|THE next morning broke clear, bright, and sparkling, but bitterly cold.
I cannot attempt to tell you all the doings of that indefatigable and
ingenious bevy of girls during the day. Miss Miranda, their opposite
neighbor, had kept to her post of observation, the window, very closely,
and had seen much to awaken scorn and surprise.
“Wa'al, Jane!” said she, excitedly, in the afternoon, “there they go
ag'in! That's the fourth time the hoss has been harnessed into Allen's
pung to-day; and now they've got their uncle. Whatever they find to
laugh so over, and where they go to, is more'n I can see. They haven't
done up their dinner dishes, I know, for I've been watching of 'em and
they hain't had time to do 'em so quick as this, though Bell Winship
is as spry as a skeeter when she gets a-goin'.”
Miss Miranda's organs of vision were better than magnifying glasses,
for, aided by a lively imagination, they could dart around corners and
through doors with great ease. Bell avowed confidentially to Patty that
morning, when she met her neighbor's eyes fixed on the pantry window,
that she believed Miss Miranda could see a fly-speck on top of a
liberty-pole.
The girls had made the day a very long and lively one, and in the
evening, their spirits still high and their inventive powers still
unimpaired, they gave an impromptu concert. The audience was small
but appreciative. Grandmother was in a private box--the high-backed
arm-chair in the cosiest corner; Uncle Harry sat on a hastily-erected
throne made by perching a stool on the dining-table, and being given a
large pair of goggles, was requested to serve as dramatic and musical
critic for the morning newspapers. Two or three of the boarders
from Mrs. Carter's famous Winter Farmhouse on the hill, the young
schoolmaster (a Bowdoin student earning his college course by odd terms
of teaching), and Hugh Pennell, his chum and classmate, home on a brief
holiday, made quite a brave show when seated in three rows, while the
unaffected laughter, the open mouths, and the staring eyes of “the
help,” Emma Jane Perkins, Betty Bean, and 'Bijah Flagg, who were
grouped at the hall door, helped in the general merriment.
Bell had a keen sense of the ridiculous and a voice like a meadow-lark.
Jo was capital, too, as a mimic, so together, they gave some absurdly
funny scenes from famous operas. Bell had thrown on an evening dress of
her cousin's, which happened to be left in the house, and this, with its
short sleeves, showing her round, girlish arms, and its long train, made
her such a distracting little prima donna of fifteen, that Hugh Pennell
quite laid his boyish heart at her feet. She sang “The Last Rose of
Summer” with all the smiles, head-tossings, arch looks, casting down
of eyelids, and kissing of finger-tips at the close, which generally
accompany it when sung by the stage soprano, and she was naturally
greeted with rapturous applause. Then Jo, as the tenor, in dressing-gown
and smoking-cap for male attire, sang a fervent duet with Alice
Forsaith, rendering it with original Italian words and embraces at the
end of every measure.
[Illustration: 0063]
Tableaux showing scenes from well-known novels, and thrilling historical
events depicted in pantomime, came next, and the company was invited
to name them as they followed one another in quick succession,--Eliza
crossing the river by leaping from ice block to ice block, the
bloodhounds in hot pursuit; Pochahontas saving the life of her noble
Captain John; Rochester, holding Jane Eyre spellbound by the steely
glitter of his eye; and the Pilgrim Fathers and Mothers, landing on a
stern and rock-bound coast, ably represented by the dining-room table.
As Uncle Harry sat on the table he was obliged to be the center of this
thrilling scene, which was variously surmised by the audience to be
the capture of a slave-ship by pirates, the rescue of a babe from a
tenement-house fire, the killing of Julius Cæsar in the Roman Senate, or
an impassioned attempt to drag Casabianca from the burning deck.
After bidding their visitors goodnight, Bell and Jo went into the
kitchen to put buckwheat cakes to raise for breakfast.
“I believe I'll chop the meat hash for a half-hour while the kitchen is
warm,” said Jo. “Emma Jane is right about the knife; it is dull beyond
words!”
“If it is any duller than Emma Jane herself, I am sorry for it,”
rejoined Bell.
“It's a poor workman who complains of his tools, Jo,” said Patty,
looking in at the door, with a superior air; “Columbus discovered
America in an open boat.”
“He would never have discovered America with this chopping-knife,” quoth
Jo, bringing it down with vicious emphasis on the unoffending meat.
“Did you notice Emma Jane's expression as she stood in the doorway to
night?”
“I did,” replied Bell, as she bustled about her last tasks at closet,
cupboard, and sink. “Not a penny of my money shall go to the heathen in
other lands until I have done some missionary work with her. In ten days
I propose to make her stand straight, hold her head up, keep her mouth
closed when not occupied in conversation or eating, stop straining her
hair out by the roots, tie the ends of her braids with ribbon instead of
twine, give up her magenta hood, and a few other little details.”
“I don't see how you dare advise her at her advanced age,” responded
Jo. “I suppose she is thirteen, but she appears about thirty. Look,
Bell, can this hash be safely trusted now to the pearly teeth of
our parlor boarders, or are the pieces too large for their 'delicate
sensibilities'?”
“I think that it may escape criticism,” laughed Bell. “Cover it with a
clean towel and a platter, and one of us will give it a last castigation
before it goes in the frying-pan.”
“I never had such a good time in my life, never, never!” sighed Lilia,
as she blew out the lamp, and tucked herself on the front side of the
bed, a little later. “I have only two things to trouble me. First: my
wisdom tooth feels as if it were going to ache again. Second: it is my
turn to build the kitchen fire in the morning.”
“Console yourself with one thought, my dear,” murmured Bell, drowsily,
yet sagely. “Both these misfortunes can't happen to you, for if your
tooth chances to ache, we shall not have the heart to make you build the
fire.”
“Don't tell her that,” urged Jo, with a prodigious yawn, “or she will be
feigning toothache constantly.”
Lilia's fears had good foundation, however, for in the middle of the
night, Jo, who slept next the front side, wakened suddenly to find her
slipping quietly out of bed.
“What's the matter, Lilia!” she whispered.
“Nothing; don't wake the others, but that miserable tooth grumbles just
enough to keep me awake, and my temple aches and my cheek, too. Where is
the lotion I use for bathing my face, do you know?”
“Yes, where you put it this morning, on the back of the wash-stand;
sha'n't I light the lamp and help you?”
“No, no, hush!” said Lilia. “I can put my hand on it in the dark. Here
it is! I'll bathe my face a few minutes, and then try to go to sleep.”
So, she anointed herself freely, put the bottle and sponge under the
head of the bed lest she should need them again, and, finally, the pain
growing less, fell asleep.
In the morning, Bell, who wakened first, rubbed her eyes drowsily,
glanced at Lilia, who was breathing quietly, and uttered a piercing
shriek. This in turn aroused the other girls, who joined in the shriek
on general principles, and then, blinking in the half-light, looked
where Bell pointed. One side of Lilia's face was swollen, and of a
dark, purple color, presenting a truly frightful appearance. At length,
hearing the confusion, Lilia awoke with a start, and her eyes being
open, and rolling about in surprise, she looked still more alarming.
“What on earth is the matter, girls?” she asked, sitting up in bed,
smoothing back her hair and rubbing her heavy lids.
Thereupon Edith and Alice began to tremble and nobody answered her.
“K-k-keep c-c-calm,” said Bell. “Lilia, dear, your face is badly swollen
and inflamed, and we're afraid you are going to be ill, but we'll send
for the doctor straight away. Does it pain you very much?”
Lilia jumped up hastily, and, looking in the mirror, uttered a cry of
terror, and sank back into the rocking-chair.
“Oh, dear! Oh, dear! What can it be! Oh, take me home to my father! It
must be a malignant pustule--or spotted fever--or something dreadful!
What shall I do? Bell, you are a doctor's daughter; do find out
what's the matter with me! I am disfigured for life, and I wasn't very
good-looking before.”
“Girls,” said Bell, “let us dress this very instant, for we can't be too
quick about a thing of this kind. You, Jo, build the kitchen fire, and,
Alice, make a blaze on the hearth in here; then, after we've made her
comfortable, Edith can run and tell Uncle Harry to come.”
“Put on the kettle,” added Patty, “and heat blankets; they always do
that in emergencies.”
“Don't frighten me to death,” wailed Lilia, “calling me 'a thing of this
kind' and an 'emergency.' I don't feel a hit worse than I did in the
night.”
“She had neuralgia in her face,” explained Jo; “that must have had
something to do with it. She put on some of her liniment, and then
dropped off to sleep. Come, darling, let us tuck you in bed again; try
to keep up your courage!”
Then there was a hasty consultation in the kitchen 'midst many groans
and tears. Bell was an authority on sickness, and she said, with an
awestruck face, that it must be a dreadful attack of erysipelas in the
very last stages.
“But,” cried Alice, perplexed, “it is all very strange, for why does she
have so little pain, and how could her face have turned so black from
mortification in one night?”
“Blood-poisoning is very quick and very deadly,” said Patty, who had
heard about such a case in her own family.
“Goodness knows what it is,” exclaimed Bell, wringing her hands in
nervous terror. “What to do with her I don't know; whether to put bricks
to her head and ice to her feet, or keep her head cold and heat her
'extremities,' as father calls them--whether to give her a sweat or keep
her dry, or wrap her in blankets, or get the linen sheets. Jo is with
her now. If you'll go and wake Uncle Harry, Edith, it is the best thing
we can do. Run along with her, too, Patty, and you won't be afraid
together.”
Alice and Bell went back presently to Lilia, who looked even worse, now
that the room was bright with the glow of the open fire and the pale
light of the student lamp.
“You patient old darling!” cried Bell, falling on her knees beside the
bed. “We have sent for Uncle Harry and the Doctor, and now you are sure
to be all right, for we've taken the thing in good time. Good gracious!!
what bottle have I tipped over under this bed!”
“It's my neuralgia liniment,” murmured Lilia, faintly. “I bathed my face
in it last night, and put it under there afterward. Don't spill it, for
I can't get any more here.”
“Your neuralgia lotion!” shrieked Bell, first with a look of blank
astonishment, and then one of excitement and glee mixed in equal
parts. “Look at it, girls! Look, Alice and Jo! Oh, Lilia, you precious,
blundering goose!” and thereupon she dragged out from beneath the bed
valance a pint bottle of violet ink, and then relapsed into a paroxysm
of voiceless mirth. Just then the hack door opened, and in hurried Uncle
Harry, Edith, and Patty, much terrified, for they had heard the shouts
and gasps and excited voices from outside, and supposed that Lilia must
at least have fallen into convulsions.
“Let me see the poor child immediately,” cried Mr. Winship. “What is the
trouble with you, Bell? are you demented? and where is Lilia?” looking
at the apparently empty bed, for Lilia had wound herself in the sheets
and blankets, disappeared from view, and was endeavoring to force
a pillow into her mouth in order to render her shame-faced laughter
inaudible. “Are you trying to play a joke on me?” continued he, with as
much dignity as was consistent with an attire made up of an undershirt,
a pair of trousers, overshoes, a tall hat, and a gold-headed cane
which he had quite unconsciously caught up in his hasty flight from his
chamber.
“The fact is,” answered Bell, between her gasps, and trying desperately
hard to regain her sobriety,--“the fact is--Uncle Harry--we made--a
mistake, and so did--Lilia. There were two bottles just alike on the
wash-stand, and in the night she bathed her face for five minutes in the
purple ink! Oh, oh, oh!!”
Uncle Harry's face relaxed into a broad smile as he realized the joke.
“Oh, Mr. Winship, you should have seen her!” sighed Jo, lifting her head
from the sofa-pillow, with streaming eyes. “All her face, except part
of her forehead and one cheek, was covered with enormous dark purple
blotches. She looked like a clown, or a Fourth of July fantastic, or
anything else frightful!”
“Well,” said Edith, slyly, “Bell said mortification had taken place. I
don't think Lilia has ever been more mortified than she is now; do you?
“Puns are out of place, Edith,” said Bell, severely. “Don't hurry, Uncle
Harry. Don't let any thought of your rather peculiar attire cause you
embarrassment.”
But before Bell's teasing voice had ceased, the last thud, thud of his
rubbers, and click, click of his gold-headed cane were heard in the
hall, and he thought, as he tried to finish his early morning nap, that
it would be a long time before he allowed those madcap girls to rout him
out of bed again at five o'clock on a winter's day.
As for the girls themselves, they did not even make a trial of slumber,
but first scrubbed Lilia energetically with hard soap and pumice, and
then made molasses candy, determined that the roaring kitchen fire
should be used to some purpose.
Having gained so much time by the unusual way in which they had started
the day, they were enabled to look back at nightfall on an unprecedented
number of activities, some of them rather unique and original. There was
a call upon Emma Jane's mother, another upon Mrs. Carter at the Winter
Farm, a sleigh-ride with Geoffrey Strong, the vehicle being a truck for
hauling wood, an hour's coasting down Brigadier hill, and a trip to the
doctor's for courtplaster and arnica and peppermint and cough lozenges.
Then directly after luncheon Bell and Jo made a private and confidential
call upon Grandma Win-ship's pig, leaving with him as evidences of
regard several samples of their own cookery. This call they hoped was
unnoticed, but an hour afterwards the other four girls were espied
coming from the Winships', all clad in black garments of one sort or
another. When questioned as to the meaning of this mysterious piece of
foolishness they merely remarked that they, too, had called upon the
Winships pig, but that it was a visit of condolence and sympathy.