regarding the sofa with anything but pleasure.
"Well, that's dreadfully mean," said Alexia, leaning back composedly to
look him all over, "to run away, now Joel's gone. He'd expect you to
stay here, of course."
To do anything that Joel would not expect not fitting into Larry's
ideas, he slipped back into his place again, crowding up against the
sofa arm as closely as possible.
"Now tell me all about it," said Alexia, happily, and leaning forward to
catch every word.
"All about what?" said Larry, sourly.
"Why, all about just everything, you stupid boy; what you and Joel have
been up to, and the whole thing," said Alexia, hungrily.
"There hasn't been any whole thing," said Larry, gloomily, and very much
wishing he had "been up to something" that had yielded at least a little
bit of fun.
"O dear me, how tiresome you are!" exclaimed Alexia, quite exasperated,
and picking up the big sofa-pillow to bestow impatient dabs upon it. "O
my goodness me!"
For in walked Mrs. Fisher, and Alexia, feeling that in the interview to
come she should certainly not be in the right place, skipped to her feet
and out of the room, leaving Larry in a miserable state enough to face
Joel's mother.
XIII
THE BIG BOX
The little widow ran down the road, not much more than a good-sized
trail cut between two hard, frozen banks of snow. Her shoes flapped
miserably, and with one hand she held the remnant of a bonnet on her
head, the other clutched the old plaid shawl together across her thin
chest.
Toiling slowly round the curve came a white horse, very tired and old,
dragging a wagon that alternately had the wheels on one side or the
other tilted up on either bank, making very difficult progress.
"Hullo! Where be ye goin'?" the occupant of the wagon yelled out, as the
little woman ran suddenly almost into the face of the old white horse,
who, recognizing an obstacle, gladly stood still in his tracks without
the sharp twitch on the reins to pull him up.
"Now how yer goin' ter git by, an' what be yer runnin' so fur anyway,
Mis' Hansell?" exclaimed the old man, all in one impatient breath.
The little widow drew a long sigh and glanced about her on either side.
The hard, frozen wall seemed to oppress her, and she set her gaze on the
old face under the fur cap, but pressed her thin lips together without a
word.
"Well, ye're there an' ye can't git back," said the old man, twitching
one rein violently in an effort to turn the wagon out an inch or two.
"Shin up the bank, Mis' Hansell, shin up the bank, and then gimme yer
hand, an' you can hop in here,"--he jerked his sharp chin over his
shoulder,--"an' set on them bags, bein's th' seat's full." As indeed it
was, a collection of various articles, going to the farmers' wives,
occupying all the leather cushion not filled with the driver. "Ye've got
to; I can't move a mite further," as the little woman hung back.
Her thin lips fell apart. "Are you going anywhere near Harrison road,
Mr. Bramble?"
"Hey--Harrison road? Eh, yes, after a spell. I'm goin' first to the
Potterses, an' th' Timmenses, an'--Land o' Goshen, I clean forgot,--I'm
goin' to your house, Mis' Hansell, I clar to gracious, I am!" He clapped
his knee with his big woollen mitten. "There, you hop in an' set on them
bags, an' I'll take you home."
"But I'm not going home," said little Mrs. Hansell, creeping as closely
to the wall of frozen snow as possible, in her endeavor to get by the
team. "And if you've got to go to the Potterses and the Timmenses, I
won't ride. Thank you kindly, Mr. Bramble."
She made another attempt to crowd by over the rough, jagged edges of the
ice, lost her footing, and fell with her face against the wheel.
"Sho!" ejaculated Mr. Bramble, in great distress, "now ye've hurt ye!
Couldn't ye have done as I said? But women have no sense no more'n hens;
they must bunt up ag'in' sunthin', blind-headed. Get in, can't ye? Ye'll
have to ride a piece anyway, till I get where I can turn round."
"It's no matter," said the little widow, wiping off a few drops of blood
that trickled down her cheek, as she got in, being pulled up over the
step by the firm grip of the knotted fingers in the woollen mitten, and
sat down on the bags of grain, as bidden.
"That 'ere is your box," said Mr. Bramble, when he had seen her
comfortably adjusted, and pointing with one mitten over his shoulder.
"Hey?" said little Mrs. Hansell, lost in thought that seemed to be very
mournful, for she sighed deeply, and picked at the edge of her shawl
where the fringe had been.
"Yes, 'tis yours, I say, your box." Mr. Bramble kept reiterating it,
each time giving a fierce nod to the old fur cap that finally settled it
well over his eyes. "It come yesterday over to the deepo at Purdy's, but
I couldn't get here, th' goin's so bad."
The little widow said nothing. Having never received a box, conversation
in regard to one couldn't possibly interest her, so she had failed to
hear any reference to herself. And at last old Mr. Bramble, having got
the white horse safely past the narrowest part of the road, whirled
around on his seat and stared at her.
"Sakes alive, Mis' Hansell, are you deef?" he roared. "_You've got a
box._"
"I?" said the little widow, turning a bewildered gaze up at him.
"I--what _do_ you mean, Mr. Bramble?"
"You've got a box; _box_, I said." The expressman roared it at her so
that the old white horse jerked up his tired head and took two rapid
steps forward, positively by his own accord.
This wholly unsettling the dilapidated bonnet on the little widow's head
so that it slid down her neck, with difficulty being recovered from
flying out of the wagon altogether, and the shock of the announcement of
the box occurring at the same moment, she was speechless again.
"Well, if I ever!" ejaculated Mr. Bramble, when he recovered from the
astonishment into which his steed's burst of energy had plunged him. And
giving his travelling companion up as a bad job so far as conversation
was concerned, he relapsed into a sullen silence, neither of them
speaking till a good half mile was slowly traversed.
And then he felt a timid twitch at the end of the old woollen scarf
hanging over his back.
"Mr. Bramble, is that true?" and he glanced over his shoulder to see the
thin face of the little widow working convulsively, while her faded eyes
gleamed with excitement.
"Oh, ye've waked up, hev ye?" cried Mr. Bramble. "Yes, 'tis true, true
as gospel writ, Mis' Hansell," he averred solemnly.
"True?" She had only breath to repeat the one word, and she hung on the
answer.
"Sure as shootin'," declared the express driver. He clapped his knee
smartly to enforce his words. "There 'tis now," he added suddenly, and
pointing with his thumb over his shoulder; "you're a-settin' ag'inst it
this blessed minute, Mis' Hansell."
Little Mrs. Hansell turned convulsively, gave one look at the big box
looming up behind her, then covered her face with her thin hands, and
rocked back and forth on the grain bags.
"Oh, I don't believe it; I can't. I hain't never had a box. 'Tain't
mine."
"Well, I'm a-goin' to dump it at your house, anyway," declared Mr.
Bramble, "for it's got your name on it."
"'Tain't mine, an' I must git out an' go to Harrison road an' tell Mr.
Shuggs that he can come and take us all to the poorhouse, for--"
"Land!" exclaimed Mr. Bramble, in a mighty shout that puffed out his red
cheeks like small bellows, "'tain't so bad as that, is it? Thunder an'
lightnin', an' that was where ye were goin'?" He was taken with a sudden
fit of coughing and he blew his nose violently, wiped his eyes with the
back of his mitten, and glanced off at the towering mountains as if he
had never seen them before.
"O dear, dear, dear!" The little woman huddled on the grain bags was now
in such a bad state at having told her secret that he whirled around to
look after her.
"I must whip up Billy an' git there quick, or she'll be out over the
wheel with her didoes, like enough," and he slapped the back of the old
white horse with the doubled-up end of the reins so effectively that in
due time the wagon jounced over the icy ruts of the winding road, and
drew up in front of the little cabin nestling at the foot of the hill,
the express driver mumbling within his straggly beard: "Well, I am
busted, who'd 'a' thought she an' them children was struck so hard!"
Instantly the door burst open and a brood of children, six in number,
the baby being left to sprawl on the kitchen floor, plunged out,
trooping over the frozen ground, some of them running on the crust of
the polished snow lying high in banks--any way to get there the quicker.
To see their mother riding in state in Mr. Bramble's express wagon was a
supreme event, and they clambered over the wheels and fairly swarmed
around her, as she tremblingly tried to get down.
"Easy, easy there; sho now, can't you let her get down?" Mr. Bramble
roared at them, pretending to be very much put out. But they paid not
the slightest attention to him.
"Oh, Mammy!" they cried, surrounding her tumultuously.
"You've got hurt," exclaimed one of the big boys, seeing her cheek, and,
"Oh, I'm so hungry," said Jane, the youngest, who, since her mother had
really returned, thought it just as well to mention a fact she had been
steadily reiterating all the morning.
"Hush up!" shouted Mr. Bramble, "and look here, Mat, an' you too, Mark
and Luke, tumble out that box. Step lively now." Again his thumb came
into service over his shoulder.
"Oh, bless my buttons, I never see such a dull lot," as the whole
collection of children, big boys and all, stared open-mouthed at him,
without offering to stir from their tracks. "I'll pitch it out myself."
And with many grunts, for his legs were rheumatic, he slowly hitched
himself off his seat, and laid hold of the box.
"Give us a grip, Mat," he sang out to the oldest boy. "This box has got
to go into your house, an' I know _I_ ain't a-goin' to carry it. Come
on!"
And instantly the whole swarm of children, wild with excitement,
deserted their mother to crowd around Mr. Bramble and the boys.
"The baby's comin' out," screamed Elvira, with one hasty glance back at
the cabin door, as she ran to the centre of attraction with the others.
The little widow turned where she had been left alone and sped
frantically up to the broken steps, where little Susan, spatting her fat
hands on the floor as she crawled along to see what the noise was all
about, had just decided to tumble down. But instead of landing on the
hard, frozen ruts, she was gathered up to her mother's thin breast and
hugged and coddled.
"Oh, baby, baby." She sank down on the steps and rocked back and forth,
Susan now spatting her thin cheeks and struggling to get away to where
all that delightful noise was coming from. "Oh, good Lord, I can't
believe it. We've got a box, Susan; we have, Susan, he says so, but I
know he's made a mistake. And p'raps there's somethin' to eat in it, and
I won't have to go to the selectmen an' tell 'em we'll go to the
poorhouse. But 'tain't ours, I know 'tain't. _O Lord, they're bringin'
it in!_"
And in another minute the little widow, hanging to Susan, was off the
steps, the box was dragged over them by the united efforts of the three
boys, their progress very much impeded by the crowding up of the girls,
who were afraid they would miss something of the progress, Mr. Bramble
looking on in great satisfaction. Then he climbed into his wagon, stared
at the little cabin for another minute, where they had all disappeared,
and drove off, blowing his nose violently, his eyes seeming to need a
great deal of attention from the back of his gray woollen mitten.
Down went the big box with a thud in the very middle of the kitchen
floor.
"Get the hammer," screamed Elvira, capering wildly, her black braids,
tied with bits of string, flying out from either side of her head. "I'm
goin' to get it myself," with a leap toward the corner.
"No such thing," Matthew roared at her. "I'll get it. Come back, Viry."
"The axe,"--Mark shouted it high above the din, as he rushed to get that
necessary implement,--"that's better'n the hammer."
"Oo--Oo--Scree!" Susan, in dreadful distress at being bound in mother's
arms, let her feelings have free vent in a wail that soared high above
the crackling of the box cover as it splintered under the effort of both
hammer and axe.
"And we can keep warm now." The little widow's eyes glistened at the
pile of splintered boards tumbling down on the kitchen floor. "Oh,
Susan," and she drew near, the whole cover being off now.
There was an awful pause, every one staring at the smooth layer of brown
paper. The supreme importance of the event swept them all into silence.
[Illustration: THERE WAS AN AWFUL PAUSE, EVERY ONE STARING AT THE SMOOTH
LAYER OF BROWN PAPER.]
"I'm goin' to peek first," announced Elvira, finding her tongue.
This unloosed all the others. "She shan't; Elviry's always a-pushin'
first."
"Mammy, mayn't I?"
"No, let me." It was a babel in a minute.
"You be still." It was Matthew who commanded silence. "Mother's goin' to
look first; it's _her_ box," he added convincingly.
The little widow would much rather have allowed this privilege to one of
her brood, but it was difficult to choose between the five; so she put
out her hand tremblingly, then drew it back.
"We'll let Susan do it," she said; "she couldn't go out to the wagon
with the rest of you."
"Oh, yes, let baby do it," cried the others, easily pleased, and in a
dreadful twitter to begin operations. "Yes, let baby," echoed Elvira,
dashing away from the box to hug Susan, who, delighted at the
opportunity, seized one of the black braids in her fat little hands,
with a crow that disclosed the few teeth she possessed.
"Ow! Let me go!" screamed Elvira, very red in the face and twisting
violently. "Moth_er_, Susan's got my _hair_! Slap her."
"Oh, no, no," said the little widow, getting the small, triumphant hands
within her thin ones; "we wouldn't slap baby for anything. There, there,
Susan mustn't. Naughty--naughty!"
Susan looked up in her mother's face to see if she really meant it, and
concluding that she did, the black braid slid out of her hands, the
string flying off to the floor.
"There, see what she's done! My hair's all untied," cried Elvira, in
great vexation, and picking up the old white string; "she ought to be
slapped," she added, bobbing her head decidedly, her black eyes
flashing.
"Oh, no, no," said her mother again; "why, we couldn't slap our baby,
Elviry, ever in all this world," and she pressed her closely to her
breast. "Well, come, children, now Susan's going to pull up the paper."
"Wait!" screamed Elvira, the string between her teeth, and doubling over
in great distress, "till I tie my braid. Oh, wait, Mammy."
"Oh, never mind! Viry, hurry up!" cried all the boys together. And the
other children, capering around the big box, with many dashes and
pickings from impatient fingers, made Mrs. Hansell say, "Stop, children;
there now, hurry, Elviry. Yes, yes, Susan, you're going to do it," until
at last the great moment had arrived, and the whole family was drawn up
around the centre of operations, each one scarcely daring to breathe.
"Now, baby," said the little widow, grasping Susan's fat hand in one of
her thin ones, "you must take hold of one end of the paper; there, see,"
and she folded the little one's fingers over it. But Susan preferred to
spat the smooth surface, and to crow loudly. So it was really Mother
Hansell after all that lifted the veil and opened up fairyland to view.
XIV
THE CHILDREN IN THE MOUNTAIN CABIN
"Heaven bless me!" exclaimed the little widow. Then she put Susan on the
floor, and fell on her knees.
"Mammy, Mammy, look!" the children were hopping wildly around the big
box, clutching the sides, each attempting to get hold of their mother's
head as it sank between her trembling hands, while she rocked herself to
and fro. At last Elvira, unable to keep her hold of the box-edge, the
others were crowding her so, and at the same time to attract her
mother's attention, stamped her foot violently and howled, "_Look!_" way
up above all the rest of the voices.
"Oh, 'tisn't for us; 'tisn't for us. It's got to go back," moaned Mrs.
Hansell, shivering down further between her hands.
At the mention of the box going back, dire alarm struck all the group
into sudden silence, and they stared into each other's faces in the
greatest distress.
"It shan't," screamed Elvira; "it's ours," and she plunged into the box
with both hands, pulling out bundles, which she dropped to the floor, in
order to dive for more.
"You hold on," cried Matthew and Mark, seizing her little brown hands.
"You lemme be!" cried Elvira, in a fury.
"No, we ain't a-goin' to let you be," cried Jane. The other girl, who
had picked up Susan, who was sprawling in everybody's way, and run over
to a corner to barricade her with a big chair turned upside down, now
came hurrying back, determination in every line of her thin little face.
"An' I say you ain't a-goin' to either, Elviry Hansell," she declared;
"that box ain't yours."
Elvira had no time to retort, "An' 'tain't yours either, Matilda," for
she was struggling so with the boys that she had too scant breath to
waste in replies. But she whirled a red face over to her sister for a
second, while she twisted her wiry little arms in frantic endeavors to
get free from the stronger grips upon them.
"Come on," said Matilda, coolly, to Jane, and to Luke, who never would
take part in any family quarrel against Elvira, "and we'll pull her
petticoat and tickle her legs. Then she'll let go."
"That's not fair," said Luke, glowering at her.
"Huh, I don't care."
"An' 'tis, too," cried Matilda, gleefully. "Come on, Jane, you tickle
one leg, and I'll tickle the other, and then she's got to let go."
"Ow," cried Elvira, who knew quite well what to expect from the tickling
process, and tucking up first one leg, then the other. "Go 'way, I'll
kick dreadful!"
"She will," said Jane, fearfully, who also knew what to expect, as she
and Matilda crouched on the floor, with fingers all ready for the
attack.
"Huh! S'posin' she does? 'Fraid-cat," said Matilda, scornfully, "can't
you scrouge back?"
"No, I can't," said Jane, truthfully, "not in time."
"Then, I tell you." Matilda slid off on the old floor, holding Jane's
calico apron-end. "I'll tell you; you tickle first, an' when she's
kicking you, I'll tickle the other leg, and she can't--"
"You tickle first," said Jane, interrupting.
"All right, I will," promised Matilda; "only you're so afraid, you won't
tickle in time."
"Yes, I will," said Jane; "as long as she ain't kickin' me, I don't
care."
"Well, come on," and Matilda slid cautiously up behind the ragged little
shoes that ended Elvira's legs, and, understanding through long
experience how to bide her time, she bestowed such stinging little nips
on the nearest red woollen stocking, that Elvira sent it out with a
spiteful kick, just too short to reach the attacking party, who took a
long slide back on the floor. And having the same attention now being
paid to her other woollen leg, and her two hands full with the boys, it
was easy to see that Elvira would soon be pushed quite away from her
vantage ground by the big box.
Meantime Susan had crawled over her barricade, with mind intent on
joining the family party again around the big box, but, meeting a large
wad of paper, she changed her plan, and sat placidly still, chewing it
into bits, which she spit out of her mouth with happy little crows.
And now, with four good pairs of hands busy at unpacking, why, it is
needless to say that the big box was soon to be quite empty. Elvira ran
around and around the sides, trying to crowd herself in somewhere. But
they wouldn't let her in, nor Luke either, who they quite well knew
would give her up his place as soon as he got it.
"I don't care a single bit," at last cried Elvira, finding all her
efforts useless; "I'll take the bundles an' open 'em, so there!" with a
dash at the nearest one on the floor.
"No--sir--ee!" exclaimed Matthew, flying away from the big box to pursue
her; "we're goin' to open 'em all together. Drop that, now, Viry
Hansell!"
But easier said than done. Elvira, clutching the big bundle, raced
around and around the kitchen, Matthew after her, till, in an unwary
moment, she turned too suddenly; over she went, coming flat down on
Susan, with her big wad of paper in her mouth.
"Now, then," cried Matthew, angrily, "see what you've done!" And
stopping first to pick up the baby, it gave Elvira just the time she
wanted. But where should she fly?
Just then a gust of wind answered her. It blew the crazy old door,
always loose on its hinges, free, and with a whoop she pushed it wide,
and flew out with her prize.
"All right. Now you won't come in again," declared Matthew, decidedly,
who had set Susan in her mother's lap, and slamming the door, he pushed
an old nail into the hole over the latch. "That fixes you, Miss Elviry
Hansell," and back he went to the interrupted scene of his operations.
"Where's Elviry?" asked Luke, anxiously, as the bustle went on.
"Outdoors," said Matthew, concisely.
"Outdoors?" repeated Luke. "It's cold there."
"Well, she can run and keep warm. I'm goin' to let her in, in a minute.
Now, then, we've everythin' out," peering into the box-depth.
"Let's get into a ring round Mammy an' open 'em one at a time," said
Mark.
"All right," said Matthew, approvingly. "Come on, move the bundles. All
hands now. Take hold, Luke."
But Luke stood quite still. "She can't keep warm a-runnin'," he said.
"Yes, she can; and besides, she's a naughty girl. She's always a naughty
girl," said Matthew. "Come ahead, Luke, I'll take care of Elviry, an'
let her in, in a minute, I tell you."
But Luke preferred to see to the matter himself. So, in the midst of the
bustle attendant upon getting ready to open the bundles, he slid out,
with Mrs. Hansell's old black shawl, and scampered around the corner of
the house.
"Where be you, Elviry?" he cried, under his breath, and wishing he could
put the old shawl around himself.
"Here," said a voice, and looking off, he jumped, for there on a high
snowbank, back of the old pump, was a boy in a big overcoat with a red
woollen tippet tied around his head.
Luke took one good look, then sprang for the house.
"Oh, you silly thing," cried Elvira's voice, "it's me! Come here, Luke!"
It was so unmistakably Elvira's voice that Luke stared again, and,
rubbing his eyes at every step, he stumbled up, putting the old shawl
under his arm.
"What you got on?" he gasped, staring wildly at her.
"Hee-hee-hee!" giggled Elvira, drumming her old shoes against the rutty
snowbank. "Come up here, an' I'll tell you."
As Luke wouldn't be told until he got up there, he lost no time in doing
so, and was soon beside her, with the whites of his eyes showing
generously in a prolonged stare at the overcoat and red woollen tippet.
"What _you_ got?" demanded Elvira, feeling quite elegant and sociable,
and smoothing down the overcoat front with contented fingers.
"Mammy's shawl--for you," said Luke.
"I don't want it," said Elvira, picking at the end of the woollen tippet
with her little finger quirked up elegantly. "Put it on yourself," which
Luke was only too glad to do.
"Where'd you get 'em?" gasped Luke, forgetting in his worry over
Elvira's being out in the cold, any big bundle she might have had in
possession at the time of her departure and laying fearful fingers on
the magnificent coat-sleeve.
"O dear, hee-hee-hee!" Elvira went off into a giggle again. And she
swung her feet smartly back and forth. "Why, see there, Luke Hansell!"
She flapped the coat collar back suddenly. "See there!" she repeated.
"Where?" said Luke, stupidly.
"Why, there, you silly thing, see that paper! 'For Biggest Boy.' I know.
I've spelled it all out."
"Well, I don't see," began Luke, blankly, huddling up in the old shawl
and wishing it was bigger.
"Oh, you, I'd like to shake you, Luke!" cried Elvira, twisting her hands
together nervously; "it's just as bad as it can be to be so stupid. I
_ought_ to shake you."
"You may," said Luke, humbly, who had given that answer many times to
Elvira, but had never yet received the shaking.
"'Twouldn't be any use, you'd be just as stupid," she said with a sigh.
"Well, Matthew's our biggest boy, ain't he?"
"Yes," said Luke, "he is."