The Box-Car Children
pine needles.
"Come," said Violet breathlessly, forgetting to ring the bell.
"Hold them with leaves," directed Jess, "because they're terribly hot.
Knock them on the side and scoop them out with a spoon and put butter on
top."
The children did as the little cook requested, sprinkled on a little
salt from the salt shaker, and took a taste.
"Ah!" said Henry.
"It's good," said Benny blissfully. It was about the most successful
meal of all, in fact. When the children in later years recalled their
different feasts, they always came back to the baked potatoes roasted in
the ashes of the pine cones. Henry said it was because they were poked
with a black-birch stick. Benny said it was because Jess nearly burned
them up. Jess herself said maybe it was the remarkable salt shaker which
had to stand on its head always, because there was no floor to it.
After supper the children still were not too sleepy to show Henry the
new primer, and allow Benny to display his first reading lesson. Henry,
greatly taken with the idea, sat up until it was almost dark, chipping
out the remaining letters of the alphabet.
If you should ever care to see this interesting primer, which was
finally ten pages in length, you might examine this faithful copy of
its first page, which required four days for its completion:
Henry always insisted that the rat's tail was too long, but Jess said
his knife must have slipped when he was making the _a_, so they were
even, after all.
GINSENG
What Dr. McAllister ever did before Henry began to work for him would be
hard to guess.
There were certainly as many duties always waiting for him as he had
time to do. And it made no difference to the industrious boy what the
job was. Nothing was too hard or too dirty for him to attempt.
One day the doctor set him at the task of clearing out his little
laboratory. The boy washed bottles, pasted labels, and cleaned
instruments for one whole morning. And more than one broken flask on its
way to the rubbish heap was carefully carried up the hill to the hidden
family.
While Henry was busy carefully lettering a sticky label, he noticed a
young man in the outer office who was talking with the doctor.
"Can you tell me if this is real ginseng?" Henry heard him say.
"It certainly is," returned Dr. McAllister. "They will give you two
dollars a pound for the root at any of the drug stores."
Henry ventured to steal a peep, and found he could readily see the plant
the man was holding. It was about a foot high with branching leaves and
a fine feathery white flower. Henry knew it was exactly the same white
puffball that he had noticed in Violet's vase that very morning.
When the young man had gone, Henry said, "I know where I can find a
whole lot of that plant."
"Is that so?" replied the doctor kindly. "It's only the root, you know,
that is valuable. But any one who wants the bother of digging it up can
sell any quantity of that."
When Henry went home at noon he related enough of this incident to set
his sisters to work in good earnest. They started out with both knives
and two strong iron spoons, and the kettle. And with Benny to run about
finding every white flower he could, the girls succeeded, with a great
deal of hard digging, in finding enormous quantities of ginseng root. In
fact that first afternoon's work resulted in a kettle full, not counting
a single leaf or stem. Henry was delighted when he saw the result of
their work, and took it next day to the largest drug store, where he
received three dollars for the roots.
Without any hesitation Henry paid a visit to the dry-goods store, and
came home with a pair of new brown stockings for Benny. That was a great
day in the woods. Benny gave them no peace at all until they had admired
his wonderful new stockings, and felt of each rib.
There had been one other thing that Benny had given them no peace about.
On the night when the children had crept so quietly away from the
baker's wife, Jess had forgotten to take Benny's bear. This bear was a
poor looking creature, which had once been an expensive bright-eyed
Teddy-bear made of brown plush. But Benny had taken it to bed every
single night for three years, and had loved it by day, so that it was
not attractive to any one but himself. Both eyes were gone, and its body
was very limp, but Benny had certainly suffered a great deal trying to
sleep in a strange bed without his beloved bear.
Jess, therefore, had plans on foot, the moment she saw Benny's new
stockings. She washed the old brown stockings with their many neat
darns, and hung them up to dry. And early in the afternoon she and
Violet sat with the workbag between them, each with a stocking.
With Benny sitting by to watch proceedings, Jess mapped out a remarkable
Teddy-bear. One stocking, carefully trimmed, made the head and body,
while the other furnished material for two arms, two legs, and the
stuffing. Jess worked hard over the head, pushing the padding well into
the blunt nose. Violet embroidered two beautiful eyes in black and
white, and a jet black nose-tip.
"You must make a tail, too, Jessy," said Benny, watching her snip the
brown rags.
"Bears don't have tails, Benny," argued Jess--although she wasn't
exactly sure she was right. "Your old bear didn't have any tail, you
know."
"But _this_ bear has a tail, though," returned Benny, knowing that Jess
would put on two tails if he insisted.
And it was true. His bear finally did have a tail.
"What _kind_ of tail?" asked Jess helplessly at last. "Bushy, long and
slim, or cotton-tail?"
"Long and slim," decided Benny with great satisfaction, "so I can pull
it."
"Benny!" cried Jess, laughing in spite of herself. But she made a tail,
long and slim, exactly as Benny ordered, and sewed it on very tightly,
so that it might be "pulled" if desired. She fastened on the legs and
arms with flat hinges, so the bear might sit down easily, and added at
last a pair of cunning flappy ears and a gay collar of braided red
string from a bundle.
"What's his name, Jessy?" inquired Benny, when the wonderful bear was
finally handed over to him.
"His name?" repeated Jess. "Well, you know he's a _new_ bear; he isn't
your old one, so I wouldn't call him Teddy."
"Oh, no," said Benny, shocked. "This is not Teddy. This has a pretty
tail."
"Of course," agreed Jess, trying not to laugh. "Well, you know we sold
that ginseng to pay for your new stockings. And if you hadn't had your
new ones, we couldn't have made this bear out of your old ones."
"You want his name to be Stockings?" asked Benny politely.
"Stockings? No," answered Jess. "I was thinking of 'Ginseng.'"
"Ginseng?" echoed Benny, thinking deeply. "That's a nice name. All
right, I think Ginseng will be a good bear, if Watchie doesn't bark at
him." And from that moment the bear's name was Ginseng as long as he
lived, and he lived to be a very old bear indeed.
TROUBLE
The days went merrily by for the freight-car family. Hardly a day
passed, however, without some exciting adventure. Mrs. McAllister,
finding out in some way that Violet was a clever seamstress, sent home
fine linen handkerchiefs for her to hem. Each one had a tiny colored
rose in the corner, and Violet was delighted with the dainty work. She
sat sewing daily by the swimming pool while Benny sailed wonderful boats
of chips, and waded around to his heart's content.
The freight-car pantry now held marvelous dishes rescued from the dump;
such rarities as a regular bread knife, a blue and gold soap dish, and
half of a real cut-glass bowl.
Henry proudly deposited thirty-one dollars in the savings bank under the
name of Henry James, and worked eagerly for his kind friend, who never
asked him any more embarrassing questions.
Benny actually learned to read fairly well. The girls occupied their
time making balsam pillows for the four beds, and trying to devise
wonderful meals out of very little material. Violet kept a different
bouquet daily in the little vase. She had a perfect genius for arranging
three purple irises to look like a picture, or a single wood lily with
its leaves like a Japanese print. Each day the children enjoyed a cooked
dinner, filling in the chinks with perfect satisfaction with bread and
butter, or bread and milk, or bread and cheese. They named their queer
house, "Home for Tramps," and printed this title in fancy lettering
inside the car.
One day Jess began to teach Benny a little arithmetic. He learned very
readily that two and one make three.
"I knew that before," he said cheerfully. But it was a different matter
when Jess proposed to him that two minus one left one.
"No, it does not left _one_," said Benny indignantly. "It left _two_."
"Why, Benny!" cried Jess in astonishment. "Supposing you had two apples
and I took away one, wouldn't you have one left?"
"You never would," objected Benny with confidence.
"No, but supposing Watch took one," suggested Jess.
"Watchie wouldn't take one, neither," said Benny. "Would you, doggie?"
Watch opened one eye and wagged his tail. Jess looked at Violet in
despair. "What shall I do with him?" she asked.
Violet took out her chalk and printed clearly on the outside of the
freight car the following example:
2 - 1 =
"Now, Benny, don't you see," she began, "that if you have two things,
and somebody takes away one, that you _must_ have one left?"
"I'll show you myself," agreed Benny finally with resignation. "Now see
the 2?" He actually made a respectable figure 2 on the freight car.
"Now, here's a nice 1. Now, s'posen I take away the 1, don't you see the
2's left right on the car?" He covered the figure 1 with his chubby hand
and looked about at his audience expectantly.
Jess rolled over against a tree trunk and laughed till she nearly cried.
Violet laughed until she really did cry. And here we come to the first
unpleasant incident in the story of the runaway children.
Violet could not stop crying, apparently, and Jess soon made up her mind
that she was really ill. She helped her carefully into the car, and
heaped all the pine needles around and under her, making her the softest
bed she could. Then she wet cloths in the cool water of the brook and
laid them across her little sister's hot forehead.
"How glad I am that it is time for Henry to come!" she said to herself,
holding Violet's slender brown hands in her cool ones.
Henry came promptly at the usual time. He thought she had a cold, he
said. And this seemed likely, for Violet began to cough gently while the
rest ate a hasty supper.
"We don't want to let her go to a hospital if we can possibly help it,"
said Henry, more troubled than he cared to show. "If she goes there
we'll have to give her name, and then Grandfather will find us surely."
Jess agreed, and together the two older children kept changing the cool
cloths on Violet's aching head. But about ten o'clock that night Violet
had a chill. She shivered and shook, and her teeth chattered so that
Jess could plainly hear them. Apparently nothing could warm the little
girl, although she was completely packed in hay and pine needles.
"I'm going down to Dr. McAllister's," said Henry quietly. "I'm afraid
Violet is very ill."
Nobody ever knew how fast he ran down the hill. Even in his famous race,
Henry hardly touched his present speed. He was so thoroughly frightened
that he never stopped to notice how quickly the doctor seemed to
understand what was wanted. He did not even notice that he did not have
to tell the doctor which way to drive his car in order to reach the