There never was a lovelier place for a little girl--to say nothing of a
dog--to play in than the yard about the Stagg homestead; and this Carolyn
May confided to Aunty Rose one forenoon after her arrival at The
Corners.
Behind the house the yard sloped down to a broad, calmly flowing brook.
Here the goose and duck pens were fenced off, for Aunty Rose would not
allow the web-footed fowl to wander at large, as did the other poultry.
It was difficult for Prince to learn that none of these feathered folk
were to be molested. He loved to jump into the water after a stick, and
whenever he did so, the quacking and hissing inside the wire-fenced runs
showed just how unpopular his dogship was in that community.
There was a wide-branching oak tree on a knoll overlooking the brook.
Around its trunk Uncle Joe had built a seat. Carolyn May found this a
grand place to sit and dream, while Prince lay at her feet with his pink
tongue out, occasionally snapping at a gnat.
When they saw Aunty Rose, in her sunbonnet, going towards the fenced-in
garden, they both jumped up and bounded down the slope after her. It was
just here, at the corner of the garden fence, that Carolyn May had her
first adventure.
Prince, of course, disturbed the serenity of the poultry. The hens went
shrieking one way, the guinea fowl lifted up their voices in angry
chatter, the turkey hens scurried to cover, but the old turkey cock,
General Bolivar, a big, white Holland fowl, was not to have his dignity
disturbed and his courage impugned by any four-footed creature with
waggish ears and the stump of a tail.
Therefore, General Bolivar charged with outspread wings and quivering
fan. His eyesight was not good, however. He charged the little girl
instead of the roistering dog.
Carolyn May frankly screamed. Thirty-five pounds, or more, of solid
meat, frame, and feathers catapulted through the air at one is not to be
ignored. Had the angry turkey reached the little girl, he would have
beaten her down, and perhaps seriously injured her.
He missed her the first time, but turned to charge again. Prince barked
loudly, circling around the bristling turkey cock, undecided just how to
get into the battle. But Aunty Rose knew no fear of anything wearing
feathers.
"Scat, you brute!" she cried, and made a grab for the turkey, gripping
him with her left hand behind his head, bearing his long neck downward.
In her other hand she seized a piece of lath, and with it chastised the
big turkey across the haunches with vigour.
"Oh, don't spank him any more, Aunty Rose!" gasped Carolyn May at last.
"He _must_ be sorry."
With a final stroke Aunty Rose allowed the big fowl to go--and he ran
away fast enough. But the austere Mrs. Kennedy did not consider the
matter ended there. She had punished one culprit; now she turned to
Prince.
"Your dog, child, does not know his manners. If he is going to stay here
with you, he must learn that fowl are not to be chased nor startled."
"Oh, Aunty Rose!" begged the little girl, "_don't_ punish Prince!
Not--not that way. Please, don't! Why, he's never been spanked in his
life! He wouldn't know what it meant. _Dear_ Aunty Rose----"
"I shall not beat him, Car'lyn May," interrupted Aunty Rose. "But he
must learn his lesson. He has never run at liberty in his life before,
as he does here, I warrant."
"Oh, no, ma'am; he never has. Only in the park early in the morning.
Papa used to take him out for a run before he went to bed. The policemen
didn't mind if Prince _was_ off his leash then."
"'Before he went to bed?'" repeated Aunty Rose curiously. "What time did
your papa go to bed, pray?"
"Why, he worked on a morning paper, you see, and he didn't get home till
'most sunrise--in summer, I mean. He slept in the forenoon."
"Oh, such a way to live!" murmured Aunty Rose, scandalised. Then she
returned to the subject of Prince's punishment. "Your dog must learn
that liberty is not license. Bring him here, Car'lyn May."
She led the way to an open coop of laths in the middle of the back yard.
This was a hutch in which she put broody hens when she wished to break
up their desire to set. She opened the gate of it and motioned Prince to
enter.
The dog looked pleadingly at his little mistress' face, then into the
woman's stern countenance. Seeing no reprieve in either, with drooping
tail he slunk into the cage.
With one hand clutching her frock over her heart, Carolyn May's big blue
eyes overflowed.
"It's just as if he was arrested," she said. "Poor Prince! Has he got to
stay there _always_, Aunty Rose?"
"He'll stay till he learns his lesson," said Mrs. Kennedy grimly, and
went on into the garden.
Carolyn May sat down close to the side of the cage, thrust one hand
between the slats, and held one of the dog's front paws. She had hoped
to go into the garden to help Aunty Rose pick peas, but she could not
bear to leave Prince alone.
By-and-by Mrs. Kennedy came up from the garden, her pan heaped with
pods. She looked neither in the direction of the prisoner nor at his
little mistress. Carolyn May wanted awfully to shell the peas. She liked
to shell peas, and Aunty Rose had more in her pan than the little girl
had ever shelled at one time at home.
Prince whined and lay down. He had begun to realise now that this was no
play, at all, but punishment. He blinked his eyes at Carolyn May and
looked as sorry as ever a dog with cropped ears and an abbreviated tail
could look.
The hutch was under a wide-branching tree. It was shady, and the bees
hummed. A motherly hen with thirteen black chickens paraded by.
"I wonder," thought Carolyn May dozily, "how the mother can be so white
and her family can be so black. I believe there must be a mistake
somewhere. Suppose they shouldn't turn out to be chickens at all, but
crows! Maybe she was fooled about the eggs. You often _are_ fooled about
eggs, you know. You can't tell by the outside of an eggshell whether
what's inside is fresh or not.
"And if those are little crows, and not chicks, they'll fly right up
into the air some day and leave her, and go sailing off across the
brook, saying, 'Caw! Caw! Caw!'"
"Why, there they go now!" gasped Carolyn May--only, she _thought_ she
gasped, just as she _thought_ she saw the baker's dozen of chicks flying
across the brook--for she was fast asleep and dreaming.
Prince slept, too, and fought imaginary battles with the turkey cock in
his dreams, jerking all four of his legs, and growling dreadfully.
Carolyn May went wandering through fairyland, perhaps following the
chicken-crows she had first imagined.
The peas and potatoes were cooking for dinner when Aunty Rose appeared
again. There was the little girl, all of a dewy sleep, lying on the
grass by the prison-pen. Aunty Rose would have released Prince, but,
though he wagged his stump of a tail at her and yawned and blinked, she
had still her doubts regarding a mongrel's good nature.
She could not allow the child to sleep there, however; so, stooping,
picked up Carolyn May and carried her comfortably into the house, laying
her down on the sitting-room couch to have her nap out--as she supposed,
without awakening her.
It had been many a long day since Aunty Rose Kennedy had stood over a
sleeping child and watched the silky eyelashes flutter and the breath
part the rosy lips ever so little. Carolyn May's limbs were dimpled; her
golden hair was wavy, though it did not curl; she was sweet and lovable
in every way.
Aunty Rose came away softly and closed the door, and while she finished
getting dinner she tried to make no noise which would awaken the child.
Mr. Stagg came home at noon, quite as full of business as usual. To tell
the truth, Mr. Stagg always felt bashful in Aunty Rose's presence; and
he tried to hide his affliction by conversation. So he talked steadily
through the meal.
But somewhere--about at the pie course, it was--he stopped and looked
around curiously.
"Bless me!" he exclaimed, "where's Hannah's Car'lyn?"
"Taking a nap," said Aunty Rose composedly.
"Hum! can't the child get up to her victuals?" demanded Mr. Stagg. "You
begin serving that young one separately and you'll make yourself work,
Aunty Rose."
"Never trouble about that which doesn't concern you, Joseph Stagg,"
responded his housekeeper rather tartly. "The Lord has placed the care
of Hannah's Car'lyn on you and me, and I shall do my share, and do it
proper."
Mr. Stagg shook his head and lost interest in his wedge of berry pie.
"There are institutions--" he began weakly; but Aunty Rose said quickly:
"Joseph Stagg! I know you for what you are--other people don't. If the
neighbours heard you say _that_, they'd think you were a heathen. Your
own sister's child!
"Now, you send Tim, the hackman, up after me this afternoon. I've got to
go shopping. The child hasn't a thing to wear but that fancy little
black frock, and she'll ruin that playing around. She's got to have
frocks, and shoes, and another hat--all sorts of things. Seems a shame to
dress a child like her in black--it's punishment. Makes her affliction
double, I do say."
"Well, I suppose we've got to flatter Custom, or Custom will weep,"
growled Mr. Stagg. "But where the money's coming from----"
"Didn't Car'lyn's pa leave her none?" asked Aunty Rose promptly.
"Well--not what you'd call a fortune," admitted Mr. Stagg slowly.
"Thanks be, you've got plenty, then. And if you haven't, I have," said
the woman in a tone that quite closed the question of finances.
"Which shows me just where I get off at," muttered Joseph Stagg as he
started down the walk for the store. "I knew that young one would be a
nuisance."