"I b'lieve you ha'n't seen my new wife yet?"
"No. I hope you've drawn a prize in the lottery, Ethan."
"Wall, I don't know what I've drawn; somethin', that's sure." Here Mr.
Shepard looked ominously sober. "The wust thing I've found out yet is
that she's plaguey jealous."
"Jealous!" exclaimed Mr. Frothingham, in astonishment. "Why, it can't
be possible, Ethan. You are not the kind of a man to give a woman the
slightest excuse for jealousy."
"Wall, you see how't is, Henry: she's jealous of that pretty little
niece of mine."
"Jealous of that dear little girl!" exclaimed Mr. Frothingham, in
astonishment.
"Well, yes. I s'pose it's kind o' nat'ral, perhaps, bein' as she's jest
married, or not onto a year yet, that she might want to be the only
person of consequence 'round: that's what they tell me. But as my fust
wife wasn't like that, I wasn't a-lookin' for it in another woman."
"I see!" replied Mr. Frothingham gravely: "she don't treat Ruth badly,
does she?"
"Well, no; she don't do that exactly; she knows 'twouldn't be safe; but
there's ways of making a child mighty on comfortable, I find, without
out and out abusin' her."
"Exactly."
"You see, it's plain enough to Ruth that she don't want her here, and
she isn't pleasant with her like; and so the gal is lonely and homesick.
There was a lot of children at home,--and Lucy was mighty pleasant, you
know."
"Yes, yes! Lucy was a gem!"
"Well, losing her mother and all, and it bein' sech a change here with
Martha, it's putty hard on her; and she's took it inter her head, and my
wife she's pressed the matter, that she'd ruther go and take care of
children in some pleasant family than live here at the lighthouse. I
thought as how you'd find out pretty soon, an' I might as well tell you
fust as last what it means. You know well enough that it an't like me
to let my own sister's child, and sech a sister as Lucy was, go out to
work if I could help it; but I ha'n't no home but this to give her, and
if she'd ruther go somewheres else,--and I can't blame her none,--why, I
don't want to stand in her way; and so I haven't said she couldn't go,
if she can find a good place; though I do feel mighty bad about it, all
'round."
"This is very serious, Ethan. I'm sorry enough for you. We must see
what can be done. There's always more than one way out of a difficulty,
if we set to work to find it."
"I thought, the minute I saw you coming a-bringing Ruth, that you were
the very man to go to for advice. If she must go out to work, perhaps
you'd know of some good family where she'd be kind o' treated like one
of the family, and not put upon. She's a mighty smart gal to work, neat
and orderly, jest like her mother, for all the world, and she's got her
nice pretty ways about her; she's handy with a needle too; and sech a
hand for books and papers! She's a mighty smart scholar, so they say,
those that knew her in town."
Just then Mrs. Shepard came in, with her best dress on, to see the great
millionnaire, whom her husband had the honor to be acquainted with. She
appeared at her very best, seeming quite amiable, and did not even
remind her husband that he had let all the flies into the room, and it
would take her half a day to get them out again. Mr. Frothingham was
very polite to her. She thought him a very charming gentleman indeed.
As he rose to go, he said,--
"I must say good-by to Ruth, of course: we are old friends now."
"Oh! she's got on her common dress, and won't want to come in," replied
Mrs. Shepard. "I'll tell her you left a good-by."
"I never leave my good-bys, with children of her age, anywhere but on
their lips, if I can help it," replied Mr. Frothingham. "I've had
children of my own, Mrs. Shepard, and I'm very fond of all children for
their sakes, if for no other reason; though I think I'm naturally fond
of young folks."
Mr. Shepard had left the room as soon as Mr. Frothingham asked for Ruth;
and he now entered, leading her by the hard.
"Here she is, Henry," he said. "Isn't she lots like Lucy now?"
"That she is," replied Mr. Frothingham, kissing her. "Good-by, my
little friend. I sha'n't let you forget me, though; for I shall be over
to the lighthouse pretty often, and I'm going to bring my wife with me
next time. She is very fond of little girls."
Before Mrs. Shepard could recover from her astonishment at this
demonstration regarding Ruth, Mr. Frothingham was in his buggy, and
driving homewards very fast, over the road by which Felix and Johnny had
come to the lighthouse that evening, which was the nearest way to the
great cottage. The sky was very dark, and there were more mutterings of
thunder.
*CHAPTER XIII.*
*GOING TO THE HARBOR.*
Mr. Le Bras told Pierre that a friend of Mr. Frothingham, who was a
guest at the large hotel at the Harbor, had gone out with them in the
yacht, and had stated, incidentally, that he was anxious to find some
good teacher of German to instruct his son in that language; since the
young man was to travel in Germany in the fall, and it would be an
advantage to know something about the language to begin with. He said
he had spoken of Pierre, and recommended him; and the gentleman was
anxious that he should come down to the hotel the next day, and hold an
interview with himself and his son. Pierre was much pleased: he
understood the German language as well as he understood English, and
this would give him an opportunity to earn something during vacation.
Mr. Le Bras said they would go down to the Harbor, then, in the morning,
and Mrs. Le Bras and the children could go too, if they wished. Mrs. Le
Bras replied that she had other plans for the next morning, and the
children could ask Julia in her place, if they liked. The invitation
was, accordingly, given to Julia, much to her delight. She said she
liked to go to the hotel, it was such a gay place, and her mother always
let her wear her best clothes when she went there.
They started the next morning about ten. Mr. Le Bras said they would not
be home to dinner, but would dine at the hotel, so as to spend the
afternoon, and give the children a good chance to see all the sights at
the Harbor. He should go into town on business in the afternoon, and if
the children and Pierre preferred to go with him rather than remain at
the Harbor, they could do so.
Julia was dressed very handsomely, and wore a diamond ring, which shone
brightly through her delicate, colored mitts.
"I wish Ruth was with us too," said Sue, as the horses pranced off down
the shell road.
"What! in that blue calico?" replied Julia, laughing.
Sue, thus reminded, thought, herself, the blue calico would look rather
odd in the fine carriage, by the side of their best clothes; and yet,
somehow, it didn't seem as though it ought to, since the blue calico was
the best dress Ruth had, and it was not her fault that she could not
dress as well as they did.
"She's a real nice girl, anyhow," said Sue, "and just as good as we
are,--if not better."
"It don't make any difference about her being good," returned Felix:
"rich folks are rich folks, and poor folks are poor folks, and they
can't go together."
"Yes, they can," returned Sue: "we went together yesterday, and had a
real good time."
"I mean they can't go together and take dinner at a big hotel: they
can't go together where folks have to be dressed up and look smart."
"I think it's too bad, anyhow," said Sue emphatically.
"So do I!" said Johnny. "I guess that's the reason folks don't like to
be poor: they can't have as good times as rich folks, and they have to
be looked down upon. I shouldn't like to be poor."
"I am poor, and yet I have a pretty good time, Johnny," remarked Pierre.
"And you and I are not rich, my son, and yet we manage to be pretty
cheerful," added Mr. Le Bras.
"But we're not so very poor," replied Johnny: "Pierre dresses well, and
so do we, and no one would think of calling us poor."
"Then, it is about as good as if we were rich," said Mr. Le Bras; "and
perhaps it is better, though we are not apt to think so. It is my
opinion that Pierre enjoys that new suit of his far more for having had
to work hard in my office to earn it; and I don't enjoy seeing you and
Sue in your best clothes any the less, because I have had to do some
writing and talking in my office, or some speech-making in court, to
purchase them. I cannot have just the kind of enjoyment Mr. Frothingham
has in his fine yacht; but perhaps I manage to have just as good a time
some other way, even when I do not have the advantage of your uncle's
cottage by the sea. You and I have had pretty good times, before this
summer, Johnny."
"Oh, yes!" said Johnny. "I think we have grand times at home."
"And often with nothing more costly than a book out of a free library.
Don't go to having the dreary thought that persons who are not rich
cannot enjoy themselves; for if that were so, the great portion of the
people in the world would be miserable, and that would be a sad thing to
think of. I shouldn't wonder if Ruth were enjoying herself in some way
over at the lighthouse, as much as we are here in the carriage."
"I don't believe she is," said Sue; "because her mother is dead, and her
aunt don't like to have her stay there."
"But that isn't because she is poor. If her own mother were there, she
might be happy."
"Oh, yes! I could be real happy there, myself, seeing the waves, and
hearing them clash, if you and mamma and Johnny were there; and it
wouldn't make any difference if I had on my very worst dress."
"Wouldn't you be just a little happier if you had on a diamond ring like
Julia's?" asked Felix quizzically.
"Perhaps I should for a little while; but I would rather papa should
have a diamond pin like Mr. Frothingham's. Didn't it shine
beautifully?"
"A diamond is nothing but carbon," remarked Johnny; "and charcoal is
carbon too. I will give papa a piece of charcoal to wear."
"Ho, ho!" laughed Felix: "that's a yarn! A diamond is just as different
from charcoal as possible!"
"How?" asked Johnny.
"Why, it's white, and charcoal is black; it's transparent, and charcoal
isn't; it won't rub off, and charcoal will; it won't burn up like
charcoal, and it's worth no end of times more."
"But they are both carbon just the same; and those lozenges you are
eating are principally carbon, too, although they are a good deal whiter
than charcoal. You haven't any idea how much charcoal you are eating,
when you eat sugar or candy. There isn't any particular difference
between the whitest of sugar and charcoal, except that the particles are
so arranged as to reflect or absorb light differently. I can take a
handful of white sugar, and, by putting in something to change the
arrangement of the particles, make it look as much like charcoal as it
is, just as black as your boot, and spread out into a great deal larger
space than it occupied before."
"Yes, he can," said Sue: "I've seen him do it."
"Well, I'd like to see him do it, before I believe it."
"I'll do it when we get home, to-night, if you will give me five cents,
and papa will get me some acid to do it with, when he goes into town.
The kind of acid I want will cost five cents."
"All right! here's your five cents," replied Felix, taking the amount
from his pocket-book.
"After you have seen it proved that sugar is like charcoal, perhaps you
can believe more easily that a diamond is. The particles of carbon in a
diamond are packed very closely together, and in such a way as to
reflect the rays of light beautifully, and separate them like a prism,
when it is cut right. It is so hard, that it is not easy to burn
it,--that is, to separate the particles by heat, and make them combine
with the oxygen in the air,--but it will burn up if subjected to very
strong heat indeed. There's no danger of your diamond burning up,
though, Julia, even though you should drop it into the fire by accident;
for a fire in a stove wouldn't be hot enough."
"I'm glad of that," replied Julia.
"I don't see as chemistry does so very much good," remarked Felix: "it
only tells you about things; it don't make any thing."
"O Felix!" exclaimed Johnny: "there are hardly any of the arts that can
be carried on without chemicals, or things chemists have learned how to
make; and some of the most useful discoveries in the world have been
made by chemists."
"Tell him about the way they learned how to make Bessemer steel out of
common iron, as an example, Johnny," said Pierre.
"Well. You see, Felix, they can't make Bessemer steel out of iron that
has much phosphorus in it; and most of the iron in the world has a good
deal of phosphorus in it; and about all in our country and England has.
So the English had to buy the pure iron in Spain, or some other country,
and bring it over at a great cost, to make Bessemer steel of."
"Why didn't they take the phosphorus out of the iron?"
"Ah! that's just it! They didn't know how. They studied and studied to
do that very thing; for if they could find an easy way to get the
phosphorus out, they could make railway steel out of their own iron, and
stop buying of Europe. Mr. Thomas, a young English chemist, did not
believe what other folks said, who had tried experiments to get
phosphorus out of iron: they said it could not be driven out by heat.
So he and a friend of his set to work, with a little kettle, to try
again. When iron ore is melted, the phosphorus has such an affinity for
iron, that it will leave the stone, and go into the iron; or if there is
any in the coal or limestone used, it will leave either of them to get
into the iron. But Mr. Thomas and his friend found by experiment, that
although the phosphorus had a greater affinity for iron than any thing
else up to a very high temperature, yet, if the iron was heated up to
twenty-five hundred degrees, it would leave the iron to go into
limestone; and you must keep it at that heat until the limestone with
the phosphorus in it was drawn off from the iron, or the phosphorus will
go right back to the iron again. So, by a patent process which Mr.
Thomas and Mr. Gilchrist invented, one of the principal things about
which is the putting of a quantity of limestone into the furnace with
the iron ore, as a bait to attract the phosphorus when it is heated to
twenty-five hundred degrees, they can get pure iron in England out of
very common ore, and so sell us railroad-steel a good deal cheaper than
we can make it; and England does not have to send to Spain and other
countries now, as it used to, for iron that has no phosphorus in it."
"That is a pretty good story, Prof. Tell us some more chemistry
stories."
"No," said Mr. Le Bras: "we can't have Johnny teaching all the way to
the Harbor. And you, young man, must begin to look up information in
books, as Johnny has, without always troubling some one to tell you; and
then you can begin to inform others of some things, and not always take
the place of a learner. Pierre, you must begin to put this young man
into a solid course of reading, where he will be gaining some
information of value by his own efforts. Isn't he out of stories
yet?--that is, don't he read any thing else?"
"I was intending to ask you pretty soon," replied Pierre, "if I hadn't
better go into town and see if I can find some book of information. I
have begun to have him read items of importance in the papers, but there
is no suitable book at the cottage."
"Get him a book to-day, any thing you please, and I will foot the bill."
"Don't get me any thing awful dry, will you, Pierre?" said Felix. "If
you do, I shall just read it without knowing a word I have read."
"I'll see to that. Perhaps I shall have to send to New York for what I
want. But I think I can fix you, sir. I don't mean that you shall
forget any thing you read that is worth remembering, even if I have to
catechise you every day about it."
"Well, anyhow, I don't have to read but an hour a day," returned Felix;
"and I guess I can stand it a while longer."
"That is all put on," said Pierre to Mr. Le Bras, in a low tone: "he is
beginning to like his hour of reading in the morning; he told me so
yesterday."
"And does he keep on improving?"
"Oh, yes! he is doing finely."
Before long, they reached the harbor, which was the broad mouth of a
beautiful river. There was a white, sandy beach, with long rows of
bathing-houses at one point, and a great shore-dinner room with
pavilion. Farther down was a wharf, about which were sailboats and
yachts, and a beautiful little steamer, that ran between the harbor and
the town. A great hotel stood a little back from the shore, near which
stood a number of pretty cottages for lodging some of the guests of the
house. At intervals along the beach were handsome great cottages, as
large as Mr. Frothingham's. There was also a lighthouse on the beach.
At a little distance back of the lighthouse was a pretty grove with
seats, swings, and revolving hobby-horses. The children spent the rest
of the morning in the grove, and along the shore. Then came the novel
event of the day,--dinner in the great dining-room at the hotel, with
colored waiters, and all the courses, from soup to nuts. The tables
were filled with handsomely dressed, merry persons. The show and
clatter, discussion of the bill of fare, and the courses with their long
pauses between, made it easy to spend so much time at the table that a
good part of the afternoon was gone before they left the dining-room;
and so the children concluded they would not go into town that day.
As they were passing out through the hall, Johnny noticed that a good
many men were sitting with newspapers in their hands. He stopped as
they passed the desk, and asked of the clerk,--
"Does any boy sell papers here?"
"No," replied the clerk.
"Where do all these gentlemen get their papers?"
"Some of them come by mail, and some get them when they go into town."
As they were going down the steps toward the wharf, to see Mr. Le Bras
and Pierre off for town,--since they had decided to go in the steamer,
and leave the carriage for Oliver to take the children for a drive along
the beach,--Johnny said,--
"There are no papers brought here to the hotel: I have a mind to go over
to town mornings, and get some papers and bring them up; if I could sell
a good many, I could make considerable money, and have a good time, by
coming to the town and Harbor every day."
"But you might not sell enough to make it pay," replied his father.
"I can afford to try it one day. I feel rather badly about not earning
any spending-money this summer, and so I should like to try."
"But how could you get into town every day?"
"Why, Pierre will come over mornings to teach that young man, won't he?"
"Yes; that is decided: but he only comes as far as the Harbor."
"I can go to town and back in the steamer."
"But that will cost you twenty cents a day."
"Yes; but I expect to earn more than that; and then, I shall get my
money's worth in the sail; I expect to spend some of the money I earn,
in having a good time."
"Very well: you can try the experiment, if you have any money to risk in
the enterprise."
"I brought two dollars with me of money I earned myself, and so I think
I will try it."
"What's the use of taking all that bother for some money?" said Felix.
"Won't you give him all the money he wants, uncle Frank?"
"I cannot very well afford to give a boy all the money he wants,"
replied Mr. Le Bras; "and, besides, I think it is a very bad plan."
"I like money better that I've earned myself, and I like what I buy with
it better than I do the things bought with money other persons have
earned," said Johnny. "Besides, I belong to The Independents, who don't
spend money themselves that they have not earned."
"But you have to: you can't buy your own clothes."
"I don't spend the money for my clothes: my father buys those things for
me. But I earn all my own spending-money, and have these two years."
"I'm glad I don't have to," said Felix.
"Ah! but you don't know what great fun it is."
As Mr. Le Bras and Pierre stepped on board the little steamer, Johnny
handed his father the five cents Felix had given him, rolled up in a
little slip of paper. "Please get me the acid, father," he said: "I've
written the name of it on that slip of paper."
After the steamer had gone, the children remained some time on the pier,
looking at the yachts, particularly Mr. Frothingham's, which was named
"Grace," after his wife. It was the largest yacht there, and the
handsomest. Then they went up into the grove to stay until it was
cooler, after which Oliver was to take them to ride all about the
Harbor, and down to see the fort, which was half-way between the harbor
and the town.
As they were riding back from the fort, up the Harbor road, about five
o'clock, a very handsome carriage came into the road at a turn just
ahead of them, with a span of black horses wearing very handsome
harness. On the back scat were a lady and a girl, and a gentleman sat
opposite talking with them. The driver was in livery.
"Why! There's Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham! and--and Ruth, I do believe!"
exclaimed Felix.
At that moment, Ruth observed the children, and said something to Mr.
and Mrs. Frothingham, who turned and bowed. Mr. Frothingham spoke to
the driver, who drove more slowly as he turned in the direction of the
Harbor; so that Oliver speedily overtook him, and the two carriages were
side by side.
"So you are alone by yourselves?" said Mr. Frothingham.
"Father and Pierre have gone into town," replied Johnny, "and we are
riding until they come back. We came down this morning, and took dinner
at the hotel."
"Ah!" said Mr. Frothingham: "that was a good idea. I think, Grace, we
had better take Ruth to the hotel for an ice-cream. Suppose we all take
some cream or ices?"
Mr. Frothingham then said, turning to the children, "Mrs. Frothingham
and I have been over to the lighthouse to get Ruth: she is to make us a
visit. We rode around here to give her a little drive before we went
home. You must come up to the house and see her this week: I expect she
will be a little homesick at first, away from her uncle."
But Ruth did not look at all homesick yet; her eyes sparkled, and her
cheeks were glowing; she looked so happy and so handsome, that even the
plain dark-blue calico seemed very becoming.
When they reached the hotel, Mr. Frothingham insisted upon their all
going in for ice-cream and cake and maccaroons.
Julia was rather horrified at first, at entering the big hotel
dining-room, with its groups of richly dressed guests, accompanied by a
girl in a calico dress; but seeing that the waiters treated Mr. and Mrs.
Frothingham with great deference, and the gentlemen and ladies bowed
very respectfully as they passed, she concluded that the honors of the
occasion quite offset the disgrace, and enjoyed the entertainment very
much. Ruth, in her pretty, modest way, seemed quite happy and animated,
much more so than at the time she had spent the day at Mr. Le Bras',
with, the going down to the cottages to find a place to work on her
mind.
Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham and Ruth rode directly home after leaving the
hotel; and as Mr. Le Bras and Pierre had not returned, Oliver drove the
children up and down near the pier until they arrived. It appeared that
Pierre, having come across an old grist-mill in the suburbs, as Mr. Le
Bras and he were walking about the town, had wished to stop and sketch
it, and Mr. Le Bras had waited for him; for the sketch was to be a
present to Mrs. Le Bras, who might like to make a painting from it.
"I must begin to make some sketches too," said Johnny.
"So must I," said Sue.
"Why, you can't draw, can you?" replied Julia, who did not know how to
use a pencil with any skill herself.
"Oh, yes!" said Sue. "At least, I can draw pictures from nature that
are good enough for my sketch-book. I didn't bring my sketch-book, but
I can paste the pictures in afterwards. Did you bring any paper and
drawing-pencils, Johnny?"
"No; but mother has plenty she will lend us; she told me I need not pack
any."
"Did you remember the acid, uncle Frank?" asked Felix.
"Yes," replied Mr. Le Bras, taking a little vial, wrapped in white
paper, from his pocket, and handing it to Johnny. "The druggist
labelled it 'Poison,' I noticed; so be careful of it."
"I know it is poison well enough without the label," replied Johnny. "I
have learned what it is made of, how it is made, and all about it, from
my chemistry."
When they reached home, Sue was telling her mother about Mr. and Mrs.
Frothingham taking Ruth home for a visit, and how they all had ice-cream
together at the hotel.
"Just think!" said Felix: "there was Ruth in that old calico dress."
"No Felix: it is a new calico," interrupted Sue.
"Common calico, I mean; and there was every one else all dressed up. I
should think Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham would have been ashamed of her."
"I respect them very much for not being ashamed of her," replied Mrs. Le
Bras: "persons who are ashamed of other people for circumstances for
which the persons who suffer most from them are not to blame, ought to
be ashamed of themselves. I shall always be proud to say that I made
the acquaintance here this summer of a millionnaire and his wife who
were not spoiled by having a great amount of money, but were true
gentleman and lady. No one can be a true gentleman or lady who is not
kind-hearted, and free from foolish pride and assumption. Ruth seems to
be as nice a little girl as I ever saw, and it is nothing to her
discredit that she cannot dress finely."
While they were at supper, Johnny poured some water into a tumbler, and
added so much sugar that it was soon quite a sirup.
"I like sugar and water: I guess I'll have some too," remarked Felix,
putting a little water into his tumbler, and drawing the sugar-bowl
towards him.
"Johnny isn't going to eat that, Felix," said Sue.
"What is he going to do with it, then?"
"You wait and see," replied Johnny. "I want the sugar to get well
dissolved by the time supper is over, and so I mixed it now."
After supper, Johnny took the vial from his pocket, and asked Kate if
she would be kind enough to bring him a common teaspoon. When the spoon
was brought, Johnny handed the vial to Sue. Now that the paper was
removed, the vial was seen to contain some nearly white fluid.
"You pour it in gently while I stir," said Johnny.
Sue took out the cork, and began to pour the fluid slowly into the
tumbler, while Johnny stirred the sweetened water, etc., briskly.
Presently the contents of the tumbler grew very black, and began to
solidify, rising rapidly in the tumbler, while what Felix called "smoke"
issued from it.
"Put your hand on the tumbler, Felix," said Johnny.
Felix did so, but drew it back quickly. "It burns," said he.
"Yes," said Johnny: "chemical union causes heat, and there are two
substances uniting here. You know the uniting of carbon or hydrogen with
oxygen produces heat, and it's so with many other substances."
"It's going to run over!" said Sue.
Johnny slipped a saucer under the tumbler; and the black mass
overflowed, half filling the saucer also.
"Now, you see," continued Johnny, "the particles of matter have changed
very much; for one thing, it is plain enough that they are farther
apart; the acid and the sirup would not have half filled the tumbler
with their particles as near together as they were to begin with; but
now they fill the tumbler and part of the saucer. Who says that there
isn't charcoal for you? Just think, Felix! if you had eaten that sirup,
you would have eaten so much charcoal: it would probably be more than
you could burn up in your lungs to-day or to-morrow, with all the rest
of the articles having carbon in them that you have eaten, and so you
would have laid it up in extra fat on your body to use some other time,
unless you keep on taking in more fuel than you need all the time; and,
in that case, it would stay as stored fuel in the shape of fat, I
suppose, unless the blood managed to carry off some of it to the lungs
to be burned as waste matter. I don't exactly know about that: I
haven't got very far in physiology yet."
"It's stopped smoking now," said Felix, taking up some of the black mass
in his fingers. "I suppose it isn't good to eat with that poison acid in
it."
"And it don't look very appetizing, either," replied Johnny. "But a
person who had the right kind of apparatus, and knew how, could get all
the sugar I put in there back again, so that it would be just as good to
eat as it was before. I suppose that smoke was a gas escaping. I
haven't studied into this experiment as I ought; but I shouldn't wonder
if the oxygen in the water united with the acid, and that set the
hydrogen in the water free, so that the 'smoke' was hydrogen gas. But I
am not certain. I'll find out exactly how it is when I get back where
my books are. Or, like enough, Pierre will tell us all about it."
"Well! This does look amazingly like charcoal," said Felix, "only it is
sort of sticky. I guess we had better put it away till it dries."
"I don't believe it will dry," replied Johnny; "because that acid has
such an affinity for water that it will collect moisture. It will stay
just about as it is now; and, after you have looked at it enough, I had
better throw it in the fire, where it will be out of the way: mother
don't like to have any thing with poison in it about."
*CHAPTER XIV.*
*ODDS AND ENDS.*
The time flew very fast and happily by the sea. Johnny and Felix went
to the Harbor every morning directly after breakfast, with Pierre, the
reading-hour being postponed until their return. Johnny had great luck
with his papers from the very start; and his little pocket-book grew so
small for his money, in a few days, that he had to transfer a portion of
it to another receptacle in his trunk. Felix accompanied him to the
Harbor and town "for the fun of it," as he said, but he soon began to
want to sell something himself; and so Johnny proposed that he should
buy candy in town at the wholesale, and retail it at the Harbor; since
candy could be bought there only at the shore-dinner room, where there
was a very poor assortment. Felix was considering the subject, when
something happened, about a week after they began their morning-trips to
the Harbor, which threw him into disgrace, and prevented the immediate
execution of the scheme.
About a week from the day on which Ruth had visited at the cottage,
Oliver went up on the hay-mow to pitch down some of the straw which had
been placed there, and which was the same that was on the floor the
night the boys slept out. As the barn was used only in summer, and
there was plenty of pasture about, very little hay was stored in the
barn. The straw had been brought for the stables. So it happened that
Oliver was seldom on this second floor of the barn. While he was
throwing down the straw that afternoon, and Mr. Le Bras was standing in
the barn-door giving him some directions, Oliver heard a very strange
sound off in one corner. "There's a queer noise up here," said he: "I
should think there was some live thing about somewheres."
"What does it sound like?" inquired Mr. Le Bras.
"That's more'n I can tell," replied Oliver. "It 'pears to be over here
in the corner."
Oliver at once began to explore in the direction from which the sound
proceeded. "Golly!" he exclaimed, in a tone that excited Mr. Le Bras'
curiosity so much that he ascended to the mow. Oliver was just removing
a stone from the top of a large box in the corner. Having taken off the
stone, he removed the cover of the box, which had been placed on in such
a way as to leave an opening at the end about an inch and a half wide.
He then drew the box forward, and disclosed therein, to Mr. Le Bras'
astonished view, an emaciated kitten, lying apparently helpless,
uttering weak, pitiful sounds, hardly distinguishable as the voice of a
cat.
Mr. Le Bras sprang to the door, and called, "Felix! Johnny!" while
Oliver took the kitten out, and laid it upon some hay on the barn-floor,
where it lay quite motionless, still making the weak, mournful cry.
Johnny, Felix, and Sue were picking huckleberries in the pasture: so the
boys heard Mr. Le Bras at once, and came running to the barn. "Look
here," said Mr. Le Bras, pointing to the sad sight. "Can either of you
explain this?"
Both Johnny and Felix were horrified, but of course Felix alone looked
guilty; and, although Mr. Le Bras had called Johnny as well as Felix, he
had no suspicion that Johnny knew any thing about the imprisonment of
the kitten.
"Why--I--I"--replied Felix, looking very much confused, and very much
ashamed, and very sorry--"I knew about her being shut up, and I meant
to--to have let her out that very night; but every thing happened about
then, and--and we've been to the Harbor every day, and I haven't come
across Jack since, and so I--I forgot all about it. I'm awful sorry,
uncle Frank: I never once thought of having her stay there; I got sort
of put out with Julia, and I thought I'd like to tease her a little; and
so, when Jack spoke of doing something with the kitten, I just helped
him for fun, and I proposed shutting her up, instead of drowning her, as
he wanted to."
"We shall have to hold another court, to-day, Felix," said Mr. Le Bras
gravely: "didn't you say you knew nothing of what had become of the
kitten?--Johnny, run to the house at once, and get a saucer of milk."
"I said," replied Felix, looking still more ashamed, "that I knew
nothing about Julia's kitten; and when she asked me if I knew where her
kitten was, I said 'No;' because this was not her kitten at all, but
Jack's."
"This is very much like the other case, in some aspects," replied Mr. Le
Bras gravely,--"another plain instance of prevarication. I had hoped,
Felix, that after our previous talk in regard to the real nature of
truth and falsehood, you would avoid prevarication as much as you would
avoid a direct falsehood."
Felix hung his head, and made no reply.
Sue, who had remained picking berries, on seeing Johnny come out of the
house with a saucer of milk in his hand, called out, "Have you found a
cat, Johnny?"
"Yes," called back Johnny: "we've found Julia's kitten!"
Sue at once put down her pail, and, without coming to the barn first,
ran directly across the pathway through the strip of woods, to the back
part of the next cottage, and rushed into the first door she came to,
calling out, "Where's Julia? They've found her kitten!"
So, while Sue waited at the door, the girl went to tell Julia the good
news; and a moment afterwards, Julia appeared, in a high state of
excitement, exclaiming, "Where is it?"
"In the barn, I guess," said Sue: "that's where Johnny was carrying the
milk."
Julia at once ran towards the barn, as fast as she could go; and Sue
followed her. When they entered the barn, Johnny was stroking the
kitten, and trying to get her to drink some of the milk in the saucer,
which was placed close by her mouth; while the kitten made no effort to
drink, but only continued the faint, pitiful cries. Mr. Le Bras,
Oliver, and Felix were standing near,--Felix with his hands behind him,
and a very sober, perplexed look upon his face.
As soon as Julia and Sue saw the poor, emaciated object, Julia screamed,
and Sue turned away and began to cry. Then Julia began to cry bitterly,
and exclaimed,--
"Oh, dear! my beautiful little kitten! She's dying! She's been
dreadfully treated! Oh, dear! Oh, dear! What shall I do!"
Mrs. Le Bras, who was sitting in the veranda, heard the wailing, and ran
out to the barn in a great fright. She was followed by Mary and Kate.
When the full group were collected about the kitten, its cries were
quite drowned in the chorus of lamentation.
"I shall have to take the part of a physician for this patient," said
Mr. Le Bras finally: "I prescribe perfect quiet, to begin with. We must
leave the kitten wholly alone, for at least an hour: it will be much
more likely to notice the milk, and recover appetite for it, if its
attention is not distracted elsewhere. Come, let us all go; and you,
Oliver, shut the barn-door after us, and fasten it. Felix can go to his
room, and stay until supper-time. After supper is over, he can go to
the parlor with me, and we will hold court."
Julia then ran home, without saying another word; she ran into the room
where her mother was sitting, threw herself on the floor by her side,
buried her face in her lap, and began to cry quite hysterically; so that
Mrs. Peterson would have been at a sad loss to know the cause, if Sue
had not followed close behind Julia.
"Why, the kitten's found, 'most dead and starved," said Sue, who was
still wiping her eyes. "It's just as little as nothing, except its
head, and that looks awfully big,--I guess because it's about all that's
left; and it's crying and crying, and can't drink the milk; and Felix
must be to blame about it, 'cause father's going to hold court with him
after supper; and I never saw Felix look half so sober before, so I
expect he's awfully to blame, somehow."
"I knew he and Jack did it," sobbed Julia; "and he went and lied about
it! If that kitten dies, I'll never speak to him again as long as I
live! I don't believe I'll speak to him anyhow! He is one of the
hatefulest boys that ever lived! I thought he was going to be better
than he was last year; but this is just as mean,--and meaner, too, than
the things he used to do last year. I hate boys, anyway!--all except
Johnny."
Felix came down to supper with a very long face. The meal proceeded
with unusual gravity and silence all around. As yet, the kitten had not
touched the milk, and her death was expected at any time. Sue had
reported Julia to have gone to bed early with a headache. After supper,
Felix followed his uncle into the parlor. When the testimony in the case
was all in, and Felix had made his defence, Mr. Le Bras proceeded with
his argument for the opposite side, and for truth and right-doing in
general, and then, as judge, pronounced the extent of Felix's guilt, and
proceeded to the sentence.
"Now, Felix," said he, "if it were Johnny who were deserving punishment,
and we were at home, I should, very likely, forbid his reading or
studying for a certain number of days, which would be a great punishment
for him; but, in your case, it seems to me that study is a punishment,
and yet it is something for your good. I always endeavor, in punishing
my children, to deny them something, or have them do something, which
will be of some use to them besides the punishment. When I tell Johnny
he must not read for a week, I do it partly because I know a pause in
his reading, and more exercise and open air in consequence, will be for
his good. So, in my previous sentence regarding you, I proposed that
you should read an hour a day for the summer, because it would be a
punishment in the first place, and yet would improve you very much, and
give you a habit which would soon be a great pleasure as well as profit
to you."
"Yes," replied Felix. "I rather anticipate my hour's reading with
Pierre now, and I shouldn't like to give it up: but then, I get tired by
the end of the hour, and I shouldn't like to have any more put on, if I
can help it; because there are such a lot of other things that I want to
do."
"Yes: I think an hour's reading is sufficient, especially in vacation.
And I am hesitating about giving you any more fixed confinement. Still,
as you do not go to school steadily, or study very hard the rest of the
year, there is less objection than there would otherwise be. On the
whole, I think I will offer you your choice between two kinds of
punishment, this time. You can spend a half-hour a day in the practice
of letter-writing, in which you say you are so deficient that you cannot
write a letter to your father and mother,--although Johnny and Sue have
already sent two,--or you can remain away from the Harbor three weeks.
You can take your half-hour a day for writing, at any time upon which
you and Pierre can agree. But you will probably prefer merely the
deprivation of the morning-trips to the Harbor."
"How long shall I have to spend a half-hour a day studying
letter-writing?"
"I think four weeks will answer. That will be twelve hours in all,
which will be quite a punishment, and also be long enough to learn how
to write a letter neatly and correctly."
"Then, I shall prefer the half-hour a day. I wouldn't give up going to
the Harbor for a good deal, because I am to try and see if I can begin
to earn some money to-morrow: I shouldn't like to give that up. If
Pierre is willing, I'll take my half-hour before breakfast, and have it
over with; for I always have a little while, between the time I get up,
and breakfast-time, that I don't exactly know what to do with."
"Very well. But there is one thing more: you must go over to see Julia
to-morrow, explain the matter fully, tell her how sorry you are, and ask
her forgiveness."
"That will be the hardest of all," replied Felix, making a wry face;
"because I don't believe she will forgive me, and I know she won't if
the kitten isn't better. I am awful sorry, uncle Frank: I wouldn't have
really hurt the kitten for the world; and I've cried some myself at
thinking how miserable it looks, and what a hard time it's had, and how
it may die."
"I don't think you are cruel or hard-hearted, Felix: your trouble is
thoughtlessness; but, you see, thoughtlessness may amount to the same
thing sometimes, in its effects, as real cruelty. I have known
thoughtless persons who have even been the cause of the death of their
dearest friends; so we will be thankful that, in this case, it is only a
kitten who has had to suffer severely. Yet we should be very
thoughtful, even of dumb animals; for they cannot think for themselves,
and are peculiarly dependent upon us."
"I am awful sorry, truly," replied Felix, looking down gravely: "I will
try to be more thoughtful, uncle Frank. But then, if you knew how much
I've improved this summer, I think you would be some encouraged."
"I am a good deal encouraged, my dear boy, I assure you," replied Mr. Le
Bras, putting his arm around Felix. "I expect great things of you, my
boy. There's the making of a noble man in you; and, in many ways, I am
proud of you already."
"I'm awful glad I've been with you and auntie and Johnny and Sue this
summer," replied Felix, brushing a tear from his eye. "I suppose I'd
have gone right on being horrible, if it hadn't been for that. But,
somehow, I didn't know how to be any better,--or, anyway, I couldn't
be."
At that moment, there was a soft rap at the door.
"Who is it?" asked Mr. Le Bras.
"It's me," said Sue. "Mother just sent me to say Oliver has come in,
and says the kitten has drank up the milk, and so he guesses she'll
begin to be all right by to-morrow; and I'm going right over to tell
Julia, so she won't feel so bad."
"I guess I'm glad!" exclaimed Felix. And then his uncle opened the
door, and told him the court was adjourned _sine die_, and he could go
and arrange with Pierre about the half-hour.
So, the next day, Felix went to the Harbor as usual, and began his trade
in candy, with very good success. The kitten had drank its milk all
right for breakfast, and was able to stand up. Felix brought home a box
of caramels for Julia, and took them over with him when he went, after
dinner, to make his confession, and ask forgiveness. Julia could not
withstand his humble manner and the box of caramels. She forgave him
very prettily; although she added, that she did not know whether she
could have forgiven him or not, if the kitten had died. Felix told her
Jack said he didn't want the kitten himself; in fact, his mother did not
like cats, and had said she was glad it had gone, and that she would not
have it brought back; but yet he thought Julia deserved some punishment
for carrying it off, and so had proposed, at first, to tie a stone to
the kitten's neck, and drown it, when they went fishing. But Felix had
objected to this plan, decidedly, and had compromised by proposing to
shut the kitten up, fully intending to let it out that night or the next
morning, and, if he kept it imprisoned over night, to carry it something
to eat.
The next day the kitten could walk around, although very feebly. She
was still kept in the barn, because that was a convenient place for her
progress to be watched by all interested. The children made frequent
visits to inquire after her health, and were assured each time, by her
more cheerful and stronger "Mew!" that she was better.
That afternoon, as the children were in the veranda, Felix and Johnny
sitting together in the hammock reading the "St. Nicholas" and "Wide
Awake," which had just arrived, and Julia and Sue playing with their
dolls, Mr. Frothingham's carriage came in sight, up the shell road,
immediately drawing their attention from their books and dolls.
"There is a little girl with them," said Julia, "but it isn't Ruth.
What a pretty girl she is, and how beautifully she is dressed! She
doesn't look much like Ruth, does she?"
"I guess it's some of their relations, come to visit with Ruth," replied
Sue.
"Poh!" said Felix: "no city girl would be sent for to visit with Ruth,
it isn't likely! I guess it's some one from the Harbor, that they are
carrying home. I've seen a girl at the Harbor, who lives in one of
those big cottages, that looks just like her."
"I think it is Ruth herself," said Johnny; "only her hair is loose, and
waved, and banged, and she's got different clothes on."
"Oh, no!" exclaimed Julia, in disdain.
"Johnny thinks he can see better with his spectacles than folks can who
don't have to wear any," remarked Felix, laughing.
"I really believe it is Ruth," said Sue breathlessly.
"Yes," added Johnny: "she's smiling, and waving her hand to us; and
don't you see she's got Ruth's way of sitting up straight, and holding
back her head?"
Felix whistled, which was his ordinary way of expressing great
astonishment. "If that don't beat all!" he exclaimed.
Then they all ran down the steps, and stood, an expectant and curious
group, awaiting the nearer approach of the carriage; while Mr. and Mrs.
Le Bras, who had been sitting in the balcony, came down-stairs, and
stood out on the veranda, with smiling faces, ready to welcome the
occupants of the carriage.
There was no longer any doubt that the fine young lady in the carriage
was Ruth, though she did look so radiantly stylish and handsome.
"Of course, dress makes a great difference in persons' looks; but I
never saw a more striking example," remarked Mrs. Le Bras.
"Ruth was a very sweet-looking girl in her plain clothes, though,"
replied Mr. Le Bras: "I rather expected something of this kind, when she
should be dressed more like other children."
"Why! did you know they were going to dress her up?" asked Felix.
"I thought it probable," replied Mr. Le Bras.
"But she'll feel all the worse when she has to put on her calico dress,
and go home," said Julia.
The carriage was now too near for further remarks. The driver drove up
to the door, and stopped; while Mr. and Mrs. Le Bras came out, and shook
hands, and asked Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham and Ruth to come in.
"We came down to get the children," said Mr. Frothingham. "We want them
to come and take tea with Ruth, and then drive over with us to see the
fireworks at the Harbor. We will bring them back in good season this
evening.
"They will be very happy to go," replied Mrs. Le Bras.
Mr. and Mrs. Le Bras urged their callers to come in, and stay until the
children were ready. As Julia was included in the invitation, she ran
home to ask her mother if she could go, while Felix, Sue, and Johnny
went to get ready; Mrs. Le Bras having called Kate to help Sue to dress.
Ruth was dressed in white, and wore a broad hat of fine straw, trimmed
with a long cream-colored plume and satin ribbon. She was just as
modest, unassuming, and at her ease, as she had been in her blue calico,
and, as Julia told her mother, "didn't seem to mind being dressed up."
The fact was, the poor child was thinking so much of how nice it was not
to be at the lighthouse with her aunt, that she had little thought for
the other advantages of her situation, to begin with.