mamma had brought some soft rags, and as Uncle Ainslee talked, he tied up the leg, and laid the chicken back in the basket. " Don't put it here again," said Ainslee, " 'cause pussy '11 get it right away, if you do." " No," said Uncle Ainslee, " I'll take it to my room, for I shall want to watch the leg for the next day or two. When people break their legs, you know, or have them bitten off by some dreadful wild animal, they must lie in bed, and have the doctor come every day till they get well." 46 THE AINSLEE STORIES. Uncle Ainslee walked away, and up to his room, and Ainslee followed, and watched till the chicken had been put on a table in the cor- ner, and then went down to talk the matter over with grandma, while SInny walked home. Two or three days went by, and the chicken, which grandma had said to herself could not and would not live, though she had not told Ainslee so, not only lived, but seemed to improve each day. It could not walk, of course, with only one leg, but the stump of the other was healing nicely, and the chicken's little, bright eyes look- ed about quite fearlessly, at the many children who went in and out, and it ate all the stirabout Uncle Ainslee thought good for it. Every day Ainslee asked at breakfast, " You goin' to make the leg to-day, uncle ? " and every day, for nearly a Aveek, was answered, " Not quite yet," till he began to think the chicken would be an old hen, before she walked again. At last one afternoon, Ainslee — who had been up-stairs for some time, looking at a great book, filled with pictures, which he was allowed to take from the shelves himself, whether Uncle Ainslee was in the room or not — heard his quick, firm step on the stairs. In a moment he came in, tossing his cap to the bed, and sitting down by the table where chickey was tied into CHICKEN LITTLE. 47 the basket, and giving a peep, now and then, as she tried to get out. " Oh ! you goin' to make the leg now ? " said Ainslee, shutting tlie book and running to the table. " I didn't believe you ever would. Why didn't you before ? " " Because the stump was not entirely well," Uncle Ainslee answered, beginning to cut and shape a bit of wood in his hand. " If I had made the leg and fastened it on tight enough to make it stay, it would have hurt the chicken so that she couldn't walk, perhaps ; but now I don't think it will. We'll see, at any rate." Ainslee looked on till the piece of wood had taken shape, — quite a respectable claw on the end. Then Uncle Ainslee took the string off the basket, and, lifting chickey out, set the little stump into the place made for it in the top of the new leg, putting a bit of cotton wool in first. Then he wound a strip of soft rag carefully around it a great many times, sewed the end carefully down with a needle and thread, he took from the pincushion, and set the chicken on the table. How queer it did look ! So queer that Ainslee began to laugh, and laughed on harder and harder, as chickey, who had at first stood still, probably dizzy from being in bed so long, took 48 THE AINSLEE STORIES. one step, and tlien looked down to find ont wliy one foot made so much more noise than another ; then took one more, and at last walked all around the table, clickity -click, helping herself alono; with her wings, when the new leg did not Avork well, " Just a speck too long," said Uncle Ainslee, picking her up, and cutting at the claw. " Now it's all right, I think," and setting her down again, chiekey went bravely around once more ; and, stopping at the saucer of water, dipped her little beak in it, and looked up at the ceiling afterwards, just as any well brought up chicken would have done. " Well, if I ever ! " said grandma, who had come in. " You don't mean to say that chick- en's really walking ? I don't believe the other chickens will let that stay on its leg." "Let's see," said Ainslee. "Come quick, grandma, an' we'll all look. Come, mamma. The chiekey 's got a be-?/M-tiful new leg, an' its mother won't know it. Come along, do ! " Quite a procession followed Uncle Ainslee and the chicken, to the side of the barn, where the coops were. Nurse was curious, as well as Ann, and Grandpa Walton was pulled along, declar- ing he never had heard of such a thing, and if the chicken grew as fast as its brothers and sis- ters, it would want a new leg every day. CHICKEN LITTLE. 49 Uncle Ainslee set it down before the coop, among the other nine, and then drew back a little with the others, to see what would be done. Our chickey seemed to know the old home at once, and ran through the slats to Mrs. White Hen, who was sitting still in the corner, cooling off, after a violent scratch for bugs in the beet bed, and at first appeared to know the new- comer, and lifted one wing a little, as if inviting her to come under and take a nap. Chickey knew that feathers were a deal nicer than even the best of cotton wool, in the reddest of baskets, and started forward, hippity hop, to the old place. Mrs. White Hen rose up suddenly, and looked sharply down at the curious leg. No chicken of hers had ever tumbled out of the egg in that shape, and yet the face certainly was familiar. She touched her bill to the lump of rag. Nothing like any of her family about that ; and Mrs. White Hen, making up her mind some im- pudent chicken was trying to impose upon her, dabbed at our poor little one's head with her sharp beak ; and would soon have made an end of her, had not Uncle Ainslee sprung forward, and caught her in his hand. " What an old heathen," he said, " not to know her own child. What shall we do about it ? " " I told you so," said grandma. " It's got to 60 THE AINSLEE STORIES. stay in tlie house, and next thing, tlie cat'll eat it." " She sha'n't," said Ainslee. " That's a wicked hen. She ouglit to be boiled riglit away, grandma, so's not to Hve any longer. She don't love her own little chickey." " She doesn't think it is hers," said mamma ; " that is the trouble. She doesn't want a stran- ger in the place of her own little ones. Wooden legs are something new in Hen Land ; and all we can do is to care for poor chickey ourselves." So our chicken went back to the house, to stay there till old enough to fight its own battles, and was offered to nurse, who declined the gift, and then to Ann, who said she could not and would not be bothered with it, but at last agreed to help Ainslee in fighting off Ponto and Pussy. Ponto soon learned that here was something to be let alone ; and chickey, after a time, lost all fear, and pecked daintily at whatever happened to be in his pan, while Ponto rolled his eyes and shook himself, as if to say, " What a jolly time I'd have, if I only dared." Pussy learned more slowly, and for a long time, even with the switch in plain sight, when- ever chickey was near, her eyes grew green, and her tail swelled up, just as if she saw a mouse. At last, however, making up her mind it was CHICKEN LITTLE. 51 just lost time to get so excited over a thing she could not have, she shut her eyes, and made believe she could not see, no matter how close by chickey was. Uncle Ainslee had named it Miss Flite, — some of you will know why, and those of you who do not, must ask, — and Miss Flite grew so well acquainted with everybody, and was always to be found in such unexpected places, that grandma said she was the greatest plague that even Ainslee had ever brought into the house. Every day she grew, too, so that several legs had to be made, just as grandpa had said. Do what they would, though, she never joined the other hens and chickens, except for a few moments at a time ; and no matter how far away Ainslee car- ried her, always came, half hobbling, half flying, back again. Ainslee talked of taking; her home to New York in the fall, and keeping her in the back yard, and had even planned the sort of house to be built for her, when something hap- pened, which put an end to all planning. Miss Flite, grown now to a good-sized pullet, sat one afternoon in the sun, on the door step. Ponto lay asleep behind her. Ann had gone up to her own room, and Ainslee was at Sinny's, doing all the mischief two heads could plan. Up to the gate drove a tin-peddler's wagon, under which ran along a small black dog. 62 THE AINSLEE STORIES. The peddler came two or three times a year to grandpa's, and having come from the same town as grandma, she always bought something of him. So, to-day, he walked in, followed by the black dog, who pricked up his ears, and rushed at Miss Flite directly. Ponto w'as either too sleepy to interfere, or was rather glad to have some other dog do what he had been longing to be about for such a while. At any rate he lay still, only opening just one eye, to see the fun ; and our chicken, who had come to think all dogs were like Ponto, and so did not move, was caught up, and shaken almost to bits. The ped- dler called the black dog off, but too late for little Miss Flite, who never held up her head again. She was not strong, you know, and could never have scratched for a living ; but for all that, every- body was very, very soiTy, that the poor little thing should die in such a way. Ainslee buried her by the other chicken, that same afternoon, and then, going into the summer-house, cried for a few minutes, till Uncle Ainslee came out and sat down by him. " I keep feelin' drefful bad, every minute," he said presently. " You said Miss Flite might live to see her grandfather made into chicken pie ; an' she didn't. I wish you'd tell me a story." CHICKEN LITTLE. 53 " About her grandfather ? " asked Uncle Ainslee. " About a bumble-bee," said Ainslee, turn- ing to look at a great fellow, which had just settled down on a white clover ; " I should think a bumble-bee would make a beautiful story." " Perhaps it would," said Uncle Ainslee. " I'll tell you something which came into my mind, when I was watching a big spider this morning." And Uncle Ainslee began the story you will find in another chapter. V. THE BUMBLE-BEE STORY. Down in the meadow, under a very large root of grass, lived a young Bumble-bee, only one sea- son old, who thought that he knew more thsfn his mother and all his uncles and aunts put to- gether. Mrs. Bumble-bee, his mother, was the steadiest kind of a bee, who had made her house under the root, and brought up great families of young Bumble-bees, all of whom now had nests of their own, and were going on just like their mother, except this one, who made her more trouble than any fifty of her other children. Day after day she flew to the best clover tops, and brought home the clearest honey that ever was seen ; and day after day, young Bumble-bee refused to go with her, and buzzed about the door till she came home, when he was very ready to eat fall half the day's work. " There is something quite out of the common way about me," he would say, sticking his legs into the honey. " Some day I know I shall do something that nobody would have thought of, i THE BUMBLE-BEE STORY. 55 and then, perhaps, I shall have a glass house like the Honey-bee." " You'll never have anything, if you don't go to work," his mother used to say ; but Bumble-bee never minded, and did nothing all day but wish he was something different. He was very inti- mate with his cousin, the Carpenter-bee, who lived in a fine house in one of the boards on the barn, which his wife had lined with rose-leaves, to make a soft bed for her little ones, and he never went there without wishing he had been born in a board, instead of down in the ground among the bugs. The Black Cricket, who lived next door under a stone, made fun of him ; and the Burying- beetle said he would come to some bad end surely, and if he did, he knew what their business was, and they should do their duty by him. As the summer went on, the white-faced hor- nets came, and Bumble-bee envied them, and wished he had been made to eat the sunny side of pears and plums. Sometimes, too, he looked in at the glass houses, where the little honey-bees worked all day long, and wished he had been born there. One of the drones invited him in one day, showed him the beautiful white combs, and said that he had all to eat that he could hold, and never did a thing. After this. Bumble-bee hung about the hive every day, wishing he were a 56 THE AINSLEE STORIES. drone, till one morning, flying up from the meadow, he met his mother going home in a great huriy. " What's the matter ? " said he. " Go on to the hives and you'll see," said she, " and I hope it will be a lesson to you." Young Bumble-bee flew on, joining Miss Wasp as he went, and they sat down on a hollyhock close by, where, by just leaning forward a little, both hives could be plainly seen. There lay his old friend, the drone, on his back, just expiring, and all about other drones, some dead and some dying, were scattered before the doors. " What does it mean ? " said Young Bumble- bee, turning quite pale. " Is it the cholera ? I don't feel at all well. I must go home." " Nonsense ! " said Miss Wasp. " No cholera at all. It's the season for killing the drones, that's all. You don't seem to know anything about your own relations. Don't you know that they make a regular business of killing off the drones, because they won't work ? " " Because they won't work," repeated Bum- ble-bee, shaking. " I never heard of such a thing. Let's go somewhere else." " Come with me," said Miss Wasp. " I know where there are some strawberries in sugar. I saw two jars put on a table to cool a little while ago. Better than honey." THE BUMBLE-BEE STORY. 57 Young Bumble-bee flew on with her, and sat down on the window-sill, while Miss Wasp lit on the edge of a jar which was still open. " Deli- cious ! " she was saying, when into the room came a little girl ; a very little girl, hardly three years old, who knew as much about the strawberries as Miss Wasp, and went straight to them. Bumble- bee was not hungry, — he was too frightened to be hungry, — so he sat still and watched the little girl, who wore a gingham apron to keep her dress clean, and had on stockings, striped blue and white. " Such stockings ! " said Bumble-bee, who had seen her before ; " beautiful stockings ! Why can't I be a little girl and wear stockino-s ? " • Up to the table the little girl walked, and put her small pointed finger right into the jar, and after her came a woman, who pulled the finger out, faster than it had gone in. " Can't trust you out o' my sight a minute," she said. " You'd a-made yourself sick eating preserves, next thing." " Nice fly, eat lots," the little girl said, point- ing to Miss Wasp, who still sat on the edge of the jar. " Nice fly ! Goodness me ! " said the woman. " Next thing you'll be picking that up. It's a wasp, and stings awful," and she fluttered her 58 THE AINSLEE STORIES. apron, and knocked Miss Wasp to the floor, where she at once stepped on her. " Dear, dear ! " said young Bumble-bee, flying away fast as he could. " It does seem as if every- thing were going to destruction," and he sat down in a red hollyhock, and wiped his face, which felt very hot. In the heart of the holly- hock a drop of dew still lay, and three of Young Bumble-bee's feet slipped in it as he sat down. " There," he said peevishly, flirting off" the water. " If I had had stockings on, that couldn't have happened," and he flew home to talk to his mother about it. She was not there, and he sat down on the chickweed and looked at a hairy caterpillar, which had rolled itself into a ball, when a black spider went by. " Now she can't be wet by anything," said he, " and there are the beetles, too ; might be rained on a year, and their backs would shed every drop, and here I am, with such delicate feet, that the least wetting gives me a cold, and motlier's just the same. Sneezing half the time, because she will go out so early in the morning, that she's soaked with dew every day. Why don't we have stockings ? " "What are you sulking about now?" said Mrs. Ant, stopping a moment to rest, as she lugged along a fly's hind quarter. THE BUMBLE-BEE STORY. 59 " I'm not sulking," said Young Bumble-bee. " I'm thinking I'm wishing 1 had some stockings, and then I think I might go to work and make me a house without dying of hasty consumption while I was about it." " Well, did I ever ! " said Mrs. Ant. " What'll get into your head next ? You'd better talk to your mother ; I'm too busy," and she tugged on. Young Bumble-bee did talk to his mother, till she grew tired of the sound of his voice ; but not a word about stockings could she tell him, though all the day long she tried to think how some could be made. Young Bumble-bee thought too, and went about among his relations asking questions, till the Mason-bee cut him altogether ; the Carpenter-bee slammed the door in his face ; and the oldest Honey-bee said she was tired out with advising him, and if he was not content to be as he had been made, he might better go and live with the hornets or the wasps. So day after day he wondered how he should manage, and grew so thin with thinking and scolding, that his poor mother was almost worn out worrying over him, and had to make a dozen new pansy-leaf pocket-handkerchiefs, because she had cried the old ones all to pieces. She brought honey from the sweetest clover tops in the coun- try, but he hardly tasted it. He sat in the door, 60 THE AINSLER STORIES. with his head down, till every bug, and worm, and fly that came near, said, " He's got some- tliing on his mind ; " and the burying-beetles whispered together tliat his time would soon come, and even went so far as to look out the best spot to put him in, in case he committed suicide. Well, one morning, crawling out of the door, he found the sun shining so gloriously, that to save his life he couldn't help being a little cheered by it. So he flew along slowly and feebly till he reached the fence, and then sat down to rest. Here, be- tween the rails, were two large spider-Avebs, one on each side the post, into the holes in which the spiders ran, if they wanted to be out of sight, or if it rained. In one web lived a black spider, who had two bags of eggs under her care, which she watched every moment when she was not catching flies, and in the other lived a great black and yellow one, like the one you caught the other day, and which you thought was a TaraHtula, though you know now that it was not, but only second or third cousin to it. Mrs. Tarantula, we will call her, was strong enough to tie up the biggest hornet, or even bumble-bee, that got into the web, and kept some of her eyes on Young Bumble-bee, as he sat there half asleep. Mrs. Black-spider would have eaten THE BUMBLE-BEE STORY. 61 him too, fast enough, I dare say, just as fast as Mrs. Tarantula, probably, but she dreaded to see anything bigger than a blue-bottle fly in her web, because before they were well tied, they were sure to tear it to pieces trying to get away. So she said, " Good morning," very politely, and then went on, rolling up half a fly in a bit of web, and tucking it away in the post-hole for future eating. , " I think I will clear out my pantry," she said. " I can't have such a stack of bags lying round," and she walked into a dark corner, and presently tumbled out two or three of the bits of web, in which flies had been. Bumble-bee looked on, half stupidly at first, and then such a thought came into his head, that he spread his wings and buzzed louder than he had for a month. " What's the matter ? " said Mrs. Spider, step- ping out. " For mercy's sake don't get into the web. You'll have it all to pieces ! " Young Bumble-bee flew down to the grass where the bags lay, and now, slipping one leg in, found that though it wouldn't stay in when lifted, yet that here at last were the stockings he had pined for so long, soft as could be, and a delicate gray, which set off" the shining black of his legs to great advantage. 62 THE AINSLEE STORIES. " You don't want to use them, I know," he said, " so you will let me have them, Mrs. Spider, won't you ? " " Why yes," said Mrs. Spider, laughing so she nearly fell off the post, and saying to herself, " Did I ever hear of such a fool ? " " Then you must help me tie them on," said Young Bumble-bee, " for they won't stay a minute." • " Very well," said Mrs. Spider, thinking to her- self what fun it would be to go after him if only she had wings, and hear what would be said about him. So she crawled down the post, and as fast as Bumble-bee got a leg safely into one of the bags, spun enough silk to tie it tight around his knee, till five legs were in five bags, and Bumble- bee said he wouldn't do any more that day, but come again to-morrow. All Bug Land turned out as he flew up to the Carpenter-bee's house, for such a thing had never been seen. Even the mole heard the scurry- ing overhead, and put up one eye, and then drew it in again, knowing that, even if he looked all day, he could see nothing. Every ant on the way to pasture, stood still and stared. The squash-bugs stopped eating up the squash-vines ; the rose-bugs flew after him fast as they could, and every miller and fly followed. THE BUMBLE-BEE STORY. 63 " This is very fine," said Young Bumble-bee. " If only it did not tire my legs so ; but one must always suffer a little who rises above the common level of things," and he settled on the Hollyhock, half dead with fatigue. " Don't come here," said the Hollyhock, giving a flirt, which tumbled him out. " I won't be trodden on by such legs." " Get away from me ! " shouted the Four- o'clock, shutting up fast as it could. The ants laughed, and the Speckled Caterpillar, walking up a tomato-vine, said, " You'd better go home. I heard-the Tiger-moth say such silly doings were not to go on in Bug Land. If you stay here there'll be a mob." "Stuff!" said Young Bumble-bee. "It is a free country. I am a benefactor. I have found out, not only the only road to health, but the reason why spiders were made. As soon as I am rested, I am going to call on every bee I know, and ask them to form a society for encouraging the making of spider-web stockings. Before you' are in a cocoon, Mrs. Caterpillar, you will see every Bumble-bee doing what I have done, and my memory will live forever." " Fiddlesticks ! " said Mrs. Caterpillar, and Bumble-bee flew down to the meadow, and went home. His mother cried harder, when she saw 64 THE AINSLEE STORIES. the stockings, than she ever had before, and Bnmblo-l)ce, who was dreadfully tired, tried to take them off before ffoing to bed. They wouldn't come off though, for Mrs. Spider had fastened them on so tiglit, that they never could, unless his legs came off too. So he went to bed, but couldn't lie down comfortably, you know, and had cramps all night. He was too tired to fly about next day as he had intended, and the next night begged his mother to help him get out of them. No use. The Carpenter-bee called, when he heard of the trouble, and got off part of one ; but he could not cut the cord which tied the stocking on, without cutting the leg too, and he did not dare to try. He came again next day, and got off part of another, and then Mrs. Bumble-bee went to Mrs. Spider, and begged her to come and help them. " I can't," said Mrs. Spider. " I'm sorry for you ; but I never undo any work once done." Mrs. Bumble-bee went home crying, but that could not help Young Bumble-bee. He grew weaker and w^eaker, and at last, when the black cricket looked in, in the afternoon, to ask if she could do anything, poor Bumble-bee had stopped breathing, and the burying-beetles were already at the door. Mrs. Bumble-bee was sorry, but nobody else THE BUMBLE-BEE STORY. 65 cared very much, because he had never done anything but have his own way. So he died, and even now the ants, who are still living next door, tell their children the story when the day's work is done. The black cricket sings a song about it, and Grandfather Longlegs has written it down, with all the other wonderful things he knows ; and told me the other day, as he ran down my leg, that if he lived long enough to find the right sort of Editor, he should publish a big book, all about everything. VT. HAYING TIME. " Where's Ainslee ? " said Grandma Walton, coming out from the bedroom with her hymn- book and a sprig of fennel in her hand. " The first bell's ringino;, and I'm sure I heard his voice down in the garden. Why ain't he ready for church?" " Do you think it a good plan for so small a boy to go, mother ? " said Mr. Barton, Ainslee's father, who came up from the city every Saturday to stay over Sunday. " Small boy ! " said grandma. " Why, he's most five years old. His mother began to go when she wasn't three, and his Uncle Ainslee, too. You'll spoil that child with your notions ; and how will he learn to respect the Sabbath if he ain't taught when he's young ? " " I doubt if taking him to church twice on Sunday will do that," said Mr. Barton. " We try to make the day a very pleasant one, so that he may have only happy ideas of it to look back upon. His mother always teaches him some little HAYING TIME. 67 hymn or sweet Bible verse, and he is very much interested in Bible stories, so that I'm inclined to think he will be glad to go of his own free-will when he is older." *' Well ! " said grandma, shaking her head, " every one to his notion ; yours ain't mine." At this moment Ainslee, holding his mother's hand, came in, his blue eyes shining and his cheeks very red. " Grandma," said he, " my sweet pea corned up on top of a stem, an' mother says that's the right way, an' I mustn't put it back again, for I was a-going to, and my bean did just like it. Where you going ? " " To church," said grandma, " where a boy like you ought to be going too, and not rampag- ing round the whole o' Sunday." " Get him ready, mamma," said Mr. Barton, " and we'll take him this morning. Will you be very good, Ainslee ? " " Yes, sir," said Ainslee, as he trotted off with mamma, quite pleased with the prospect. " I shall ride with grandma and Uncle Ainslee," said his mother, " and you and father will walk, because the buggy will not hold all of us, and the rockaway broke down yesterday, you know, when they took John and Lizzie to the depot. You must try and sit very still through the sermon, 68 THE AINSLEE STORIES. even if you do get a little tired, and this afternoon I will tell you all about Noah and his dove." All this time mamma was unbuttoning and but- toning ever so many buttons, while nurse held the baby, who crowed and squealed at Ainslee, and at last, getting near enough, caught at a curl and pulled till he was quite red in the face. " What a baby ! " said Ainslee ; " he don't know enough to sit still in church — does he, mamma ? " " I guess not," said mother ; and Ainslee, being all ready, started down -stairs, holding his little straw hat and looking very fresh and sweet. Grandma gave him a great kiss as they went into the sitting-room. " Pretty is that pretty does," said she ; " you be a good boy now, Ainslee." Mr. Barton stood on the piazza waiting for him ; he was so tall and Ainslee so short and fat that there was difficulty in keeping up with him, and Ainslee, after holding on hard to his father's middle finger, and taking a good many little steps to one of his long ones, decided to let go and only hold on to his coat-tail if any danger came up. So they went on together over the beautiful country road. The day was hot, but rain had fallen the night before ; so there was no dust, and the road was shaded by great elms and ma- HAYING TIME. 69 pies. By and by grandma and mamma passed them, driving slowly. " Hurry along," said grandma. " Plenty of time," answered Mr. Barton ; " it's only ten now, and we shall be there in twenty minutes or so." The little white church was on the other side of the river, which was crossed by a covered bridge. Ainslee put his feet down hard as they walked through it. " It sounds like a drum," said he, as a wagon passed them. " I wish we were going to stay here and stamp instead of going to church. No, I don't, either, 'cause mamma said there was a little brook ran all along by the road after we got out of the bridge ; let's hurry ! If Ainslee had been a little older, he would have stopped as they came out into daylight, and looked down the lovely winding river, and at the village under the shadow of the great mountain. The road gradually ascended as they left the bridge ; groves of maples were on one side, — su- gar-bushes, as the farmers called them, — and on the other a brook ran down and emptied into the river. It was a noisy brook there, rushing into the smooth water over stones and rocks as if in great hurry to get somewhere else as fast as pos- sible ; but it grew more quiet as they walked on, 70 THE AINSLEE STORIES. bubbling over little white pebbles, and gleaming around wee fishes who swam busily about. By and by, at the very foot of the hill on which the church stood, they came to a little foot-bridge which crossed it. There the brook widened ao-ain, and then turned off into some woods. Two great oaks stood over it ; there was a line of stepping-stones, not so far apart but what even Ainslee's little legs could get from one to the other, and here were whole crowds of shiners. " O papa," said Ainslee, " do please go on to the stones." Papa was quite ready for it himself, and Ains- lee stopped on the middle one and looked at the fish, and then up and down the brook. " It's the beautifullest place that ever was," said he. " Why can't we live here all the time, papa ( " We can live here every summer," said his father. " Perhaps I shall leave you here some Avinter with mamma and baby if I have to go away. Come now, or we really shall be late ; don't you hear the bell tolling? " Only a little further up the hill and there was the church. Mamma was standing with Uncle Ainslee on the church-steps, talking to a very old man. Ainslee saw some people in the pews, but ever so many seemed to be outside, waiting for the HAYING TIME. 71 bell to stop ringing. Papa spoke to the old man too, and then all went into the church together. Ainslee had never seen anything like it. The pews were all square, with such high backs — he couldn't see anything at all when he was sitting down, but the crowns of the bonnets in front. He was right opposite grandma, and kept won- dering how long it would take her to bite every seed off her sprig of fennel. Pretty soon the bell stopped. Ainslee stood up on the seat and watched the people come in. Then the minister stood up, and when he had read a hymn, everybody turned round and looked up to the gallery where a large man played the bass-viol, and another man a flute, and all the choir sung a tune called Dundee. Ainslee knew it was Dundee, because grandpa had asked mamma to sing it the evening before, and papa and Uncle Ainslee had both joined in. He listened to the chapter which the minister read, for it was about the ravens which fed Elijah, and he came very near singing, — " Where, oh where is the good Elijah ? " — one verse of a hymn which he had heard in Sunday-school at home. Then came the long prayer : Ainslee stood up by his father and stretched his small neck, trying to see the minister, who prayed in a very loud voice, and then they sung another hymn and the 72 THE AINSLEE STORIES. sermon began. Ainslee expected to hear some more about Elijah, and Hstened very quietly for a time, but not a word could he understand. " He's preaching to the big people," thought he ; " I ain't going to look at him any more." Grandma gave him a fennel seed and he ate it ; then he stared up at the high pulpit and won- dered if the minister wasn't afraid to stay in it, and why the white board over it was put there. It was getting very hot and uncomfortable. The sun shone in right on his head, for their pew was by a window, though grandma and mamma sat by it, so that he could not climb up to look out. All at once, hang fell a book from the gal- lery. Ainslee stood up on the seat to see what it meant. There was Sinny in the gallery look- ing guilty, and Ainslee laughed aloud, he was so pleased to see him. Then he remembered where he was and sat down with such a red face that papa coughed and mamma put her handkerchief to her mouth. Ainslee hardly stirred till church was out, and he held his mother's hand tight when he found himself again in the open air. " What made you laugh ? " said grandma. " 'Cause I sawed Sinny," said Ainslee. " Why wasn't you listening to the minister ? " said grandma severely. HAYING TIME. 73 " 'Cause he wasn't sayin' anything I knew about," answered Ainslee. " He kept a hollerin' at God, and I got tired hearing him." Grandma would have said something more, but mamma took his hand. " Papa will drive grandma home," said she, " and we will walk, I think, with Uncle Ainslee." All the way home they were talking of old times, and Ainslee found that his mother, when a little girl, had walked over stepping-stones in that very brook, on her way to the same church, and that once Uncle Ainslee had waded with her on his back, away down to a deep pool under a great pine-tree, and then sat on the bank to watch for a big trout that was said to live there. Ains- lee was so interested that the walk seemed very short, and when they reached home he was as- tonished to find it after one o'clock. He ate some lunch, and then went up-stairs with mamma, who told him about Noah and his dove, and showed him a beautiful picture of the dove with the olive- leaf in his mouth, flying over the dark water. " Do you s'pose Noah found the dove again when he went down the hill ? " said Ainslee. " I think very likely he did," said his mother; " the dove would remember him, and come where he was, perhaps. At any rate we know it found a tree to rest on, and I dare say it built a nest and had dear little doves in it." 74 THE AINSLEE STORIES. " Are grandpa's doves any relation to Noah's ? " asked Ainslee. His mother laughed, and just then they were all called to dinner, and Ainslee went down very hungry. ]\Iamma's parlor-organ had been brought up from the city, and after dinner she played and sung sweet old hymns, with papa and Uncle Ainslee. They ended with " Shining Shore," and Ainslee sang it with them very loud. It was bed-time now, and when he kissed grandma he said, — "I didn't go to laugh, grandma, but I could n't help it when I sawed Sinny. I'll be real good next Sunday." Grandma smiled a little when he had left the room. " I guess he'd better go to Mr. Parker's church, down to the village," said she ; " they say he interests everybody, children and grown folks too." Next morning when Ainslee was being dressed he heard a curious ringing sound from the meadows. " What's that ? " said he. " It's mowers," answered nurse ; " they're sharpening their scythes." Ainslee ran to the window and looked out. There were three men in grandpa's meadow ; two were mowing, and one stood resting his scythe HAYING TIME. 75 on the ground and rubbing a whetstone back and forth on the blade. " My ! " said Ainslee, " I want to go there." " That would never do," said his mother, who had just come in ; "a hay-field, while they are mowing, is a dangerous place for little boys ; their legs might be almost cut off, if they went near those great sweeping knives. When the hay is cut and drying, I dare say grandpa will let you play in it as much as you please, and Tom will give you a ride home on the hay-wagon." " That's good," said Ainslee ; " only I wanted to cut some hay myself." " Wait till you are larger," said his mother ; " your little fat arms couldn't hold a scythe very long." Sinny was by the back-door before Ainslee had finished his breakfast, and grandma coming out found him on the step. " Don't you get into any more mischief with Ainslee," said she ; " you play right round where some of us can see you all the time." " Yes, ma'am," said Sinny, and then Ainslee came out. "Let's go stand on the fence and see 'em mow," said he ; and they started down to the meadow, and climbing to the top of the fence, each sat on a post and looked over. 76 THE AINSLEE STORIES. " You can't mow — can you, Sinny ? " said Ainslee. " Never tried," said Sinny ; " guess I'm too short — grandfather can. He's a-mowing the big field to-day. There's a sickle up in our barn. I shouldn't wonder if I could mow with that." " What 's a sickle ? " said Ainslee. " O you gump ! " said Sinny. " It's like a scythe, only it's kinder round." " Let's get it," said Ainslee, " and mow grand- ma's bleaching ground ; the grass is dreadful high." " Come along then," said Sinny ; and they started up to his grandfather's barn. " Did you ever hear any story about a squir- rel, Sinny ? " said Ainslee. " No," said Sinny ; " I shouldn't think there was any stories about 'em." " But there are," said Ainslee ; "Uncle Ains- lee told us a beautiful one. I'll tell it to you." So sitting down on a stone by the road and forgetting their errand entirely, Ainslee told all that he could remember of the squirrel story. Sinny was very serious when it ended, and seemed half a mind to cry. " Let's hunt for the tree," said he. " I'd like to find where they buried 'em." HAYING TIME. 77 " Well," said Ainslee, " when we've done the mowing, we will. Let's go for the sickle this minute." Sinny scrambled upon a pile of boards to reach it and handed it down to Ainslee. " Grand- father sharpened it the other day," said he, " so you look out and not cut you." "We ought both to mow at a time," said Ainslee ; " there's three men mowing at grand- pa's : ain't you got another sickle ? " " No," said Sinny, " not one ; you can take a knife, 'cause you ain't used to mowing." " I'll get grandma's carving-knife," said Ains- lee ; " that gets sharpened every day." There was nobody in the dining-room when the children got down to Grandpa Walton's. Ainslee took the big knife from the knife-drawer, and ran round to the bleaching-ground behind the wood-house where Sinny was waiting for him, and where he had already cut quite a little pile of grass. Sinny was barefoot, and kicked the grass aside with his little black toes. " The grass feels good — don't it ? " said Ainslee. " I'm a-going to take off my shoes, so's to kick it too." So Ainslee pulled off his shoes after much trouble ; but concluded to leave on his stockings, as his mother had told him he must not go bare- (8 THE AINSLEE STORIES. foot, and then he began to work with his knife, Avhicli made small headway compared with the sharp sickle. " Let me have the sickle, Sinny," said he. " I don't want to," said Sinny ; " I want to get a lot." " I think you might," said Ainslee, after try- ing again. "Well, I will a minute," said Sinny; "give it right back though." Ainslee succeeded so well that he was not at all willing to give it up when Sinny claimed it. "I'm a-going to keep it," said he: "you take the knife." " But I ain't a-going to," said Sinny ; " you give me my sickle." " 'Tisn't yours — it's your grandfather's," said Ainslee, " an' you haven't any business to have it." Sinny reflected. " He ain't your grandfather, any way," said he ; " and I will have it — so now." There was a moment's struggle ; then mamma looking from her chamber-window heard a scream, and Sinny came running up to the house and be- gan to cry. Mamma ran out to Ainslee. In the dispute the sickle had fallen and he had stepped on it heavily. His stocking was cut through, and the blood streaming from his foot. HAYING TIME. 79 Mamma lifted and carried him to the porch. There was a deep cut in the foot, and Uncle Ainslee, coming up, found mamma very pale. " I want a doctor right away," said she. " I'm afraid Ainslee's foot is dreadfully hurt." Uncle Ainslee looked carefully at it. " No," said he, " there's no serious harm done ; the cut must be sewed, though, I think, for it's quite deep, and he will have to be perfectly quiet. He's faint ; let me take him up-stairs." Uncle Ainslee bound his handkerchief tightly about the foot, and then, after carrying Ains- lee up to his own bed, went quickly for the doctor. It seemed a long time before he came — to mamma, who sat waiting ; and Ainslee felt sick and faint, and hardly opened his eyes. By and by a carriage stopped, and Uncle Ainslee and the doctor got out together and ran up the stairs. It hurt Ainslee when the handkerchief was un- rolled, but Doctor Marsh was very gentle. He looked very carefully to see if any little stone or bit of dirt had worked into the cut, — for that^ he said, would make it very sore, — and then, after the foot was washed, he bound it up with nobody could tell how many little strips of plas- ter. Ainslee felt quite comfortable now, and turned very red when the doctor said, — 80 THE AINSLEE STORIES. " How did this happen, Mrs. Barton ? " *' I don't know at all," said mamma. " I'm afraid Sinny did it in some way. Ainslee mustn't play with him any more." " O mamma ! " said Ainslee ; " it wasn't Sinny at all. I wouldn't let him have his own sickle, an' I dropped it and then I stepped on it." " What were you doing with sickles ? " said Mrs. Barton. " There wasn't but one, mamma," said Ains- lee ; " I had grandma's carving-knife, and we was mowing the bleaching-ground." " Well," said Doctor Marsh, laughing, " I shall have something new to tell my patients to- day. He must keep perfectly still, Mrs. Barton, for a week at least ; by that time he can walk again." Doctor Marsh, going out, found Sinny crying miserably on the door-step. " He ain't dead — is he ? " said he. " Oh no," said Doctor Marsh, " but he might have been. You must never play in such a way again." vSinny caught up the sickle and ran up the road. Half an hour later his mother came down and asked for Mrs. Barton. " What ever I'm to do with that Sinny I don't know," said she. " I've shut him up and told HAYING TIME. - 81 him he wasn't to have no dinner nor supper. It's a mercy both of 'em wasn't killed." " It certainly is," said Mrs. Barton ; " but Sinny is only to blame for having the sickle in the first place, and I hope it will be a lesson to them both." Through all that hot week in July, Ainslee lay still on the bed or sofa. After the first day he begged so for Sinny that at last mamma sent for him, though grandma said " It beat all natur' to think she should." Uncle Ainslee taught them how to play dom- inoes and jack-straws, but the third day Ains- lee wearied of them and every other play, and begged for stories. He had had a little piece of chicken for his dinner, and it had been the wish- bone piece. Nurse had dried it for him at the kitchen fire, and now it lay on the bed by him. " I think I'll tell you a story about a wish- bone," said Uncle Ainslee. Ainslee's eyes brightened, and Sinny smacked his lips as if somethino; good were coming;. Look on the next page and you will find out whether or no they were disappointed. 6 VII. Betty's wish-bone. Betty swung her sun-bonnet back and forth as she stood in the door of the queer Httle house, that had been pelted by so many storms nobody could tell whether it had ever been painted or not. It was a low house, with a roof slanting crazily down at the back almost to the ground, and all green with moss. Betty had climbed up to the ridge-pole when quite a little girl, and then tumbled over and over very fast indeed, rolling right down into a feather-bed which her mother had put out to air, without being hurt one bit, save some scratches on her fat arms and neck. She did not think of climbing up there now, for she was almost nine years old, and knew a great deal better than to do such things. In fact, she hardly had time to climb, for she was a handy little body, and Mrs. Brown could hardly have done without her. Betty's mother had lived alone in this tumble- down house ever since Betty was a year old. In the summer, when city people came up to the .- ',) A ^ / S" V '' .\;-' ^ ■■<[ ;3%^^>— ■.'■■-: - She <-f)ulcl .•ittfiul to nothing else on the way down, for the roail w:«i rough." — Sec p.ige 83. BETTY'S WISH-BONE. 83 pretty village under the great mountain, she washed and ironed all the day long, and when the beautiful white clothes were folded and laid in the long basket, Betty drew them to the vil- lage on a queer little wagon, which was nothing but a piece of board with four wooden wheels and a rope for a handle. She could attend to nothing else on the way down, for the road was rough, and a careless movement would have tipped the basket over at once ; but coming home there was no such responsibility, and she could run by the brook and watch the little fish skim- ming along, or pick flowers, or look for winter- green berries. When the summer ended, and there were no more washing and ironing, Mrs. Brown did coarse sewing, and Betty spent many hours on a little stool at her mother's side, sewing over-hand seams or hemming towels. Work as they would, cold and hunger sometimes pinched them. There was no father to come home at night with the day's wages in his pocket, and often Betty's mother sat till late into the night, sewing on some garment, the price of which was to give them food and fuel for the next day. It was a hard life, and sometimes, when Mrs. Brown looked at little Betty fast asleep on the back-side of the bed, and thought of her growing up and 84 THE AINSLEE STORIES. working steadily just for life, without any of the briirht, pleasant times that come to other chil- dren, tears fell very fast on her sewing, and she had to pray very earnestly for faith and patience. Often now she talked to Betty of her desire to give up washing and buy a sewing-machine, and told her how she could then do more work in an hour or two than she accomplished now in a whole day. Betty listened and wished, but where was the money to come from ? It seemed useless to think of such a thing for one moment, and so the hard work went on. This day Betty was to carry home the last washing for the year, and the long basket would be trundled back and put away in the garret till another season began. So she stood in the door, swinging her sun-bonnet, and looking out to the November sky which seemed very cold and gray. Tightly as those strings were sewed on, they certainly would have come off, if Betty's mother, balancing the basket on the shaky wagon, had not seized it, tied it under the round chin, and started her little girl off with a hug and a kiss. Betty pulled her load along slowly through the wood, wondering, as she went, if mother meant to buy anything for a Thanksgiving din- ner. To-morrow was the day ; she knew they would go to church in the morning, and in the BETTY'S WISH-BONE. 85 afternoon she thought she should take her rag- doll, Amelia Jane, for a long walk. Perhaps mother would make a turn-over, and then she could have a tea-party in the evening. Thinking all these thoughts, she soon reached the village, and stopped before the house where the boarders had been all summer. Mrs. Thomp- son was in the kitchen, and Betty, looking in as the fat Irish girl lifted the basket, smelled such a delicious smell, and saw so many nice things, that it was almost as good as having them. " Come in, Betty and get good and warm," said Mrs. Thompson, and fat Biddy jerked her up to the fire, and planted her on a stool. " Shure thin, it's in goose-flesh the child's arums is," said she, " an' howiver she pulls along such a load a mile an' more, I can't see." Betty ivas cold and tired, and there was a very wistful look in her eyes as she glanced at and then turned from, the long table, where pies and cakes and roast chickens were spread out in such array as she had never seen before. Mrs. Thompson looked at her. " How hard she always has had to work ! " she thought ; " and yet how little money her poor mother earns, after all. She never frets, either. I wonder if they've got anything for Thanksgiving. They deserve a good dinner if anybody does." 86 THE AINSLEE STORIES. Mrs. Thompson was very busy in her pantry for some minutes ; and when the clotlies were taken out, and the basket ready to go home, Betty saw tliere were some odd bundles in one end, and that Biddy had tied it down firmly to the wagon. " There's something in the basket for your mother, Betty," said Mrs. Thompson ; " don't touch it till you get home." Betty said " No, ma'am," and trotted off briskly. How her fingers itched to lift those papers and the towel and see what lay under- neath ! That was really a very trying mile, but finally the last step was taken, and she dropped the rope handle at the door, and flew to her mother in the kitchen. " O mother, mother ! come just as quick as you can ! " she shouted ; " I can't wait another minute ; " and she pulled her astonished mother to the open door. Betty thought that string never would be untied, and when the basket was really carried in and set on the kitchen-table, she was quite breathless with excitement. What a sight it was when all the coverings were taken off! There was a roast chicken, a pumpkin-pie, and a mince-pie, some bright red apples, and a little bag of nuts. Betty's eyes BETTY'S WISH-BONE. 87 were very round as she saw these goodies come out, one after another, but Mrs. Brown's quite filled with tears, she was so pleased. " To think we should have a Thanksgiving dinner after all, and I saying to myself that nine years old as you was, Betty, you'd never had one yet. It's 'most too good to be true." Betty dreamed of roast chicken all night, and even in church next day meditated a little during the long sermon as to how it was likely to taste. When they had reached home and brightened up the fire, Betty drew the little round table into the middle of the room, while her mother searched for a fine white table-cloth, too precious for every-day use, and Betty pulled at each cor- ner to get it just even, and patted down every wrinkle. The plates were old and cracked, and the two-tined forks joggled in their handles, as also did the knives, and Betty's drinking-cup was only a very battered tin one ; but when the chicken was set on, and then the dish of white, mealy potatoes, and the pie, and the red apples, Betty's cheeks glowed, and her eyes were like two stars, as she thought what a splendid time they were going to have. Miss Amelia Jane, whose weak back wouldn't allow her to sit up, was laid on a three-legged stool, and had little bits of everything offered 88 THE AINSLEE STORIES. to her. Betty pretended she ate them, but as pussy sat under tlie table and kept veiy still, I'm inclined to think she knew where they went to, and that Miss Amelia Jane had very little to do with it. Betty was very hungry, and after she had eaten both drumsticks her mother put a nice little piece of white meat on her plate. "What a funny little bone I" said Betty, as she made way with the meat. " It's got a lit- tle head, and two legs way apart. What's its name, mother ? " "It's the wish-bone, Betty," answered her mother. " When I was a little girl at home, I used to dry 'em, and break 'em with sister Sally. The one that got the longest end had her wish, and we always counted on gettin' all the wish- bones we could." " Why — but, mother," said Betty, " if I wish when I break it, can I really get what I want ? " " Try it and see," laughed her mother. " I don't say you will, and I don't say you won't." Betty's face had quite a grave look, as, after finishing her pie, she hung the wish-bone on a hook inside the fire-place. She put Miss Amelia Jane to bed very quietly after the dishes were washed, and stared into the fire intently as she munched her red apple. BETTY'S WISH-BONE. 89 " There's chicken for to-morrow, Betty," said her mother, " and pie too, and enough apples for a week." No answer. " What are you thinking of, child?" " O mother ! ^' said Betty, " I'm going right to bed. There's so many things I want to wish for, it makes me dizzy to keep thinking ; " and Betty pulled off her clothes, said " Now I lay me," and jumped into bed. Next morning after breakfast, she rubbed her wish-bone smooth, tied it up in a piece of paper, and put it in her pocket. There it stayed, — for, think as she would, Betty never could settle down finally on any one thing. Yet she took a good deal of comfort in knowing she could wish if she chose, and often told Amelia Jane in con- fidence of the fine things she should have if she only once decided to break the charmed bone. So the winter passed away ; spring came and merged into summer, and still the wish-bone was daily looked at, and daily returned to the pocket. Betty had almost made up her mind, and as she tugged the basket of clothes back and forth, thought with more and more enthusiasm of a doll. Amelia Jane was really worn out, and now it must be a great doll, with real clothes and shoes 90 THE AINSLEE STORIES. and stockings ; — perhaps even a hat and parasol, like Lucy Smith's ! Betty ran and danced as she dreamed of it, but still she didn't break the wish-bone. The last of July came. ]\[rs. Brown was not well, and for a week Betty had had but little washing to take home. On Saturday, as she started with her last basket of clothes, her mother said, — " Take your time coming home, Betty. Here's a ginger-cake you may put in your pocket, and take your tin cup along, and maybe you can find some berries." Betty's eyes sparkled. She had had no holi- day for a long time. The day was hot and dusty, but she hurried on, delivered her burden, and almost ran till she reached the cool, green wood again. Then she sat down by the brook, under a great tree whose spreading roots were carpeted with soft green turf. A cool little breeze blew down through the branches, and the brook bubbled along over the stones in a quiet, dreamy sort of way, and Betty heard a bird hop- ping overhead, and saw a red squirrel run down a tree and back again. "Raspberries!" said Betty; "I know she's got a raspberry." Off she ran to an o])en space in the wood ; sure enough, there were rasp- berries in plenty, and her cup was soon filled. BETTY'S WISH-BONE. 91 *' Now I'll have a tea-party," said Betty ; " I wish Amelia Jane was here." She picked a broad, green leaf, put some of her berries in it, and mashed the rest in her tin cup. " Raspberry wine," said Betty, as she filled it up with water from the brook. Then she broke up her ginger-cake into a great many pieces, put each one into an acorn cup, and leaning back against the tree, ate and drank slowly. " How nice it is ! " thought Betty. " It's warm, and it's cool, too, and things taste good. I wish mother had some berries. I'll take her some in my cup when I go home ; poor mother ! she works all the time, and I can't do much of anything but take the clothes home " — and here Betty's mind wandered off into all sorts of plans for helping. " The wish-bone ! " she thought, with a start. " I might better wish for mother than myself. Which shall it be — machine or doll ? " Betty was half-angry that such a question should come up, and she took her bone from her pocket with a little impatient jerk and laid it down on the leaf near her beri'ies. There was a stir in the bushes near her. She turned quickly. What a pale, dirty, miserable little face was looking at her. Betty knew in a 92 THE AINSLEE STORIES. moment that it was little Ben Jones, whose mother had been sick in the poor-house a long time. " Why, Ben ! " said she, " what made you come here ? " " Mother's dead," said Ben ; " and I ran away yesterday from the poor-house, and stayed in a barn all night, and I'm hungry, and — oh-h ! '' Poor Ben broke down, and cried and cried. Betty looked at him, and then cried too. " Ben, you may have the rest of my ginger- cake," she said, when his sobs grew fainter ; and I'll show you where the berries are, and you can wash your face in the brook, and 1*11 take you home with me, and mother '11 let you stay to- night, I guess." So Ben, quite comforted, scrubbed his dirty little fists and then his face in the brook, and wiped them on Betty's apron, and then the two children gathered berries, and Ben ate the rest of the ginger-cake. The sun was setting when Bettv remembered she must go home. She was half-afraid, as she neared the house, of what might be said to poor Ben, and sent him behind the house till she could tell his story. Mrs. Brown had been thinking all that after- noon what would become of Betty if she were BETTY'S WISH-BONE. 93 left alone, and her heart was tender toward all motherless children ; so she said, " He can staj till Monday, Betty, and then something must be done for him." Betty dragged Ben in from behind the wood- pile, where he had taken refuge, and as he looked at Mrs. Brown's kind motherly face, he cried again. Supper comforted him, and a presentation to Amelia Jane followed. " I've got something else, Ben," said Betty, putting her hand in her pocket. '• O mother, mother ! Oh my wish-bone ! " she cried a moment after. " 1 left it in the wood ! O mother, what shall I do ? " Unhappy Betty ! it was dark, and nothing could be found that night at any rate. Ben promised to look for it by daylight next morning, but Betty crept sadly to bed. " If I'd only wished," she said, " but now it's gone, and none of us won't have anything at all." Next morning; it rained. How it rained ! Ben came back dripping from a long hunt for it, and had to be wrapped in a quilt while his clothes dried. Betty could not help laughing at the queer figure he cut, but it was a very sad Sunday. Monday dawned bright and clear, and Betty 94 THE AINSLEE STORIES. would have daslied off to the wood at once, but her mother, who liad looked very pale and strange ever since she got up, sat down suddenly in a chair near her. " I've got to go to bed again, Betty," said she, " but don't you be frightened ; make me some catnip tea after you've had your breakfast, and let Ben run to the village and tell Mrs. James I can't take her washing to-day." When Betty returned, her mother sat up in bed, stitching on a fine bosom she had begun a day or two before. " It's no use, Betty," she gi'oaned. " I thought I could finish it but I can't ; there's only one plait done. Take it to Mrs. Hopkins, and ask her to do it on her machine." Betty took the bosom, and watched the tiny plaits come one after anotlier from under the flashing needle, quicker almost than her eyes could follow them, and when an hour or two later, she brought it back to her mother beauti- fully stitched, words hardly came fast enough to tell her wonder and delight at the rapid work. " If you'd sat up all night, mother, you couldn't have made it look like that," said Betty. " I know it," sighed her mother. " 'Twould be easy work earning a living with one of them ; but now I can't either wash or sew, and what we're to do the Lord only knows." BETTY'S WISH-BONE. 95 Many days passed, and poor Mrs. Brown still lay there, quite worn-out with hard work. Per- haps the poor-house people were glad to get rid of Ben. At any rate, there he stayed, and Betty and he took turns in house-keeping. He chopped up their firewood, brought water from the brook, and ran errands till Mrs. Brown often won- dered what they should have done without him. Their money ran very low before she had strength to sit up again. Kind people in the vil- lage helped them in many ways, but the prospect before them was very dark. " Oh ! if I'd only wished ! " Betty thought many a time as she heard her mother sigh — " if I'd only wished for the machine right away, mother wouldn't have been sick ; and oh ! when shall I get to look for my wish-bone ? " One afternoon Mrs. Brown, looking at Betty's pale cheeks, thought a run in the wood might do her good. " I can spare you to-day, Betty," she said, " so run off and have a rest, my good child." A little hope came to poor Betty, and as she kissed her mother she thought, " Maybe I'll find the wish-bone, and wish after all." She went slowly along toward the brook and the great tree. Three weeks and more had passed since her loss, and she felt it was almost 96 THE AINSLEE STORIES. useless to search. Still she lifted up every leaf, looked under every stone, and in each crevice about the roots of the bin; tree. She did not see that a tall gentleman on the other side of the brook was watching her curiously; and so when she burst into a great passion of sobs, and thi-ew herself on the ground, she was startled to hear a voice saying, " My little girl, what is the mat- ter ? " Betty looked up. It was a kind face before her, and her trouble was too great for bashfulness. " O sir ! " she cried, " I lost my wish-bone before I'd wished, and mother 's sick, and we can't ever have anything ! " and Betty cried again bitterly. Little by little the stranger drew the whole story from her. "I wouldn't give up yet," he said; "let's look for it together. Betty felt encouraged in spite of herself " I've looked everywhere," she said ; but even as she spoke the stranger turning up a dead branch dis- closed the wish-bone ! " Oh ! " screamed Betty, " I 've got it, and now we can have everything ! " and she cried again for veiy joy. " Will you break it with me, Betty? " said the stranger. Betty looked dubiously at him. Why not, BETTY'S WISH-BONE. 97 though ? He had found it for her, and who had a better right ? She held out one end, but what a sharp httle conflict began all at once as she held it. She had thought that if only the bone were once found, she sliould not hesitate one moment in her wish, yet never had the doll seemed so lovely or so much to be desired. Self-indulgence and self-sacrifice battled fiercely in Betty's mind, and the stranger watching her, saw curious expressions flit over her little face. " Um awful to think of my doll one minute when mother has been so sick, " thought Betty. She shut her eyes tight, she was so in earnest, and pulled at her end as she said to herself, — "I wish mother might get well right away, and have a sewing-machine, so 't she needn't ever have to wash any more." Betty didn't know in what a loud whisper she said these words, for she heard a little crack, and opening her eyes saw the long end in her hand ! " Oh goody ! " shouted Betty, and then sat quite still. "Tell me what you wished — won't you?'' said the stranger. " I couldn't," Betty answered, " for you know it wouldn't come true if I did." There was a queer little smile in his eyes as he said, "Then don't tell it by any means;" but 7 98 THE AINSLEE STORIES. Betty was too busy in thought to notice it, and darted home as soon as she could get away. Ben met her half-waj^, and said they were to go to the village together for some medicine, and so an hour and more passed before she reached home again. Betty gave a great jump as she went in, for the stranger sat there quite at home, and laughed aloud as she stood perfectly still in astonish- ment. How mysterious it all was! Betty had to be told a great many times before she could really understand, that this tall gentleman was own brother to Ben's mother ; that he had been in China for many years, and that coming home with more money than he could ever want for himself, he had found that there were no rela- tives left to help him in spending it save this one little Ben. " Uncle Dan," he said the children must call him ; but Betty thought she never could give him that name. After all, though, this afternoon had made them very well acquainted, and before bed-time Betty felt as if she had known him all her life, confided to him all her hopes and desires for her mother, and even whispered a description of Lucy Smith's doll. It was astonishing how fast her mother got BETTY'S WISH-BONE. 99 well, now that she did not worry so much about their future, for Uncle Dan said those who had cared so kindly for his nephew must never want again. When one day he told them he must go to New York on business, Ben and Betty were almost heart-broken, and only consoled when he promised to come back in a week or two. Two or three days afterwards, a wagon lum- bered over the wood road and stopped at the little house. Out of it came a great wooden box, at which the driver and Ben hammered away for some time. When it came apart, there proved to be a small box inside, and on it was printed in great letters, — "FOR BETTY BROWN." Betty saw something else ; what it was she didn't know, but ^Qfelt. "Mother, O mother! it's the sewing-machine; I know it is ; I know it is ! I knew my wish was coming true ! " Betty was right. There it certainly was, in its pretty walnut case, the fairy that was to bring ease and comfort and freedom forever from hard, ill-paid labor. Mrs. Brown's eyes were full, and her hands shook as she lifted the lid and looked at the shining silver plate, and bright busy needle, and Betty danced wildly around, pulling Ben with her. 100 THE AINSLEE STORIES. Meanwhile the driver had been knocking the cover off Betty's box. In it lay a paper one tied carefully. Betty's fingers were almost as un- steady as her mother's when she untied the knots and lifted the cover. There was one de- lighted little squeal, and then she stood quite still before a doll — such a doll! Lucy Smith's was nothing to it — lovely blue eyes, and curling hair, and red cheeks, and dressed just like a little girl five or six years old — button- holes and all — so that she could be undressed every night, and, besides the clothes, all sorts of pieces of silk and muslin and linen, so that Betty could make for herself dresses and aprons and all the little things. And in the bottom of the box there turned up such a beautiful book, with bright-red covers, and " Robinson Crusoe " on the back, and Ben's name in it ! They were all quite wild, and Betty told her mother she thought they ought to be very thankful to God for making wish-bones. Uncle Dan came back again, and enjoyed their happiness fully as much as they did. He stayed at home long enough to see Mrs. Brown overrun with orders for sewing-machine work, and to place both Ben and Betty at school. Ben himself was to decide on his future as he grew older. BETTY'S WISH-BONE. 101 Betty lost a little of her faith in wish-bones as years went on, but to this day she keeps the pieces of her first one in a little box, and was heard to say lately, as she looked at a fine car- riage with its coat of arms, that if ever she were rich enough to ride in one, she was sure she should have a wish-bone painted on each door. VIII. AUGUST DATS. Haying-time was over when Ainslee ran about again. Sinny was perfect in playing Jack- straws, for his httle, lean, black fingers never joggled as Ainslee's fat, stumpy ones did ; but Ainslee said he never wanted to play them any more, because he should always think he had a cut foot if he did. So they were put away in the closet with the dominos, and the Tivoli Board, and the Mansion of Happiness, Avhich they hadn't succeeded in very well, because neither of them could read the names under the pic- tures ; and now Ainslee spent all his time in the barnyard by the hen-house, where with the greatest pains he and Sinny had made for them- selves a house from a pile of old boards, by tilt- ing them up against the hen-house, and resting the ends on an old bench. From this they sallied out to the woods or garden, bringing all spoils back to it. Here in a box with a glass top was Ainslee's great brown caterpillar, supplied each day with fresh green AUGUST DAYS. 103 leaves, and always expected to turn into a but- terfly at any moment. Here, too, stood a big box, which Uncle Ainslee had cemented for them, and so made water-tight, and in it were two tadpoles, a small green frog who had been tadpole number one, and a turtle just the size of an old copper cent, that ate all the flies Ainslee and Sinny gave themselves time to catch, and could have eaten a great many more. Under a flower-pot in a corner lived two black crickets, who never chirped till after dark, and must have wondered all the time where the light had gone, for never a bit did they see, except when Ains- lee lifted the pot a moment, to find out whether or not they had run away. Two black beetles had lived under it at first, but they had dug out immediately ; and now Ainslee, who had heard Uncle Ainslee tell about the Chinese putting crickets in a dish and letting them fight, was keeping these for some rainy day, when he in- tended to try the experiment. " They sing so loud every night," said he, " I don't believe they want to fight. I guess Ameli- can crickets is better than Chinese ones." To-day, tadpole number two showed two little legs and M-as swimming about briskly, while the turtle sat on a stone that Ainslee had put into the box to play it was a rock, and looked as if 104 THE AINSLEE STORIES. lie liadn't had flies enough and felt that he had never been properly treated. Ainslee's father was very fond of Natural History, which is some- thing that you little people, particularly those of you who live in the country, might know much more about than you do, just by keeping your eyes wide open, and watching the habits of every bird and insect you see, and Ainslee was getting old enough to spend much of his time in finding out the ways of spiders, and bugs, and worms. Both big and little people too often think of these creatures as disgusting things, which they must crush and kill as fast as possible ; but Ains- lee, who had never been taught to be afraid of them, came walking in with speckled spiders, and long red and green worms, and kicking, sprawling bugs, till grandma said it was a mercy that his life was spared, and he was his father all over again. Sinny Avas interested, too, and his little woolly head was taking in knowledge which the district school Avould never give him, and which he, some day or other far in the fu- ture, might in turn give to his children. This morning, however, he was more inter- ested in his pocket, for there was something in it which jingled, and though he said not a word he kept his hand there till Ainslee couldn't bear it one moment lono-er. AUGUST DAYS. 105 " What is you got in your pocket, Sinny ? " said he. " Two cents," said Sinny. " Granther give 'em to me 'cause I picked the big wheelbarrow full of chips twice. I'm goin' to spend 'em to- day."^ " I've got a three-cent cullency,^'' said Ainslee, " that papa gived me. Let's go down to the vil- lage and spend them both to time." " Your mother won't let you," said Sinny. " Yes, she will," answered Ainslee. " You stay here and I'll go ask her." Ainslee was gone some time, and came back with a clean face and hands, and a hat with a whole brim. " Mamma says we must walk slow," said he, " 'cause it's hot ; and she says she trusts us not to get into mischief, and hopes we shall both be good." " Well," said Sinny, " let's come right along, then," and the two children started down the road. The village was nearly a mile away, but the same road which passed grandpa's house, and led over the river to church, also led to the vil- lage, and there were beautiful maples all along the way, and a cold little spring which bubbled up under a rock, and tasted better than ice- water. Ponto was with them, and which of the 106 THE AINSLEE STORIES. tluve WLMit most out of their way it would be hard to tell. Pouto exauiined every bush and thicket, as if' he were sure of a woodchuck at least ; and wherever he went Ainslee and Sinny trotted after, to see what he was doing, till, if they had been anything but boys, they would have dropped down with weariness. By the side of a farm-house was a pond, and here were sailing some goslings, while an old gray gander and two or three white geese stood on the edge overseeing them. " Oh ! the dear little gooses ! " said Ainslee ; " let's catch one, Sinny." '• The gander '11 run after you if you do," said Sinny. " He wouldn't do such a thing," answered Ainslee. " He'd be afraid." Ponto settled that question by jumping in sud- denly among the geese. The old gander stood its ground, giving Ponto a nip with its bill that sent him off howling ; then, seeming to think Ainslee had something to do with it, turned and ran toward him, hissing. " He'll hit you a clip — run ! " shouted Sinny ; and they did run, never stopping till they found themselves on the grocery steps. " My ! ain't I hot ? " said Sinny ; " let's sit still a minute." Ilf'll hit joii a dill, — run!" shouted Siiiiiy." — Sue piige 106. AUGUST DAYS. 107 Over the way was a druggist's, and looking in, Ainslee saw a soda-fountain and some bright bottles of sirups on the stand, while the ch'uggist stood behind in his shirt sleeves. " Ho ! " said he, " there's soda-water. Papa buyed me some soda-water once. Let's get some instead o' candy." " What's it like ? " said Sinny. " It's sweet, and bity, and cold, too," said Ainslee ; " come over and we'll get some." They crossed the street, and the druggist came forward. " I want two glasses of sweet soda-water," said Ainslee. " Sarsaparilla or lemon ? " said the druggist. Ainslee thought lemon sounded best, and so said that, and two foaming glasses were given them. Sinny coughed and spluttered, but at last drank his down from a sense of duty ; while Ainslee, who had finished his, stood watching him. Then he took out his three-cent bill, and Sinny his two pennies, and handed them over. " This won't do," said the druggist. " I want fifteen cents more." " But we haven't got but those," said Ainslee. " Then you're a bad boy to come in and get soda-water in that way," said the druggist. " It's the same as stealing. You've got to pay for it, 108 THE AINSLEE STORIES. right away, too, or maybe I'll send you up to the jail.'; AInslee and Sinny began to cry. " I didn't know it was fifteen cents more," said Ainslee. " I never did have so many." " Go home and tell your mother what you've done, and come back quick with the money, or I'll be after you," said the druggist. Ainslee and Sinny left the store heavy-hearted. Ponto ran and jumped before them, but they walked slowly on, not even looking when they came to the little pond, where now the geese and goslings were swimming together. " Mamma said we mustn't get into mischief," said Ainslee. " I did n't know I was a-going to," and he cried again, till as they went in at grand- pa's gate, and the thought of what he had to tell came over him more fully, the sobs merged into a roar. " What is the matter ? " said mother, running down the stairs. " Are you hurt, Ainslee ? " " No, mamma," sobbed Ainslee, " only I did get into mischief." " What have you done now ? " said mamma, anxiously. " I buyed soda-water for Sinny and me, and the man said it was fifteen cents more, when I gived him my three cents and Sinny 's two ; and AUGUST DAYS. 109 he said maybe he'd send us to jail " — and here both Sinny and Ainslee screamed in concert. " Mercy on me ! " said grandma, coming out of the dining-room. " Ainslee ain't hurt again — is he ? " "No," said mamma, "he has only been exper- imenting in the village ; he and Sinny have been buying soda-w^ater on credit, and the druggist doesn't like it." " I shouldn't think he would," said grandma. " What are you going to do about it ? " " Neither of them knew the price of a glass," said mamma, " though Ainslee should have asked me before he went ; and as they didn't mean to do wrong I shall pay the druggist myself when I go to the village, and Ainslee will know better another time." Ainslee's face had gradually cleared, and as mamma ended, he said, — "Then we won't have to go to jail, mamma? " " No indeed," said mamma. " Now run and have your face washed, and then you shall have some lunch." Sinny received a cooky from grandma and ran home, while Ainslee, after getting up-staii*s, felt so tired and sleepy that he lay down on the bed and went fast asleep till nearly tea-time. Even after supper he was still tired, and went to bed 110 THE AINSLEE STORIES. very early, wliile mamma and Uncle Ainslee walked to the village and paid the druggist, who said if he had known M'ho Ainslee was he should have told him it was all right ; but of course it would never do to let any boy who wished get soda-wat^er on credit. Ainslee waked up next morning as fresh as ever. At the breakfast-table Uncle Ainslee, who had been reading Du Chaillu's " Travels in Africa," was talking to grandpa about gorillas, and describing some he had seen in New York, which Du Chaillu had brought there. " What are gorillas ? " asked Ainslee, M-ho had listened with the greatest attention to an account of Du Chaillu's first meeting with one. " They are a good deal like the ourang-outang which you saw last winter at the menagerie, only very much larger and stronger," said his father, who had come up from the city in the night, and astonished him by being at the breakfast-table when he came in. " Ihave the book in my valise, and after breakfast I will show you the pictures." After breakfast, however, somebody came, and Ainslee, getting tired of waiting, went out to his house. Sinny was there, holding a little tin pail and looking very important. " What have you got, Sinny ? " asked Ainslee. "Got a shiner," said Sinny; "'live too. I AUGUST DAYS. Ill caught him in our brook, and he just swimmed right into the pail — when I put it into the water." " Put him into my Aqualium,^^ said Ainslee, delighted, " and let's see what the tadpoles '11 do." Sinny tipped the pail, and the little silvery thing slid in and then swam wildly about, as if not feel- ing at all at home in this dark box. The tad- poles paid no attention to it ; the frog was fast asleep under a stone, and only the turtle came paddling along and put up his head to find out what was going on. " He wants his breakfast," said Ainslee, and he threw in some cracker-crumbs and a fly or two that he had brought out. Just then he saw his father walking down to- ward the old summer-house in the garden, carry- ing a book. " Come along, Sinny," said Ainslee, " papa's going to tell me about pictures ; " and both ran to where Mr. Barton had seated himself. It would take too long to tell you the many strange things which Mr. Barton told them about gorillas, — how some were so strong that they could take a gun, and break it in two as easily as you would a pipe-stem, and one blow from their great hands would kill you in a moment ; how afraid of them all the different tribes of negroes were, and how few of them had dared to go with Mr. Du 112 THE AINSLEE STORIES- Cliaillu when he hunted thein. They were not half through the book vvlien mamma came out and siud she was going to the vilkige with papa, and Ainslee could go too if he wished. " Come and see my beautiful shiner first," said Ainslee, and all went together. "He'll be lonesome — won't he?" said Mr. Barton. " If you had two or three they would be company for each other." " Mayn't I go to the brook with Sinny and get some ? I'd rather than go to the village," said Ainslee. " I'm afraid he'll tumble in," said mamma. " No, I w'on't, mamma," said Ainslee. " I'll be real good." " Well," said mamma, " take your lunch with you, and you can eat it in the meadow ; " and Ainslee ran off delighted. " I'm going a-fishing, grandma," said he, as he went into the hovise. " What you going to fish with ? " said grand- ma. " You'll get the fish-hooks in your hands and be hurt dreadfully." " I ain't going to fish with a hook ; I'm going to fish with a tin pail," said Ainslee. " Let me have a teejity one, grandma, and please put my lunch in it, 'cause I'm going to eat it under a tree along w^ith Sinny." AUGUST DAYS. 113 Grandma filled the little pail with cookies, and looked as if she had more than half a mind to say that he ought not to go any way, though she said not a word more, and Ainslee danced off, down the hill on which the house stood, and through the beautiful meadow to the brook which wound through grandpa's land. It was August now, and the great heat had dried it up, till what was in spring-time almost a river, was now a narrow stream hardly up to Ainslee's knee at its deepest part, and with a belt of white stones on either side, that a month or two later would be covered again and kept away i'rom the sun, when the stream beoan to rise under the fall rains. Three £>;reat buttonwood-trees stood together by the brook-side, making a cool and pleasant shade. Here Ainslee sat doAvn, and unlaced and took off his high boots and put his stockings in them, for the day was so warm that he felt sure mamma would let him wade, as he had done the week before, while Sinny stepped into the water and splashed all about. " You stop a-doing that," said Ainslee, "you'll frighten all the shiners ; " and he stepped in softly and sat down on a big stone in the middle of the brook. " Oh here's all the cookies in the pail," said, he ; "let's eat 'em now." 114 THE AINSLEE STORIES. " No," said Sinny, " let's put 'em under a tree and eat 'eui after we've eauglit a fish." So the cookies were emptied and put on some leaves, and before very long two little shiners were bumping their noses against the side of the pail, trying to swim straight ahead as they had always done. '•'' They don't know nothin'," said Ainslee ; " they might keep still when they're in a pail ; let's eat the cookies quick and take 'em up to the Aqualium., and then we'll come back and sail pea-pods." So the two children ate lunch, and then Ains- lee put on his boots without lacing, and ran up to the house, leaving Sinny to catch another fish if he liked. The shiners swam around quite at home. in the box when Ainslee put them in, and then he Avent into the kitchen for some pea-pods and broom splinters. Ann gave him a handful, and he pulled out the peas as he went along, and ate one or two. Uncle Ainslee, as he passed by, came out of the summer-house which overlooked the meadow. " What^re you going to do now ? " said he. " I'm going to sail boats," said Ainslee ; " you come too — won't you ? " Uncle Ainslee followed, and sat down under AUGUST DAYS. 115 the buttonwood-trees, while the children stuck broom splinters into the peas for masts, and sailed them back and forth. The soft summer wind was blowing ; the brook flowed slowly, just rippling over the pebbles, and the grasshoppers chirped from the hay-field. Uncle Ainslee's eyes grew dreamy, and he seemed to be looking far away, beyond the great moun- tains before them. " Tell me a story," said Ainslee, suddenly coming out of the brook ; " I'm tired of swim- ming boats." " What about ? " said Uncle Ainslee, rousing himself. " About a boy," said Ainslee. " Well," answered Uncle Ainslee, " when I was a boy and played by this brook, I used to look up to that tall mountain, and wonder what was behind it, and this morning I have been thinking of some of the things I have seen since I went away from it, and of one which came to my mind I will tell you now." IX. MICHAEL MICHAELOVITCH. " When I was a boy," began Uncle Ainslee, " I used to sit under tliese old buttonwood-trees, and read books of travel and adventure, and think that if ev^er I were old enough, I would see every one of the places I had read about. One Christmas I found in my stocking a book which your mamma had put in it for me, and the money for which she had earned by sewing car- pet-rags together for grandma's kitchen-carpet. The name of this book was ' The Exiles of Si- beria,' and it was so sweet a story that when you are older, I shall want you to read and enjoy it, just as much as I did. It told of a country called Russia, where snow lies thick on the ground many months in the year, and all who can afford it, go about wrapped up to their eyes in furs, while the poor people wear sheep-skins, with the wool turned in. " You know how clear and shining ice is. Well once a great Queen, who governed Russia, and whose name was Queen Catherine, had built for MICHAEL MICHAELOVITCH. 117 her a palace all in ice, — ice walls and chairs, and tables and sofas ; and the weather was so clear and cold that it lasted a long time. They had balls in it, and danced on the ice floors, and, for all I can remember, ate ice-cream from ice plates, and drank iced lemonade from ice goblets. I read of all these things when a boy, as I told you, and it made me want so much to see this country far over the ocean, that at last, eight or nine years ago, I left the warm, beautiful Italy, where I had been for some time, and spent the fall and part of the winter in Russia. When you are older, and can look on maps, and know enough of geog- raphy to follow in your mind the roads I trav- elled, and see the strange towns I stopped in, I shall very likely tell you some stories about them. To-day, though, I shall only tell of something which happened to me in the old city of Moscow, where I stayed nearly a month. " There was one place to which I often went while there, which is called the Kremlin. It is a palace and a ch^^rch together, standing on a hill called the Kremlin Terrace, from which you look down upon the city lying on the other side of the river Moskowa, which flows between. " You went up into the steeple of Trinity Church with me, in the summer, and thought it a very wonderful sight, when you looked down lis THK AINSLEE STORIES. on that great New York, and louked over to the cities^ and towns close about it. You tried to count all the steeples you saw, and couldn't well do it, because you had never learned far enough in your numbers. Now imagine every one of these steeples gilded, and every roof painted green, and think how it would have flashed un- der 3'our eyes, looking down on it all in tlie sun- shine. " Once, a long time ago, the people who lived in Moscow burned up the whole city, rather than let it fall into the hands of a great army who were coming to take it. The great stone walls were left standing, for fire could not burn them, you know ; and so after the enemy had all gone home again, tliinking it no use to try and conquer a country where all the people would burn their houses rather than give them up, everybody went to work, and made the palaces and churches more splendid than they were before. I used to think sometimes when I went to the Kremlin, that Aladdin's palace, in the story I told you the other day, must have sprung up there, for in the church there are jewels and gold almost wherever you lay your hand. There are pictures of the Virgin Mary and Jesus, all over the walls, and around them are hung strings of diamonds, and rubies, and pearls, such as you never saw. Peo- MICHAEL MICHAELOVITCH. 119 pie go in and out all the time, crossing themselves as you saw Bridget do when she took you to her church, and kneeling down before crosses or pic- tures of Christ, praying aloud. " You would think with all this splendor in the churches, that the whole city must be like them, and yet when you have gone out from the great walls which surround the Kremlin, though you can still see many beautiful buildings, the houses in which the poor people live are low wooden huts, not much better than the Irish shanties you have seen on some of the rocky ground near Central Park, though they are whitewashed, and have broad red and blue stripes painted on them. The streets are full of deep ruts and holes, and at night there is no gas, except in the larger streets, while the water you have to drink is carried about in laro;e casks, and sold for so much a sal- Ion. People don't drink much of it, however, for everybody has tea instead. Even if you should ask for a glass of water, they would think you couldn't mean it, and would bring you a glass of tea in its place, for in Russia they don't drink tea from cups, but from tumblers ; and after it is sweetened, they put in, instead of milk, a slice of lemon, which grandma, I dare say, would think had spoiled the whole thing. " You have been into Taylor's Saloon with me 120 THE AINSLEE STORIES. to get ice-cream, and thought everything was very fine ; but you ■would open your eyes a good deal wider if you could see a Russian Saloon, or Traktir, as they call it. The great Moskovski Traktir is the handsomest of all. The carpet is thick and soft, so that you hardly hear a foot- step. Each table has a sofa before it covered with snow-white cloth ; everything is in white, to match the snow you see from the windows ; even the waiters wear white trousers, and if you wish, bring you such things to eat as you never heard of, — soup made of peppermint water, and fish, with lumps of ice, and green leaves floating around in it, which tastes just as badly as it sounds ; and caviare, which is the roe of a great fish called the sturoeon. Mamma used to give you the roe of the shad last spring, because it had no bones in it, and you never liked it much you know ; so you can think how it would taste if vou had to eat it raw, with only a little salt sprinkled on it. The Russians think it very delicious, and eat it fresh on bread and butter, or salted down and cut in slices. " Some of these days I shall tell you more about their queer ways of cooking. I tried a great many things from curiosity, but the white- dressed waiters almost always had to take them awav after the first taste, and bring me some- MICHAEL MICHAELOVITCH. 121 thing cooked in French instead of Russian fash- ion. Every Traktir has its organ, like those the hand-organ men carry about in New York, only a dozen times larger ; and as you sit and eat, or drink tea, or smoke, they are always grinding away at tunes of which the Russians never seem to tire, for they sit and listen with half-shut eyes, or talk in almost a whisper, so as not to lose the music, hours at a time. " One thing you would like better than any- thing I have yet told you, and here comes in my story for which you have been waiting a long time. In the great squares of the city, and sometimes outside the walls, when winter has come on, and everything is frozen solid, they put together boards and posts, and make a sort of wooden hill with steep sides. On this hill they put snow, and pour water over it, which freezes at once, making a firm, smooth, ice hill, from top to bottom. Children and grown people come here with their sleds, and from morning till night there is a continual sliding down. At the foot of every ice hill is a little building, where, if you are a stranger, or do not own a sled, you can hire one for a few copecks, and at the very top is a platform, on which you can stand and rest after drawing it up. " You would think that many people would be 122 THE AINSLEE STORIES. hurt, but they seldom are, for it is a rule tliat no one can sliile clown the side u[) which you walk with your sled. I had coasted down this hill back of grandpa's many a time when a bf)y, and had read of these Russian ice hills ; so as soon as the first one was ready for anybody and everybody, I went there one afternoon, hired a little sled for a few copecks, and started up." " What are copecks? " asked Ainslee. " Little copper coins, like pennies, only very thin and small," said Uncle Ainslee, " and I al- ways cari'ied some in my pockets. Well, as I said, I hired my sled and walked slowly up the ice hill, holding by the railing at the side, for it . was very slippery. At the top I stopped to think. I'm a big man, you know, and my sled was very small. I sat down on it, and then the question was, what to do with my legs. If I doubled them up they were in my way, and if I stretched them out full length I was sure they would be run over. One old llussian with a long white beard, and wrapped in a very dirty sheepskin, went down belly-gutter, as if he were not over ten years old." " What's belly-gutter ? " said Ainslee. " Ho ! " said Sinny, who had been listening with great attention, " don't you know ? It's sliding down hill on your belly." MICHAEL MICHAELOVITCH. 123 " Well, but," said Ainslee, " don't it hurt ? I should think it would rub all your skin off." *■' No," said Uncle Ainslee, laughing. " You have the sled under you, but still I never liked it as well as the common way." " Oh," said Ainslee, " I didn't know you meant on a sled." " Yes," Uncle Ainslee went on. "I watched this old man to the bottom, and then concluded I'd kneel down on mine, and start in that way. So off I went ; but somehow or other, either Russian sleds were different from American ones, or else I had forgotten how to manage, for all at once, there was my sled going down without me, and I was holding on to the railing to keep my- self from following after. " I picked myself up, quite ashamed, but nobody laughed. Nobody does laugh much in Russia, and here they were all too busy with sliding to think about anybody's tumble. A little boy who had seen my fall, as he dragged up his own sled, ran down after mine, and brought up both together. He didn't look like a Russian to me, though he wore the Russian dress, and said ' No,' in Russian, when I handed him some copecks for his trouble. I felt sure then that he was not a native, for they always take all they can get, whether rich or poor. 124 THE AINSLEE STORIES. *' After I had j)ut myself like a tailor on my sled, so that my great legs need not be in my way, we slid down side by side, faster and faster, to the bottom. Going up, I said a few words in German to the boy, who looked pleased, and an- swered at once. So we went on talking, and I found his father had come from Germany when this boy was oidy a baby, many years before, and was now a tea merchant in Moscow. " I saw him every day after this, and almost always with another boy, a real little Russian, twelve or foiirteen years old, who could speak nothing else, and who was the son of a rich serf, or slave, — so Hans told me. Hans was the German boy's name, and Michael Michaelovitch the Russian's ; and after a little time we became such good friends, that he asked me home with him. There was only his father there, for his mother and baby sister had died not long after they came to Russia ; and though they lived in a splendid house, there were only servants about them, and they were often very lonely. I went to see them almost daily, and always found this little Russian boy with Hans. " One day I had taken off my great fur-lined coat, and laid it down in an outer room. As it happened, I had put my watch, which had just been mended, into the breast-pocket, in a little MICHAEL MICHAELOVITCH. 125 box, and did not think to take it out. I was there an hour or two, and it was only on leaving that I remembered it. I put my hand in the pocket : nothing there. Then I felt in each one, for I knew that I had it as I came into the house. " ' What is the matter ? ' said Hans, Avho had followed me. " I told him the trouble, saying also, that if I had not known it to be there when I came in, I should not have spoken of it to them, but I was afraid some of the servants had taken it. " 'All Russians steal ! ' said Hans's father, ' and the watch will be found here, I am sure. Mi- chael has it, probably, for he has always wanted Hans's, and search shall be made at once.' " Earl}' next morning it was bi'ought to me, and I went at once to Hans, to ask where they had found it. Michael, the Russian boy, was being led away by a gray-coated ])oliceman, looking pale and frightened ; and as I went in, Hans met me at the door. " ' You have it,' said he ; ' all Russians are alike, and Michael, who stole it, will be well paid.' " ' How ? ' said I. ' You would not send so young a boy to prison ? ' " ' No,' said Hans ; ' he is on his way to the punishment-house ; his back will pay for what he has done.' 126 THK AINSLEK STORIES. " ' Is he to 1k' \vlii|)|)i.Hl ? ' said I. " ' A hundred strokes, more or less ! ' answered Hans. ' He is a serf, and they will not be spar- ing.' " ' I do not want him to be whipped,' said I ; ' that is no way to make him better. I must go after him.' " ' No, no,' said Hans ; ' all serfs are flogged ; that is the only way to treat them.' " ' But I cannot have it,' said I ; ' come with me at once, Hans, so that you can interpret for me. He must be punished in some other way.' " Hans held back, but finally yielded, and we hurried alonji toward a low building in one of the side streets ofi^ the great square. In Russia, I must tell you, they had until a few years ago many thousands of slaves, or serfs, as they called them, who had suffered for many, many years, till they were made free, as our good President Lincoln made ours free. If a slave displeased his master or mistress, he could be sent to a punishment-house with a note, and receive as many lashes as had been ordered. Sometimes the slaves deserved punishment, but quite as often they were sent there by cruel and unreasonable owners, and whipped very dreadfully. " As we went into this place, Michael was being tied to a post, while a man stood by with a long MICHAEL MICHAELOVITCH. 127 willow rod in his hand, just ready to begin the beating. There were blood-stains on the post, and from another room I heard the sound of fall- ing strokes, and a low cry now and then. It was sickening. Hans went forward to the policeman who stood at the upj)er end of the room ; he spoke in Russian, so that I could not easily un- derstand, but the man seemed to object. " ' He says,' said Hans, ' that the boy was sent here lor punishment, and must receive it. If I had money, though, he could easily be bribed.' " This made matters easy. In a few moments I had handed him one of the dirty bits of Russian paper money, Michael was untied, and we were out of the low, stifling room, into the clear cold air again. Michael said not a word, but looked at me, as if he could not understand things at all. When we had reached the house, I told him, partly in the little Russian I knew, but more with Hans's help, why I had saved him from this dreadful punishment, and that I hoped he would always hereafter be an honest boy. " He said nothing, but as I went away, burst into tears, and kissed my cloak, as serfs often do, so that I felt sure he was grateful for what I had done. '' It was only a day or two afterwai'd, that, turning a corner in one of those queer little Rus- 128 Till-: AINSLKK STORIES. siaii c'luriages which they call droslikys, I was tluown out, and sprained my right arm and wrist severely. Hans's lather, when he heard of it, would not allow me to remain at the hotel, but took me at once to his house. Michael was my little servant, iind for a fortnight waited ui)i)ii me as nobody had ever done before. He taught me a good deal of Russian, and through lung- days Hans and ^Michael and I became ver}- inti- mate. I found that Michael had never been told b}' any one how wicked it was to steal, and had been tempted by the shining watch so strongly that he could hardly help taking it. He was a very bright, quick boy, and before we parted I think he understood very well how good it is to be honest for the sake of honesty, and not through fear. I told them of America, and of all the strange countries I had seen, and both boys wished that they could leave Russia and come here. " The day before I was to leave, Michael came to me and begged me to buy him and take him with me. " ' I cannot,' I told him ; ' you know you have another master, and no foreigner can buy or own a serf. I wish I could.' *' Poor Michael ! He had set his heart on be- ing bought by me, and could not bear to be dis- appointed. MICHAEL MICHAELOVITCH. 129 " ' Some day you may be free,' I said, ' and if you are always honest and true, you will be happy, whether free or not.' " This sprain had kept me in Moscow much longer than I intended, and I hurried away, and started on my homeward journey only a few days afterward. " In the course of two or three years, the good news came to us that all the Russian serfs had been freed. I thought then of Michael, and hoped he would have more chance to grow up a good man, than if he had still been a slave. " Last spring, just before I left San Francisco, walking down by the docks one day, I saw, over- seeing the landing from a ship of some chests of tea, a young man whose face I was sure I knew. By and by he turned, and came up the quay, and I looked at him earnestly. As he saw me he stopped ; then running forward, bowed low, and touched his forehead to my coat-flaps, as the Rus- sians do. I knew Michael in a moment, and when I called him by name, he answered me in very good English, which astonished me, as when I knew him, he could speak nothing but Russian. When I had taken him up to the hotel he told me the w^hole stoiy. " After I left, Hans had been so eager to learn English, that his father had engaged an English 9 130 THE AINSLEE STORIES. lady as teacher, wlio oaine to live ■with them, and s})oke nothing else to Hans. Michael, who was always with him, of course learned it also, and the governess, iinding him to be a very bright, intelligent boy, had taught him to read and write English. " As Hans grew older, his eagerness to visit America increased, and at last, just after the emancipation of the serfs, he left Russia, and af- ter travelling through America, settled down in San Francisco as a tea merchant. Michael had shortly after come over to be his clerk, and after his story was ended, I went with him to Hans's store. I had passed it many a time, not knowing M'hose it was, and you can think what a pleasant meeting I had. When I left some days after- ward, they gave me a great chest of Russian tea. It is what grandma calls her headache tea, be- cause she thinks it cures her headaches. But see how late it is. We must go up to dinner." " He tells good stories — don't he ? " said Ains- lee to Sinny, as Uncle Ainslee got up and walked slowly on. " I guess he does," said Sinny. " I wish I was a Russian." " Why ? " asked Ainslee. " 'Cause I love tea," said Sinny, " and mother don't ever let me have only the bottom o' the cup." MICHAEL MICHAELOVITCH. 131 " Well," said Ainslee, as they reached grand- ma's door, " you grow up fast as ever you can, and go there when you get big, and maybe you can be one o' those waiters with white trousers, and drink it all the time. Good-by, Sinny." " Good-by said Sinny." " I do believe I'm going to be a Russian." X. TWO PUMPKIN PIES. November came, gray and chilly. Long ago Ainslee would have been at home in New York, but grandtiither and grandmother desired that once more all the children should meet for a Thanksgiving dinner at the old homestead. Un- cle Arthur, the oldest of all, was cominor from far out West, with his wife and children ; Uncle John from nearer home ; and with Uncle Ains- lee, who had not been with them at Thanks- giving time for ten years, and Ainslee's father and mother, there would be such a party as one doesn't often see. Dr. Blimber, the largest gobble turkey in the barn-yard, received a double measure of corn every day, and Avould come very near being a twenty-five pounder, everybody said ; while old Speckle's most promising chickens, shut up in a coop, received daily rations of Indian stirabout from the hands of Ainslee and Sinny. On the barn-floor piles of yellow pumpkins lay ; the apple bins wei'e filled with wonderful red Spit- TWO PUMPKIN PIES. 133 zenbergs and pumpkin sweets ; and the old cider- mill creaked from morning till night Avhile Mr. Culligan and Joe turned the arms of the great press. Ainslee, in warm coat and mittens, divided his time about equally between the aquarium, the cider barrels, and the kitchen, where such won- ders in cookery were going on, that he said it was almost as nice as living in a baker's shop. Every kind of pie and cake which grandma and Nancy pushed into the great brick oven, had a little one to match ; and Ainslee being generous, and always ready to share his goodies, Sinny's face came to wear an expectant expression ; and between the claims of the straw which he always had by him for sucking cider, and the attractions of the little tin pie-pans, he really suffered. Fortunately the inhabitants of the aquarium Avere all in delicate health, owing to the fact that Sinny had emptied the salt-box into it, thinking that' as the sheep were fond of it, there was no reason why the fish shouldn't be. Uncle Ains- lee finding it out, had at once changed the water for them ; but one tadpole had died imme- diately, the turtle hadn't put his head out for two days afterward, and the shiners hid under the stones, and only swam out when poked with a little stick. Ponto having upset the flower- lo4 THE AINSLEE STORIES. pot, the two black crickets had run away, and probably gone into winter-quarters ; and the brown worm, owing to cold weather and the want of leaves, had shriveled all up, and would never be anything but a skin. Thus an amount of running was required, which kep^ them with such appetites that Nancy said " 'Twould be just as easy to feed a regiment as them two little stuffers, and why they didn't bust and done with it, she couldn't see." Summer plays were past. The brook, swollen full by autumn rains, was almost ready to be frozen over. The trees had put off their livery of gold and scarlet, and stood bare and brown ; while every stray nut had been gathered in by the squirrels, who still ran up and down the great butternut-tree on sunshiny days. Ainslee's gar- den, in Avhich he had planted beans, a potatoe, and a sunflower, had for some reason not done well. Careful digcrino; had resulted in the dis- covery of two small potatoes, which had imme- diately been boiled and eaten, and one sunflower hung in the barn, drying for the hens. This afternoon grandpa was going to the depot for Uncle Arthur, but the train did not get in till nearly six o'clock, and all the day lay before them. So mamma proposed, that, as it was quite pleasant, the two children should take a TWO PUMPKIN PIES. 135 basket, go to the meadow where the cows pas- tured in summer, and gather beech-nuts from the wooded hill which rose at its back. Grandma gave them each cookies and an apple turn-over, and they set out, swinging their bas- kets, and taking little runs now and then from sheer happiness. Through the meadow and up the little hill was only a short walk, hardly half a mile, but there were very few nuts to be found. The school-boys had been there before them, and only a stray One now and then was found. " I wouldn't be such a greedy boy, not to leave a single nut for anybody," said Ainslee, much disgusted. " Yes, you would," said Sinny. " You would n't leave one here now if you could find any." " Well," said Ainslee, struck by this new view of the case, " I'm a little boy and don't ought to. Big boys ought to leave nuts for little boys, but little boys don't ever have to leave 'em for big ones." " I'm tired of hunting for 'em, any way," said Sinny. " Let's sit down on this moss and eat our cookies." So the two children sat down under a great beech-tree, and began to eat with as much enjoy- ment as if they had not breakfasted two or three hours before. 136 Till': AIXSLEE STOHIES. Ruttliiiij; down on Ainslec's head came the husk of a nut. " You stop tiring things," said lie, turning sud- denly upon Sinny, who sat blissfully rocking back and forth. " I ain't firino; uothinix at all," answered Sin- ny, when down came another between them. Ainslee looked up, and a very red squirrel looked down, and then ran to the top of the tree, chattering as he went. " I guess he lives in that tree," said Sinny. " Maybe he's the Little Squirrel that didn't know how to get his own nuts, that 3'our Uncle Ainslee telled about." " Well, but," said Ainslee, " this one has got nuts ; so it can't be the one, unless he learned better after his father and mother was dead." " I guess he did," said Sinny, pulling away at some dead leaves and sticks, and uncovering a hole at the foot of the tree. "My! you just look in there ! " Ainslee turned and saw a great pile of beech and butternuts filling up completely this hole under the root, and putting in his hand, drew out as many as he could hold. "• Oh, there's heaps of 'em," said he ; " let's fill our baskets full." The squirrel seemed to think matters were TWO PUMPKIN PIES. 137 going all wrong, for he scolded and scolded, and once ran partly down the tree, as if he would in- terfere if he dared. The baskets were filled in a trice, and both boys turned toward home. Ains- lee walked slowly on till they came to the open meadow, and then sat down suddenly on a stone. " We've taken away most all the squirrel's nuts," said he ; " and he can't get any more 'cause it's most winter." " There's some left," said Sinny. " I know it," said Ainslee ; " but when they're all gone, what'll he do ? " " I guess maybe the other squirrels will let him have some o' theirs," said Sinny, after think- ing a moment. " I don't believe they would, 'cause they've all got wives and children, and couldn't spare any," said Ainslee. " I guess I'll put 'em back." " Oh I wouldn't," said Sinny. " If it's Little Squirrel, he oughter be paid for being so lazy ; he used to be awful lazy." " So he did," answered Ainslee, getting up and walking on a few steps, then turning again. " He ain't lazy now, any way," said he, " 'cause he's picked all these, and it would hurt him to have to starve to death." " Well," said Sinny, who seemed to think of nothing more to say against it, " let's hurry, then.'' 138 TlIK AINSLEE STORIES. Back to the liill the two cliildren trotted, put every nut into the hole, even including the few they had picked up. In the very bottom of one of the baskets still lay half a cooky. '• 111 put that in too," said Ainslee ; " maybe he never had a cooky ; " and he covered the whole with the leaves and sticks thej' had pulled aside a little time before, and then started again for home, with a very happy face. " Why, how bright you look," said mamma, meeting them at the front gate. " Uncle John has come, and little John and Lizzie are in a hurry to see you." Sinny turned, and ran toward home, as if he thought his seed times were over, now that other children had come, and Ainslee went into the house. The few hours before the train's coming passed quickly in showing the swing and aqua- rium ; and when the three western cousins ap- peared, very little tired with their long journey, there was, after the first shyness wore off, a per- fect bedlam, which was only silenced by Uncle Ainslee iioino; away with them, and telling a story, which kept them perfectly quiet till bed- time. The few days before Thanksgiving went rap- idly by. Sinny found himself quite as much in demand as before, and the seven children were TWO PUMPKIN PIES. 139 " everywhere to onct," Mr. Culligan said, " and had hked to pulled near all the oats out, gettin' straws to suck cider with." At last came the day, — cold, to be sure, but bright and sunny. " Put on my biggest jacket, nurse," said Ains- lee, as he was being dressed for church. " Un- cle Ainslee says boys always burst the buttons off their jackets Thanksgiving Day." " It's no such a thing," said nurse, " unless they're like pigs. You might, though, — a boy that has so much to do with 'em." Ainslee was about to answer this rather dis- agreeable speech angrily, but grandpa's voice was heard' from the hall, asking if every one was ready, and he ran down to join the other children. They did not go to the church over the river to- day, but down to the village, and there were three pews full of Grandpa Walton's children and grandchildren. Ainslee understood almost all of Mr. Parker's sermon, and was very much inter- ested in hearing how the poor Pilgrims at Plym- outh had to eat just as little as they could live on, for a long, long time, till at last the ship came sailing in from England, and they had a real Thanksgiving time. Toward the very end, how- ever, he couldn't help thinking how Dr. Blimber would look all stretched out on a platter, and whether Mrs. Blimber would know him if she should see him. 140 THE AINSLEE STORIES. Church ciuled cjuickly, and Ainslee, as he took his father's hand, found that Mr. Parker was go- ing home with them. Such a dcHcious smell as tliere was all through the house ! Dinner was not ready till two, but the smell was almost a dinner in itself. At last the door opened into the dining-room, and there was such a long table set for fourteen people, with a smaller one close by, for the five children. Ainslee being the youngest, and there not being room for him with the children, sat at the big table, between Mr. Parker and Uncle Ainslee ; and while grandpa carved Dr. B limber, took the opportunity to find out just exactly how his aunts and uncles looked. By and by his plate came to him with a nice piece of white meat, and all sorts of vegetables. Ainslee was very fond of almost every kind but carrots, and there on his plate was at least half of one, which somebody, not knowing his tastes, had put there. Ainslee tasted his turkey, but the great, bright, yellow carrot took away all his appetite. " I can't stand it," said he to himself " Fll eat it up just as fast as ever I can, so's to get it out of the way," and he swallowed it in great mouthfnls. " Why ! " said grandma, looking from her end of the table, " how the dear boy loves carrot ! Do give him another, grand|)a." TWO PUMPKIN PIES. 141 Ainslee laid down his knife and fork, and burst into a roar. " My dear cliild,'" said mamma, getting up hastily and coming round to him, " what is the matter ? " " I don't want another ! I can't eat another! " howled Ainslee. " I'm sick now." " Don't want another what ? " said mamma, who, busy talking, had not noticed grandma's re- mark. " Another carrot," said Ainslee. " I've eated one, just as fast, so's not to have to look at it, and I can't eat any more." " You need not," said mamma, soothingly, while such a laugh went round the table, that Ainslee, indignant at first, finally joined in, and laughed harder than anybody. By and by the table was cleared, and Mary brought in and placed before grandma an enormous pumpkin pie, baked in a very large, shallow milk-pan. Ains- lee was so taken up with this, that he had no eyes for the smaller pies, or the round plum- pudding before grandpa ; and he was still more surprised, wlien grandpa, filling his glass, said, — " Let us drink to Pumpkin Pie." Everybody stood up, and everybody laughed a little as they drank, though Mr. Parker seemed a little puzzled, and Ainslee thought it so mys- terious that he could not keep still. 142 THE AIXSLEE STORIES. *' What makes j-ou drink to pumpkin pie, grandpa ? " said he. " Tell him, father," said Uncle Arthur. " This generation should know all about it as well as we." " One of you boys can," said grandpa. "I'm out of the way of telling stories. You may do it, Ainslee." " Don't you do any such thing," said grandma, half laughing, and quite red in the face. " What do you suppose tliese children will think ? " " We will find out pretty soon," said Uncle Ainslee. " When I've eaten my share, mother, every one who doesn't know about it shall be told." So, when the great pie had gone about the table, and everybody was busily picking out nuts, Uncle Ainslee leaned back comfortably in his chair and began : — " How old grandpa was, I can't exactly say, and how old grandma was, I couldn't tell either ; but it's a certain fact that John Walton (that's grandpa) was the handsomest young man in all Charleston, and Sybil Huntingdon (that's grand- ma) the very prettiest girl in Windsor. Where they met, and how they met, grandpa knows bet- ter than I do ; but he at once fell violently in love, and when Miss Sybil came to make a visit at TWO PUMPKIN PIES. 143 Charleston, he spent so much money in fine clotlies, that he came veiy near havmg none at all left. Try as he would, grandpa could never find out whether Miss Sybil cared anything for him or not ; and when she went home to Wind- sor, she left such an uneasy, uncomfortable, wor- rying man behind her, that it's a wonder how he ever got through the two months which followed. Finally, quite unable to bear it one day longer, he made up his mind he would take a holiday, put on his most magnificent suit of clothes, ride up to Windsor, and ask Miss Sybil if she would marry him. If you want to know how he looked, children, turn round a moment." Everybody turned to look at the portrait which hung over the dining-room mantel, — a young man with bright brown eyes and hair like Uncle Ainslee, dressed in a very short-waisted blue coat with brass buttons, a nankeen vest, from which seemed to rush out three full cambric ruffles, and very tight breeches, buckled "at the knee over some equally tight black silk stockings. "Is that grandpa?" said all the children to- gether. " I never knew that," said Ainslee. " I thought it was Abraham, or Noah, or somebody out of the Bible." "Not exactly," said Uncle Ainslee, laughing 144 TllH AINSLEE STORIES. at o-raiulma's ](^ok of astonishment at Ainsloc. " That is oi-ancl|ia in his courting suit, and just as he looked that late September morning, ever and ever so many years ago, when he stej)ped into his one-horse chaise, and drove along the beauti- ful river road to Windsor. He made believe he was enjoying the ride, but the nearer he gf)t to Windsor, the more his heart went pit-a-pat, till at last, when he drove up Common Hill, and into the great o;ate back of Parson Huntino-don's, he had almost a mind to drive home again to Charleston as fast as he could 20. Old Nat met him and took the horse, and he walked round to the front door. There sat Miss Sybil at the par- lor window with great-graiidmotlier, sewing, and looking so lovely, that grandpa thought he should certainly die if she said ' No.' In he went, and Miss Sybil was very much astonished of course, and then great-grandmother, after she had talked a little while, said she must go and see about dinner, and so left' them together. " Now Miss Sybil was very famous for garden- ing, just as she is to this day, and she always had flowers in her garden to the last moment that Jack Frost would allow it. So, after grandpa had talked about the weather and his ride, and told her how all his relations were, he stared at her in such a dreadful kind of wav that she TWO PUMPKIN PIES. 145 turned very red, and dropped her work, and broke her needle, and finally, quite desperate, asked him if he wouldn't like to go into the garden and see her flowers. Of course he said ' Yes,' and out they both went. What happened then you will know by and by. " In the mean time great-grandmother had given black Dilly orders about the dinner, and gone up to her I'oom to put on her best cap, and tell great grandpa, that John Walton had come way from Charleston to see Sybil, and she should n't wonder if they were going to settle matters right away. " Now black Dilly had a daughter named Dolly, then about ten years old, whose business was to set tables, run of errands, etc. If Topsy had only been written about then, Dolly certainly would never have been Dolly any more, but Topsy to the end of the chapter, for if she could have stood on her head while setting that table, she certainly would have done it. As it was, she had a sort of war-dance over every knife and fork she put on, and had her ears boxed at least twice by her mother, as she whirled back and forth from the kitchen. " At last, bread and butter, and everything, were on the table, and Dilly put into her hands just such an immense pumpkin pie as you have 10 146 THE AIXSLEE STORIES. seen to-day. Dolly had got half-way across the dining-room with it, Avhen Miss Sybil's gray kit- ten raced across the yard, closely pursued by somebody's dog. Down went the pumpkin pie into a chair standing by the table, and off went Dolly to think nothing more of pie or pie-plates till dinner was ready, and Dilly had tired herself out with callino; her to come and wait. Then she took her station near great-grandmother, with her little waiter in her hand, and twisting her woolly head half off, in order to see Mr. Walton as he came in. Great-grandfather took his place, and waited patiently for the young people, and soon Miss Sybil ap])eared, and sat down in her usual seat, red*as one of her own roses, wdiile grandpa walked behind her, looking happy enough to hug the whole family, but so blind with bash- fulness, that he shook hands carefully with Dolly, and said, ' How do you do, Mr. Huntingdon ? ' till that gentleman tliought him the craziest lover he had ever seen, and said, — " ' Take a seat ]Mr. Walton ; pray take a seat.' " Mr. Walton drew out the chair by Miss Sy- bil and sat down suddenly, but rose up with a bound. " ' Land of Goshen ! ' said great-grandmother, standing up, ' look at his coat-tails I ' TWO PUMPKIN PIES. 147 " ' O Lord ! O Lord ! ' screamed Dolly, throw- ing her apron over her head and running into the kitchen ; ' he's sot down in the pumpkin pie ! ' " Dilly didn't wait to hear who, but rushed into the dining-room with a basin and towel. There stood grandpa with plastered coat-tails, and pumpkin nmning down those beautiful breeches and black silk stockings, on to great-grandmoth- er's new carpet, hardly able to move for mortifi- cation, while Parson Huntingdon lay back in his chair and laughed till he cried, and Miss Sybil was just as bad. There was nothing to do but to take him up-stairs and give him fresh clothes, while Dilly cleaned the others ; So great-grand- father led the way to the study, and opened his closet. Plenty of clothes there : but you see grandpa is rather a small man, and Parson Hun- tingdon was very big, — six feet high, and fat, too, — and the figure grandpa cut when he came down again was something wonderful. " The coat-sleeves were so long he had to roll them up, and the cambric ruffles were quite lost in a wilderness of waistcoat, while the breeches hung in folds over the knee-buckles. However, he had got over the first shock, and was prepared to have some fiin out of it, though he has been heard to say, that if he had waited till after din- 148 THE AINSLEE STOIUES. ner to jiroposo to Miss Sybil, he is afraid she would never have said anything but ' No.' " Her© Uncle Ainslee suddenly left the dining- room, and was gone some little time, while the children looked curiously at grandpa's Avhite hair and grandma's cap, as if it were hard to believe they had ever been young. Presently the door opened, and Uncle Ainslee came in in such a dress, that everybody got up to look at him. How he had ever got into it, it was impossible to tell, for he was as tall as great-o-randfather Hunting- don, though not fat yet. There he stood, blue coat, cambric ruffles, and all, holding out his coat- tails as if he had just risen up from the pie. " Yes," said grandpa, " the identical suit. You didn't suppose I was going to throw it away, did you ? Not I ; though where Ainslee got hold of it I don't see." " He's been to the big chest in the garret," said grandma. " It's been there for years, with my wedding dress, that you never'd let me dye or anything." " Once more," said grandpa, quite stirred up, and rising from his chair, — " Children, it's about the last time we can all hope to keep Thanksgiv- ing together — once more, then, drink to ' Pump- kin Pie.' " " Three cheers for pumpkin pie ! shouted TWO PUMPKIN PIES. 149 little John, and anybody who went by just then must have thought Grandpa Walton's family gone ci'azy, for such a shout came from- the old dining-room, that Ponto ran around the house barking, and every glass on the table shook. XI. WINTER TIME. It was the day after Christmas. How ftill Amslee's stocking had been I don't know, but if all the things lying on the bed before him had been Christmas gifts, it must have taken at least two of his grandfather's lono;-leo;o-ed ones to hold them. It was broad daylight, almost dinner-time, and yet there sat Ainslee in his little dressing- gown, leaning back against the pillows, and not half so fat as when we first saw him walking up from the barn with the chicken he had hugged to death. Ainslee would turn very red if you should ask him what was the matter, so I must begin at the very beginning and tell you myself. Uncle Arthur, with his three children, had stayed at grandpa's till nearly the middle of De- cember, and little John and Lizzie too, so that when you counted Sinny, who was there every day, and sometimes two or three times a day, there were seven children, " raising Cain every blessed minute," Ann said. Rainy days, mamma had a fire built in the old garret where she had WINTER TIME. 151 had a stove put up, and here they played games, and cracked butternuts, and dressed themselves in the old-fashioned clothes thev dragged from %i Oct the chests and trunks ; and when they were tired of this, raced down to the cellar and ate apples, or sucked grandpa's cider, till it was a wonder that he had one drop left. By and by came a morning when Ainslee had to say good-by to each one, and was left alone again ; and for a day or two he was so lonesome and forlorn, mamma hardly knew what to do with him. Veiy little snow had fallen, so far, and he ran about out-of-doors quite as much as in the foil. This particular morning he and Sinny had been cracking the ice in the Aquarium with a hammer, and looking throufjh the holes to see if the shiners were still alive, and now, a little tired, were sittino- on a log and resting. Ann came out with a basket of clothes to hang; on the line, and old Mrs. Culligan, who always came up to help with the washing, walked out from the back-kitchen and toward the oldest well, with a pail in her hand. There were two wells at grandpa's. One close by the house, from which the water was carried into the kitchen, and another very old one, dug years and years before, and with a long well- 152 TIIK AIXSLEE STORIES. sweep, which had been left there, because all tiie children when they came home, liked to find the old well as it had been wlien tliey were little, and to drink the clear, cold water from the same bucket. ]\Irs. Culligan would never rinse her clothes in any water that did not come from this old well, and Ainslee knew that she would carry in two or three pailfuls before she stopped. " I say, Sinny," said he ; " I'm goin' to get on the end o' the well-sweep and sit there, and Mrs. Cullio;an won't know what's holdino; it down, and she'll pull and pull, and when it begins to go up, I'll jump oft"." " Come on, then," said Sinny, who thought it would be fine fun, and oft" they I'an. The well-sweep was fifteen or twenty feet long, and so heavy that its own weight would lift up the bucket after anybody had lowered it into the water. The end rested in quite a thicket of bushes, over which a Frost Grape climbed, so that even thoucfh the leaves were gone, Ainslee was nicely hidden, and nobody would have known he was there. Sinny walked toward the summer-house, look- ino; verv innocent as Mrs. Cullio;an came out with her pail, and setting it down by the well, took hold of the bucket and began to pull, wliile the fifty pounds of mischief on tiie end sat still. f,S^:^.-^ .. ith tile sweci) .' ' said .Miv. Oulli'i;aii. ' — .>ie page l-")3. WINTER TIME. 153 " What on airth's tlie matter with the sweep ? " said Mrs. Culh'gan. " It went well enough a minute ago," and she took a stronger hold, and gave a great jerk. Up went Ainslee into the air, too late for his jump. " Land alive ! " said Mrs. Culhgan, so aston- ished, that she let go of the rope at once. Thump went the well-sweep down again, and thump went Ainslee with it, rolling over and over as he touched the ground, and, finally, pickhig himself up with a very scared face, cry- ing louder than he had ever been known to be- fore. Sinny turned and ran home fast as his legs would take him, and Mrs. Culligan, pounc- ing on Ainslee, carried him into the house, and set him down before his mother, who had run into the kitchen when she heard his screaming. " Of all the boys that ever I see, he's the mis- chievousest," said Mrs. Culligan. " You never can know one minute what he's going to do the next. You'd better see if he hain't broke some bones." Ainslee by this time was very pale, and mam- ma picked him up and carried him into his grand- mother's room. " What now ? " said grandpa. " He's been a-ridin' on the well-sweep," said Mrs. Culligan, who had followed, " an' I was 15-i TIIK AIXSLKl': STORIES. took so all of a lioap u-seein' him up there, that I jest let go, an' he went ilown bang." "Ask Mr. Culligan to go for the doctor," said mamma, who had been feeling of Ainslee's arms antl legs. " He has broken his collar-bone, I'm afraid." Mamma lifted him again and carried him to her own room. By the time Dr. Marsh got there, he was undressed, and lying very still, for every motion hurt him. "Been haying again ? " asked the doctor, as he walked into the room. " No, sir," said Ainslee, who didn't want to tell how it had happened, if he could help it. " He went up on the well-sweep, and down again with it," said mamma, " and in falling he has broken his collar-bone, I think. It is swell- ing badly there." " To be sure, to be sure," said the doctor, after examining Ainslee. " It must be set at once," and after a moment's looking into a little basi: he carried, he turned to the bed again. Before Ainslee could object to the very strong smell of something on a handkerchief which was put to his face, he didn't know anything at all. When he opened his eyes again, it was to find himself still flat on his back, something pressing on the bones of his shoulder and neck, WINTER TIME. 155 and Dr. Marsh by the window, dropping a dark liquid from a bottle into a spoon. " What you been a-doin' ? "' said Ainslee. " Fixing you up, so that in two or three weeks you can go out and break your neck," answered Dr. Marsh. " If you go on like this, you will be all in little bits by the time you are a man, and mamma will have to carry you about in a carpet- bag. One of your bones is broken in two now, and it won't take long to do the rest." " Yes it will," said Ainslee, beginning to cry again. " I wouldn't a-gone up if I'd known I should crack myself comin' down. This thing on my shoulder hurts me. I want it off." " Don't touch it," said mamma, as Ainslee gave the pad a little pull. " That is to keep the bones together, and you must try to be very patient with it. The stiller you are, the sooner you can get up again." " Can I go down to supper ? " asked Ainslee. " No, indeed," said the doctor, coming up with the tea-spoon, " nor to a good many suppers. You must lie still at least a week, and you vs^ill have your suppers brought up on a little waiter." " Nothing but suppers ? " said Ainslee. " No breakfasts ? " "Yes, yes," said Dr. Marsh. "Take this loG TIIK AIXSLEE STORIES. now, and it will keep you from liaving a head- ache." "No it won't," said Ainslee, "for I've got one now ; " but he swallowed the medicine, which did not taste bad at all, and the doctor went away in a few minutes. " Grandpa brought me a letter from papa, just before you were hurt," said mamma, sitting down by the bed, and laying her cool hand on his forehead. " What do you think it says in it?" " I don't know ; what does it ? " asked Ains- lee. " Papa wants us to stay here all winter," mamma answered. " He must be in California until May, for he is doing something with Uncle Ainslee, by which he expects to make a great deal of money. So instead of going back to New York the first of January, we shall stay right on here. How shall you like that ? " " First rate," said Ainslee, " only I want to go to school." " You will not be able to go anywhere before January," said mamma. " I do hope, having to lie still so long, with all the trouble it brings, will keep you out of so much mischief when you get well. Poor Mrs. Culligan is crying now over your broken bones." WINTER TIME. 157 "She didn't break 'em," said Ainslee. "I did it every speck my own self. Call her up hei'e, mamma." Mamma called her, and presently Mrs. Culli- gan came in with red eyes, and cried again, as she saw him on his back. " Deary me ! " said she. " To think that you really did break a bone ! I wouldn't a-pulled you along in so, if I'd a-thought you was any- thing more than scared." "You didn't hurt," said Ainslee. "I say, Mrs. Cnlligan, won't you bake me a little round short-cake, just like the one you did when I came down to play with Jo? " "That I "will," said Mrs. Culligan, "an' I'll bring it you to-morrow." When to-morrow came, Ainslee did not want it, for his head ached and he was very feverish. This lasted only a day or two, and then he was hungry all the time, and wanted more than Dr. Marsh thought he ought to have. He grew very tired of lying still, and if Uncle Ainslee had been at home, would have begged for stories all day. Grandpa told him some, and so did mamma, and she read him a great many. Sinny came down again, the same day Ainslee was hurt, and cried so forlornly when he heard of the broken bone, that Ann, who had meant to scold him very l')S THE AINSLF.K STORIKS. liaril, cliank'e [)ut it all into the very best printing he could do. On the opposite page you will see exactly how it looked when finished. Then Ainslee took the envelope, and printed on the outside, just as Nancy told him to spell it — MisamanderMaktin, — all in one word. You ten or twelve-year-olders, who never miss a word in your spelling-classes, can afford to laugh at Ainslee, and your little brothers and sisters wnll not know but that it is all right, unless you tell them. What grandpa, and grandma, and mamma thought when they saw it, I don't know. Grand- pa coughed so tliat he couldn't tell Ainslee how he liked it, and mamma looked out of the window for some time before she put it in the envelope she had all ready. She put on a two-cent stamp, and jNlr. Cullisan mailed it that evenino; when he went down to the post-office, together with a penny one that Ainslee had bought for Ann, for it was then the thirteenth of February. Next day came a terrible storm of wind and rain, and as Ainslee had a little cold, mamma kept him at home. Two valentines came to him, both printed ones, and Ainslee wondered all day, not only whom his could be from, but whether or no Amanda had hers. The next day was pleasant, and he started for r J.I ,i Nancy spelled each word lor him. just as it was written there, and Ainn- fcrf put it all into the verv best printing he could dp." — See page 186. AINSLEE'S VALENTINE. 187 school just as soon after breakfast as he could o-et ready, with his two valentines in his pocket. All the boys and girls were about the stove when he got there, and almost every one had a valentine to show. Sampson Simmons had one of a boy putting his fingers in his mother's pre- serve jars, which he had found on his seat, and would not have shown had he known what was in it. Amanda Martin was standing by Tommy, holding one, wiiich Ainslee knew in a minute ; 188 THE AIXSLEE STORIES. and Sinny was sliowing his, as if it were tlie fin- est one ever printed. " You didn't get one, did you, Amanda ? " asked Ainslee. " I guess I did," said Amanda. Tommy makes fun of it, but I think it's beautiful." " Do you, truly, surely ? " said Ainslee. " Why yes," Amanda answered, looking up. "I'm always going to keep it. Did you send it, Ainslee ? I sent you one." " Whicli one ? " said Ainslee, delighted, and more so, when it proved to be the prettiest one. " I'll let you ride on my sled like anything, Amanda," he said. " I love you." " So do I you," said Amanda. " You're the nicest boy I ever saw." I think Ainslee w^ould have hucfsred her again that very minute, had not the bell called school to order. He did pat her as he went by, and when he went home at noon, told his mother he wanted to hurry and get big, and just as soon as h« did, he should marry Amanda, to which mamma said, — " Twenty years or so from now, my boy, we will besin to talk about that." XIII. SNOW-DRIFTS. Such a snow-storm came, the very last day of February, as Ainslee never had seen, and which the village paper said was " One of the severest in the memory of the oldest inhabitant." White and still the flakes fell for two whole days, and when on the third the sun peeped out just a mo- ment, to see how the world had been getting on without him, he found such a surprising state of things, that he went behind a cloud as fast as he could, and waited till nearly noon before he de- cided to come out and stay. In the village where people were going back and forth all the time, the deep snow had been cleared away, and the paths trodden down a lit- tle ; but further out, where grandpa lived, was one great, white sheet, every fence covered, and no sound to break the wonderful silence. Ainslee climbed into grandpa's arm-chair, and looked from the dining-room window, as the sun at last gleamed out. The keen north wind, which had howled down the chimneys, and moaned and 190 Tin-: Aixsi.KE stories. groaned all the night long in the old trees, had whirled the snow into deeper and deeper drifts with each gust, till now it seemed as if nobody ever could dig out. The old rooster crowed hoarsely from the barn, shut in by a mountain of snow before the door. The two pigs squealed with hunger, for Mr. Culligan had not been able to get up to them from the meadow where he lived, since the afternoon before. Tiie pine-trees near the summer-house were great Avhite pyra- mids, and Ainslee looked down through them to the meadow. " There comes Mr. Cully, grandpa," he shouted. Mamma came to the window and looked out with him at Culligan, laboring through the snow, sinking sometimes up to his waist, and reaching the backdoor at last, all out of breath, and with the reddest face that ever you saw. Ann gave him some hot coffee at once, and presently, when he had rested, grandpa and he began digging a path to the wood-house and barn. Ainslee, wrapped to his eyes, plunged about in the snow, which was flir above his head ; and at last got the fire-shovel, and began to dig a tunnel which he thought might, in time, bring him out somewhere near Sinny's. As for getting to school, that was quite out of the question, until the oxen and snow-sleds should make a way. Well, SJiid graudpa, 'at the rate you are going on, you may get there in a year and a half from now.' " — See page 191. SNOW-DRIFTS. 191 " I'd learned down to ' twice five makes ten," mamma," said Ainslee, " and now I shall forget every word of it. Maybe I can't go to school all the rest of the winter, and then I won't re- member anything." " Won't you ? " said mamma, smiling. " Then every morning you may say a little lesson to me, till you go again." " Oh no ! " said Ainslee ; and thinking this a subject which had better not to be talked about any longei', returned to his tunnel. " How long would it take me to dig up to Sin- ny's, grandpa? " he asked, as he began again. "Well," said grandpa, putting his head on one side, and examining the hole, which was now just large enough to allow of Ainslee's stand- ing upright in it, " at the rate j'ou are going on, you may get there in a year and a half from now." " Ho ! " said Ainslee. " You always make fun of me, grandpa. I'm going to make prints o' myself all over, and not dig any more when you're a-looking." "I sha'n't look ; I'm too busy," said grandpa. " Dig away ; " but Aijislce was off to a spot near the wood-house, from which the snow had been blown, till only a foot or so deep remained, and which was just moist enough to make an excel- 192 THE AlNSLEi: STORIES. lent liki'iioss of liini, boots and all, as lie lay on his hack with both arms stretched out. " I wonder if I could make nose and eyes and all, if I laid my face down," he thought ; but it was so cold and choky when he tried it, that he gave up it at last, and went into the house to get warm. Ann had a doughnut man cut out, ami dropped him into the frying-pan, just after Ains- lee came in, %vho Avatched him swell, and turn a lovely brown. " Wouldn't he holler if he was alive," he said. " Ann, I've just thovight. Fm going to eat him every speck, and then I'm going out again to make a snow-man." "You're too small," said Ann. " Yoii couldn't, no more than the baby." " I could too," said Ainslee. " You see now," and too full of this plan to eat more than half his man, he started out, and began rolling up a ball, which verv soon grew so laro-e, that even if he had not been stopped by a drift, he could not have stirred it another inch. " The snow's too deep," said Ainslee. " I guess I'll go to the barn and perhaps I'll find some eggs." Grandpa had not got there yet, however, and Ainslee, after walking back and forth for some time, between the high walls of snow piled up SNOW-DRIFTS. 193 on either side, grew tired, and went into the house. Baby was awake, and Ainslee played with his blocks, and built him some card-houses. Tea-time came before he knew it, and bed-time very soon after. If Ainslee had stayed awake that night, he would have heard the rain pouring down steadily, and when he opened his eyes next morning, the drifts were running down hill, and a cold wind blowing the i^ain against the windows. " Pretty good beginning for March," grandpa said at the breakfast table. " If this goes on, the snow will be gone in no time. The path to school is all clear, Ainslee, I guess." " You wouldn't want me to get a sore throat, would you, grandpa?" said Ainslee, "a-going all in the rain ? " " Castor-oil would cure it," said grandpa ; "and if you went without your dinner and supper, you'd be well the next morning, and could do it all over again." Ainslee was too busy with buckwheat cakes just then to make any answer, and indeed I don't think grandpa expected any, for he walked out to see Mr. Culligan, who was in the kitchen. All day the rain poured down. Ainslee pasted some pictures into a scrap-book, in the morning ; and in the afternoon mamma put a large closet in. 13 194 TIIK AINSLEK STORIES. her room In order, and he looked at tlie different thinffs as tliey were broujiht out. " What can this be ? " said mamma, reaching up to the top shelf, and talking down a red and green something. " Why, it's a beautiful teenty barrel," said Ainslee. " Let me have it, mamma. Where did you get it ? " " Uncle Ainslee gave it to me long ago," mam- ma said, " when I was a young girl. He brought it from Russia, I think, and it was full of little bottles of perfumes, packed in cotton. See, the bung takes out, and there is a hole large enough to put your hand in." " Give it to me, mamma, "said Ainslee. " Do give it to me for all my own." " Well," said mamma, " if you will take very good care of it, I will ; but if I find you are going to spoil it, I shall take it away." " I won't spoil it, certain sure," said Ains- lee, and ran down to show it to grandma and Ann. His wagon stood in the kitchen, and Ains- lee filled the barrel w-ith water, and pretended he was a root-beer man, and sold glasses of it for two pins apiece. " What are you going to do with so many pins, Ainslee ? " said grandma. " You must have a boxful now." SNOW-DRIFTS. 195 " I'm eoins: to make scissors of 'em," said Ainslee, " next summer, along with the boys. Cross 'em, you know, and put 'em on the track, and when the locomotive comes along, it jams 'em into splendid scissors. Tommy Martin's got lots." "You'll set killed ffoing on the track," said grandma. " No I won't," Ainslee answered. " The boys don't go on the track, only put the pins on. You know Seth Collins, grandma? His father keeps the candy store, and he brings pea-nuts to school, a whole pocketful sometimes, and he sells 'em, three for two pins. I bought a lot the other day." Grandma shook her head a little, but gave him two or three pins, and drank the water from the little tin cup as though it were the most delicious root-beer. Ainslee played with his barrel till bed-time, and when next morning came, wanted very much to take it to school, and went off just the least bit angry that mamma would not let him. He forgot barrel and everything else in a very few minutes, for there was Amanda walking right on before him, with the verv dearest little pair of rubber boots on her small legs that ever were seen. Ainslee ran after her, and hugged her right in the middle of the road, he was so glad to see her again. Tommy laughed a little, and said, if Ainslee lived with Amanda all the 196 THE AINSLEE STORIES. time, he guessed he woukhrt like her quite so much. " She's a pretty nice little gal, though," Tom- my added, as he saw her face cloud a little, and Ainslee said, — " There isn't any nicer anywhere." Two or three of the boys came up, and they all went into the school-room in the highest spir- its. Sinny was delighted to see Ainslee, and the frolic which began by the stove did not end at roll-call, but went on in such fashion, that at last Sinny giggled, and, trying to turn the giggle into a cough, made such a splutter behind his Spelling-book, that Miss Barrett said, — " Go into the entry this minute, sir, and stay till you're called." Sinny went out slowly, for the entry was cold, and he did not like to stand there. He counted all the boys' caps, and all the girls' hoods, and then, finding Miss Barrett was hearing a class, and not likely to call him in for some time, opened his dinner-pail, and ate a part of his gin- gerbread. " That's Sampson's," he said to himself, look- ing at a little red and brown basket in one cor- ner ; " I'm going to see what he's got." Sinny lifted the lid and looked in. Only bread and butter on top, but pulling up one slice a little, SNOW-DRIFTS. 197 there underneath was a fried pie, delightfully brown, and just what he liked, better than al- most anything else. Sinny tiptoed back to his own pail, and looked in again at the two apples there. They were Pearmains ; a rich, dark-red, and so good, that often the boj'-s traded off at noon, and gave Sinny cake or pie for one of them. Sampson had wanted to do this not long before, for these apples were the only ones of the kind which were brought to school, and as Sinny stood thinking of the fried pie, he remembered this. " Fried pie's too good for Samp," he said. " I'll give him both my apples, and then it'll be fair enough to eat up his pie." So Sinny took out the pie, put the two apples carefully under the bread and butter, and then stood up behind Juliana Johnson's plaid shawl, and ate till the very last crumb was gone. Miss Barrett called him just as he finished, and he walked into the school-room, and said his spelling- lesson, and then came recess, and for the first time he began to think, " What'll Samp say ? " Sampson went right out to play, however, but when recess was over, Sinny grew more and more frightened, as he thought what might hap- pen at noon, — too frightened to make any plans as to what it was best to do. Miss Barrett went 198 THE AIXSLEE STORIES. home at once when the twelve o'clock bell rang, and all the children i- BARRELS AND BEANS. 239 " One o' these whistles," said Ainslee, " un- less grandpa'll let you have the old dinner- horn." " He won't," said Jack, after a moment's dis- appearance in tlie dining-room. " He says the neighbors would all be in if I blew that, but he let me have your tin trumpet out o' his drawer." "Why it's been gone ever so long," said Ainslee, surprised to see it. " I'll always ask grandpa now if I lose anything. You've got a trumpet, Jack, an' I've got a whistle, and Sinny a drum. What'll you play on, Lizzie?" " There's beans out in the wood-house, lots of 'em," said Sinnv. " She mijrht shake beans in a tin pan, and ring your little bell." " So I will," said Lizzie, delighted, and the four ran out to the wood-house, from whence there came, by and by, such a racket, that grandma said it was a wonder the whole town didn't come up to see what the matter was. After a while they formed a procession, and marched around the house, still playing, till the big people were almost distracted, and at last, down into the meadow, where little Joe CuUigan joined them. The sun set too soon altogether, and bed -time never had seemed such a little while after supper. Mamma left the doors open 240 THE AINSLEE STORIES. between tlie cliildren's rooms, and tliey talked back and forth, till nurse said the baby would wake right up, unless they kept stillei'. Very soon after this, sleep came, but left them long before the grown up people's eyes thouohr of opening. Ainslee heard Jack and Lizzie whis- pering for some time, and at last, not able to keep away one minute longer, ran in to them. The whispering grew louder, and there was a giggle now and then, and at last a squeal, and then a good many of them ; and when mamma, an hour later, looked in for a moment, to call Ainslee, she saw tlie sheets and quilts made into a tent, under which a whirlwind seemed to be goino; on. " You are a noisy set," said she. " Do you believe grandma Avill keep you here if you go on like this ? " • " She can't hear us much, I guess," said Ains- lee. " Baby makes more noise than anybody." " Baby ! " said mamma, in astonishment. " Is baby here ? I thought nurse had him." " No," said Ainslee. " I sort of touched him when I was getting out o' bed, and he stood right up in his crib a-looking at me, an' you was sound asleep, so I just brought him here." Mamma looked under the sheet, and saw baby tumbling over all three of the children, and sqiiealing with delight. BARRELS AND BEANS. 241 " Come, baby," she said ; but baby did not want to leave the play, and Lizzie had to lift him off the bed, and run with him into mamma's room. " Lizzie and Jack can go to school with me, can't they ? " asked Ainslee, after breakfast. " It's Wednesday now, and school's goin' to stop Friday, for ever so long. Three whole wrecks." " Yes," said Aunt Sue, after thinking a mo- ment. " Perhaps that is the best thing to do with you, but' you must promise not to whisper. Grandma says you may stay here as long as I can spare you ; a whole week, perhaps. Shall you be good ?" " To be sure we shall," Jack answered. " Ain't we always good, mother ? " " Pretty good," said Aunt Sue. " I shall leave 3^ou in grandma's care, and you must mind all she says. We shall start for home before you get back from school, and next week Tuesday, if it is pleasant, we will come over for you." Lizzie hugged her mother as if she were hardly willing to let her go, and even Jack seemed a little doubtful for a minute. " Come," called Ainslee. " I've got my new cap on, and I'm all ready to start. Oh my ! why here's my barrel right in the bottom of all the things." IS 242 THE AINSLEE STORIES. " What ? " said Lizzie, running up to the drawer where his things were kept. " Why, it's a real httle barrel ! It would hold a quart of water : where did it come from ? " " Mamma gave it to me, and Uncle Ainslee gave it to her," said Ainslee. " It came from way off. I'm a great mind to take it to school. I don't believe Tommy or Amanda ever saw it." " Who's Amanda ? " asked Lizzie. " Oh, she's a little girl," Ainslee answered. " She's most smaller'n you, Lizzie, but she's real nice. Shall we take our dinners, mamma ? " " Not to-day," said mamma, " for I don't think Lizzie will care to stay longer than noon. You can play half an hour after school, if you like, and Tommy and Amanda may come here to tea, if their mother is willino;." " O you lovely mamma ! " said Ainslee. " Won't we have a good time ? Can I take my barrel to school ? " " I am afraid it will make you play," said mamma, who was in a great hurry, and went away at once with Aunt Sue. " She didn't say I mustn't," said Ainslee. " I'll leave it in the entry till recess ; it'll hold a lot of licorice water." " Lot o^ what? " said Lizzie. " Why, licorice water," said Ainslee. " Don't BARRELS AND BEANS. 243 you know what that is ? All the boys and girls that can, take bottles, and put licorice stick in the bottom, and fill 'em with water, an' then they make a hole in the cork an' suck 'era every chance they get." " Tisn't good, is it ? " said Lizzie. " Not so very ; only pretty good," said Ains- lee. " Don't let's make it at school," said Lizzie. " I've got four cunning little tumblers in the trunk, for my baby-house, and this afternoon we'll make a lot, and play it's soda-water, and sell it." " Let's get a lot o' cookies and things from grandma, and keep a restaurant," said Jack. " What's that ? " said Ainslee. " Why, it's a store where they sell dinners," said Jack. " Don't you remember ? There 's lots of 'em in New York." " Well," Ainslee said, " let's hurry now, any- way ; it's most school time," and the three started off. Sinny stood by the gate, as they came to old Peter Smith's ; I might better say, danced at the gate, for he certainly was not standing still. " Gran'ther wouldn't let me take it down this morning," said he, " but you come into the barn this minute. It's all hickory an' oak, gran'ther 24-1: TIIK AINSLEE STORIES. said, an' its iron-bound, an' all. I couldn't break it if I was to try." "Break what?" said Jack. "I do believe you're crazy, Sinny Smith. You go right in and ask your mother to put you to bed. Oh ! ain't that a splendid wagon ? " he added, as they went in at the barn door. Sure enough, Sinny's wagon had come : oak and hickory, as he had said, the wheels tii'ed like those of a big wagon, and the back made to let down. " I can haul a bushel o' potatoes in that," said Sinny. " An' gran'ther's goin' to pay me for helping him in the fall. I'm a-goin' to bring it down to your house this afternoon." " Won't that be fun ? " said Jack. " We're all goin' to play this afternoon, Sinny, and I know what we'll do,'" " Oh, Avhat ? " said Ainslee. " My ! there's the bell : we've got to run." Oif the four started, and got there just in time to take their places ; Lizzie by Amanda, and Jack between Sampson and Ainslee. " She's my cousin Lizzie," Ainslee had found time to whisper, as he passed Amanda, and Aman- da, after a few minutes of looking steadily at her, decided she was quite nice enough to be Ainslee's cousin, and gave her hand a little squeeze. Liz- BAKRELS AND BEANS. 245 zie had been holding her head down, just a little frightened, and half wishing she had stayed at home ; but now, as she looked up ' and saw Amanda's bright eyes looking pleasantly at her, she returned the squeeze, and thought, after all, that she was glad she had come. " Do you want to come to school, little girl ? " said Miss Barrett, when she had finished calling the roll. " Because, if you do, you must wait till the first of June. There are only two more days before vacation." " I know it, ma'am," said Lizzie. " I'm only company." " Oh ! " said Miss Barrett. " Well, you must n't play." " Come and read with me," said Amanda, and Lizzie went into the class, and read and spelled, just as if she belonged there, while Jack did the same with the little boys. Recess came very soon, and they all went out together. " Ain't Ainslee Barton proud ? " said Samp- son. " He's got that Johnny Walton along, an' he's so stuck up to think he's been to New York, he can't look at anybody else." " 'Mandy's the proudest," said little Sarah Jones. " You couldn't touch her with a ten- foot pole." To tell the truth, Amanda had given her skirts 246 THE AINSLEE STORIES. a little flirt as she walked out of the school-room with her arm around Lizzie's waist, and a good many of them, when she heard the invitation to take tea at Grandpa Walton's that afternoon. " Put on your hat an' let's run down to the spring," she said. " Oh, what's that, rolled up in your sack ? " " Why, it's Ainslee's barrel," said Lizzie, and just then Ainslee walked out with Jack, several of the children followino; close behind. " Oh, ain't that pretty ? " said Tommy. " Will it hold anything? " " Good as can be," said Ainslee. " I'm going to fill it with water down to the spring, an' then drink out of it. Come on ; we'll all take turns." " Ainslee's got a new cap," said Juliana John- son, one of the "big" girls, as the little ones called her, for she was almost thirteen. " He gets more stuck up every day, and so do Tommy and 'Man- dy Martin. I'll do something to plague him now, you see if I don't." "What'll you do?" said Charley Stearns, who stood near her. "Never you mind," said Juliana. "I'll just get him good an' put out. I guess he ain't so much better'n anybody else. You see what I'll do now." Juliana ran down to the spring, where half a BARRELS AND BEANS. 247 dozen children had gathered about Ainslee, who, with his barrel full of water, stood there pouring from it into a small tin cup, which he passed to each one in turn. " It tastes choky," said Lizzie. " Why, it's full o' dust, Ainslee ! The barrel's all dirty in- side, I do believe. Let me take it." Lizzie took it, shook it hard, and then poured out. the water, which came away quite filled with dust and lint. " It's been in the blanket-closet ever so long," said Ainslee ; " most ever since mamma was a little girl." " Then it ought to be dirty," said Lizzie. " I'll shake it ao;ain, and then it will be all clean. There now ; you fill it from way down among the stones, 'cause I shall get my dress wet if I do." Ainslee stooped down with his barrel, and Ju- liana, who had been standing there two or three minutes, made a dash at the Scotch cap, and then holding it in her hand, ran up the hill fast as she could go. " What's that for ? " said Ainslee, getting up. " What you doing, Lizzie ? Why, it's that hate- ful Juliana Johnson ! Give me my cap this min- ute." " Get it when you can ! " sung Juliana from 248 THE AINSLEE STORIES. the top of the liill, swinging it around by the rib- bon at the back. " You take the barrel, Jack," said Ainslee, " and I'll chase her. She'll spoil it." Ainslee started on a run, but the school-bell rang before he got to the top of the hill. Juliana had taken her place at her desk, and held the cap so that he could just see it as he went in. "I'd tell Miss Barrett," said Ainslee to him- self, " only mamma says never to tell tales. Maybe she'll give it back at noon," and he turned to his spelling lesson. Noon came very soon, and Ainslee, who had lost all desire to stay and play, waited in the entry till Juliana came out for her dinner-pail. " Now let me have my cap, 'cause I want to go home," he said. " Oh, you do, do you ? " said Juliana. " Well, you ain't goin' to get it just yet, that's all. I'm goin' to pay you up for makin' that face at me last week." " You give it to me this minute," said Ains- lee, growing very red. " Make her. Jack." " It'll take more'n Jack to make me," said Juliana, sittmg down by her desk, and opening her dinner-pail. " I'm goin' to eat my dinner. You can go home for once without a cap, I guess." BARRELS AND BEAIvS. 249 " Come out," said Tommy. " I'll tell you what to do. You take your barrel an' fill it full o' water, an' if she won't give your cap back, you just pour it all down her back.'' "Well," said Ainslee, and he filled the barrel from the water-pail wliicli. stood in the entry. " Put it under your sack, Lizzie, so't she won't see," he said, " and maybe she'll give it back without my having to empty anything on her." " I'd empt it, any way," said Sinny. " She's an awful ugly girl ; she used to plague me." Ainslee walked into the school - room again. "Now Juliana Johnson," he said, "will you give me back my cap ? " " No I won't, so now," said Juliana, turning her back, and going on with her dinner. " Then I'll pour my barrel o' water all down your back," shouted Ainslee, seizing the barrel from Lizzie ; and before Juliana could turn, the water was streaming over her, and Ainslee had dashed into the entry for more. Juliana sat perfectly still a moment, too astonished to move, and then sprang toward the entry, fu- rious with passion. Ainslee, almost as angry as she, was on the way back with another barrel- ful, and raised his hand to throw it as she came on. " Oh, you'll throw another, will you ? " said 250 THE AINSLEE STORIES. Juliana. " Tliere now ! " and before Ainslee thought wliat she meant to do, lier sharp teeth had almost met in his hand. Ainslee screamed, and held out the hand from which the blood streamed, and Miss Barrett, who had been sitting at hgr desk reading, and paying no attention to what was going on in the school- room, ran into the entry, alarmed by the scream- ing which Lizzie and Amanda kept up, while Juliana, frightened at what she had done, pulled her hood from the nail, and I'an home fast as possible. " Mercy on us ! " said Miss Barrett, as she looked at Ainslee's hand. " Here ; stick it right into the water-pail ; that'll make it stop bleeding. Now, one of you tell me right away how this happened." " Juliana Johnson stole his cap at recess," said Tommy, after a minute's hesitation, " and she wouldn't let him have it this noon. He asked her ever so many times, an' she wouldn't, an' then I told him to pour a bai-rel o' water down her neck, an' he did, an' then she got mad an' bit him." " A barrel of water ? " said Miss Barrett. " I should think you were all crazy together." " That barrel down there," said Tommy, point- ing to the little barrel which lay on the floor. BARRELS AND BEANS. 251 " Don't you ever bring such a thing to school again," said Miss Barrett, jerking Ainslee's hand from the water, and wrapping his handiierchief tightly around it. " Now run home, fast as you can. You won't pour any more water down peo- ple's backs, I guess." Tommy brought the cap from Juliana's desk, and a very solemn procession started from the school-house door, Lizzie holding Ainslee's well hand, while Amanda and she cried for sympathy. Sinny carried the barrel, and Jack, Ainslee's books. " Merciful man ! " said grandma, sitting at her bedroom window, as she saw Ainslee come cry- ing into the back-yard. " Look there, Clara ! " " What is the matter ? " said mamma, anx- iously, meeting them at the door. " Are you hurt, Ainslee ? " " I'm bited 'most to death," said Ainslee, find- ino; voice for the first time. "Juliana Johnson bited a hole in my hand." " Come into grandma's room," said mamma, " and you can tell me about it while I bind it up." The bite was really a very bad one ; the hand- kerchief had stuck to it, and Ainslee cried again, while mamma washed tl)e blood off, and then put some little strips of sticking-plaster over it, to keep the air out. 252 THE AINSLEE STORIES. " You must liave it in a sling to-day," she said, " else you may use it more than you should, and make it very sore. Now tell me how it hap- pened ; you first. Jack, and then Ainslee." " Juliana was very naughty," said mamma, when both stories ended, — " very naughty in- deed ; but was nobody else naughty, too?" " I was, some," said Ainslee. " But she had n't any business to bite me." " Perhaps she is sorry by this time," said mamma. " At any rate, the bite may make you remember that some trouble always comes from getting into a passion. You were right and Juliana wrong, till you threw the water on her ; but by doing that, you became naughty too. You should have told Miss Barrett, when you found Juliana would not give the cap back." " But I thought you said I mustn't ever tell tales," said Ainslee. " If Juliana had taken the cap in fun, and meant to give it right back, it would have been telling tales, if you had spoken to Miss Barrett," said mamma. " But from both your story and Jack's, I think she did not mean to, and so it would have been only just that Miss Barrett should be asked to make her do right. Y'our best rule is, never to tell of any mere mischief which does you no harm, and only requires a little pa- BARRELS AND BEANS. 253 tience to bear. If it turns from mischief into spitefulness, though, and you find tliat neither fun nor gentleness can do anything for you, you are right in going to some higher power, thougli it is seldom necessary. You see, carrying tlie bar- rel to school was a bad thing to do, for if it had been left at home, very likely Tommy would never have thought of pouring water over Juli- ana. The pain you feel now is a hard punish- ment for any mischief you have done with it, so this time I shall not take it aw^ay, but you must never carry it to school again." "No I won't," said Ainslee. " I want to lie down, mamma ; my head aches." All that afternoon Ainslee felt very forlorn. Before night his hand had swollen so much, that mamma took off some of the sticking-plaster, and kept it wrapped in cold water, but the next morn- ing it felt very comfortable, and by afternoon he was quite well enough to play for an hovu* or two out-doors. The tea-party was put off, and Tom- my and Amanda did not come down until Satur- day afternoon, when the hand, though still tied up, felt almost well. Sinny appeared with his wagon, which he had not been allowed to bring down before, and the party settled themselves in the wood-house for a long play, provided with apples and doughnuts, a plate of cookies, and the two 254 THE AINSLEE STORIES. dozen tin liearts and rounds, which Ann had been coaxed into lending them. " Now, I'll tell you," said Jack. " Let's play this is a di^pot, you know, an' Sinny's wagon the cars. Sinny and Tommy can take turns be- ing locomotives, and all the rest can be passen- gers, and stop here for dinner. There's Charley Stearns out there. Hallo, Charley! you come and play too." " Ma said I might stay if you wanted me to," said Charley, coming in. " I heard what you said. You have to pay at a d^pot. You haven't got any money, have you ? " " Don't want money," said Jack. " There's speckled beans over there. Pay in beans." So, while Ainslee and Amanda shelled some beans, and picked up the loose ones from the bottom of the box. Jack and Lizzie set a fine table on the bench, which had been dragged from the tool-house for that purpose. There was a birch-bark pan filled with cracked butter- nuts, and two pieces of birch-bark for plates, with apples on them. Every heart and round had a cooky or doughnut in it, and in the very middle was the barrel, full of licorice water, with the four httle tumblers in front of it. Then the passengers filled their pockets wuth beans, and the trains began to run. Sinny started from the BARBELS AND BEANS. 255 big butternut-tree by the gate, and came tooting into the wood-house with Lizzie as his first pas- senger, and then back again for Amanda. " Three minutes for dinner ! " shouted Jack. " Hurry up, ma'am. What'll you take ? " " I'll take two beans' worth o' cooky, an' four beans' worth o' licorice water, and twenty beans' worth o' butternuts," said Amanda. " You mustn't say leans ; you must say shil- lings,'''' said Jack. " Here come more passen- gers. How are you, Mr. Stearns ? Glad to see you this way, sir. What will you have ? Three minutes for dinner, sir." " Apple," said Charley. " Look a here, though ; they don't keep eatin' down at the d^pot all the time the passengers do. You're eatin' every minute." "Well, I'm hungry," said Jack. "I'm going to stop pretty soon, and let Ainslee keep the table while I play passenger." Ainslee took his place presently, and very soon all were in the wood-house but Sinny, who stood looking in. " The injine wants somethin' to eat," he said. " I think somebody might drag me in." " Well, I will," said Tommy. " Here goes. Look out for the locomotive when the bell rings ! " and Siiniy who had run back to the tree, 256 THE AINSLEE STORIES. and seated himself in his wagon, found l)imself suddenly on a pile of sawdust in the wood-house. The cookies wei-e going too fast, to leave any time foi' talking about the matter, and no more trains were run, till the table was thoroughly cleared. " I wish we hadn't been hungry," said Ains- lee, " and then we might have played so a good while. We ought to have some more things to keep a table." "No, we've played that enough, I guess," said Jack. " I'll tell you what we'll do. Let's go down into the meadow where Culligan is, and we'll get him to let us plant the beans the passengers paid. There's grandpa now. Let's ask him." "There are too many to plant them all," said grandpa, " but you can each plant five. The place where Ainslee had his garden last year, I had spaded up yesterday, and you can stick them in there." The seven children flocked into the garden, and grandpa, after watching them a few min- utes, went on down to the meadow. "What will we do when they've grown up to be big bean-vines ? " said Amanda. " There'll be lots o' beans on 'em." " I don't know," said Ainslee. " Divide 'em, maybe." BARRELS AND BEANS. 257 " That wouldn't be any fun," said Jack. " I tell you : plant some corn too, and when they're both ripe enough, cook 'em somehow, and we'll all eat 'em up." "■ I'll see what mamma says," said Ainslee. "Let's go and look at the pigeons now." When the afternoon ended, and the children went in to tea, hungry as if there had been no dinner in the depot, Ainslee told his mother about the beans. "Jack's idea is a good one," said mamma. " I planted some corn and beans once when I was a little girl, and had a succotash party in the summer-house when they ripened. Dolly cooked it for me, and I made some biscuit my- self to eat with it." " I wish ours was going to be ripe right away," said Ainslee. " You have to wait such a while for everything." " Perhaps Lizzie will learn how to make bis- cuit by that time," said mamma, "and if she comes over tlien, you can have a party where everything for it has been prepared by your- selves. Whether the corn and beans grew, and the biscuit were made, and the party came off or not, you must, to find out, do as Ainslee did, — wait awhile. 17 XVI. LAND AND SEA FLOWERS. " Where do you think your cap is, Ainslee ? " said mamma, coming in from the garden. " Here," said Ainslee, putting his hand on the Scotch cap which lay by his side on the floor. " Not that one," said mamma ; " your old winter one which you wore last week." " I don't know," said Ainslee. " Isn't it up- stairs?" " Think a minute," said mamma. " Can't you remember? Go out to the Canada plum- tree, and you will see. I will go too." " That's nice," said Ainslee, jumping up de- lio;hted. " You don't ever take a walk with me hardl}', mamma. Will you go 'way down with me into the meadow ? " " Pei'haps," said mamma, as they walked out toward the plum-tree, which stood at the very back of the garden, overlooking the meadow and the mill-brook which wound through it. As they drew near the tree, a little bird flew out, and wheeled about their heads so closely, that it almost touched them. LAND AND SEA FLOWERS. 259 " That's a wren," said Ainslee. " I shouldn't wonder if he's building a nest, mamma, he's so saucy ; they're the sauciest birds that ever were, when they're building nests, papa says." " I shouldn't, either," said mamma. " Look in the crotch of the tree, and see what you will see." " Why, mamma ! " screamed Ainslee, after a moment's examination. " It's my old cap, all full o' sticks an' straw, and the other wren's in it, fixing 'em." Mrs. Wren flew out as he spoke, and seemed very much inclined to peck him, as he stood on tiptoe, to look into the cap, which was lodged se- curely in the fork of the tree, and screened by leaves so completely, that one who did not know, would hardly notice its being there. " What'll I do, mamma? " said Ainslee, draw- ing back a step or two, as Mrs. Wren came nearer. " It would be too bad to spoil all the nest, wouldn't it ? I don't believe the wren will let me take the cap away, anyhow." "You need not try her," said mamma. "The cap shall stay there ; only — who left it there in the first place ? " " I guess it was me," Ainslee said, turning a little red, " when I was playing ' I spy ' with Tommy and Sinny. My head got all hot, and 260 THK AIXSLEE STORIES. I took my cap off and put it in there, when I was behind the tree. Why can't I have my hair cut off short, mamma, close to my head, the Avay Tommy had his last summer? I've got lots more'n I want." " You may, when hot weather is really here," said mamma. " Now, let us go away from here, else the wren may stop building. I hope pussy will not find their new house." "I guess she won't," said Ainslee, as they walked on toward the meadow. " I'll bring crumbs every day, and maybe they'll get to know me real well. There's a sparrow down at the foot o' the sweet-apple-tree, right in among the suckers, an' there's four little eggs in the nest. Pussy will get Aer, any w'ay. Stop and look at my garden, mamma. I'm going to have lots o' things." " Lots o' things " had certainly started. The beans, planted two or three weeks before, were growing nicely ; and Lizzie, before going home, had put in a row of peas near them, the delicate green leaves of which were just peej:)ing through the crrouud. The largest bed showed onlv some carrots and two onions, which were sending out long sprouts. " There's corn and potatoes in there, where you don't see anything but the carrots," said Ainslee ; LAND AND SEA FLOWERS. 261 " lots of 'ein, and grandpa's goin' to pay me for all the seed on those onions. I planted all my date seeds down there, an' some lemon seeds too. Maybe I'll have lemonade, Fourth o' July." " Very likely you will," said mamma, smiling, " but, I am afraid, not from your own trees. Hark ! what is that noise from the house ? " " It sounds like Ponto," said Ainslee ; " only grandpa gave Ponto away. Baby 's crying, too. Let's go riglit in and see what it is." Mamma Imrried in, and found Mr. Parker in the parlor with grandma, who was holding baby in her lap, while a small brown spaniel frisked about the room, and, as Ainslee came in, jumped up on him, and licked his face ; and then, catching hold of his trousers, began biting, and growling, and shaking, so that Ainslee could not stand still one minute. " What a dog ! " said Ainslee, sitting down on the floor. " Is he yours, Mr. Parker ? " " I don't know," said Mr. Parker, " but I rather think he belongs to somebody else. The truth is," he added, turning to Ainslee's mother, " two of them are more then I can manage, and I thought that as Ponto had gone, you might like to fill his place. Rover can easily be trained to better manners, and he is so affectionate that Ainslee will like to be his owner." 262 THE AIXSLEE STORIES. " Me ! '' said Ainslee, almost falling backwards in astonishment. " A whole dog, all for me ! " " Half for you and half for baby, if you like that better," said Mr. Parker, laughing. " Though after treating baby so when he first came in, I'm afraid he will not be in favor for a long time." " What did he do ? " asked Ainslee, stroking Rover, who had cuddled down at his feet. " Baby Avas sitting on the floor," said Mr. Par- ker, " playing with grandma's button-box, and Rover thought, I suppose, that he was there ex- pressly to be played with, and licked and nosed him so hard, that poor Bertie fell over sideways, and the more he cried the more Rover pulled him about, till grandma came to the rescue. You must teach him to be gentler, if you can, pro- vided mamma lets you keep him." " What do you think, grandma ? " said mamma. " He'll plague our lives out," said grandma, " and the old cat won't have a minute's peace when he's in the house ; but I suppose we'll have to keep him." Ainslee, who had been looking anxiously at her, began a dance about the room, followed by Rover, but stopped as Mr. Parker said, — " I came to call on you to-day, Ainslee, and Rover is only part of what I have to talk about. What do you say to coming down and taking tea LAND AND SEA FLOWERS. 263 with me this afternoon, and looking at something new I have at home ? " " Oh how nice ! " said Ainslee, with shining eyes, and looking at mamma. " I may, mayn't I, mamma ? *' " Yes," said mamma. " That is, if you are not too much trouble to Mr. Parker." " I don't trouble you, do I ? " said Ainslee. getting very close to him. " Shall I come I'eal early ? " "By four o'clock,'' said Mr. Parker; "and I will walk home with you after tea." Ainslee whisked into the kitchen to tell Sinny, whose voice he heard there ; and Mr. Parker, after talking a few moments longer, took his leave. Ann stood by the kitchen fire, stirring something, and pussy, who had led a very quiet life since Ponto's departure, lay curled up under the stove, dreaming dreams of Mouseland. Rover rushed at her the moment he saw her, and pussy, slowly opening her eyes, spit, and raised her back as she saw who had broken up her nap, and at least boxed Rover's nose so sharply, as it came too near, that he drew back, and contented himself with barking loudly. Pussy retired backwards till she reached the sink, and then springing to it, seated herself behind the water-pail, and looked at him over the top. 2G4 TIIK AIXSLEE STORIES. "She'll hold her own," said Ann. "But I'd like to know what doer that is, rampaging into the kitchen like tliat ? You needn't think I'll have a dog round under my feet every minute." " He won't be under your feet," said Ainslee. " He'll be out-doors 'most all the time, 'cept when he has some dinner. You're eoing to be real good to him, Ann, I know." " Well, he is sort of pretty," said Ann, who really liked dogs a good deal better than cats, and was, on the whole, glad to see Rover. " If he wasn't, I'd just say pat, he shouldn't ever come into this kitchen. You've got to keep him out when it's wet, any way, Ainslee." "Well, I will," said vVinslee, sitting down on the door-step to tell Sinny all about it, while Rover ran over to the wood-house, and down the cellar-way, smelling everywhere, as if to make up his mind about his new quarters. " Stephen Jones is 'most the only boy that's got a dog," said Sinny, " unless it is Samp, an' Samp's only a yaller dog, that don't know nothin'. Won't Tommy be tickled when he sees Rover ? " " I guess he will," said Ainslee. " There's your wagon, ain't it, Sinny ? I wonder if mamma would let us take baby in it." " We never did, did v/e ? " said Sinny. " Let's ask her right away." LAND AND SEA FLOWERS. 265 Mamma hesitated a little when she heard the request, but Ainslee promised to be ten times as careful as nurse was, when she took him in his own wagon ; so, finally, a cushion was put in the bottom, and little Herbert seated on it, so de- lighted that he could hardly sit still. " Bertie must hold on all the time," said mamma, kissing his red lips, and the children started off around the garden. Rover runnino; before them. " I wish we had reins," said Ainslee, " and then baby could drive us. I'm going to ask mamma to make some ; two pair, maybe, an' then when Tommy comes down, we could have a double team, and two could ride to time in the wagon. It's plenty big if you let your legs hang out. My father's coming home. Did you know it, Sinny?" " No," said Sinny. " When ? " " Not for a good while," said Ainslee. " But he said in mamma's letter, he'd be here before the Fourth o' July." " Then you'll have fire-works, won't you ? " said Sinny. " Let's run with baby." The garden walks were hard and smooth ; the little wagon rolled easily, and baby squealed with delight as the children ran around the different beds. Breath went at last, and they sat down, 266 THE AIXSLEE STORIES. panting, on the bank, in the cool grass, to rest for a few minutes. "There's Stars o' Bethlehem over there, — lots of 'em," said Ainslee, })resently. " And there's some blood-root too. Let's pick a lot, and I'll ])ut some o' my carrot leaves with 'em. Mamma says carrot leaves is 'most the prettiest things there is to put with flowers." Baby looked on while they picked ; and when, after a time, mamma came out, he was playing with grass and leaves which Sinny piled into the wagon, while Ainslee had two little bouquets of the delicate white flowers and feathery green carrot leaves. " My hands are all over blood-root juice," he said. " See mamma, one's for you, and can't I take one to Mr, Parker? " " Yes," said mamma. " It is time now to get ready: almost half-past three. Sinny can go part way with you, if his mother is willing." " She wants me to get some 'lasses," said Sin- ny, " so I can go 'most all the way. Can't I play with baby till he's ready ? " "Yes," said mamma ; " that will be very soon, and baby is having such a nice time, that he may stay till I call you. But bring him in, if he cries." Sinny felt full six feet tall, as Mrs. Barton walked away with Ainslee, for he had never be- LAND AND SEA FLOWERS. 267 fore been trusted with anybody's baby. Bertie looked a little doubtful, and called " mamma " once, but Sinny began to draw him about the garden very fast indeed, till he laughed, and squealed, and cried loudly for " More, more lide ! " when mamma called, and he was taken into the house. "I guess you've got some good grease on your head," said Sinny, as they walked along. " You smell first-rate." " No I haven't," said Ainslee. " It's cologne on my hands ; or else, maybe, this rose grandma gived me. Mamma says it isn't nice to put grease on your hair, 'cause it dirties your caps, and the pillow, and everything. Did you know there was something just like oil, down at the bottom of every single hair, Sinny ? and mamma says, if you brush your hair lots, it comes out and makes it shine ever so much nicer'n if you put grease on it." " I don't believe it," said Sinny. " There ain't none down to the bottom o' mine, anyway." "No, I don't s'pose tliere is," said Ainslee; " 'cause, you see, yours isn't just like hair, you know. There's the very goose that runned after us, I do believe, oiF on the pond. All the little gooses growed up, I guess ; there's lots of 'em Avith him. Why, here comes Rover, an' I shut him up tight. Go home. Rover ! " 208 THE AINSLEE STORIES. Coax or scold as lie -would, Rover woidd not go home, but capered about ; and when at last Ainslee threw a stick at him, he brought it back and laid it at his feet. "Why, ain't that nice?" said Ainslee. "I didn't know he'd do that. Mr. Parker won't scold, I guess, if he does come. Anyway, I can't make him go home. Let's hurry." Sinny said good-by at the store door, and Ains- lee walked on, down the beautiful village street, under the great elms and maples, till he came to the cottage where Mr. Parker lived. Until this spring, his sister had been Avith him ; but now she was away, and Randy Ripley, a tall woman, who had been in their family almost ever since Mr, Parker was a baby, took care of him and of the house. Randilla Aguba Ripley was her real name, so she had one day told Ainslee, but it would have taken a good deal of time to call her that always, and so it had been shortened into Randy. Ainslee, who had been here a good many times, although I have not told you about it, I'an in at the open door, and to Mr. Parker's study, just back of the parlor, and only separated from it by some heavy curtains falling from the arch between the two rooms. They were looped back now, as they always were when Mr. Parker was LAND AND SEA FLOWERS. 269 not studying or writing ; but he was not there, though an open book lav on the table, and the study chair was pushed back, as if some one had just got up from it. Ainslee looked across to the bow-window which Miss Agnes Parker had al- ways kept filled with flowers, and screamed with pleasure as he did so. What do you think he saw? The globe of gold-fish which had always stood on tlie little round table in the window ? No indeed ; but a beautiful aquarium, with glass sides and marble bottom, filled with waving water-plants, through which the fish darted ; and on one stone in the corner of it, something which looked like a lovely pink flower, with long leaves swaying back and forth. " Oh, oh, oh ! " screamed Ainslee, and Randy looked in at the study door, to see who was making such a noise. " Oh, it's you, is it ? " said she, smiling, for Ainslee was one of the few children she liked. "That is pretty, isn't it? Mr. Parker's just gone to the ofiice, and he'll be back in a few minutes. You come out an' see me, or you can look at that, just as you're a mind to." "I'll look at this," said Ainslee. "It's the beautifullest thing I ever did see. Is that a real flower in there, Randy ? " " I guess it is," said Randy, " but I don't just 270 THE AINSLEE STOUIES. rightly know ; you ask Mr. Parker, an' he'll tell you all about it ; " and Randy shut the door, and went back to her work. Ainslee heard the gate shut, and ran out to meet the minister, who came quickly in with some letters and papers in his hand. "So you have come," he said, smiling at Ainslee. " What do you think of -vvljat you find here ? " " I'm 'most crazy," said Ainslee, " 'cause everything's so pretty. Why, there are the flowers I brought you, on the floor I I picked all the white ones, Mr. Parker, and grandma gived me that pink rose and bud, to put right in the middle." " They are beautiful," said Mr. Parker, " and I shall put them on the study table, where I can see them all the time." Ainslee watched him as he poured some water into a vase, and put the delicate flowers in it, and then pulled him to the window. " Now tell me all about the fish," he said, " and that flower down there. Is it truly a flower ? " "Yes and no," said Mr. Parker. "It is a flower in shape and color, and name too, for it is called a Sea-anemone, and it never stirs from the stone any more than a flower would ; yet it is alive, and if you could look at it through my LAND AND SEA FLOWERS. 271 large microscope, you would see that it has a mouth which opens and shuts, as if it were eat- ing. They are of many colors ; purple, and pale yellow, and pink like this, and sometimes pure white. Don't you think the sea has a beautiful flower-garden of its own ? " " I shoukl think it had," said Ainslee. '• Oh, look a there ! There's a httle thing with a head just like a horse. Why, I never saw such things. Where did they come from ? " "A friend sent them to me from Boston," said Mr. Parker, " and took very great pains to have them get here in good order. The plants will keep the water in the aquarium fresh and good for a long time, he said, and he sent, at the same time, a barrel of sea-water, from which to fill this up. The fish will do very well ; but whether my beautiful flower, and the little sea- horse will live, I do not know. There's a little crab in there under the stones, and those two little fish close by are sticklebacks ; they build a nest for themselves, and the baby sticklebacks live in it. Now I am going to read my letters, and by and by I will tell you some more about the fish." Mr. Parker sat down at his table, and Ainslee watched for a long time, hoping that the crab would come out ; but he did not till the letters 272 THE AINSLEE STORIES. were finished, and Mr. Parker poked him out with a httle stick. Then they talked for a lonij; time about the fisli, until Randy ui)ened the door and said tea was ready, and they went out to find a small round table set for two. Rover was in the dining-room when they went in, and sat by Mr. Parker's chair, just as if he had a perfect right to be there. " So you've come home again, old fellow," said Mr. Parker, patting him. " Did you invite liini to come with you, Ainslee ? " "I shutted him up tight as I could," said Ainslee. " But he would get out, an' he came after me when I was 'most here, and wouldn't go home." " He wanted to see Frisk, perhaps," said Mr. Parker, sitting down at the tea-table. " Frisk is in disgrace because he scratched up my flower seeds, and I have tied him up in the wood-shed. We'll call on him after tea." Mr. Parker poured tea, and Ainslee had some in his cup of milk, and ate biscuit and butter, and custard, and little cup-cakes, till he could eat no more. Then they went into the garden together, to see all the green things growing ; and after they had walked about a httle while, Mr. Parker said he had not told Ainslee his story yet, and they LAND AND SEA FLOWERS. 273 went back to the study, stopping a moment on the way to see Frisk, who whined and stood up on his hind-Ieo-s, beffffino; to be untied. " Rover may stay with you awhile," said Mr. Parker, " and tell you what he has been doing to-day." "I guess he will," said Ainslee. "Just see 'em put their noses together. They are talking, aren't they ? " " Very likely, after their own fashion," said Mr. Parker. " Now for the story, Ainslee." Beautiful stories Mr. Parker told ; sometimes his own, sometimes other people's, and he began to-night a A-ery long one he had read in a book, called " The Snow Queen," and Ainslee listened to the ver}^ end, where Gerda, after long wander- ings, finds little Kay in the Snow Queen's palace, and brings him home again. Some of you little people who read " Riverside," perhaps have that book of Hans Andersen's, where you can find this story, and hosts of other beautiful ones, for he loves all children, and writes for them won- derful tales you would all like to read, and many of which, by this time, Ainslee knew very Avell. " She loved him ever so, didn't she ? " said Ainslee, after a little silence, " to go 'way oft' in the snow and everything, to find him, after he had gone away. She was little when she started, 274 THE AINSLEE STORIES. an' she was all growcd up when she found him. It's a be-yutiful story." "Yes," said Mr. Parker, as if thinking of somethino; else, and taking a letter from his pocket. " Who is this, Ainslee ? " he added after a moment, putting a photograph into his hand. " It's my Cousin Grace," said Ainslee, quick- ly, — " my Cousin Grace that was up here last summer. Do you know her, Mr. Parker? That's mamma's picture, isn't it ? " "Xo, it isn't mamma's picture," said Mr. Par- ker, " and I do know her very well ; so well, that she has promised to come here in the au- tumn and live with me always." " And never go away ? " said Ainslee. " Won't she get tired o' being with you all the whole time ? " " I hope not," said Mr. Parker, laughing a little ; " though she might, perhaps, if I did not love her veiy much indeed, and want her to be happy ^11 the time. She will be Cousin Grace Parker, by and by, instead of Cousin Grace Ali- son, and you will be my little cousin then." " Is she going to marry you, just as mamma did papa ? " asked Ainslee. " Mamma telled me about it one day, an' she said when I was a big man, I should love somebody too, most of all, and be married, maybe. Mam.ma says love is the best thinor Jn the whole world." LAND AND SEA FLOWERS. 275 " Mamma is right," said Mr. Parker, drawing Ainslee to him. " You are a little fellow now, Ainslee, but quite old enough to know that. God's name is Love, and loving is the best and sweetest thing He ever gives us to do. Never be ashamed of it all your life long, for the more you love here, the more you will have to be glad of when you go home to heaven." " I love you," said Ainslee, putting his head on Mr. Parker's shoulder, " and I'm glad you're going to be my cousin." " So am I, ever so glad," said Mr. Parker. " But the sun has gone down, and mamma will wonder why we do not come. Say good-by to Randy, and call Rover, and we will start." " Come an' see me some day," said Randy, as he went into the kitchen, " some time when Mr. Parker's too busy to have you, an' maybe I'll tell you somethin' about when I was a little gal." " That'll be nice," said Ainslee. " I'll come pretty soon. Randy ; maybe to-morrow." " Well," said Randy, opening the door to let Rover in, and Ainslee went out to Mr. Parker, who stood by the gate, waiting. The sun had set, but a red glow filled the air, and rested on the quiet river. One or two birds twittered from the tall trees as they passed under them, but the evening silence was settling down, hardly 276 THE AINSLEE STORIES. broken by a sound, till they reached the busy part of the village, where the stores were. Once beyond them, they felt it again, all through the winding road which led to Grandpa Walton's. Tommy and Amanda were in the front yard playing, as they went by Mr. Martin's, and ]\Ir. Parker stopped to talk to them for a moment, and then passed on. The red light faded into soft, gray twilight while they walked, and the sound of mamma's organ came to them through the trees, as they went in at grandpa's gate, and through the winding paths, up the hill on which the house stood. The doors and windows were all open, for the night was warm and clear, and grandma and grandpa sat in the old parlor by the window, while mamma played. Ainslee curled up on the sofa, listening for a while to the music : then his eyes shut, the heavy little head fell against Mr. Parker's shoul- der, who put his arm about him, and laid him softly down, and Ainslee was in dreamland. He did not know that, by and by, Mr. Parker carried him up-stairs ; he hardly knew when nurse pulled off his clothes and laid him in his own little bed ; and when the bright sun, shining into his eyes, waked him next morning, he had to rub them very hai'd indeed before he could quite make up his mind where he was. LAND AND SEA FLOWERS. 277 Baby was wide awake too, playing witli his black doll Andy, which went to bed with him every night. Ainslee climbed into mamma's bed and pulled baby in after him, and a wonderful frolic began, which did not end till nurse came after both of them. After breakfast, Ann made cookies, and Ainslee, who liked to have a piece of dough quite as well as any little girl, begged some from her, and cut out a whole panful of little cakes with grandma's largest thimble. They burned a little in the oven, but that made no difference, and he ate all but one, which he gave to baby before mamma saw what he was doing. " I am going to the woods back of the mill- pond," said mamma after dinner, " and there is such a good road all the way, that I think we will take baby, and let nurse have a holiday. Do you want to go, Ainslee ? " " I guess I do," said Ainslee, jumping about ; " me and Rover too." " Ask grandpa for the trowel," said mamma, " and we will dig some roots of sweet, white violets to bring home." Ainslee brought the trowel and a basket for flowers, and as soon as baby was ready, they set off. For a little way, as they came to the turn by Sugar Loaf Hill, the road was sandy, and baby something of a load to pull through it. 278 THE AINSLEE STORIES. As they went on, it grew firmer, and very soon the mill-pond, almost a lake, lay before them, shining under the sun, and the mountain so clearly reflected in it, that Ainslce said he was sure he saw a squirrel running up one of the trees on the mountain side. Near the dam, a path led off into the woods, and after following this for a time, mamma stopped, and sat down on an old log under a tree. " There are the violets," she said, and Ainslee, looking where she pointed, saw one little shady spot quite white with them. " Year after year, they grow in this one spot," mamma Avent on, " and year after year, ever since I was a little girl, I have carried them home with their own native earth about them, and put them in shady places, where I was sure they would thrive, but they never did." " What makes you dig 'em up to-day, then, mamma ? " Ainslee asked. " Only to keep a few of them fresh a little ■while," said mamma, " so that I can enjoy their sweetness at home. I shall never try any more to make them grow. If they did, they would be wild flowers no longer, and perhaps the charm would go." " It's nicer to come after 'em," said Ainslee. " See how baby looks up at the trees. He was LAND AND SEA FLOWERS. 279 never in the woods before, was he ? Let him get out, mamma, and walk a little speck." " Just a very little," said mamma, " while I get the violets ; " and she set baby on the ground, who hardly knew what to make of it, and lifted his feet very high over every little stick and stone in the way, as he walked. Rover whisked through the bushes, looking for woodchucks, perhaps, and by and by mamma lifted baby back to his carriage, and they turned toward home. " I'm glad I ain't dead," said Ainslee. " It's nice to be alive." " Very nice indeed," said mamma. " It is a beautiful world to be in, and the longer you live, the more you will find in it to enjoy." " Nurse says it's a world o' troubles," said Ainslee, kicking a stick from the path, " an' she says I shall have an awful lot of 'em." " I hope not an ' awful lot,' " mamma an- swered, smiling. " You will have some, perhaps a good many, for we all do ; but the dear Father in heaven never sends more than we can bear ; and if we are patient through them, they all turn to blessings. Nurse has had a great many in her life, and borne them very bravely ; some day, perhaps, she may, when you are older, tell you about them." " She said she would," said Ainslee. " There's 280 THE AINSLEE STORIES. a lot o' things everybody's goin' to tell me when I'm older. I wish I was older now." " You are coming to it very fast," said mamma, as they went in at the gate. " My little Ainslee is growing taller all the time. Pretty soon he will be gone, and there will be a big Ainslee, as tall as Uncle Ainslee, maybe, and Bertie will be big too. What shall I do with- out my little boys ? " " Big ones will be nicer," said Ainslee, " for they won't tear their clothes, and keep plaguing you all the time ; an' I'll love you harder an' harder, mamma, the bigger I get." " That's good," said mamma, stopping at the door for a great huo;. " Now let us take care of the violets; and then, after you have read to me, I will finish the story I began yesterday mornin