Little Men: Life at Plumfield With Jo's Boys
like the rest of us, and could not always resist temptation. Happening
to stroll into the nursery at that moment, he smelt the cakes, saw them
unguarded on the low table, and never stopping to think of consequences,
swallowed all six at one mouthful. I am glad to say that they were very
hot, and burned him so badly that he could not repress a surprised yelp.
Daisy heard it, ran in, saw the empty dish, also the end of a yellow
tail disappearing under the bed. Without a word she seized that tail,
pulled out the thief, and shook him till his ears flapped wildly, then
bundled him down-stairs to the shed, where he spent a lonely evening in
the coal-bin.
Cheered by the sympathy which Demi gave her, Daisy made another bowlful
of batter, and fried a dozen cakes, which were even better than the
others. Indeed, Uncle Fritz after eating two sent up word that he had
never tasted any so nice, and every boy at the table below envied Demi
at the flapjack party above.
It was a truly delightful supper, for the little teapot lid only fell
off three times and the milk jug upset but once; the cakes floated in
syrup, and the toast had a delicious beef-steak flavor, owing to cook's
using the gridiron to make it on. Demi forgot philosophy, and stuffed
like any carnal boy, while Daisy planned sumptuous banquets, and the
dolls looked on smiling affably.
“Well, dearies, have you had a good time?” asked Mrs. Jo, coming up with
Teddy on her shoulder.
“A very good time. I shall come again soon,” answered Demi, with
emphasis.
“I'm afraid you have eaten too much, by the look of that table.”
“No, I haven't; I only ate fifteen cakes, and they were very little
ones,” protested Demi, who had kept his sister busy supplying his plate.
“They won't hurt him, they are so nice,” said Daisy, with such a funny
mixture of maternal fondness and housewifely pride that Aunt Jo could
only smile and say:
“Well, on the whole, the new game is a success then?”
“I like it,” said Demi, as if his approval was all that was necessary.
“It is the dearest play ever made!” cried Daisy, hugging her little
dish-tub as she proposed to wash up the cups. “I just wish everybody
had a sweet cooking stove like mine,” she added, regarding it with
affection.
“This play out to have a name,” said Demi, gravely removing the syrup
from his countenance with his tongue.
“It has.”
“Oh, what?” asked both children eagerly.
“Well, I think we will call it Pattypans,” and Aunt Jo retired,
satisfied with the success of her last trap to catch a sunbeam.
CHAPTER VI. A FIRE BRAND
“Please, ma'am, could I speak to you? It is something very important,”
said Nat, popping his head in at the door of Mrs. Bhaer's room.
It was the fifth head which had popped in during the last half-hour; but
Mrs. Jo was used to it, so she looked up, and said, briskly,
“What is it, my lad?”
Nat came in, shut the door carefully behind him, and said in an eager,
anxious tone,
“Dan has come.”
“Who is Dan?”
“He's a boy I used to know when I fiddled round the streets. He sold
papers, and he was kind to me, and I saw him the other day in town, and
told him how nice it was here, and he's come.”
“But, my dear boy, that is rather a sudden way to pay a visit.”
“Oh, it isn't a visit; he wants to stay if you will let him!” said Nat
innocently.
“Well, I don't know about that,” began Mrs. Bhaer, rather startled by
the coolness of the proposition.
“Why, I thought you liked to have poor boys come and live with you,
and be kind to 'em as you were to me,” said Nat, looking surprised and
alarmed.
“So I do, but I like to know something about them first. I have to
choose them, because there are so many. I have not room for all. I wish
I had.”
“I told him to come because I thought you'd like it, but if there isn't
room he can go away again,” said Nat, sorrowfully.
The boy's confidence in her hospitality touched Mrs. Bhaer, and she
could not find the heart to disappoint his hope, and spoil his kind
little plan, so she said,
“Tell me about this Dan.”
“I don't know any thing, only he hasn't got any folks, and he's poor,
and he was good to me, so I'd like to be good to him if I could.”
“Excellent reasons every one; but really, Nat, the house is full, and
I don't know where I could put him,” said Mrs. Bhaer, more and more
inclined to prove herself the haven of refuge he seemed to think her.
“He could have my bed, and I could sleep in the barn. It isn't cold
now, and I don't mind, I used to sleep anywhere with father,” said Nat,
eagerly.
Something in his speech and face made Mrs. Jo put her hand on his
shoulder, and say in her kindest tone:
“Bring in your friend, Nat; I think we must find room for him without
giving him your place.”
Nat joyfully ran off, and soon returned followed by a most
unprepossessing boy, who slouched in and stood looking about him, with a
half bold, half sullen look, which made Mrs. Bhaer say to herself, after
one glance,
“A bad specimen, I am afraid.”
“This is Dan,” said Nat, presenting him as if sure of his welcome.
“Nat tells me you would like to come and stay with us,” began Mrs. Jo,
in a friendly tone.
“Yes,” was the gruff reply.
“Have you no friends to take care of you?”
“No.”
“Say, 'No, ma'am,'” whispered Nat.
“Shan't neither,” muttered Dan.
“How old are you?”
“About fourteen.”
“You look older. What can you do?”
“'Most anything.”
“If you stay here we shall want you to do as the others do, work and
study as well as play. Are you willing to agree to that?”
“Don't mind trying.”
“Well, you can stay a few days, and we will see how we get on together.
Take him out, Nat, and amuse him till Mr. Bhaer comes home, when we will
settle about the matter,” said Mrs. Jo, finding it rather difficult to
get on with this cool young person, who fixed his big black eyes on her
with a hard, suspicious expression, sorrowfully unboyish.
“Come on, Nat,” he said, and slouched out again.
“Thank you, ma'am,” added Nat, as he followed him, feeling without quite
understanding the difference in the welcome given to him and to his
ungracious friend.
“The fellows are having a circus out in the barn; don't you want to come
and see it?” he asked, as they came down the wide steps on to the lawn.
“Are they big fellows?” said Dan.
“No; the big ones are gone fishing.”
“Fire away, then,” said Dan.
Nat led him to the great barn and introduced him to his set, who were
disporting themselves among the half-empty lofts. A large circle was
marked out with hay on the wide floor, and in the middle stood Demi with
a long whip, while Tommy, mounted on the much-enduring Toby, pranced
about the circle playing being a monkey.
“You must pay a pin apiece, or you can't see the show,” said Stuffy,
who stood by the wheelbarrow in which sat the band, consisting of a
pocket-comb blown upon by Ned, and a toy drum beaten spasmodically by
Rob.
“He's company, so I'll pay for both,” said Nat, handsomely, as he stuck
two crooked pins in the dried mushroom which served as money-box.
With a nod to the company they seated themselves on a couple of boards,
and the performance went on. After the monkey act, Ned gave them a fine
specimen of his agility by jumping over an old chair, and running up
and down ladders, sailor fashion. Then Demi danced a jig with a gravity
beautiful to behold. Nat was called upon to wrestle with Stuffy, and
speedily laid that stout youth upon the ground. After this, Tommy
proudly advanced to turn a somersault, an accomplishment which he had
acquired by painful perseverance, practising in private till every joint
of his little frame was black and blue. His feats were received with
great applause, and he was about to retire, flushed with pride and a
rush of blood to the head, when a scornful voice in the audience was
heard to say,
“Ho! that ain't any thing!”
“Say that again, will you?” and Tommy bristled up like an angry
turkey-cock.
“Do you want to fight?” said Dan, promptly descending from the barrel
and doubling up his fists in a business-like manner.
“No, I don't;” and the candid Thomas retired a step, rather taken aback
by the proposition.
“Fighting isn't allowed!” cried the others, much excited.
“You're a nice lot,” sneered Dan.
“Come, if you don't behave, you shan't stay,” said Nat, firing up at
that insult to his friends.
“I'd like to see him do better than I did, that's all,” observed Tommy,
with a swagger.
“Clear the way, then,” and without the slightest preparation Dan turned
three somersaults one after the other and came up on his feet.
“You can't beat that, Tom; you always hit your head and tumble flat,”
said Nat, pleased at his friend's success.
Before he could say any more the audience were electrified by three more
somersaults backwards, and a short promenade on the hands, head down,
feet up. This brought down the house, and Tommy joined in the admiring
cries which greeted the accomplished gymnast as he righted himself, and
looked at them with an air of calm superiority.
“Do you think I could learn to do it without its hurting me very much?”
Tom meekly asked, as he rubbed the elbows which still smarted after the
last attempt.
“What will you give me if I'll teach you?” said Dan.
“My new jack-knife; it's got five blades, and only one is broken.”
“Give it here, then.”
Tommy handed it over with an affectionate look at its smooth handle.
Dan examined it carefully, then putting it into his pocket, walked off,
saying with a wink,
“Keep it up till you learn, that's all.”
A howl of wrath from Tommy was followed by a general uproar, which did
not subside till Dan, finding himself in a minority, proposed that they
should play stick-knife, and whichever won should have the treasure.
Tommy agreed, and the game was played in a circle of excited faces,
which all wore an expression of satisfaction, when Tommy won and secured
the knife in the depth of his safest pocket.
“You come off with me, and I'll show you round,” said Nat, feeling that
he must have a little serious conversation with his friend in private.
What passed between them no one knew, but when they appeared again, Dan
was more respectful to every one, though still gruff in his speech, and
rough in his manner; and what else could be expected of the poor lad
who had been knocking about the world all his short life with no one to
teach him any better?
The boys had decided that they did not like him, and so they left him
to Nat, who soon felt rather oppressed by the responsibility, but too
kind-hearted to desert him.
Tommy, however, felt that in spite of the jack-knife transaction,
there was a bond of sympathy between them, and longed to return to the
interesting subject of somersaults. He soon found an opportunity, for
Dan, seeing how much he admired him, grew more amiable, and by the end
of the first week was quite intimate with the lively Tom.
Mr. Bhaer, when he heard the story and saw Dan, shook his head, but only
said quietly,
“The experiment may cost us something, but we will try it.”
If Dan felt any gratitude for his protection, he did not show it, and
took without thanks all that was give him. He was ignorant, but very
quick to learn when he chose; had sharp eyes to watch what went on about
him; a saucy tongue, rough manners, and a temper that was fierce and
sullen by turns. He played with all his might, and played well at almost
all the games. He was silent and gruff before grown people, and only
now and then was thoroughly sociable among the lads. Few of them really
liked him, but few could help admiring his courage and strength, for
nothing daunted him, and he knocked tall Franz flat on one occasion with