_How Opal Feels the Heat of the Sun, and Decorates a Goodly Number
of the White Poker-Chips of the Chore Boy._
To-day I did n’t get to finish the exploration trip over the river,
because just as I was starting around the house-corner, after I did
do my morning work early, the mamma grabbed me. She did tie me to
the wood-shed corner with a piece of clothes-line. So we could n’t
play together, she did tie to another corner that very wise crow
Lars Porsena of Clusium. To the corner beyond the next corner, to
the corner that was the most longways off, she did tie him. But we
played peek-a-boo around the middle corner. I’d lean just as far over
as I could with the rope a-pulling back my arms. Real quick, I’d
stretch my neck and peek and nod to Lars Porsena of Clusium. Then he
of Clusium would flutter and say, “How-do-you-do,” in squeaky crow
tones.
The day was growing warm. When it grew awful hot my arms did have
feelings too sore to lean over any more. I sat down by the wood-shed
wall and I did watch the passers-by. First went along Clementine,
the Plymouth Rock hen. Then along stepped Napoleon, the Rhode Island
red rooster. By-and-by I did hear Solomon Grundy squealing in the
pig-pen. Then a butterfly did rest on the handle of the pump where
I did have longings to be. The wee mother hummingbird never left her
nest on the lower oak limb. I could see her bill. I did have hopes
Brave Horatius would come marching by. I called and I did hear his
whine afar off. Then I knew he was tied up too.
Another Plymouth Rock hen came walking by. Over in the shade by the
old root was a _canard_. He did have a sleepy look. And I did have a
sleepy feel. I looked a short look at the sky. A _merle_ was flying
over. I looked looks a-far off when I did look near. The old black
cat sat on the doorstep. He had a saucer of milk, and then he did
wash his face. I would have been partly glad if he did come over to
see me. But I have n’t made up with him since he did catch the baby
robin. I forgot the cat when a snake did crawl around the stump, one
with stripes on it. I did have thinks it might at least have come
nearer, that I might count the stripes on its back. But it did go
under the house. A grasshopper came hopping along. I stuck out my
foot and he did hop over it. Through the slats of the chicken-coop
I could see the mother hen with her young ducklings. I did have
longings to cuddle them in my apron and I did want to take them down
to the brook. I was having very sad feels.
The sun got hotter and hotter. And pretty soon I did have queer feels
in the head and the middle. Then my nose did begin to bleed. I felt
all choked up and sticky. And every time I gave my head a shake to
get a good breath, my curls did get mixed up with the nose-bleed.
Pretty soon the mamma passing by did see my apron with blood upon
it and she untied me. After she did souse me in the tub under the
pump I felt better. My arms did tingle where the rope was tied.
After that I went to bed, and near suppertime the mamma did call me
to wash the stockings of the baby and the stockings of the other
little girl. I had needs to climb upon a stump to hang the stockings
out to dry. Then I set the table. While I was carrying in the wood, I
did crawl under the house to find the snake with the stripes on his
back; but he was n’t there, so I don’t know how many stripes he did
have on his back. When the wood was all stacked up in the wood-box
and the kindling under the stove, the mamma did say I might take the
ducklings to the brook. That did make me very happy. All the way to
the brook I did sing, “Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus, Dominus Deus, Te
Deum laudamus.”
* * * * *
There was _rosée_ on the verdure everywhere this morning, and the
sunbeams made all the drops to shine. And there was glory and
gladness everywhere. When I did look upon it, I did have thinks to
go explores down along Nonette and into the forêt de Chantilly. But
the mamma had not thinks like my thinks. She did tell me of the many
works she did have for me to do, and I did go to do them. But as I
did go about to do them, I did have thinks about the appears with
rosée on them of the things that grow where Nonette flows.
After the morning works was done, the mamma did have me to mind the
baby while she was making it a dress. While I did mind the baby
and while the mamma was making a dress for the baby, I made out of
the piece what was left a christening robe. I made it for a young
rooster. It is n’t the first one I have made for him. But all the
others he has got too big to wear, and I have n’t been able to catch
him yet.
A little time before I did eat my bowl of bread and milk--it was a
little time before noontime--the mamma did take the little girl and
the baby and the dress she was making for the baby, and they all
did go to the house of her mother. She did have me to help her to
take them, and when they were come to the door of the house of her
mother, I did come again home.
When I did eat my bowl of bread and milk, I did have thinks I would
make portraits of the folks in the pasture and pig-pen this afternoon.
I did have decides to begin their portraits, and afterwards on other
days I will do more works on them. I did make ready to go. I put
more wood in the wood-box so it would be full when the mamma came
home. Then I put four white poker-chips in my apron pocket--one is
for the portrait of the gentle Jersey cow. I will have to draw her
head in a small way, so the horns can go in the picture too. I
have thinks that the people who made poker-chips ought to have made
them with more bigness, so there would be more room to put horns on
the cows’ pictures that one does draw on poker-chips. One of the
other three poker-chips I did put into my apron pocket is to draw
Aphrodite’s portrait on. And one of them is to draw Elizabeth Barrett
Browning’s picture on. And one is for someone else that does live
in the pasture. Now I go.
When I did get these pictures made, I did take them to a log in
the near woods that has got a hollow place in it. There is room in
this log for me to take naps in on rainy days, and in this log I do
keep the white poker-chips with pictures on them. In this log I do
have a goodly number of white poker-chips in rows, with portraits
on them of the animal folks that do dwell here about. All my chums’
pictures are there. There are five of Mathilde Plantagenet on three
poker-chips. And there are seven of William Shakespeare that I did
draw in _automne_ and _hiver_ time. And, too, there are six of dear
Peter Paul Rubens that was.
And now four more portraits did go in the rows to-day. There are nine
more white poker-chips in a little pile under the root of a stump
close by the old log. These nine white poker-chips are waiting waits
to have portraits made on them. When I do get portraits made on most
all the white poker-chips I do have, then one of the logging men at
the mill by the far woods does give me more white poker-chips to
draw more pictures of Aphrodite and Elizabeth Barrett Browning and
all of us on.
The chore boy does have objects to my drawing pictures on his
poker-chips that he does hide in the barn. It was one day when I was
walking around exploring in the barn and singing songs to William
Shakespeare and the gentle Jersey cow--on that day, and then I did
find the poker-chips of the chore boy where he did hide them away. I
had not knows whose they were, but the white ones all did lay there
in a heap having askings for pictures to be drawn on them. So I did
take some of them and I did make portraits of Thomas Chatterton
Jupiter Zeus, and Louis II, le Grand Condé, and Brave Horatius.
Then I did put them back in their places again. The day that was
after that, I did take some more and I did make portraits on them.
On them I did make portraits of Lars Porsena of Clusium and Lucian
Horace Ovid Virgil and Nannerl Mozart and Felix Mendelssohn. Then
I did carry them back to their place in the barn. They did look
satisfaction looks there in that corner with portraits on them.
Then next day, when I was going down our lane by the barn, the chore
boy did come by the gate. When I came through, he did give my curls
a pull. He did say in a cross way, “What for did you mark up my nice
poker-chips with your old pictures?” Then I did have knows they were
his poker-chips there in the barn. I did tell him the white ones
had wants to have portraits on them and it was to give them what
they had wants for. I told him he better draw pictures on what white
ones was left that did not have pictures on. I had thinks they would
be lonesome.
But the chore boy did not have thinks like my thinks. He said he
had more knows what poker-chips want than I have thinks. He says
poker-chips want to be on a table in a game with men. I have thinks
he has not knows what he is talking about. I have knows white
poker-chips do have wants for portraits to be drawn on them--portraits
of Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus and Brave Horatius and Lars Porsena
of Clusium and all the rest.
After I did put the four new portraits in the old log, I did follow
a path that leads to a path that leads to a path that goes to the
house of Elsie. I so went because I did have a little longing to
rock again the baby’s cradle. Elsie was making for her young husband
a whipped-cream cake. He has such a fondness for them. And she does
make them for him as often as there is cream enough. She was stirring
things together in the most big yellow bowl. She did stir them in
a quick way.
While she so did, the baby did have a wake-up. She said I might rock
it in its cradle. I went in a quick way to do so. I did give its
cradle little touches on its corner with my fingers, and it did rock
in a gentle way. As the cradle so did rock back and forth in that
gentle way, I did sing to the dear baby in it a little song. I did
sing to it _le chant de fleurs_ that Angel Father did teach me to
sing of _hyacinthe, éclaire, nenufar, rose, iris et dauphinelle et
oléandre et romarin, lis, eglantier, anemone, narcisse et souci_. I
did sing it four times over, and the baby did go to sleeps again.
I do so love to watch it in its cradle.
Afterwards I went to look for thoughts. Every day now I do look
for thoughts in flowers. Some times they are hidden away in the
flower-bell--and sometimes I find them on a wild rose--and sometimes
they are among the ferns--and sometimes I climb away up in the trees
to look looks for them. So many thoughts do abide near unto us.
They come from heaven and live among the flowers and the ferns, and
often I find them in the trees. I do so love to go on searches for
the thoughts that do dwell near about.