A STRANGE VISIT.
The same warfare of words continued to come up from the kitchen, and
presently the odor of sausages stole up, too; Mrs. Rosenberg was
preparing supper. It seemed to the impatient Dotty that she was a long
while about it; but she worked as fast as she could, with so many
children clinging to her skirts, and impeding her movements.
"Supper, Mandoline!" called she at last, in a shrill voice; and the
little girls went down.
The supper was palatable enough, but very unwholesome, and the
table-cloth was dirty and wrinkled.
"You don't seem to like my cooking," said Mrs. Rosenberg, with a
displeased glance at Dotty's full plate.
"Yes'm," replied the little guest, faintly; "but I've eaten up my
appetite."
At the same time she swallowed a little oily gravy in desperation, and
looked slyly to see if Solly was watching her. Yes, he was, and so were
all the rest of the family, as if she had been a peculiar kind of animal,
just caught and caged.
"I suppose they are dreadful nice folks at your house," continued Mrs.
Rosenberg. "I almost wonder your mother let you come here to play with my
poor little girl. Mandy's just as good as you are, though,--you can tell
her so,--and she's got a sight prettier eyes."
Dotty's heart kept swelling and swelling, till presently it seemed as if
there wasn't room enough in her whole body to hold it. She thought of
the cheerful, orderly tea-table at home; she recalled her mother's gentle
ways, her lovely face, and longed to kiss her cheek, and whisper,
"Forgive me."
"Mamma'll be just as patient with me," thought Dotty; "she always is! But
if I once get home, I'll never make her patient any more. I'll never run
away again; not unless she _asks_ me to--I won't."
The children, as fast as they finished their suppers, jumped up and ran
away from the table--all but Solly, who had some faint idea that it was
not polite to do so before company. He was a natural gentleman; and it
was unfortunate that just at this time his mother was obliged to send
him to Munjoy of an errand. Otherwise he would have made his sister give
up Dotty's hat, and perhaps would have walked home with the unhappy
child himself.
As it was, Dotty did not seem to have a friend in the world. It was now
so dark that she hardly dared look out of doors; but even in the
brightest daylight she could not have found her way home.
"You've got to stay all night," said Mandoline. "Isn't that splendid?"
Mandoline did not mean to be cruel. She had observed that her mother
urged her own guests to stay, and sometimes kept them almost by force.
This she supposed was true politeness. More than that, she was anxious,
for private reasons, to hold Dotty, so she might not have to knit so
much. She knew, too, that her mother was proud to have such a well-bred
little girl in the house. So she would not give up Dotty's hat.
At eight o'clock, Dotty went to bed with Mandoline in the unfinished
chamber, sorely against her will; and Mandoline told her such dreadful
stories that she could not close her eyes for fright.
"This is the queerest house I was ever in," thought she, "and the
queerest bed. I s'pose it's made of pin-feathers, for they stick into
me awfully."
The bed was on the floor, and was founded upon woolsacks and buffalo
skins. The sleeping arrangements in this house were somewhat peculiar.
Mrs. Rosenberg was like the old woman in the shoe, and she stowed her
numerous family away for the night in as little space as possible. For
instance, the four youngest children slept together in one trundle-bed,
two at the top and two at the bottom, their feet coming together in the
middle. But Mandoline had left the trundle bed, and was lying on the
floor with her guest. The companion the trundle-bed--little Kosina--was
quite indignant at being deserted, and made a loud outcry, in the hope of
attracting her mother's attention.
"I don't want to sleep alone!" said she; "I don't want to sleep
_alo-o-one!_"
At another time Dotty would have laughed heartily. It was so absurd for a
child to be lonesome when there were three in the bed! But Dotty was too
low-spirited even to smile. Mrs. Rosenberg came up and boxed Rosina's
ears; and after that the trundle-bed subsided.
At last, when Dotty supposed it must be midnight, though it was only
nine o'clock, there came a loud knocking at the side door. She hid her
face under the coverlet, feeling sure it was either a wild Indian or a
highway robber.
"Don't be afraid," said Mandoline, rousing herself. "It is somebody
after beer, and mother has locked up the store."
No, it was Mr. Parlin's voice which spoke. Dotty's swollen heart gave a
great bound, and then sank heavier than ever.
"My little daughter Alice has run away." That was what he said. "Is she
in your house, Mrs. Rosenberg?"
"Yes," replied Mrs. Rosenberg, "I expect its likely she is; but she and
my Mandoline's been abed and asleep two hours."
"O, papa, I'm wide awake!" cried little Dotty, with an eager shriek,
which pierced the rafters.
"Good night, then," said Mr. Parlin, coldly.
"O, but, papa, I want to go home. What did my mamma say about me?"
"She said she had sent you of an errand. When you have finished your
errand, you may come home. Good night."
"O, NOT good night!" screamed Dotty, almost falling down stairs in her
haste, and fastening her dress as she ran. "It was 'cause Lina hid my
hat; and that was why--"
"By the way," said Mr. Parlin, without paying the slightest attention to
his half-frantic little daughter, who was clinging to his knees, and
pleading with her whole soul, "Mrs. Rosenberg, I'm sorry to trouble you,
but if you will be kind enough to keep this little runaway girl till I
send for her, I shall be very much obliged."
"O, certainly, Mr. Parlin; certainly, sir," replied the Jewess, smiling
very sweetly, and trying to pat Dotty's head, which was in such violent
motion that she only succeeded in touching the end of her nose. No one
who had looked at Mrs. Rosenberg at that moment would have suspected her
of being a vixen. She was sure Mr. Parlin would pay her handsomely if she
kept his daughter there for a day or two; and the prospect of a little
money always made the poor woman very amiable.
"Thank you, madam," said Mr. Parlin, gently disengaging himself from
Dotty. "When you are tired of my little daughter, will you please let me
know? Goodnight, Mrs. Rosenberg; good-night, Alice."
And, before Dotty had time to scream again, he was gone.
For a moment she stood quite still, gazing at the door-latch; then rushed
out into the darkness, calling, "Papa, papa!" But Mrs. Rosenberg laid her
strong hands upon her, and brought her back.
"So your mother didn't say you might come? I thought it was queer. Hush!
hush! Don't go into fits, child. There are no bears in this house, and
nothing will hurt you."
Mrs. Rosenberg's manner was much kinder than it had been before; and with
a child's quick insight, Dotty perceived that her father's coming had
wrought the change.
"I want to go home! I want to go home!" cried she, with another
passionate outburst. "O, take me--do! They won't send for me, never! Take
me, and I'll give you--O, Mrs. Rosenberg, I'll give you--"
For a little while there was quite a scene at the little grocery, and it
repented Mandoline that she had ever hidden Dotty's hat. The trundle-bed
waked up at both ends and screamed; the black and tan dog, who slept
under the counter in the store, barked lustily; the parrot in the blue
cage called out, "Quit that! quit that!" and Mrs. Rosenberg was afraid a
policeman would come in to inquire the cause of the uproar. She pattered
about in a pair of her husband's cotton-velvet slippers, and tucked all
her little ones into bed again, very much as if they had been clothes in
a boiler, which she was forcing down with a stick. She was a woman who
would be obeyed; and Dotty, finding it of no use to hold out against
fate, went up stairs at last, and lay down beside Mandoline on the
"pin-feathers."
This stolen visit had turned out quite, quite different from her
anticipations. Instead of a delightful supper of some mysterious Jewish
cookery, she had been drinking gall and wormwood. That Lina would not
let her go--THAT was the gall; that her father made her stay--THIS was
the wormwood.
"She is a tough piece," sighed Mrs. Rosenberg, as she laid her weary
limbs to repose; "I didn't know, one while, but she'd get away in spite
of me. I wonder what her father'll pay me. He seems to think this is a
house of correction. Her mother won't be likely to let her stay more than
one day. I'll have on the best table-cloth for breakfast; and along in
the forenoon I'll fetch out some macaroni cakes and lager beer; that'll
coax her up, I guess."
Just then Mrs. Rosenberg down stairs and Dotty Dimple up stairs both fell
asleep. One dreamed of running away and being chased by a dog with a hat
on his head, who barked "Good-night" as fiercely as a bite. The other
dreamed of money and brown sugar. And all the while the rats were
treating themselves to nibbles of wood; but nobody heard them. Be
careful, old rats! Your teeth have done mischief before now! The night
wore on to the wee small hours, when a loud noise like a cannon startled
Mrs. Rosenberg; or was she dreaming? The house was shaken to its very
foundation, as if by an earthquake, and the room was full of smoke. She
was just running for the children, when the building fell together with a
crash, the roof was blown off into the street, the windows were shivered
to atoms, and tongues of flame leaped madly up from the ruins.
What did it mean? She was so stunned by the shock that she scarcely cared
whether one of her children was spared or not; she only thought in her
stupor that Mr. Parlin would not pay her for Dotty's lodging if the child
was blown to pieces.
"I know how it happened," said she, twitching at her own hair to arouse
herself. "Just as Abraham always said; the rats have been nibbling
matches in the store; they've burned a hole through the floor, and set
fire to that keg of gunpowder. Yes, that's it!"