Little Men: Life at Plumfield With Jo's Boys
“That's why we made them for you,” cried Tommy, standing on his head as
the most appropriate way of expressing his emotions.
“Let us fly them,” said energetic Nan.
“I don't know how,” began Daisy.
“We'll show you, we want to!” cried all the boys in a burst of devotion,
as Demi took Daisy's, Tommy Nan's, and Nat, with difficulty, persuaded
Bess to let go her little blue one.
“Aunty, if you will wait a minute, we'll pitch yours for you,” said
Demi, feeling that Mrs. Bhaer's favor must not be lost again by any
neglect of theirs.
“Bless your buttons, dear, I know all about it; and here is a boy who
will toss up for me,” added Mrs. Jo, as the professor peeped over the
rock with a face full of fun.
He came out at once, tossed up the big kite, and Mrs. Jo ran off with it
in fine style, while the children stood and enjoyed the spectacle. One
by one all the kites went up, and floated far overhead like gay birds,
balancing themselves on the fresh breeze that blew steadily over the
hill. Such a merry time as they had! running and shouting, sending up
the kites or pulling them down, watching their antics in the air, and
feeling them tug at the string like live creatures trying to escape.
Nan was quite wild with the fun, Daisy thought the new play nearly as
interesting as dolls, and little Bess was so fond of her “boo tite,”
that she would only let it go on very short flights, preferring to
hold it in her lap and look at the remarkable pictures painted on it by
Tommy's dashing brush. Mrs. Jo enjoyed hers immensely, and it acted as
if it knew who owned it, for it came tumbling down head first when least
expected, caught on trees, nearly pitched into the river, and finally
darted away to such a height that it looked a mere speck among the
clouds.
By and by every one got tired, and fastening the kite-strings to trees
and fences, all sat down to rest, except Mr. Bhaer, who went off to look
at the cows, with Teddy on his shoulder.
“Did you ever have such a good time as this before?” asked Nat, as they
lay about on the grass, nibbling pennyroyal like a flock of sheep.
“Not since I last flew a kite, years ago, when I was a girl,” answered
Mrs. Jo.
“I'd like to have known you when you were a girl, you must have been so
jolly,” said Nat.
“I was a naughty little girl, I am sorry to say.”
“I like naughty little girls,” observed Tommy, looking at Nan, who made
a frightful grimace at him in return for the compliment.
“Why don't I remember you then, Aunty? Was I too young?” asked Demi.
“Rather, dear.”
“I suppose my memory hadn't come then. Grandpa says that different parts
of the mind unfold as we grow up, and the memory part of my mind hadn't
unfolded when you were little, so I can't remember how you looked,”
explained Demi.
“Now, little Socrates, you had better keep that question for grandpa, it
is beyond me,” said Aunt Jo, putting on the extinguisher.
“Well, I will, he knows about those things, and you don't,” returned
Demi, feeling that on the whole kites were better adapted to the
comprehension of the present company.
“Tell about the last time you flew a kite,” said Nat, for Mrs. Jo had
laughed as she spoke of it, and he thought it might be interesting.
“Oh, it was only rather funny, for I was a great girl of fifteen, and
was ashamed to be seen at such a play. So Uncle Teddy and I privately
made our kites, and stole away to fly them. We had a capital time, and
were resting as we are now, when suddenly we heard voices, and saw a
party of young ladies and gentlemen coming back from a picnic. Teddy did
not mind, though he was rather a large boy to be playing with a kite,
but I was in a great flurry, for I knew I should be sadly laughed at,
and never hear the last of it, because my wild ways amused the neighbors
as much as Nan's do us.
“'What shall I do?' I whispered to Teddy, as the voices drew nearer and
nearer.
“'I'll show you,' he said, and whipping out his knife he cut the
strings. Away flew the kites, and when the people came up we were
picking flowers as properly as you please. They never suspected us, and
we had a grand laugh over our narrow escape.”
“Were the kites lost, Aunty?” asked Daisy.
“Quite lost, but I did not care, for I made up my mind that it would be
best to wait till I was an old lady before I played with kites again;
and you see I have waited,” said Mrs. Jo, beginning to pull in the big
kite, for it was getting late.
“Must we go now?”
“I must, or you won't have any supper; and that sort of surprise party
would not suit you, I think, my chickens.”
“Hasn't our party been a nice one?” asked Tommy, complacently.
“Splendid!” answered every one.
“Do you know why? It is because your guests have behaved themselves,
and tried to make everything go well. You understand what I mean, don't
you?”
“Yes'm,” was all the boys said, but they stole a shamefaced look at one
another, as they meekly shouldered their kites and walked home, thinking
of another party where the guests had not behaved themselves, and things
had gone badly on account of it.
CHAPTER X. HOME AGAIN
July had come, and haying begun; the little gardens were doing finely
and the long summer days were full of pleasant hours. The house stood
open from morning till night, and the lads lived out of doors, except at
school time. The lessons were short, and there were many holidays, for
the Bhaers believed in cultivating healthy bodies by much exercise,
and our short summers are best used in out-of-door work. Such a rosy,
sunburnt, hearty set as the boys became; such appetites as they had;
such sturdy arms and legs, as outgrew jackets and trousers; such
laughing and racing all over the place; such antics in house and barn;
such adventures in the tramps over hill and dale; and such satisfaction
in the hearts of the worthy Bhaers, as they saw their flock prospering
in mind and body, I cannot begin to describe. Only one thing was needed
to make them quite happy, and it came when they least expected it.
One balmy night when the little lads were in bed, the elder ones bathing
down at the brook, and Mrs. Bhaer undressing Teddy in her parlor, he
suddenly cried out, “Oh, my Danny!” and pointed to the window, where the
moon shone brightly.
“No, lovey, he is not there, it was the pretty moon,” said his mother.
“No, no, Danny at a window; Teddy saw him,” persisted baby, much
excited.
“It might have been,” and Mrs. Bhaer hurried to the window, hoping it
would prove true. But the face was gone, and nowhere appeared any signs
of a mortal boy; she called his name, ran to the front door with Teddy
in his little shirt, and made him call too, thinking the baby voice
might have more effect than her own. No one answered, nothing appeared,
and they went back much disappointed. Teddy would not be satisfied with
the moon, and after he was in his crib kept popping up his head to ask
if Danny was not “tummin' soon.”
By and by he fell asleep, the lads trooped up to bed, the house grew
still, and nothing but the chirp of the crickets broke the soft silence
of the summer night. Mrs. Bhaer sat sewing, for the big basket was
always piled with socks, full of portentous holes, and thinking of the
lost boy. She had decided that baby had been mistaken, and did not even
disturb Mr. Bhaer by telling him of the child's fancy, for the poor
man got little time to himself till the boys were abed, and he was busy
writing letters. It was past ten when she rose to shut up the house. As
she paused a minute to enjoy the lovely scene from the steps, something
white caught her eye on one of the hay-cocks scattered over the lawn.
The children had been playing there all the afternoon, and, fancying
that Nan had left her hat as usual, Mrs. Bhaer went out to get it. But
as she approached, she saw that it was neither hat nor handkerchief, but
a shirt sleeve with a brown hand sticking out of it. She hurried round
the hay-cock, and there lay Dan, fast asleep.
Ragged, dirty, thin, and worn-out he looked; one foot was bare, the
other tied up in the old gingham jacket which he had taken from his own
back to use as a clumsy bandage for some hurt. He seemed to have hidden
himself behind the hay-cock, but in his sleep had thrown out the arm
that had betrayed him. He sighed and muttered as if his dreams disturbed
him, and once when he moved, he groaned as if in pain, but still slept
on quite spent with weariness.
“He must not lie here,” said Mrs. Bhaer, and stooping over him she
gently called his name. He opened his eyes and looked at her, as if she
was a part of his dream, for he smiled and said drowsily, “Mother Bhaer,
I've come home.”
The look, the words, touched her very much, and she put her hand under
his head to lift him up, saying in her cordial way,
“I thought you would, and I'm so glad to see you, Dan.” He seemed to
wake thoroughly then, and started up looking about him as if he suddenly
remembered where he was, and doubted even that kind welcome. His face
changed, and he said in his old rough way,
“I was going off in the morning. I only stopped to peek in, as I went
by.”
“But why not come in, Dan? Didn't you hear us call you? Teddy saw, and
cried for you.”
“Didn't suppose you'd let me in,” he said, fumbling with a little bundle
which he had taken up as if going immediately.
“Try and see,” was all Mrs. Bhaer answered, holding out her hand and
pointing to the door, where the light shone hospitably.
With a long breath, as if a load was off his mind, Dan took up a stout
stick, and began to limp towards the house, but stopped suddenly, to say
inquiringly,
“Mr. Bhaer won't like it. I ran away from Page.”
“He knows it, and was sorry, but it will make no difference. Are you
lame?” asked Mrs. Jo, as he limped on again.
“Getting over a wall a stone fell on my foot and smashed it. I don't
mind,” and he did his best to hide the pain each step cost him.
Mrs. Bhaer helped him into her own room, and, once there, he dropped
into a chair, and laid his head back, white and faint with weariness and
suffering.
“My poor Dan! drink this, and then eat a little; you are at home now,
and Mother Bhaer will take good care of you.”
He only looked up at her with eyes full of gratitude, as he drank the
wine she held to his lips, and then began slowly to eat the food she
brought him. Each mouthful seemed to put heart into him, and presently
he began to talk as if anxious to have her know all about him.
“Where have you been, Dan?” she asked, beginning to get out some
bandages.
“I ran off more'n a month ago. Page was good enough, but too strict. I
didn't like it, so I cut away down the river with a man who was going in
his boat. That's why they couldn't tell where I'd gone. When I left the
man, I worked for a couple of weeks with a farmer, but I thrashed his
boy, and then the old man thrashed me, and I ran off again and walked
here.”
“All the way?”
“Yes, the man didn't pay me, and I wouldn't ask for it. Took it out in
beating the boy,” and Dan laughed, yet looked ashamed, as he glanced at
his ragged clothes and dirty hands.
“How did you live? It was a long, long tramp for a boy like you.”
“Oh, I got on well enough, till I hurt my foot. Folks gave me things to
eat, and I slept in barns and tramped by day. I got lost trying to make
a short cut, or I'd have been here sooner.”
“But if you did not mean to come in and stay with us, what were you
going to do?”
“I thought I'd like to see Teddy again, and you; and then I was going
back to my old work in the city, only I was so tired I went to sleep on
the hay. I'd have been gone in the morning, if you hadn't found me.”
“Are you sorry I did?” and Mrs. Jo looked at him with a half merry, half