TELEMACHUS GOES A-FISHING.
At this point Bubble's narrative was interrupted by the appearance of
Martha, making demand for her peas. Bubble was duly presented to her;
and she beamed on him through her spectacles, and was delighted to see
him, and quite sure he must be very hungry.
"I never thought of that!" cried Hildegarde, remorsefully. "When did you
have breakfast, and have you had anything to eat since?"
Bubble had had breakfast at half-past six, and had had nothing since.
The girls were horrified.
"Come into the kitchen this minute!" said Martha, imperatively. So he
did; and the next minute he was looking upon cold beef and johnny-cake
and apple-pie, and a pile of doughnuts over which he could hardly see
Martha's anxious face as she asked if he thought that would stay him
till dinner. "For boys are boys!" she added, impressively, turning to
Hildegarde; "and girls they are not, nor won't be."
When he had eaten all that even a hungry boy could possibly eat, Bubble
was carried off to be introduced to Miss Wealthy. She, too, was
delighted to see him, and made him more than welcome; and when he spoke
of staying a day or two in the neighborhood, and asked if he could get a
room nearer than the village, she was quite severe with him, forbade him
to mention the subject again, and sent Martha to show him the little
room in the ell, where she said he could be comfortable, and the longer
he stayed the better. It was the neatest, cosiest little room, just big
enough for a boy, the girls said with delight, when they went to inspect
it. The walls were painted bright blue, which had rather a peculiar
effect; but Martha explained that Jeremiah had half a pot of blue paint
left after painting the wheelbarrow and the pails, and thought he might
as well use it up. Apparently the half pot gave out before Jeremiah came
to the chairs, for one of them was yellow, while the other had red legs
and a white seat and back. But the whole effect was very cheerful and
pleasant, and Bubble was enchanted.
The girls left him to wash his face and hands, and brush the roadside
dust from his clothes. As he was plunging his face into the cool,
sparkling water in the blue china basin, he heard a small but decided
voice addressing him; and looking up, became aware of a person in kilts
standing in the doorway and surveying him with manifest disapprobation.
"Hello, young un!" said Bubble, cheerily. "How goes the world with you?"
"Vat basin ain't your basin!" responded the person in kilts, with great
severity.
Bubble looked from him to the basin, and back again, with amused
perplexity. "Oh! it isn't, eh?" he said. "Well, that's a pity, isn't
it?"
"Vis room ain't your room!" continued the new-comer, with increased
sternness; "vis bed ain't your bed! I's ve boy of vis house. Go out of
ve back door! _Go_ 'WAY!"
At the last word Benny stamped his foot, and raised his voice to a roar
which fairly startled his hearer. Bubble regarded him steadfastly for a
moment, and then sat down on the bed and began feeling in his pockets.
"I found something so funny to-day!" he said. "I was walking along the
road--"
"Go out of ve back door!" repeated Benny, in an appalling shout.
"And I came," continued Bubble, in easy, conversational tones,
regardless of the vindictive glare of the blue eyes fixed upon him,--"I
came to a great bed of blue clay. Not a bed like this, you know,"--for
Benny's glare was now intensified by the expression of scorn and
incredulity,--"but just a lot of it in the road and up the side of the
ditch. So I sat down on the bank to rest a little, and I made some
marbles. See!" he drew from his pocket some very respectable marbles,
and dropped them on the quilt, where they rolled about in an enticing
manner. Benny was opening his mouth for another roar; but at sight of
the marbles he shut it again, and put his hand in his kilt pocket
instinctively. But there were no marbles in his pocket.
"Then," Bubble went on, taking apparently no notice of him, "I thought I
would make some other things, because I didn't know but I might meet
some boy who liked things." Benny edged a little nearer the bed, but
spoke no word. "So I made a pear,"--he took the pear out and laid it on
the bed,--"and a hen,"--the hen lay beside the pear,--"and a bee-hive,
and a mouse; only the mouse's tail broke off." He laid the delightful
things all side by side on the bed, and arranged the marbles round them
in a circle. "And look here!" he added, looking up suddenly, as if a
bright idea had struck him; "if you'll let me stay here a bit, I'll give
you all these, and teach you to play ring-taw too! Come now!" His bright
smile, combined with the treasures on the bed, was irresistible. Benny's
mouth quivered; then the corners went up, up, and the next moment he was
sitting on the bed, chuckling over the hen and the marbles, and the two
had known each other for years.
"But look here!" said the person in kilts, breaking off suddenly in an
animated description of the brown crockery cow, "you must carry me about
on your back!"
"Why, of course!" responded Bubble. "What do you suppose I come here
for?"
"And go on all-fours when I want you to!" persisted the small tyrant.
"'Cause Jeremiah has a bone in his leg, and them girls"--oh, black
ingratitude of childhood!--"won't. I don't need you for a pillow, 'cause
I has my sweet old fat kyat for a pillow."
"Naturally!" said Bubble. "But if you should want a bolster any time,
just let me know."
"Because I's ve boy of ve house, you see!" said Benny, in a tone of
relief.
"You are that!" responded Bubble, with great heartiness.
By general consent, the second half of Zerubbabel's narrative was
reserved for the evening, when Miss Wealthy could hear and enjoy it.
Hildegarde and Rose, of course, found out all about their kind friends
at the Farm; and the former looked very grave when she heard that Mr.
and Mrs. Hartley were expecting Rose without fail early in September,
and were counting the days till her return. But she resolutely shook off
all selfish thoughts, and entered heartily into the pleasure of doing
the honors of the place for the new-comer.
Bubble was delighted with everything. It was the prettiest place he had
ever seen. There never was such a garden; there never were such
apple-trees, "except the Red Russet tree at the Farm!" he said. "_That_
tree is hard to beat. 'Member it, Miss Hilda,--great big tree, down by
the barn?"
"Indeed I do!" said Hilda. "Those are the best apples in the world, I
think; and so beautiful,--all golden brown, with the bright scarlet
patch on one cheek. Dear apples! I wish I might have some this fall."
Bubble smiled, knowing that Farmer Hartley was counting upon sending his
best barrel of Russets to his favorite "Huldy;" but preserved a discreet
silence, and they went on down to the boat-house.
When evening came, the group round the parlor-table was a very pleasant
one to see. Miss Wealthy's chair was drawn up near the light, and she
had her best cap on, and her evening knitting, which was something as
soft and white and light as the steam of the tea-kettle. Near her sat
Hildegarde, wearing a gown of soft white woollen stuff, which set off
her clear, fresh beauty well. She was dressing a doll, which she meant
to slip into the next box of flowers that went to the hospital, for a
little girl who was just getting well enough to want "something to
cuddle;" and her lap was full of rainbow fragments of silk and velvet,
the result of Cousin Wealthy's search in one of her numerous piece-bags.
On the other side of the table sat Rose, looking very like her
name-flower in her pale-pink dress; while Bubble, on a stool beside her,
rested his arm on his sister's knee, and looked the very embodiment of
content. A tiny fire was crackling on the hearth, even though it was
still August; for Miss Wealthy thought the evening mist from the river
was dangerous, and dried her air as carefully as she did her linen. Dr.
Johnson was curled on his hassock beside the fire; Benny was safe in
bed.
"And now, Bubble," said Hildegarde, with a little sigh of satisfaction
as she looked around and thought how cosey and pleasant it all was, "now
you shall tell us about your fishing excursion."
"Well," said Bubble, nothing loath, "it was this way, you see. When I
came back from the Farm, leaving Jock there, I found the doctor in his
study, and the whole room full of rods and lines and reels, and all
kinds of truck; and he was playing with the queerest things I ever saw
in my life,--bits of feather and wool, and I don't know what not, with
hooks in them. When he called me to come and look at his flies I was all
up a tree, and didn't know what he was talking about; but he told me
about 'em, and showed me, and then says he, 'I'm going a-fishing,
Bubble, and I'm going to take you, if you want to go.' Well, I didn't
leave much doubt in his mind about _that_. Fishing! Well, _you_ know,
Pinkie, there's nothing like it, after all. So we started next morning,
Doctor and I, and three other fel--I mean gentlemen. Two of 'em was
doctors, and the third was a funny little man, not much bigger'n me. I
wish 't you could ha' seen us start! Truck? Well, I should--say so!
Rods, and baskets, and bait-boxes, and rugs, and pillows, and canned
things, and camp-stools, and tents, and a cooking-stove, and a barrel of
beer, and--"
"How much of this are you making up, young man?" inquired Hildegarde,
calmly; while Miss Wealthy paused in her knitting, and looked over her
spectacles at Bubble in mild amazement.
"Not one word, Miss Hilda!" replied the boy, earnestly. "Sure as you're
sitting there, we did start with all them--_those_ things. Doctor, of
course, knew 't was all nonsense, and he kept telling the others so; but
they was bound to have 'em; and the little man, he wouldn't be separated
from that beer-barrel, not for gold. However, it all turned out right.
We were bound for Tapsco stream, you see; and when we came to the end
of the railroad, we hired a sledge and a yoke of oxen, and started for
the woods. Seven miles the folks there told us it was, but it took us
two whole days to do it; and by the time we got to the stream, the city
chaps, all 'cept Dr. Flower (and he really ain't half a city chap!) were
pretty well tired out, I can tell you. Breaking through the bushes,
stumbling over stumps and stones, and h'isting a loaded sledge over the
worst places, wasn't exactly what they had expected; for none of 'em but
the doctor had been in the woods before. Well, we got to the stream; and
there was the man who was going to be our guide and cook, and all that.
He had two canoes,--a big one and a little one; he was going to paddle
one, and one of us the other. Well, the little man--his name was
Packard--said he'd paddle the small canoe, and take the stove and the
beer-barrel, ''cause they'll need careful handling,' says he. The old
guide looked at him, when he said that, pretty sharp, but he didn't say
nothing; and the rest of us got into the other canoe with the rest of
the truck, after we'd put in his load. We started ahead, and Mr. Packard
came after, paddling as proud as could be, with his barrel in the bow,
and he and the stove in the stern. I wish't you could ha' seen him, Miss
Hilda! I tell you he was a sight, with his chin up in the air, and his
mouth open. Presently we heard him say, 'This position becomes irksome;
I think I will change'--but that was all he had time to say; for before
the guide could holler to him, he had moved, and over he went, boat and
barrel and stove and all. Ha! ha! ha! Oh, _my!_ if that wasn't the most
comical sight--"
"Oh, but, Bubble," cried Hildegarde, hastily, as a quick glance showed
her that Miss Wealthy had turned pale, dropped her knitting, and put
her hand up to the pansy brooch, "he wasn't hurt, was he? Poor little
man!"
"Hurt? not a mite!" responded Bubble. "He come up next minute, puffing
and blowing like a two-ton grampus, and struck out for our canoe. We
were all laughing so we could hardly stir to help him in; but the doctor
hauled him over the side, and then we paddled over and righted his
canoe. He was in a great state of mind! 'You ought to be indicted,' he
says to the guide, 'for having such a canoe as that. It's infamous! it's
atrocious! I--I--I--how dare you, sir, give me such a rickety eggshell
and call it a boat?' Old Marks, the guide, looked at him again, and
didn't say anything for a while, but just kept on paddling. At last he
says, very slow, as he always speaks, 'I--guess--it's all right, Squire.
This is a prohibition State, you know; and that's a prohibition boat,
that's all.' Well, there was some talk about fishing the things up; but
there was no way of doing it, and Dr. Flower said, anyhow, he didn't
come to fish for barrels nor yet for cook-stoves; so we went on, and
there they be--_are_ yet, I suppose. Bimeby we came to Marks's camp,
where we were to stay. It was a bark lean-to, big enough for us all,
with a nice fire burning, and all comfortable. Doctor and I liked it
first-rate; but the city chaps,--they said they must have their tents
up, so we spent a good part of a day getting the things up."
"And were they more comfortable?" asked Rose. "I suppose the gentlemen
were not used to roughing it."
"Humph!" responded Bubble, with sovereign contempt. "Mr. Packard set his
afire, trying to build what he called a scientific fire, and came near
burning himself up, and the rest of us, let alone the whole woods. And
the second night it came on to rain,--my! how it did rain! and the
second tent was wet through, and they were all mighty glad to come into
the lean-to!"
"This seems to have been a severe experience, my lad," said Miss
Wealthy, with gentle sympathy. "I trust that none of the party suffered
in health from all this exposure."
"Oh, no, ma'am!" Bubble hastened to assure her. "It was splendid fun!
splendid! I never had such a good time. I could fish for a year without
stopping, I do believe."
Miss Wealthy's sympathetic look changed to one of mild disapproval, for
she did not like what she called "violent sentiments." "So exaggerated a
statement, my boy," she said gently, "is doubtless not meant to be taken
literally. Fishing, or angling, to use a more elegant word, seems to be
a sport which gives great pleasure to those who pursue it. Dr. Johnson,
it is true, spoke slightingly of it, and described a fishing-rod as a
stick with a hook at one end, and--ahem! he was probably in jest, my
dears--a fool at the other. But Izaak Walton was a meek and devout
person; and my dear father was fond of angling, and--and--others I have
known. Go on, my lad, with your lively description."
Poor Bubble was so abashed by this little dissertation that his
liveliness seemed to have deserted him entirely for the moment. He hung
his head, and looked so piteously at Hildegarde that she was obliged to
take refuge in a fit of coughing, which made Miss Wealthy exclaim
anxiously that she feared she had taken cold.
"Go on, Bubble!" said Hildegarde, as soon as she had recovered herself,
nodding imperatively to him. "How many fish did you catch?"
"Oh, a great many!" replied the boy, rather soberly. "Dr. Flower is a
first-rate fisherman, and he caught a lot every day; and the other two
doctors caught some. But Mr. Packard,"--here his eyes began to twinkle
again, and his voice took on its usual cheerful ring,--"poor Mr.
Packard, he did have hard luck. The first time he threw a fly it caught
in a tree, and got all tangled up, so 't he was an hour and more getting
his line free. Then he thought 't would be better on the other side of
the stream; so he started to cross over, and stepped into a deep hole,
and down he sat with a splash, and one of his rubber boots came off, and
he dropped his rod. Of all the unlucky people I ever saw! I tell you, 't
was enough to make a frog laugh to see him fish! Then, of course, he'd
got the water all riled--"
"All--I beg your pardon?--riled?" asked Miss Wealthy, innocently.
"All muddy!" said Bubble, hastily; "so he couldn't fish there no more
for one while. And just then I happened to come along with a string of
trout--ten of 'em, and perfect beauties!--that I'd caught with a string
and a crooked pin; and that seemed to finish Mr. Packard entirely. Next
day he had rheumatism in his joints, and stayed in camp all day,
watching Marks making snow-shoes. The day after that he tried again, and
fished all the morning, and caught one yellow perch and an eel. The eel
danced right up in his face,--it did, sure as I'm alive, Pink!--and
scairt him so, I'm blessed if he didn't sit down again--ho! ho! ho!--on
a point o' rock, and slid off into the water, and lost his spectacles.
Oh, dear! it don't seem as if it could be true; but it is, every word.
The next day he went home. _He_'ll never go a-fishing again."
"Poor man! I should think not!" said Rose, compassionately. "But is Dr.
Flower--are all the others still there?"
"Gone home!" said Bubble. "We came out of the woods three days ago, and
took the train yesterday. I never thought of such a thing as stopping;
supposed I must go right back to work. But when the brakeman sung out,
'Next station Bywood!' Doctor just says quietly, 'Get your bag ready,
Bubble! You're going to get out at this station.' And when I looked at
him, all struck of a heap, as you may say, he says, 'Shut your mouth!
you look really better with it shut. There is a patient of mine staying
at this place, Miss Chirk by name. I want you to look her up, make
inquiries into her case, and if you can get lodgings in the
neighborhood, stay till she is ready to be escorted back to New York. It
is all arranged, and I have a boy engaged to take your place for two
weeks. Now, then! do not leave umbrellas or packages in the train!
Good-by!' And there we were at the station; and he just shook hands, and
dropped me off on the platform, and off they went again. Isn't he a good
man? I tell you, if they was all like him, there wouldn't be no trouble
in the world for anybody." And Rose thought so too!