[Illustration]
LITTLE SALLY WATERS
[Illustration: THE MERMAID (_page 60_)]
Little Sally Waters
BY
ETHEL CALVERT PHILLIPS
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
EDITH F. BUTLER
[Illustration]
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
The Riverside Press Cambridge
1926
COPYRIGHT, 1926, BY ETHEL CALVERT PHILLIPS
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
The Riverside Press
CAMBRIDGE · MASSACHUSETTS
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.
[Illustration]
CONTENTS
I. SALLY’S GARDEN PARTY 1
II. WHAT HAPPENED TO TILLY MAUD 15
III. JOLLY JACK TAR 29
IV. TIPPY GOES VISITING 40
V. ANDY AND THE MERMAID 51
VI. MUD PIES 62
VII. A PRESENT FOR AUNT BEE 75
VIII. WHAT THE TIDE BROUGHT IN 85
IX. THE PERIWINKLE FAMILY 98
X. THE PINK-AND-WHITE APRON 109
XI. LITTLE RED RIDINGHOOD’S SISTER 121
XII. SIX BROWN MICE 135
ILLUSTRATIONS
THE MERMAID _Frontispiece_
JACK TAR 32
AFTER THE MUD PIES 72
LITTLE RED RIDINGHOOD’S SISTER 132
Drawn by Edith F. Butler
Little Sally Waters
∵
CHAPTER I
SALLY’S GARDEN PARTY
Once upon a time, and not so long ago, there lived a little girl named
Sally Waters.
She was a merry, laughing little girl, with a lively twinkle in her
bright blue eyes, a neat pair of dimples--one in each red cheek--and
the sauciest little nose that has ever been seen.
Indeed, sometimes her father called her ‘Saucy Sally.’ But that was
only his way of saying that he loved her better than any one else in
the world, except, of course, Sally’s mother.
One bright summer morning Sally sat out on her doorstep in the sun.
At her feet, half asleep, lay Buff, Sally’s plump, yellow pussy-cat.
Beside her sat Tippy, her little brown dog, his ears cocked, his nose
in the air.
But this morning Sally was not smiling. She looked so sober that Tippy
watched her carefully with his shining brown eyes. She looked so very
sober that Tippy was almost afraid that Sally was going to cry.
What ailed little Sally Waters, who was usually so merry and full of
fun?
The truth is, Sally felt lonely. Not five minutes ago she had waved
good-bye to Father and Mother as they started off for a day in the
city. And as Sally remembered what a long, long day this was sure to be
before she saw Father and Mother again, it really did seem as if Sally
were going to cry.
She quite forgot that she was to spend the day with Aunt Bee just next
door. She quite forgot that Father had promised to bring her a present
from the city. She quite forgot that she had whispered to Mother, with
her very last hug, that she would be as good as gold all day long.
All Sally remembered was that Father and Mother had left her. And a
big round tear had squeezed itself from the corner of each eye and was
actually rolling down her cheek when Tippy sprang up in the air with
such a sudden, such a comical sneeze that Sally laughed out loud. Buff
opened his sleepy eyes with a look of surprise that made Sally laugh
again, while Tippy, seeing Sally’s smiling face, jumped up and down on
the doorstep, barking merrily the while.
After her laugh Sally felt better, much better.
‘We must go straight to Aunt Bee’s, Tippy,’ said she, drying her cheeks
with the hem of her frock. ‘She will be watching for you and me, I
expect. Good-bye, Buff. Take good care of the house, unless you would
like to come with us, too,’ she added politely.
Sally knew that Buff usually chose to stay at home alone. So she was
not at all surprised to see her pussy settle himself in a sunny spot
and prepare to take a comfortable morning nap.
‘Good-bye, Buff,’ said she again. ‘Be a good pussy.’
And with a farewell pat, she and Tippy were off.
Sally might have gone to Aunt Bee’s through the garden and over the
hedge. But instead she and Tippy walked down her front path and up Aunt
Bee’s just as if she were real company come to spend the day.
As Sally had said, there was Aunt Bee waiting for them in the doorway.
‘Come in, Sally,’ she began briskly, ‘and help me make a cake. Tippy
may stay out in the garden and chase the butterflies.’
‘Will you really let me help?’ asked Sally, smiling at the very thought
and holding fast to Aunt Bee’s hand on their way out to the kitchen.
‘What can I do to help, Aunt Bee?’
‘You can beat eggs, and butter pans, and watch,’ was Aunt Bee’s answer,
as she fastened an apron on Sally that reached from her neck to her
heels.
So first of all, Sally buttered pans with might and main. Then she spun
Aunt Bee’s little egg-beater round and round and round until her bowl
of eggs was as white and frothy as cream.
‘Better than I could do it myself, Sally,’ said Aunt Bee with a smile.
Last of all she watched Aunt Bee mix the batter, and pour it into
the pans, and shut it in the oven. She watched her make the icing,
chocolate icing, too.
Then Sally stopped watching because she was scraping, scraping the
bowls and eating what she scraped. She ate a whole spoonful of cake
batter and more than a spoonful of icing.
‘You have scraped the bowls so clean I am afraid you won’t be able to
eat your luncheon,’ said Aunt Bee.
But that was not true. Sally did eat her luncheon, running out to the
pantry only twice to see whether the icing on the cake had grown quite
hard.
For the cake was to be used at a party later that afternoon.
‘We will carry a little table out into the garden, Sally, under the
black-cherry tree,’ said Aunt Bee. ‘You would like that better than
going down to the rocks this afternoon, wouldn’t you?’
Sally, you must know, lived by the sea, and almost every day went
down to play on the rocky shore. A garden party would be much more of
a treat, and Sally said so, with her arms about Aunt Bee’s neck in a
tight, tight squeeze.
‘I thought you would like a party,’ said wise Aunt Bee. ‘You shall set
the table with the dishes I had when I was a little girl, and then you
and I will sit down like ladies at tea and have the party.’
Sally pressed her hands together hard and smiled all over her round
little face.
‘This is the very nicest time I have had since--since Christmas,’ said
Sally with a gay little hop. ‘I think you are just as good as Santa
Claus, Aunt Bee.’
Then Sally had a thought.
‘Won’t Tippy have any of the party?’ asked Sally.
‘Tippy? He shall have a bone,’ was Aunt Bee’s answer. ‘That is the kind
of a party he will like, you know.’
So Sally went into the garden to tell Tippy all about the party. And as
Tippy was still chasing butterflies, Sally in turn chased Tippy round
and round, in and out the garden beds, until at last she and Tippy
could run no more and sat themselves down on the doorstep to cool off
and rest.
Now the street upon which both Sally and Aunt Bee lived was a narrow
street, a narrow, crooked little street that ran downhill to the sea
with many a twist and turn. And across the way from Aunt Bee and Sally
there stood a little house on the slope of the hill in which lived
their friend Miss Neppy Lee.
Miss Neppy was a little old lady who lived all alone, with not even a
cat or a dog to keep her company. But early every summer Miss Neppy
put a sign in her front window, a card that read ‘Rooms,’ and every
summer Miss Neppy had a paying guest or two who stayed until the
flowers had gone and the wind grew cold and autumn and winter were
close at hand.
Sally was always interested in Miss Neppy’s ‘Roomers,’ as they were
called. Very often the ‘Roomer’ would be a tall young man or a pretty
young lady who, every day, with paint box and easel, would go down to
the rocks at the end of Sally’s street to paint pictures of the sea.
They usually nodded and waved their hands at the little girl over the
way who smiled at them from her doorstep in such friendly fashion.
‘Roomers’ seemed pleasant people to Sally, and she wished with all her
heart that Mother and Aunt Bee would put signs in their front windows
and take ‘Roomers,’ too.
Now, as Sally sat in Aunt Bee’s doorway, she glanced over at Miss
Neppy’s window, where last night the sign ‘Rooms’ had gleamed in all
its black and white. And in a twinkling, Sally saw that the sign
‘Rooms’ was gone. Even more, as she looked, she saw Miss Neppy’s front
door open and a little girl slip out and seat herself on the doorstone.
She was a small girl, not quite so tall as Sally. Her eyes were brown,
a gentle brown, while Sally’s were bright and blue. Her brown hair
curled softly about her face, not at all like Sally’s yellow mop that
had to be brushed and brushed before it would even think of lying down.
The little girl looked over at Sally and Sally looked over at the
little girl. Then Sally smiled and the little girl smiled back. Next
Sally waved her hand, and after waiting a moment as if to make sure
that Sally meant her, the little girl waved her hand, too.
Aunt Bee came round the corner of the house and Sally sprang off the
doorstep to meet her.
‘Aunt Bee,’ whispered Sally in a loud voice, ‘look over there. See
that little girl on Miss Neppy’s doorstep!’
Aunt Bee looked over at the strange little girl who was watching every
motion Sally made.
‘She must have come to Miss Neppy’s last night or this morning,’ said
Aunt Bee. ‘She looks as if she were about your age, Sally.’
Sally was silent for a moment. Then she caught her aunt’s hand in a
sudden squeeze.
‘Aunt Bee, oh, Aunt Bee!’ exclaimed Sally. ‘_Do_ you think that little
girl could come to our party?’
‘Why, I think so,’ said Aunt Bee, laughing at Sally’s eager face. ‘I
will go over and speak to Miss Neppy about it.’
So over the way stepped kind Aunt Bee, and back she came, in a moment
or two, leading the strange little girl by the hand.
‘Sally, this is Alice, Alice Burr,’ said Aunt Bee, ‘and she has come
with her mother to spend the summer here at Miss Neppy’s house. Now if
you little girls will set the table, I will bring out the refreshments
for our party.’
The two little girls soon made friends as they spread the cloth over
the low table set in the cool shade of the black-cherry tree.
‘Don’t you think my Aunt Bee’s dishes are beautiful?’ asked Sally,
setting out cups and saucers in a series of gentle thumps.
Alice was putting round the plates, but she stopped to admire the gay
pink-and-white china with her head tilted on one side.
‘It is the prettiest set I have ever seen,’ said she earnestly. ‘I
always like pink flowers best of all.’
‘Now Tippy must have his bone,’ said Sally, when the table was set and
they were ready to sit down. ‘And I think I will run home for Buff and
bring him over to have a saucer of milk. It is too bad he should miss
the party just because he is not very sociable.’
So Buff was coaxed through the hedge to join the party, and Tippy was
placed the other side of the tree to gnaw his bone. The cake was cut
and passed about. Milk was poured from a tall amber pitcher into the
delicate pink-and-white cups. And Sally and Alice and Aunt Bee smiled
at one another as they said over and over again what a pleasant party
they were having under the black-cherry tree.
‘It won’t take us a moment to clear away,’ said Aunt Bee, when the
pitcher was empty and the cake half gone. ‘I think, Sally, that you and
Alice will have time to play in the garden.’
And so they did.
First Sally showed Alice all about Aunt Bee’s garden, and then they
squeezed through the hedge into Sally’s yard.
‘Here is the robin’s nest up in the maple tree,’ cried Sally, pointing
up among the leafy green boughs. ‘Can you see, Alice? Can you see the
birds in the nest? And here on the edge of the path is the hole where
the old toad lives. He comes out for a walk every night when the sun
goes down. And here is my swing, Alice. Do you like to swing?’
Yes, Alice liked to swing.
And it was while they were playing happily together that Sally heard
Aunt Bee’s voice calling,
‘Sally! Sally! Here come Mother and Father up the street!’
Sally could scarcely believe it. It seemed such a short time ago that
she had watched them out of sight on their way to the city. How quickly
the long, long day had passed!
‘I was good, Mother,’ called Sally, dancing up and down and then
running forward to fling her arms about Mother’s neck. ‘I was as good
as gold. Did you bring me a present, Father? The present you promised
you would?’
Of course Father had brought Sally her present, a pretty, white wooden
dove, whose wings flapped merrily to and fro in the wind.
Father fastened him outside the window in Sally’s room where the breeze
from the sea blew all day long.
When bedtime came Sally went to the window for a last peep at her
little white dove, and there across the way in Miss Neppy’s window
stood Alice, in her nightgown, too, ready like Sally to creep into her
little white bed.
‘Good-night, Alice,’ called Sally across the narrow street. ‘Come and
play with me to-morrow, with my bird and dolls and everything.’
‘Mother,’ said Sally solemnly, as she turned away from the window, ‘I
don’t know what I would do if Alice hadn’t come to stay at Miss Neppy’s
this summer.’