XII
RESULTS
It was the middle of November. A wild, cold wind was sweeping over the Mountain, and driving black clouds in quick succession across the tops of the woodlands. It howled around the farmhouse and, as now and again a more furious blast hurled itself against doors and windows, the children drew nearer together on the rug before the huge fireplace with a delightful sense of safety and cosiness.
A kettle of molasses was simmering on the stove, and Chi was wielding the corn-popper with truly professional skill before the open fire.
It was such fun to see the hurry, and scurry, and hustle, and rattle, and pop, and sudden white transformation of the heated kernels! A huge, wooden bowl received the contents of the popper, and March salted them. Oh, how good it smelt! And Rose was going to make molasses corn-balls to put aside for the next evening.
"It's just like having a party every night, there are so many of us," said Hazel, clapping her hands in delight.
"I should think you 'd miss some of your real parties, Hazel," said Rose, thoughtfully.
"Miss them! Not a bit; why, they are n't half so nice as this, and at home it's so lonesome when papa isn't there. Is n't it lovely to think he 's coming up Christmas? Even up here, you know, it would n't be quite Christmas for me without him. That makes me think, I must write him very soon about some things." Hazel looked mysterious.
"We hung up our stockings last year, but we did n't get what we wanted," said Cherry rather mournfully.
"Why not?" asked Hazel.
"Coz Popsey was so sick he could n't go out to the Wishing-Tree, and so he did n't know."
"What is the Wishing-Tree?" said Hazel, consumed with curiosity.
Cherry's mouth was full of corn, so Budd carried on the conversation between mouthfuls.
"I 'll show you to-morrow. It's a big butternut up in the corner of the pasture, an' there 's a little hollow in the trunk where the squirrels used to hide beech-nuts, but March has made a door to it with a hinge and put a little padlock on it–that's the key hanging up on the clock."
Hazel saw a tiny key suspended by a string from one of the pointed knobs that ornamented the tall clock.
"'N' nobody touches it till All-hallow-e'en," said Cherry, when the sound of her munching had somewhat diminished, although her articulation was by no means clear. "'N' then Chi goes up with us in the dark, 'n' we put in our wishes, 'n'–"
"Let me tell Hazel," said Budd. "You 've begun at the wrong end. You see, we write what we want for Christmas down on paper, an' seal it with beeswax, an' then don't tell anybody what we 've written; an' then Chi goes up there with us after dark, an' we 're all dressed up like Injuns–"
"Indians, Budd," corrected March.
"Well, Old Pertic'lar, Indians, then," said Budd, a little crossly, "an' then–
"Oh, you 've forgot the dish-pan and the little tub," Cherry's voice came muffled through the corn. "We take the dish-pan, Hazel, 'n' the little wash-tub, me 'n' Budd between us, 'n' beat on them with the iron spoon 'n' the dish-mop handle, 'n' play 'tom-toms'–"
"Yes, an' March gives an awful war-whoop–" Budd, in his earnestness, had risen and gone over to Chi's side, and now sat down by the big bowl, but, unfortunately, on the popper which Chi had just emptied. There was a smell of scorched wool, and, simultaneously, a wild, "Oh, gee-whiz!!" from Budd, who leaped as if shot, and stood ruefully rubbing the seat of his well-patched knicker-bockers, while the rest rolled over on the rug in their merriment.
"Oh, do go on, Budd!" cried Hazel, wiping the tears of mirth from her eyes. Cherry had laughed so hard that she was hiccoughing with outrageous rapidity; and March–forgetting May–chose that opportune moment to give forth a specimen of his best war-whoop, for the purpose, as he explained afterwards, of frightening her out of them.
By the time order had been restored, Cherry was able to take up the thread of the story;
"'N' we join hands–Chi 'n' all of us–'n' sing as loud as we can sing:
"'Intery, mintery, cutery corn,
Apple seed, apple thorn;
Wire, briar, limber lock,
Five geese in a flock–
Sit and sing by the spring;
You are OUT.'
Then we all give a great shout and grunt like In-di-ans–," said Cherry, emphatically, looking at March; and March nodded approval.
"How's that?" asked Hazel, who was listening with all her ears.
"A hánnah–a hánnah–a hánnah," grunted the children as well as they could, hampered by mouths full of corn. "An' then," went on Budd, "we drop the wishes into the hollow in the tree-trunk, an' Chi locks the door an' keeps it, an'–"
"'N' each of us ties two feathers from a rooster's tail to different colored strings, 'n' fastens them on to a branch of the tree, 'n' that brings us good luck; March calls it 'winging the wishes.' That's the way we get our presents."
"Oh, what fun!" cried Hazel. "May I do it this year?"
"Course," replied Budd, "but how will your father know anything about it?"
"I never thought of that," said Hazel, all her Christmas castles toppling over suddenly.
"We 'll fix it somehow, Lady-bird," said Chi, who, having finished his labors, had seated himself in a chair behind the children and provided himself with a private bowl of his own.
"But now, speakin' of roosters, I 'd like to know how you 're comin' out about chicken money. I sold the last lot but one down in Barton's to-day. There 's been a lot of express to pay, 'n' I thought I 'd better pay dividends to-night, 'n' get it off my mind, seein' it's most Wishin'-Tree time."
Rose took her little account book from her pocket. "We cleared one hundred and ten dollars on our preserves and jams after we 'd paid Hazel what we had borrowed for the jars and sugar, and paid for the express and boxes. I 'm awfully sorry we could n't fill all the orders, but we 'll try to next year. I 'll go and get the money. I like to look at it, knowing it means so much to us all."
She ran upstairs and came back with a little wooden box that Chi had made for her years ago. The children crowded about her. "There," said Rose, proudly, as she took out the money and smoothed it, one crisp bill after another, on her knees; "they 're all in ones, so it will seem as if we had more when we divide. Now we 've agreed to divide this equally, so that 'll make just twenty-two apiece."
"Let's play 'Hold-fast-all-I-give-you' in earnest," said Cherry, sitting down again on the rug and holding out her hands. "That 'll be twenty-two times round and make it seem a lot more."
"Good for you, Cherry," said March, approvingly, and they all followed her example. With a gravity befitting the occasion, the "truly-bruly" game, as Budd called it, went on to the supreme satisfaction of those interested as well as the enjoyment of father and mother and Chi; for to the two former the money-making had long been, of necessity, an open secret.
Chi, after watching them a little while, left the room. When he reappeared a few minutes later, he was greeted with a prolonged "Ah!" of satisfaction; for in one hand he held his old account-book, and in the other a long, dark blue woollen stocking which bulged fearfully from the toe halfway up the leg, where it was tied with a stout piece of leather whip-lash.
The whole business of disposing of the chickens had been intrusted to Chi, and the members of the N.B.B.O.O. Society had pledged themselves not to ask him any questions in regard to the sale of them until he should tell them of his own accord. This pledge they had kept, and now they were to have their rewards.
"If this is going to be a meeting of the N.B.B.O.O. Society, I move we ask those who aren't members to adjourn to the bedroom," said March, looking significantly at his mother and father. Mr. and Mrs. Blossom took the hint, and, without waiting for anyone to "second the motion," betook themselves, laughing, into the other room.
"Guess we 'll sit up to the table 'n' count it out," said Chi, "coz we don't want any of it to fly up chimney. We should never find it again in this gale."
He emptied the stocking of its contents–bills, pennies, and silver pieces of all denominations–upon the table, and the children drew up their chairs.
"Now we 'll sort," said Chi. "You take the bills, Rose, 'n' the rest take the other pieces, 'n' make little piles before you of a dollar each. Then we can reckon up easy. I 'll take the pennies and the nickels."
"I choose the ten-cent pieces," said Cherry, "an' you take the quarters, Budd." March and Hazel took the rest.
"This is a kind of stockholders' meetin'," said Chi, as the piles were completed. "We 'll divide the proceeds accordin' the number of hens each set; coz I could n't keep run of so many chicks after they'd struck out for themselves."
He opened his book.
"Here 's some items you better hear, before you find any fault with the management:
"Mem. July. 15 chicks killed by hen-hawks.
"Mem. August. 21 chicks died of the pip.
"Mem. September. Skunks stole ten.
"Mem. October. 2 can't find.
"There 's a dead loss to all the stockholders, share 'n' share alike. Now for expenses:
"Mem. Corn for feed till October–7 bushels.
"Mem. November. Express, $5.50. Crates expressin'–$1.10. Now for the profits!" said Chi, with a ring of triumph in his voice. "Count up your piles."
How the cheeks flushed and the eyes grew dark with excitement as the counting proceeded: "One hundred–one hundred and thirty-two–one hundred and seventy-seven–two hundred!"
"Oh-ee!" cried Hazel, as March fairly thundered "Two hundred!" "There 's more, there 's more!"
"Go on, go on!" she cried again, almost beside herself with excitement.
"Two hundred and seven–TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTEEN!!"
"Chi!" exclaimed Rose, almost breathless, "How did you make all that?" and thereupon, without waiting for his answer, she sprang up from her chair, and, to Chi's amazement, took his weather-worn face between her two hands, and popped a kiss upon his forehead.
Chi cleared his throat and attempted to make his explanation, but was interrupted by March, who got hold of his right hand and wrung it without speaking. Chi saw the boy turn a little white about the mouth and his gray eyes flash through tears; words were not needed.
Budd and Cherry did not realize all this meant to the elder brother and sister, but they did not wish to be outdone by the others in expressing their appreciation of Chi. So Budd thumped him unmercifully on the back, saying, "You 're a trump, Chi; tell us how you did it," in a most patronizing tone, and Cherry danced around the table, singing; "I love my Love with a big, big C!"
Hazel looked on, rejoicing in their joy, but wondering why such a little sum, less than her yearly allowance, should create all that happiness.
"But tell us how you did it, Chi," said Rose again.
"Well, I sold most of them for broilers, they bring a pretty good price; 'n' then I sold the feathers; 'n' you forget all those forty hens have been layin' the last two months, 'n' I sold the eggs. Then, too,–" a slow smile wrinkled Chi's eyes–"I was n't interfered with, 'n' that made a great difference in the business. How much have you got altogether?"
"Three hundred and twenty-seven dollars," said March.
"What you goin' to do with it? that's the next question. You can't let your money lay round in wooden boxes 'n' old stockin's. It ought to be bringing you in interest."
"I 'm going to give my share to Rose, to prepare for college with," said Hazel.
"Indeed, I sha'n't take your money, Hazel; you 've earned it fairly for yourself. I should be ashamed to accept it, but it's lovely of you to think of it– Why, Hazel!" she cried, throwing her arm around her, for the tears were rolling down Hazel's cheeks, and her chest heaving with a bona fide sob.
But Hazel flung off the encircling arm and threw herself full length upon the settle in an abandonment of woe.
"I don't care anything about your old money," she sobbed. "I did n't want it for myself, and I 've worked so hard picking berries and all–and you said you 'd keep the by-law–and I 've been so happy working to help others, and I never would have believed it of you, Rose Blossom, that you 'd go back on your word–you promised–you promised to help others–a regular solemn pl-pledge, Chi says, and now–and the only way you could help me–was to let–to let me help y-ou-oo-oo!"
March and Rose looked at each other aghast at this unwonted outburst from Hazel, and Mrs. Blossom, hearing the wail, made her appearance from the bedroom.
"Why, Hazel dear, what is the matter?" she said.
"They 've spoiled all my good times," sobbed Hazel, refusing to be comforted even when Mrs. Blossom, sitting down by her, stroked her head and begged her to sit up and tell her all about it.
"Oh, mother!" cried Rose, holding back the tears as well as she could, "it's all my fault. It's my old pride that keeps coming up at every little thing, somehow, and I know it 'll be the death of me! March has it, too; and between us we have made it just horrid for Hazel."
"Why, Rose, what do you mean?" asked her mother, gravely.
"Things that we 've kept from you, Martie. Hazel wanted to give us the jars and the sugar, and we would n't let her; and she wanted to give me a blue wash silk like hers, because I said I wished I could afford one like it,–and I–and I was a little angry, and showed it; and March spoke up and said we would n't be patronized if we were poor–"
"Why, March Blossom!" was all his mother said.
"Yes," broke in Budd, ready to place himself on the side of righteousness, "an' Cherry told her that March called her 'a perfect guy,' an' that meant she was homely; an' that Chi said she was awful poor, an' we were a great deal richer than she was, an' that you would n't have had her here if you had n't pitied her–"
"Children!" Not one of them ever remembered to have heard their mother speak with such stern anger in her voice. "I 'm ashamed of you; you have disgraced your parents' name." Then she turned to Hazel, drew her up into her arms, and said, tenderly:
"Hazel, my dear little girl, why did n't you come to me with this trouble?"
"Because–because you were n't my mother, you were theirs; but, oh! I wish you were mine! I love you so–" Hazel flung both arms around Mrs. Blossom's neck and sobbed out,–"I 've wanted to call you Mother Blossom and hug and kiss you like the rest–but Cherry was so jealous–the first time I did it–that she–she stuck burrs in my bed and led me through the nettle-patch when we were raspberrying, because she knew I did n't know nettles; and Chi told me we 'd got to be brave if we joined the N.B.B.O.O., and I knew I ought to bear it–for I do love to be here–and I love them all, for most of the time they 're lovely to me;–and I don't think you 've been horrid, Rose, only you did hurt my feelings when you would n't let me give you the blue silk–and–and it is n't my fault if I am rich, and it is n't fair not to like me for it!"
"No more it ain't, Lady-bird," said Chi, who, after drawing the back of his hand across his eyes, was apparently the only dry-eyed one in the room. March had flung himself on the other end of the settle and buried his face deep among the patch-work cushions. Rose was sobbing outright with her head on her arms as she sat at the dining-room table.
Cherry, in her shame and misery–for she had come to love Hazel dearly without wholly conquering her jealousy–softly opened the pantry door and slipped inside where she sniffed to her heart's content. As for Budd, he stood over the wood-box, repiling its contents while the tears ran off his nose so fast that he saw all the sticks double through them.
"You may go to bed, children," said Mrs. Blossom, still holding Hazel in her arms. At this fiat, there was a general increase in the humidity of the atmosphere; and, knowing perfectly well when their mother spoke in that tone, that words, tears, or prayers would not avail, they, one and all,–for Cherry had been listening at the pantry door,–made a rush for the stairs and stumbled up, blinded by their tears.
Mrs. Blossom led Hazel still sobbing into her own little bedroom, and shut the door.
Chi, president of the vanished N.B.B.O.O. Society, was left alone. He gazed meditatively awhile at the little piles of money and the vacant chairs opposite each. Then he gathered them up carefully and placed them in orderly rows in the wooden box. His next move was to the shed door. As he opened it, a gust of wind extinguished the lamp on the table.
"Guess I 'll go to bed, too," said Chi to himself, coming back for the box, which the firelight showed plainly enough. "The barometer's dropped, 'n' it always makes me feel low in my mind."
He heaved a prodigious sigh and went out into the shed and up the back stairs. The wooden box he put under the head of the mattress; he barricaded the door and placed his rifle beside it against the wall. Then he turned in and drew the coverlet up over his head with another sigh, so long, so profound, that it mingled with the wind as it swept through the cracks of the shed beneath, and made a part of the dismality of the night.
Mrs. Blossom returned to the long-room, and, sitting down in her low rocker before the fire, waited. She knew her children.
Soon, it might have been within half an hour, she heard Rose call softly at the top of the stairs:–
"Martie."
"Yes, Rose."
"May I come?"
"Yes, dear."
"O Martie! may I, too?" wailed Cherry.
"Yes."
"I 'm coming, mother," said March, speaking in a low, determined voice through the knot-hole.
"Very well, March."
"Come along, Budd," said March, and Budd was only too glad to grip his brother's pajamas and follow after.
Down they came, tiptoeing in their bare feet, Rose heading the penitential procession. She knelt by her mother's side, and March and Budd and Cherry knelt, too.
Then, to their mother's, "Are you truly ready, children?" they answered heartily, "Yes, Martie."
Together they said in subdued but earnest tones, "Our Father;" together they prayed, "'Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us'"–and after the heart-felt, "Amen," each received a kiss by way of absolution; and together, until the clock struck ten, they talked the whole matter over and resolved to fight their Apollyons daily and hourly, and, with God's grace, conquer them.
These were the rare hours, the memory of which held March Blossom in the way of right and honor when he went out to battle for himself in the world. These were the hours, the memory of which kept him in his college days unspotted from the world. It was such an hour that ripened Rose Blossom into a thinking, feeling woman, and made Budd into a knight of the Twentieth Century.
It was for such an hour that Jack Sherrill would have given his entire fortune.
XIII
A SOCIAL ADDITION
It was a chastened household that gathered about the breakfast table the next morning; and for a week afterwards, every one was so thoughtful and considerate of everybody else that Mrs. Blossom said, laughing, to her husband; "They 're so angelic, Ben, I 'm afraid they are all going to be ill. I declare, I miss their little naughtinesses."
Several things had been settled during the week and, apparently, to everyone's satisfaction. At a very serious-minded meeting of the N.B.B.O.O., it had been decided to keep the larger part of the money in order to start March on his career. Not without protest, however, on March's part. But he was overruled. Rose argued that if he were going to college, he must begin to prepare that very winter, and if their earnings were divided among the five, no one would reap any special benefit from them, least of all, March.
"I can wait well enough another year, perhaps two," she said; "and, meanwhile, we 'll be earning more. But you, March, ought to be in the academy at Barton's this very minute."
"I know it," said March, dejectedly; "but I do hate to take girls' money; somehow, it does not seem quite–quite manly."
"Better remember what your mother talked to you 'bout last Sunday, 'bout its bein' more of a blessin' to give than to get," said Chi, sententiously.
"I do remember, and there 's nobody in the world I 'd be more willing to take it from than from you, all of you, but–"
"Me, too?" interrupted Hazel, leaning nearer with great, eager, questioning eyes.
"Yes, you, too, Hazel," March replied gently, with such unwonted humility of spirit shining through his rare, sweet smile, that Hazel bounced up from her seat at the table, and, going behind March's chair, clasped both arms tightly around his neck, laid the dark, curly head down upon the top of his golden one, exclaiming delightedly:
"Oh, March, you are the dearest fellow in the world. I never thought you 'd give in so–and I love you for it! There now,"–with a big squeeze of the golden head–"you 've made me superfluously happy." Hazel took her seat, flushed rosy red in pleasurable anticipation of being allowed, at last, to give to those she loved, and wholly unmindful of her slip of the tongue.
"Now that's settled, I move that each of you keep three dollars of that money 'gainst the Wishin'-Tree business. Chris'mus 'll be here 'fore you can say 'Jack Robinson.'"
"Second the motion," said Budd and Cherry in the same breath.
It was a unanimous vote.
"There is just one thing I want to say," said March, who, in a bewilderment of happy emotions, had been unable to reply one word to Hazel, "and that is, that I want you to consider that you have lent it to me and let me have the pleasure of paying back, sometime, when I am a man."
"That's fair enough," said Chi. "I glory in your independence, Markis. That's the right kind to have. Put it to vote."
Again there was a unanimous vote of approval, for they all knew that to one of March's proud spirit it meant much to accept the money, from the girls especially; and they felt it would make him happier if he were to accept it as a loan.
"I can save a lot by not boarding down at Barton's, and by working for my board at the tavern, or in some family," said March, thoughtfully.
"No you don't," said Chi, emphatically. "'T ain't no way for a boy to be doin' chores before he goes to school in the mornin' 'n' tendin' horses after he gets out in the afternoon. If you 're goin' to try for college in two years, you 've got to buckle right down to it–'n' not waste time workin' for other folks that ain't your own. Here comes Mis' Blossom, we 'll ask her what she has to say about it."
"Why, Martie, where have you been all this afternoon? I saw you and father driving off in such a sly sort of way, I knew you did n't want us to know where you were going. Now, 'fess!" laughed Rose.
"'Fess, 'fess, Martie!" cried Budd and Cherry, hilariously breaking up the meeting. "We 've got you now!" And without more ado they anchored her to the settle, each linked to an arm, while Hazel took off her hood, March drew off her rubbers, and Rose unpinned her shawl.
Mrs. Blossom laughed. "No, you guess," she replied.
"Down to the Mill Settlement?"
"Wrong."
"Over to Aunt Tryphosa's?"
"No."
"Down to see the Spillkinses?"
"Wrong again."
"Over eastwards to the Morris farm," said Chi.
"Right," said Mrs. Blossom, smiling. "How did you know, Chi?"
"I didn't, just guessed it; coz I knew the new folks was goin' to move in this week."
"What new folks?" chorussed the children in surprise.
"An addition to the Lost Nation," replied their mother, "and a very charming one. Now there are five families on our Mountain."
"Who are they, Martie?"–"Are you going to ask them to Thanksgiving, too?"–"What's their name?"–"How many are there of them?"–"Any boys?" They were all talking together.
"One at a time, please," laughed Mrs. Blossom, putting her hands over her ears. "I never heard such mill-clappers!"
"Do hurry up, mother," said March, appealingly.
"A young man from New Haven has taken the lease of the farm for three years. He has his mother and sister with him. He was in the law school at Yale until last spring; then his father died, and his sister, a little older than you, Rose, was injured in some accident–I don't know what it was–and now she is very delicate. The doctor says if she can live in this mountain country for a few years, she may recover her health. The brother and mother are perfectly devoted to her. She calls herself a 'Shut-in'–"
"Then she can't come over for Thanksgiving dinner," said Rose, interrupting.
"Not this year, but I hope she may next."
"Did he give up college for his sister's sake?" asked March.
"He gave up the last year of his law course; they could not afford to travel so many years for the benefit of her health, so they came up here. I do pity them; it must be such a change. But, oh, March! how you will enjoy that house! They have been there only a week, yet it looks as if they had lived there always. They have such beautiful framed photographs of places they visited when they were in Europe with their father, and cases of books, and a grand piano–I don't see how they ever got it up the Mountain. The young man and his mother both play, and he plays the violin, too."
The children and Chi were listening open-eyed as Mrs. Blossom went on enthusiastically:–
"It's just like a fairy story, only it's all true. Just two weeks ago, when your father and I drove by there, that long, rambling house looked so bleak and bare and desolate–your father and I always call it the 'House of the Seven Gables,' for there are just seven–and the spruce woods behind it looked fairly black, and the wind drew through the pines by the south door with such an eerie sound, that I shivered. And to-day, what a change! All the shutters were open, and muslin curtains at the windows, and the sun was streaming into the four windows of the great south room that they have made their living-room. There was a roaring big fire in the hall fireplace, and plants–oh, Rose, you should see them! palms and rubber trees and sword ferns,–and lovely rugs, and–I can't begin to tell you about it; you must go and see for yourselves." Mrs. Blossom paused for breath, with a glad light in her eyes.
"It sounds too good to be true," said Rose, "and you look as if you had been to a real party, Martie."
"Well, I have, my dear. Just to see such people and such a house is a party for me."
"And you can keep having it, too, can't you, Martie? because they 're going to be neighbors," cried Cherry, every individual curl dancing and bobbing with excitement.
"Is the young man good-looking?" asked Hazel, earnestly.
"Very," replied Mrs. Blossom, smiling.
"As handsome as Jack?" said Hazel.
"Very different looking, Hazel; quiet and grave, but genial. Not so tall as Mr. Sherrill, I should say; talks but little, but what he says is well worth listening to–and when he smiled! I did n't hear him laugh, but I know he can enjoy fun. He has a fine saddle horse, Chi, and he wants you to come and give him some advice about selecting stock."
"'Fraid he 's too high-toned for me," said Chi, modestly; "but if I can help him anyway, I 'd like to. Seems a likely young man from all you say."
"He 's more than 'likely,' Chi," returned Mrs. Blossom, with a twinkle in her eye that only Chi caught.
"Speakin' of horses, Mis' Blossom, we 've decided to send March to the Academy at Barton's, 'n' if I let him have Fleet, he could come 'n' go, a matter of sixteen miles a day, without bein' from home nights. I don't approve of that for boys."
"No, indeed, neither his father nor I would think of such a thing for a moment. But how kind of you, Chi, to let March have Fleet."
"I want to help on the college education all I can; 'n' if our boy wants to go, he 's goin' to have the best to get him there so far as I 'm concerned."
"I don't know how to thank you, Chi," said March, "but I 'll treat Fleet like a lady and I 'll study like a–like a house on fire. I don't envy that other fellow his saddle horse if I can have Fleet. What's his name, mother? you haven't told us yet."
"Why, so I have n't–Ford, Alan Ford, and his sister's name is Ruth."
"When can we go over and see them, Martie?" said Rose.
"I thought two or three days after Thanksgiving, and then you can take a little neighborly thank-offering with you."
"What can we take?" queried Cherry.
"Oh, a mince pie or two, some raspberry preserves, a comb of last summer's honey, a pat of butter, a nice bunch of our white-plume celery, and, perhaps, Chi could find a brace of partridges."
"M-m–does n't that sound good-tasting!" said Cherry, patting her chest ecstatically.
"Who 's coming for Thanksgiving, Martie?" asked Budd.
"All the Lost Nation–the Spillkinses and Aunt Tryphosa and Maria-Ann, Lemuel and his wife and–who else? Guess."
"Why, that's all."
"Not this year, you forget your new teacher, Budd. She boards around, and it's the Mountain's year, so she is at Lemuel's now."
"Oh, good!" cried Budd enthusiastically. "She 's a daisy. I know you 'll like her, Hazel. All the fellows are awfully soft on her, though–bring her butternut candy, an' sharpen her pencils, an' black the stove, an' wash off the black-board; an' I saw Billy Nye sneak out the other day and wipe the mud off her rubbers with his paper lunch-bag! Catch me doing it, though," he added, his chest swelling rather pompously as he straightened himself and thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his knickerbockers.
"Why not?" his mother asked with an amused smile.
"Oh, coz," was Budd's rather sheepish reply, and thereupon he followed Chi out to the barn, whistling "Dixie" with might and main.