A BABY IN A BLUE CLOAK.
Dotty had begun to smile again, and was talking pleasantly with
her father, when there was a sudden rocking of the cars, or, as Prudy
had called it, a "car-quake." Dotty would have been greatly alarmed if
she had not looked up in her father's face and seen that it was
perfectly tranquil. They had run over a cow.
This little accident gave a new turn to the child's thoughts. She gazed
at the conductor with some distrust. If he did not take care of the
cars, what made him wear that printed hat-band? She supposed that in
some mysterious way he drove or guided the furious iron horse; and when
she saw him sitting at ease, conversing with the passengers, she was not
satisfied; she thought he was neglecting his duty.
"I s'pose," mused she, finishing the final crumb of her sandwich,--"I
s'pose there are two kinds of conductors in cars, same as in thunder.
One is a _non_, and the other isn't. I'm afraid this man is a _non_; if
he is, he will conduct us all to pieces."
Still her fear was not very active; it did not prevent her having a good
time. She saw that her father was comfortable, and this fact reassured
her somewhat. If they were going to meet with a dreadful accident,
wouldn't he be likely to know it?
She began to look about her for something diverting. At no great
distance was a little baby in a blue cloak. Not a very attractive baby,
but a great deal better than none.
"Papa, there's more room on the seat by that lady's bandbox. Mayn't I
ask to take care of her baby?"
"Yes, dear, if she is willing."
Dotty danced down the aisle, thinking as she went,--
"My father lets me do every single thing. If we had mamma with us,
_sometimes_ she'd say, No."
The tired woman greeted Miss Dimple cordially. She was not only willing,
but very well pleased to have the uneasy baby taken out of her arms.
Dotty drew off her gloves, and laid the little one's head tenderly
against her cheek. Baby looked wonderingly into the bright eyes bending
above him, reached up a chubby hand, caught Dotty's hat, and twitched it
towards the left ear.
"Sweetest cherub!" said the fond mother, as if the child had done a
good deed, "Take off your hat, little girl. I'll hang it in the rack."
Dotty was glad to obey. But baby was just as well satisfied with his new
friend's hair as he had been with the hat. It was capable of being
pulled; and that is a quality which delights the heart of infancy. Dotty
bore the pain heroically, till she bethought herself of appearances;
for, being among so many people, she did not wish to look like a gypsy.
She smoothed back her tangled locks as well as she could, and tried
every art of fascination to attract the baby's attention to something
else.
"You are a pretty little girl, and a nice little girl," said the
gratified mother. "You have a wonderful faculty for 'tending babies.
Now, do you think, darling, you could take care of him a few minutes
alone, and let me try to get a nap? I am very tired, for I got up this
morning before sunrise, and had baking to do."
"O, yes'm," replied Dotty, overflowing with good nature; "you can go to
sleep just as well as not. Baby likes me--don't you, baby? And we'll
play pat-a-cake all so nice!"
"It isn't every day I see such a handsome, obliging little dear,"
remarked the oily-tongued woman, as she folded up a green and yellow
plaid shawl, and put it on the arm of the seat for a pillow. "I should
like to know what your name is; and some time, perhaps, I can tell your
mother how kind you were to my baby."
"My name is Alice Parlin," replied our enraptured heroine, "and I live
in Portland. I'm going out West, where the Hoojers live. I--"
Dotty stopped herself just in time to avoid "putting on airs."
"H--m! I _thought_ I had seen you before. Well, your mother is proud of
you; I know she is," remarked the new acquaintance, settling herself for
a nap.
Dotty looked at her as she lay curled in an ungraceful heap, with her
eyes closed. It was a hard, disagreeable face. Dotty did not know why it
was unpleasing. She only compared it with the child's usual standard,
and thought, "She is not so handsome as my mamma," and went on making
great eyes at the baby.
She was not aware that the person she was obliging was Mrs. Lovejoy, an
old neighbor of the Parlins, who had once been very angry with Susy,
saying sarcastic words to her, which even now Susy could not recall
without a quiver of pain.
For some time Dotty danced the lumpish baby up and down, sustained in
her tedious task by remembering the honeyed compliments its mother had
given her.
"I should think they _would_ be proud of me at home; but nobody ever
said so before. O, dear, what a homely baby! Little bits of eyes, like
huckleberries. 'Twill have to wear a head-dress when it grows up, for it
hasn't any hair. I'm glad it isn't my brother, for then I should have to
hold him the whole time, and he weighs more'n I do."
Dotty sighed heavily.
"That woman's gone to sleep. She'll dream it's night, and p'rhaps she
won't wake up till we get to Boston. Hush-a-by, baby, your cradle is
green! O, dear, my arms'll ache off."
A boy approached with a basket of pop-corn and other refreshments.
Dotty remembered that she had in her pocket the means to purchase very
many such luxuries. But how was she to find the way to her pocket? Baby
required both hands, and undivided attention. Dotty looked at the boy
imploringly. He snapped his fingers at her little charge, and passed on.
She looked around for her father. He was at the other end of the car,
talking politics with a group of gentlemen.
"Please stop," said she, faintly, and the boy came to her elbow again.
"I want some of that pop-corn so much!" was the plaintive request. "I
could buy it if you'd hold this baby till I put my hand in my pocket."
The youth laughed, but, for the sake of "making a trade," set down his
basket and took the "infant terrible." There was an instant attack upon
his hair, which was so long and straggling as to prove an easy prey to
the enemy.
[Illustration: DOTTY IN THE CARS. Page 44.]
"Hurry, you!" said he to Dotty, with juvenile impatience. "I can't stand
any more of this nonsense."
Dotty did hurry; but before she received the baby again he had been well
shaken, and his temper was aroused; he objected to being punished for
such a harmless amusement as uprooting a little hair. There was one
thing certain: if his eyes were small, his lungs were large enough, and
perfectly sound.
Startled by his lusty cries, his mamma opened one of her eyes, but
immediately closed it again when she saw that Dotty was bending all the
powers of her mind to the effort of soothing "the cherub."
"I do wish my dear mamma _was_ travelling with us," thought the
perplexed little girl. "She wouldn't 'low me to hold this naughty,
naughty baby forever 'n' ever! Because, you know, she never'd go off to
the other end of the car and talk pol'tics."
The little girl chirruped, cooed, and sang; all in vain. She danced the
baby "up, up, up, and down, down, downy," till its blue cloak was
twisted like a shaving. Still it cried, and its unnatural mother refused
to hear.
"I never'll hold another baby as long's I live. When ladies come to our
house, I'll look and see if they've brought one, and if they have I'll
always run up stairs and hide."
As a last resort, she gave the little screamer some pop-corn. Why not?
It refused to be comforted with other devices. How should she know that
it was unable to chew, and was in the habit of swallowing buttons,
beads, and other small articles whole?
Baby clutched at the puffy white kernels, and crowed. It knew now, for
the first time, what it had been crying for. There was a moment of
peace, during which Master Freddie pushed a handful of corn as far as
the trap-door which opened into his throat. Then there was a struggle, a
gasp, a throwing up of the little hands; the trap-door had opened, but
the corn had not dropped through; there was not space enough. In other
words, Freddy was choking.
The young nurse was so frightened that she almost let the small sufferer
slip out of her arms. She screamed so shrilly that half a dozen people
started from their seats to see what was the matter. Of course the
sleepy woman was awake in a moment. All she said, as she took the child
out of Dotty's arms, was this:--
"You good-for-nothing, careless little thing! Don't you know any better
than to choke my baby?"
As Dotty really supposed the little one's last hour had come, and she
herself had been its murderess, her distress and terror are not to be
told. She paced the aisle, wringing her hands, while Mrs. Lovejoy put
her finger down Freddie's throat and patted his back.
In a very short time the mischief was undone; the child caught its
breath, and blinked its little watery eyes, while its face faded from
deep magenta to its usual color of dough.
Dotty was immensely relieved.
"Bess its 'ittle heart," cried Mrs. Lovejoy, pressing it close to her
travelling-cape, while several of the passengers looked on, quite
interested in the scene. "Did the naughty, wicked girlie try to choke
its muzzer's precious baby? We'll w'ip her; so we will! She shan't come
near my lovey-dovey with her snarly hair."
Mrs. Lovejoy's remarks pricked like a nosegay of thistles. They were not
only sharp in themselves, but they were uttered with such evident
displeasure that every word stung.
Dotty was creeping away with her head down, her "snarly hair" veiling
her sorrowful eyes, when she remembered her hat, and meekly asked Mrs.
Lovejoy to restore it.
"Take it," was the ungracious reply, "and don't you ever offer to hold
another baby till you have a little common sense."
Dotty walked away with her fingers in her mouth, more angry than
grieved, and conscious that all eyes were upon her.
"I didn't mean to scold you, child," called the woman after her; "only
you might have killed my baby, and I think you're big enough to know
better."
This last sentence, spoken more gently, was intended to heal all wounds;
but it had no such effect. Dotty was sure everybody had heard it, and
was more ashamed than ever. She had never before met with any one so ill
bred as Mrs. Lovejoy. She supposed her own conduct had been almost
criminal, whereas Mrs. Lovejoy was really much more at fault than
herself. A woman who has no tenderness for a well-meaning little girl,
no forgiveness for her thoughtless mistakes, can never be regarded as a
lady.
Thus, for the second time that day, Dotty had met with misfortune.
Her father knew nothing of what had occurred, and she had not much to
say when he offered a penny for her thoughts.
"I oughtn't to have given that baby any corn," said she, briefly; "but
he didn't choke long."
"Where are your gloves, child?"
Dotty looked in her pocket, and shook her head.
"You must have left them in the seat you were in. You'd better go after
them, my daughter, and then come back and brush your hair."
"O, papa, I'd rather go to Indiana with my hands naked. That woman
doesn't like me."
Mr. Parlin gave a glance at the wretched little face, and went for the
gloves himself. They were not to be found, though Mrs. Lovejoy was very
polite indeed to assist in the search. They had probably fallen out of
the window.
"Don't take it to heart, my little Alice," said Mr. Parlin, who was very
sorry to see so many shadows on his young daughter's face so early in
the day. "We'll buy a new pair in Boston. We will think of something
pleasant. Let us see: when are you going to read your first letter?"
"O, Susy said the very last thing before I got to Boston. You'll tell me
when it's the very last thing? I'm so glad Susy wrote it! for now I can
be 'expecting it all the rest of the way."