MAMIE’S REPENTANCE.
Mamie went sneaking past them to the house and went into the kitchen
where her mother was at work.
“Oh, ma!” she cried. “The girls has been in the barnyard where that
cross cow is, ’n’ Cricket got knocked over the fence, and Eunice is most
killed I guess, ’n’ I don’t b’lieve she kin walk home.”
“Got hooked! Law ful suz! You don’t say so!” and ’Manda hurriedly wiped
her hands and ran out to the lane. The barn was not far from the house,
but the kitchen was on the further side, so she had not noticed the
children’s screams.
She ran to meet the girls and caught Eunice up in her strong arms. “You
poor little dear,” she exclaimed. “I’ll carry you right along myself.
Here, Cricket, you hang on to me too;” for Cricket was limping by this
time, with her knee aching more every minute.
’Manda was very comforting, for she was too used to the children’s
mishaps even to ask how things had happened. “Come in and rest a spell,”
she coaxed, “and let me put some hot water on your head, poor dear.”
“I want to go home,” repeated Eunice, still half-crying.
“Well, so you shall, an’ I’ll carry you right up there, myself. ’Course
yer ma’s yer best friend when you’re hurt. Hi! there goes the doctor
now! Hi! Hi!”
Dr. Ward, returning from his call, drew up his horse as he crossed the
little bridge at the sound of the cry.
“Suthin’ happened, just the same as usual, doctor,” ’Manda said, as the
party came up, with Mamie well in the rear.
The doctor sprang out of his buggy, looking rather anxious. There were
certainly drawbacks to having a pair of romps for daughters.
He hastily took Eunice in his arms.
“What is the matter, dear. Did you fall?”
“Not—not exactly,” said Eunice. “I don’t know exactly what happened, but
somehow Cricket flew over the fence, and fell on top of me, and—and I
think my head knocked into a stone, and my back hurts too.”
“Flew over the fence? What do you mean?”
“That old cow hooked me over,” flashed out Cricket. “We were see-sawing,
just peaceably, and the old thing came up behind me and boosted me right
over the fence, and ’course I fell on Eunice pretty hard, and we got all
mixed up with the end of the boards and some stones. Eunice is more hurt
than I am, though.”
“The _cow_,” said the doctor, looking suddenly stern. “Did you go into
the barnyard?”
“Yes, sir, we always do, you know.”
“Didn’t you get my message?”
“Yes—but—well, I didn’t really believe Mamie, ’cause she didn’t say
why,” burst out Cricket, after a moment’s hesitation. “And we always go
in the barns whenever we wish, and ’Gustus John never says a word. And
oh, dear! I do feel as if the socket was pulled out of my arm.” And
Cricket, between excitement and pain, burst out crying.
Her father had gathered enough from her story to feel sure that there
had been no real disobedience, and seeing the children’s nervousness and
pain, he put them both into the buggy, and as speedily as possible gave
them over into the care of mamma and nurse.
It was several days before Eunice was herself again, for she had really
had a hard blow both on the back and head, and for two days she was
actually willing to remain in bed. She really very seldom met with
accidents, for she was not by nature nearly so much of a romp as her
younger sister, and was far less rash and heedless.
Cricket was as chirpy as ever the next day. Her knee was bound up and
she hobbled about, rather enjoying the attention she received. Her left
arm was somewhat stiff and lame, for she had hit her left side with
considerable force as she landed, although her striking Eunice had
somewhat broken her fall.
The whole story had come out, and, as usual, Cricket had to undergo a
fire of teasing.
“A girl with the sockets pulled out of her arms ought to go to the Dime
Museum,” laughed papa, as they all sat on the piazza that evening after
supper. “She’s a natural curiosity.”
“If I’m a natural curiosity, then I wish I were an unnatural one. I
don’t think I’m nice a bit,” said Cricket, candidly. “Things never
happen to Eunice and Hilda, if I’m not along. Just think, if I hadn’t
hit Eunice she wouldn’t have been hurt a bit,” for Cricket took her
sister’s injuries very much to heart.
“You always have such romantic accidents,” teased Donald. “Think how
thrilling it is to be run away with by a raging span of oxen, and fancy
the excitement of being tossed by the cow with a crumpled horn!”
“I really should think you wouldn’t care to look a piece of beef in the
face,” laughed Will.
“Plant Cricket and what would she come up,” asked Archie, and Cricket
herself answered, quickly,—
“Cow-slip. That’s good. Ask another one.”
“Can’t; you’re too bright.”
“I’d have given a sixpence to see Mamie Hecker dangling on that hook,”
said Will. “Little imp!”
“It wasn’t very funny to fish her up,” said Cricket, seriously, “for it
_did_ pull the sockets out of my arm. Why isn’t that right to say,
papa!”
“Because your arms are put in the sockets, my dear, not the sockets in
your arms.”
“Oh! well, I hope it will teach Mamie a lesson; and the next time she
has a message to give, I hope she’ll give it.”
“What do you think!” exclaimed Marjorie. “Here’s Mamie Hecker coming up
the avenue now.”
Sure enough, there was Mamie in her stiffly-starched best white dress,
and her Sunday hat on her head, coming very slowly up towards the house.
This was very unusual, for Mamie knew her bounds. The family watched her
with interest to see what she meant to do.
Cricket slipped hastily behind mamma. “I don’t want to see her,” she
said, impatiently.
Mamie came awkwardly to the foot of the steps.
“Is Cricket here?” she asked, with a very unusual shyness in her manner,
which was partly due to the fact that she had on her best clothes on a
week-day.
Cricket came unwillingly forward in obedience to mamma’s touch.
“I want to speak to you,” Mamie said, still shyly.
Cricket came slowly down the steps, half expecting some trick, since she
knew Mamie’s ways so well. But the child was in earnest this time. She
stood uneasily, first on one foot and then on the other, not quite
knowing how to say what she wanted to.
“See here,” she burst out, at length. “I’ve brought you those,” holding
out a brown paper bag. “Ma said I might. I bought ’em with the five
cents that the minister give me. An’—an’—I’m awful sorry I didn’t tell
you ’bout the cow right straight off,—an’—I’m not goin’ to tag you any
more.”
Cricket took the bag that the child held toward her.
“Why, Mamie, you shouldn’t have spent your five cents for me,” began
Cricket, shy in her turn, and hardly knowing what to say. “But it’s very
good of you.”
“I told my ma ’n’ pa ’bout my not telling you, and they was awful took
back. Pa said you might have been killed. An’ then you went and pulled
me up with that lame arm of yourn,” Mamie went on, in a lower tone,
putting out one finger to touch Cricket’s left arm, of which the fingers
were still a little stiff and swollen. “I ain’t forgot that. I’m a-goin’
to be gooder all the time, now,” and here Mamie, quite overcome by her
feelings, gave the brown paper bag in Cricket’s hand, a final pat, and,
turning around, scampered away to the gates as fast as her feet could
carry her.
“Well, I say!” Donald exclaimed, as Cricket, still looking very much
amazed, came up the steps. “I should call that a case of clear
repentance. Real article.”
“I’ve hopes of Mamie, now,” said Marjorie.
“That certainly is very touching,” said mamma, gently.
“Cricket, you fished to some purpose when you brought up Mamie from the
depths,” added Will.
“Whatever has she brought as a peace-offering?” asked Archie, curiously.
Cricket opened the bag and displayed five chocolate mice.
“If they were only cows, now,” shouted Will.