THE LADY OF THE BROWN HOUSE.
Bang! went the door, and away they rushed, like a small tornado,
across the porch, down the walk and over the street.
They seemed to be running away from Helen, for a second after they had
vanished behind Mrs. Ford's oleanders she came around the house.
Indignant tears were in her eyes; it was hard not to be wanted, to be
thought too little to play with. Bess and Louise had such good times
with the boys and she had nothing in the world to do this afternoon.
To be sure they had been very gracious all morning, and had even
allowed her to listen to a thrilling chapter in the history of the
Carletons, but this was too good to last.
At lunch certain signs passed back and forth across the table arousing
her curiosity, and afterwards when she found them laughing on the
stairs and begged to know what they were going to do, Carl had replied
provokingly, "What do you suppose?" and now they had run away with
Ikey somewhere. The house was very quiet; Carie was taking her nap,
Aunt Zelie dressing to go out. Helen sat down on the top step of the
porch and wiped her eyes, saying to herself, "They are just as mean
as anything, but I don't care--I'll have a good time too. I think I'll
ask Aunt Zelie to let me go with her."
It happened that as the runaways reached the gate Aunt Marcia's coupe
turned the corner, and her horrified eyes beheld their flight. When
she stepped from her carriage her lips were firmly closed in a manner
which indicated that they would be opened presently for somebody's
benefit. She was so absorbed that she almost fell over the woebegone
little figure on the step.
"You have been crying--what is the matter?" she demanded.
"Oh, Aunt Marcia, I didn't see you--please excuse me," said Helen,
whose politeness rarely failed her, rising and putting away her
handkerchief. Mrs. Hazeltine saw pretty clearly how matters stood.
"Never mind, my dear," she said; "perhaps you would like to take a
drive with me. I am going out to Cousin John's."
Helen was her favorite among the children, because she was quiet and
demure, and did not tear and soil her clothes as Bess and Louise did.
Helen on her part looked up to Aunt Marcia with deep admiration, and
meant to be just like her when she was grown. So she ran off very
happily to have her dress changed, while Mrs. Hazeltine waylaid Aunt
Zelie as she came downstairs ready for a walk.
"Dear me! the children have been in mischief," was this lady's inward
exclamation, for she knew the signs of disapproval, and felt like
running away, as she used to do when a child, from Sister Marcia's
lectures.
She only sat down on the bottom step, however, and waited.
"How do you do, Zelie? I see you are going out and I shall not detain
you for more than a minute. Little Helen is coming to drive with me."
She seated herself in a judicial attitude on one of the high-backed
hall chairs.
"I do not wish to interfere," she continued, "But I should like to
inquire if you know where the children are this afternoon?"
"I have a general idea," Aunt Zelie replied, slowly putting on her
glove and reflecting that it would take more than her sister's powers
to be able to say at any given moment exactly where they were.
"I thought you did not know. They are running through the streets,
Louise without her hat. It may do for boys, but for little girls I
think it disgraceful."
"I told them they might go to the Ford's; they do not play in the
street. You must have seen them when they were on their way there, and
I do not object to their running."
Mrs. Hazeltine shook her head. "How can you think it proper for Bess
and Louise to race with the boys in that fashion? You seem to be
conscientious, yet you do not restrain them in the least."
"I own I do not know how to make a difference between girls and boys.
Why are they born into the same families if they are not meant to play
together? And if they are to be strong and healthy they must be out of
doors. I am sorry to seem to set my judgment up against yours, but--"
"You are stubborn, Zelie, like all the Hazeltines. _I_ believe in
fresh air as much as you do, but I should send Bess and Louise to walk
with Joanna. However, I see it is of no use to talk to you. I should
never mention the subject at all if I did not feel a deep interest in
the children." Mrs. Hazeltine rose. "Here comes Helen," she said, "so
I'll not detain you any longer," and taking her little niece by the
hand she sailed away.
Meanwhile the culprits were taking breath on the grass in the Fords'
back yard, Ikey hospitably treating his guests to apples and salt.
"I suppose," Bess began, taking a bite of her apple, "that it is
rather mean to run away from Helen, but we have been very good to her
to-day, haven't we, Louise?"
"Yes, we have; and the more you do for her the more she thinks you
ought to do."
"She can't expect to go everywhere we go," said Carl decidedly.
The business on hand this afternoon was nothing more or less than the
erection of a telephone which had been constructed by the boys out of
fruit cans and pieces of old kid gloves. The main difficulty lay in
getting their line across the street, for it was to communicate
between Ikey's room and the star chamber. An attempt had been made
once before, but the result was such a mortifying failure that their
energy and interest flagged for a while.
The trees caused most of the trouble. Their line first caught in one
of these at such a distance from the pavement that while they were
absorbed in getting it off a gentleman who happened to be passing had
his hat suddenly removed. This accident convulsed everybody but Bess,
who in great embarrassment tried to explain that it was not intended
for a practical joke. Finally it was caught and broken by the angry
driver of a market wagon. Carl, who disliked to give anything up, had
ever since been trying to think of a plan.
"There must be some way," he said as he lay on his back looking up at
the sky.
"I know!" cried Bess, seized with an inspiration; "clothes-props!"
"What about them?" asked Ikey doubtfully.
"It isn't Monday, and any way we can get ours.--Mandy will let us have
them," Bess said reassuringly, and then she unfolded her plan.
"Isn't she clever?" exclaimed Louise admiringly.
"We'll try it, it may work," said Carl, with masculine condescension.
"What in the world can those children be doing?" somebody wondered as
she looked through the half-closed blinds of one of the Brown house
windows a few minutes later.
Mounted on a chair near the Fords' front fence stood Bess holding
aloft a clothes-prop, and looking like a small copy of "Liberty
Enlightening the World." Through a groove in the top of the pole ran
the line, one end of which was safely fastened in Ikey's window.
Louise had the rest of it in charge and slowly dealt it out as she
crossed the street in front of Carl, who by means of another pole kept
it elevated beyond all harm. Once over the street it was easily
attached to a cord hanging from the star chamber, then slowly and
cautiously Ikey pulled it up. Several times it caught in the trees,
but a careful jerk sent it free, and at last it was safe.
"Three cheers for Bess! It was her plan," called Ikey from above.
"It really worked very well," Carl acknowledged.
"I knew all the time it would," added Louise, as they went inside to
finish their work.
The watcher in the Brown house window returned reluctantly to the book
she had been reading, as though she found the bit of real life more
entertaining.
When all was done it was pronounced a success. Even though you could
not hear so very distinctly, at least the bells fastened at each end
tinkled most realistically when the line was pulled.
As they came out of the side door at the Fords' after inspecting
Ikey's end of the telephone, Louise catching sight of a ball which lay
on the grass made a spring for it. The others rushed after her, there
was a scramble that would have shocked Aunt Marcia beyond expression,
and Carl getting possession tossed it with all his might--he did not
stop to think where. Alas! it went over into the next yard and a crash
of broken glass told the tale. They looked at each other in
consternation, and Ikey ran and peeped through the fence.
"You have broken one of the Brown house windows," he reported.
"It wasn't all his fault, it was partly mine," said Louise, who always
stood by her friends in trouble.
"Oh, dear!" sighed Bess. "Just when we were going to be so good! What
will Aunt Zelie say?"
"I'll have to go and tell them I did it, and that I'll have the glass
put in," said Carl.
Louise at once volunteered to go with him, and Bess suggested, "Let's
all go."
Ikey did not like the plan exactly, but he would not have objected for
the world. Louise tossed back her long braids and put on her hat, and
the solemn little party started out.
"Whom shall I ask for?" Carl suddenly demanded, as they marched up
the newly reddened walk.
"Dear me! We don't know the name," gasped Bess, feeling inclined to
turn and run.
"Never mind, just ask for the lady of the house," said Louise, her
courage rising to the occasion. "It sounds beggarish, but you can't
help it."
Bess and Ikey retreated a little when the door was opened by a woman
who asked somewhat gruffly what they wanted.
Carl hesitated, so Louise in her politest manner inquired for the lady
of the house.
"What do you want with her?" said the woman, eying them sharply.
"We want to _see_ her," was the emphatic reply.
"Well, you can't, then," and the door would have been shut in their
faces if a voice from inside had not called "Mary!"
She disappeared for a moment, then returning asked them in.
Bess held Ikey's hand tightly as they followed the others along the
hall. To think of being inside the Brown house!
Before they had time to consider what they were to do or say, they
found themselves in a quaint room with dim old portraits on the wall;
but all the children saw was a lady with white hair and bright eyes,
seated in an invalid's chair by the window. As Louise advanced
timidly, followed by the others, this lady held out her hand, saying:
"You wish to speak to me, Mary says; I am very glad to see you."
They all felt reassured by her pleasant tone, and Louise found her
voice.
"We came to tell you that, while we were playing, Carl threw his ball
and broke your window. It was partly my fault too, and we thought we
would all come and tell you."
"I am very sorry about it, and I will have a new pane put in," Carl
added.
"I am sure it was an accident," said the lady, smiling; "you must not
feel badly. I shall be glad of it if it helps me to make the
acquaintance of some of my new neighbors. Won't you tell me your
names?"
Louise's dimples at once began to show themselves, for she was always
ready to make friends, and she gave her plump little hand, saying:
"I am Louise Hazeltine, and this is my brother Carl and my sister
Bess, and Ikey Ford who lives next door."
"We are much obliged to you for not minding about the window," Bess
added, forgetting her shyness.
"Won't you sit down and talk to me for a while? I am Miss Brown."
The children smiled at each other. "We have always called this the
Brown house," Carl explained.
"Then you won't have to change. It is much simpler than if I had
happened to be named Green or Black, isn't it?" said their new friend,
laughing. "And now I am sure you can't guess what I call _your_
house."
Of course they couldn't, so she told them that she had named it the
house with the Big Front Door.
This amused them very much, and Louise asked, "How did you know we
lived there?"
"Oh, I have seen you going in and out. I can't move about easily, so
when I grow tired of reading or sewing I look out of the window."
It was astonishing how much at home they felt. Bess and Louise sat
together in a big chair chattering away as if they had known Miss
Brown all their lives. When she asked about the telephone, even Ikey
had a word to say as they grew merry over the story of their
difficulties.
As they were leaving, Bess said demurely, "Miss Brown, I think we
ought to tell you that we have been playing in your garden. We didn't
mean to do any harm, but Aunt Zelie says it wasn't respecting other
people's property."
"My dear children, I wish you would come often and play in my garden,"
was the hospitable reply.
"I am afraid your Mary wouldn't like it," said Louise; adding quickly,
"and we'd rather come inside now and see you."
"Thank you, I hope you will come, and you must excuse poor Mary; she
is not so ill-natured as she seems."
"Aunt Zelie," said Carl that evening as they were relating the day's
adventures, "Miss Brown is tiptop, she wasn't a bit mad. There is
something about her like you."
"Why, Carl! Her hair is white, and she is not nearly so pretty," cried
Louise.
"Well, goosie, I didn't say she looked like her, did I?"
"She is very nice at any rate, and has lots of things to show us some
time--things she had when she was a little girl. We may go to see her
again, mayn't we, Auntie?" Bess asked.
"Do you think she would like me to go to see her?" Helen inquired.
"Probably she wouldn't mind; we will take you sometime," Louise
replied graciously.
Helen had returned from her drive in a happy frame of mind, for Aunt
Marcia had bought her a charming little card-case, and had ordered
some engraved cards to go in it. Her sisters admired it as much as its
proud owner could desire, and were quite attentive all the evening.
"Mary," said Miss Brown that night, "those are nice children; and just
think! I already know _four_ of my neighbors!"