One of my elbows came through, but the woman sewed it up again. I’ve
used up both balls of my twine. And my white-handled knife,--I guess it
went through a hole in my pocket, that I didn’t know of till after the
knife was lost. My trousers grow pretty short. But she says ’t is partly
my legs getting long. I’m glad of that. And partly getting ’em wet.
I stubbed my toe against a stump, and tumbled down and scraped a hole
through the knee of my oldest pair. For it was very rotten cloth. I
guess the hole is too crooked to have her sew it up again. She thinks a
mouse ran up the leg, and gnawed that hole my knife went through, to get
the crumbles in the pocket. I don’t mean when they were on me, but
hanging up.
My boat is almost rigged. She says she will hem the sails if I won’t
leave any more caterpillars in my pockets. I’m getting all kinds of
caterpillars to see what kind of butterflies they make.
Yesterday, Dorry and I started from the pond to run and see who would
get home first. He went one way, and I went another.
I cut across the Two Betseys’ garden. But I don’t see how I did so much
hurt in just once cutting across. I knew something cracked,--that was
the sink-spout I jumped down on, off the fence. There was a board I hit,
that had huckleberries spread out on it to dry. They went into the
rain-water hogshead. I didn’t know any huckleberries were spread out on
that board.
I meant to go between the rows, but guess I stepped on a few beans. My
wrist got hurt dreadfully by my getting myself tripped up in a
squash-vine. And while I was down there, a bumble-bee stung me on my
chin. I stepped on a little chicken, for she ran the way I thought she
wasn’t going to. I don’t remember whether I shut the gate or not. But
guess not, for the pig got in, and went to rooting before Lame Betsey
saw him, and the other Betsey had gone somewhere.
I got home first, but my wrist ached, and my sting smarted. You forgot
to write down what was good for bumble-bee stings. Benjie said his Aunt
Polly put damp sand on to stings. So he put a good deal of it on my
chin, and it got better, though my wrist kept aching in the night. And I
went to school with it aching. But didn’t tell anybody but Benjie. Just
before school was done, the master said we might put away our books.
Then he talked about the Two Betseys, and told how Lame Betsey got lame
by saving a little boy’s life when the house was on fire. She jumped out
of the window with him. And he made us all feel ashamed that we great
strong boys should torment two poor women.
Then he told about the damage done the day before by some boy running
through their garden, and said five dollars would hardly be enough to
pay it. “I don’t know what boy it was, but if he is present,” says he,
“I call upon him to rise.”
Then I stood up. I was ashamed, but I stood up. For you told me once
this saying: “Even if truth be a loaded cannon walk straight up to it.”
The master ordered me not to go on to the playground for a week, nor be
out of the house in play-hours.
From your affectionate grandchild,