"Seventeen dozen!" screamed Rose, on hearing the telegram.
"Seventeen dozen of _each kind_!" cried Budd.
"Oh, quick, March, do see what it comes to!" said Hazel.
Then such an arithmetical hubbub broke loose as had never been heard
before on the Mountain.
"Seventeen times twelve," said Rose,--"let me see; seven times two are
fourteen, one to carry--do keep still, March!" But March went on
with:--
"Twelve times four are forty-eight--seventeen times forty-eight,
hm--seven times eight are fifty-six, five to carry--Shut up, Budd; I
can't hear myself think." But Budd gave no heed, and continued his
computation.
"Four times seventeen are--four times seven are twenty-eight, two to
carry; four times one are four and two are--I say, you 've put me all
out!" shouted Budd, and, putting his fingers in his ears, he retired to
a corner. Rose continued to mumble with her eyes shut to concentrate her
mind upon her problem, threatening Cherry impatiently when she
interrupted with her peculiar solution, which she had just thought
out:--
"If one quart cost one dollar and twenty-five cents, twelve quarts will
cost twelve times one dollar and twenty-five cents, which is, er--twelve
times one are twelve; twelve times twenty-five! Oh, gracious, that's
awful! What's twelve times twenty-five, March?"
"Shut up," growled March; "you 've put me all off the track."
"Me, too," said Rose, in an aggrieved tone.
Mrs. Blossom had been listening from the bedroom, and now came in,
suppressing her desire to smile at the reddened and perplexed faces.
"Here 's a pencil, March, suppose you figure it out on paper."
A sigh of relief was audible throughout the room, as March sat down to
work out the result. "Eight hundred and sixteen quarts at one dollar
twenty-five a quart," said March to himself; then, with a bound that
shook the long-room, he shouted, "One thousand and twenty dollars!" and
therewith broke forth into singing:--
"Glory, glory, halleluia!
Glory, glory, halleluia!
Glory, glory, halleluia,
For the N.B.B.O.O.!"
The rest joined in the singing with such goodwill that the noise brought
in Chi from the barn. When he was told the reason for the rejoicing, he
looked thoughtful, then sober, then troubled.
"What's the matter, Chi? Cheer up! You have n't got to pick them,"
said March.
"'T ain't that; but I hate to throw cold water on any such
countin'-your-chickens-'fore-they 're-hatched business," said Chi.
"'T is n't chickens; it's preserves, Chi," laughed Rose.
"I know that, too," said Chi, gravely. "But suppose you do a little
figuring on the hind-side of the blackboard."
"What _do_ you mean, Chi?" asked Hazel.
"Well, I 'll figure, 'n' see what you think about it. Seventeen dozen
times four, how much, March?"
"Eight hundred and sixteen."
"Hm! eight hundred and sixteen glass jars at twelve and a half cents
apiece--let me see: eight into eight once; eight into one no times 'n'
one over. There now, your jars 'll cost you just one hundred and two
dollars."
There was a universal groan.
"'N' that ain't all. Sugar 's up to six cents a pound, 'n' to keep
preserves as they ought to be kept takes about a pound to a quart. Hm,
eight hundred 'n' sixteen pounds of sugar at six cents a pound--move up
my point 'n' multiply by six--forty-eight dollars 'n' ninety-six cents;
added to the other--"
"Oh, don't, Chi!" groaned one and all.
"It spoils everything," said Rose, actually ready to cry with
disappointment.
"Well, Molly Stark, you 've got to look forwards and backwards before
you _promise_ to do things," said Chi, serenely; and Rose, hearing the
Molly Stark, knew just what Chi meant.
She went straight up to him, and, laying both hands on his shoulders,
looked up smiling into his face. "I 'll be brave, Chi; we 'll make it
work somehow," she said gently; and Chi was not ashamed to take one of
the little hands and rub it softly against his unshaven cheek.
"That's my Rose-pose," he said. "Now, don't let's cross the bridges
till we get to them; let's wait till we hear from New York."
They had not long to wait. The next day's mail brought three
letters,--from Mrs. Heath, Mr. Clyde, and Jack. Hazel could not read
them fast enough to suit her audience. There was an order from Mrs.
Heath for two dozen of each kind, and the assurance that she would ask
her friends, but she would like her order filled first.
Mr. Clyde wrote that he was coming up very soon and would advance
Hazel's quarterly allowance; at which Hazel cried, "Oh-ee!" and hugged
first herself, then Mrs. Blossom, but said not a word. She wanted to
surprise them with the glass jars and the sugar. Her father had
enclosed five dollars with which to pay Chi, and he and Hazel were
closeted for full a quarter of an hour in the pantry, discussing ways
and means.
Jack wrote enthusiastically of the preserves and chickens, and, like
Hazel, added a postscript as follows:
"Don't forget you said you would write down for me the song about Love
that Miss Blossom sings when she is kneading bread. Miss Seaton is just
now visiting in Boston. I 'm to play in a polo match out at the
Longmeadow grounds next week, and she stays for that." This, likewise,
Hazel kept to herself.
Meanwhile, the strawberry blossoms were starring the pastures, but only
here and there a tiny green button showed itself. It was a discouraging
outlook for the other Blossoms to wait five long weeks before they could
begin to earn money; and the thought of the chickens, especially the
prize chicken, proved a source of comfort as well as speculation.
As the twenty-first day after setting the hens drew near, the excitement
of the race was felt to be increasing. Hazel had tied a narrow strip of
blue flannel about the right leg of each of her twelve hens, that there
might be no mistake; and the others had followed her example, March
choosing yellow; Cherry, white; Rose, red; and Budd, green.
The barn was near the house, only a grass-plat with one big elm in the
centre separated it from the end of the woodshed. As Chi said, the hens
were sitting all around everywhere; on the nearly empty hay-mow there
were some twenty-five, and the rest were in vacant stalls and
feed-boxes.
It was a warm night in early June. Hazel was thinking over many things
as she lay wakeful in her wee bedroom. To-morrow was the day; somebody
would get the prize chicken. Hazel hoped she might be the winner. Then
she recalled something Chi had said about hens being curious creatures,
set in their ways, and never doing anything just as they were expected
to do it, and that there was n't any time-table by which chickens could
be hatched to the minute. What if one were to come out to-night! The
more she thought, the more she longed to assure herself of the condition
of things in the barn. She tossed and turned, but could not settle to
sleep. At last she rose softly; the great clock in the long-room had
just struck eleven. She looked out of her one window and into the face
of a moon that for a moment blinded her.
Then she quietly put on her white bath-robe, and, taking her shoes in
her hand, stepped noiselessly out into the kitchen.
There was not a sound in the house except the ticking of the clock.
Softly she crept to the woodshed door and slipped out.
Chi, who had the ears of an Indian, heard the soft "crush, crush," of
the bark and chips underneath his room. He rose noiselessly, drew on his
trousers, and slipped his suspenders over his shoulders, took his rifle
from the rack, and crept stealthily as an Apache down the stairs. Chi
thought he was on the track of an enormous woodchuck that had baffled
all his efforts to trap, shoot, and decoy him, as well as his attempts
to smoke and drown him out. But nothing was moving in or about the shed.
He stepped outside, puzzled as to the noise he had heard.
"By George Washin'ton!" he exclaimed under his breath, "what's up now?"
for he had caught sight of a little figure in white fairly scooting over
the grass-plat under the elm towards the barn. In a moment she
disappeared in the opening, for on warm nights the great doors were not
shut.
"Guess I 'd better get out of the way; 't would scare her to death to
see a man 'n' a gun at this time of night. It's that prize chicken, I
'll bet." And Chi chuckled to himself. Then he tiptoed as far as the
barn door, looked in cautiously, and, seeing no one, but hearing a creak
overhead, he slipped into a stall and crouched behind a pile of grass he
had cut that afternoon for the cattle.
He heard the feet go "pat, pat, pat," overhead. He knew by the sound
that Hazel was examining the nests. Then another noise--Cherry's
familiar giggle--fell upon his ear. He looked out cautiously from
behind the grass. Sure enough; there were the twins, robed in sheets and
barefooted. Snickering and giggling, they made for the ladder leading
to the loft.
"The Old Harry 's to pay to-night," said Chi, grimly, to himself. "When
those two get together on a spree, things generally hum! I 'd better
stay where I 'm needed most."
Hazel, too, had caught the sound of the giggle and snicker, and
recognized it at once.
"Goodness!" she thought, "if they should see me, 't would frighten
Cherry into fits, she 's so nervous. I 'd better hide while they 're
here. They 've come to see about that chicken, just as I have!" Hazel
had all she could do to keep from laughing out loud. She lay down upon
a large pile of hay and drew it all over her. "They can't see me now,
and I can watch them," she thought, with a good deal of satisfaction.
Surely the proceedings were worth watching. The moonlight flooded the
flooring of the loft, and every detail could be plainly seen.
"Nobody can hear us here if we do talk," said Budd. "You 'll have to
hoist them up first, to see if there are any chickens, and be sure and
look at the rag on the legs; when you come to a green one, it's mine,
you know."
"Oh, Budd! I can't hoist them," said Cherry, in a distressed voice.
"They do act kinder queer," replied Budd, who was trying to lift a
sleeping hen off her nest, to which she seemed glued. "I 'll tell you
what's better than that; just put your ear down and listen, and if you
hear a 'peep-peep,' it's a chicken."
Cherry, the obedient slave of Budd, crawled about over the flooring on
her hands and knees, listening first at one nest, then at another, for
the expected "peep-peep."
"I don't hear anything," said Cherry, in an aggrieved tone, "but the old
hens guggling when I poke under them. Oh! but here 's a green rag
sticking out, Budd."
"And a speckled hen?" said Budd, eagerly.
"Yes."
"Well, that's the one I 've been looking for; it's dark over here in
this corner. Lemme see."
Budd put both hands under the hen and lifted her gently.
"Ak--ok--ork--ach," gasped the hen, as Budd took her firmly around the
throat; but she was too sleepy to care much what became of her, and so
hung limp and silent.
"I 'll hold the hen, Cherry, and you take up those eggs one at a time
and hold them to my ear."
"What for?" said Cherry.
"Now don't be a loony, but do as I tell you," said Budd, impatiently.
Cherry did as she was bidden; Budd listened intently.
"By cracky! there 's one!" he exclaimed. "Here, help me set this hen
back again, and keep that one out."
"What for?" queried Cherry, forgetting her former lesson.
"Oh, you ninny!--here, listen, will you?" Budd put the egg to her ear.
"Why, that's a chicken peeping inside. I can _hear_ him," said Cherry,
in an awed voice.
"Yes, and I 'm going to let him out," said Budd, triumphantly.
"But then you'll have the prize chicken, Budd," said Cherry, rather
dubiously, for she had wanted it herself.
"Of course, you goosey, what do you suppose I came out here for?"
demanded Budd.
"But, Budd, will it be fair?" said Cherry, timidly.
"Fair!" muttered Budd; "it's fair enough if it's out first. It's their
own fault if they don't know enough to get ahead of us."
"Did you think it all out yourself, Budd?" queried Cherry, admiringly,
watching Budd's proceeding with wide-open eyes.
"Yup," said Budd, shortly.
They were not far from Hazel's hiding-place, and, by raising her head a
few inches, she could see the whole process.
First Budd listened intently at one end of the egg, then at the other.
He drew out a large pin from his pajamas and began very carefully to
pick the shell.
"Oh, gracious, Budd! what are you doing?" cried Cherry.
"What you see," said Budd, a little crossly, for his conscience was not
wholly at ease.
He picked and picked, and finally made an opening. He examined it
carefully.
"Oh, thunder!" he exclaimed under his breath, "I 've picked the wrong
end."
"What do you mean?" persisted Cherry.
"I wanted to open the 'peep-peep' end first, so he could breathe,"
replied Budd, intent upon his work. Cherry watched breathlessly. At
last the other end was opened, and Budd began to detach the shell from
something which might have been a worm, a fish, a pollywog, or a baby
white mouse, for all it looked like a chicken. It lay in Budd's hand.
"Oh, Budd, you 've killed it!" cried Cherry, beginning to sniff.
"Shut up, Cherry Blossom, or I'll leave you," threatened Budd. Just
then the moon was obscured by a passing cloud, and the loft became
suddenly dark and shadowy. Cherry screamed under her breath.
"Oh, Budd, don't leave me; I can't see you!"
There was a soft rapid stride over the flooring; and before Budd well
knew what had happened, he was seized by the binding of his pajamas,
lifted, and shaken with such vigor that his teeth struck together and he
felt the jar in the top of his head.
As the form loomed so unexpectedly before her, Cherry screamed with
fright.
"I 'll teach you to play a business trick like this on us, you mean
sneaking little rascal!" roared March. "Do you think I did n't see you
creeping out of the room along the side of my bed on all fours? You did
n't dare to walk out like a man, and I might have known you were up to
no good!" Another shake followed that for a moment dazed Budd. Then,
as he felt the flooring beneath his feet, he turned in a towering
passion of guilt and rage on March.
"You 're a darned sneak yourself," he howled rather than cried. "Take
that for your trouble!" Raising his doubled fist, he aimed a quick,
hard blow at March's stomach. But, somehow, before it struck, one
strong hand--not March's--held his as in a vice, and another, stronger,
hoisted him by the waist-band of his pajamas and held him, squirming and
howling, suspended for a moment; then he felt himself tossed somewhere.
He fell upon the hay under which Hazel had taken refuge, and landed upon
her with almost force enough to knock the breath from her body. Cherry,
meanwhile, had not ceased screaming under her breath, and, as Budd
descended so unexpectedly upon Hazel, a great groan and a sharp wail
came forth from the hay, to the mortal terror of all but Chi, who grew
white at the thought of what might have happened to his Lady-bird, and,
unintentionally, through him.
That awful groan proved too much for the children. Gathering themselves
together in less time than it takes to tell it, they fled as well as
they could in the dark,--down the ladder, out through the barn, over the
grass-plat, into the house, and dove into bed, trembling in every limb.
"What on earth is the matter, children?" said Mrs. Blossom, appearing at
the foot of the stairs. "Did one of you fall out of bed?"
Budd's head was under the bedclothes, his teeth chattering through fear;
likewise Cherry. March assumed as firm a tone as he could.
"Budd had a sort of nightmare, mother, but he 's all right now." March
felt sick at the deception.
"Well, settle down now and go to sleep; it's just twelve." And Mrs.
Blossom went back into the bedroom where Mr. Blossom was still soundly
sleeping.
Meanwhile, Chi was testing Hazel to see that no harm had been done.
"Oh, I 'm all right," said Hazel, rather breathlessly. "But it really
knocked the breath out of my body." She laughed. "I never thought of
your catching up Budd that way and plumping him down on top of me!"
"Guess my wits had gone wool-gatherin', when I never thought of your
hidin' there," said Chi, recovering from his fright. "But that boy made
me so pesky mad, tryin' to play such a game on all of us, that I kind of
lost my temper 'n' did n't see straight. Well--" he heaved a sigh of
relief, "he 's got his come-uppance!"
"Where do you suppose that poor little chicken is?"
"We 'll look him up; the moon 's comin' out again."
There, close by the nest, lay the queer something on the floor. "I 'll
tuck it in right under the old hen's breast, 'n' then, if there 's any
life in it, it 'll come to by mornin'." He examined it closely. "I 'll
come out 'n' see. Come, we 'd better be gettin' in 'fore 't is dark
again--"
He put the poor mite of a would-be chicken carefully under the old hen,
where it was warm and downy, and as he did so, he caught sight of the
rag hanging over the edge of the nest. He looked at it closely; then
slapping his thigh, he burst into a roar of laughter.
"What is it, Chi?" said Hazel, laughing, too, at Chi's mirth.
"Look here, Lady-bird! you 've got the Prize Chicken, after all. That
boy could n't tell green from blue in the moonlight, 'n' he 's hatched
out one of yours. By George Washin'ton! that's a good one,--serves him
right," he said, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes.
The chicken lived, but never seemed to belong to any one in particular;
and as Chi said solemnly the next morning, "The less said on this
Mountain about prize chickens, the better it 'll be for us all."
X