SURPRISES.
After a very happy day in the woods, the Cliffords started for
home with as many nuts as they could carry.
Dotty said she had had a nice time; but for some reason she could not go
to sleep that night. There was a burning sensation in her right side,
and she had a horrible fancy that a snake had bitten her. She could not
endure the thought of lying and listening to the strokes of the clock.
"I'll go find my father," thought she, with that "far-off" feeling at
her heart again.
But which way to go? She had not yet learned the plan of the house, but
had no doubt she could find her father's room. She pattered about the
chambers with her little bare feet, and at last waked Horace by
overturning a chair near his bed.
"Why, who is there? And what's wanted?"
"It's me, and I want my father."
By this time Aunt Maria, hearing a noise, had come in with a light.
"Are you sick, dear child?"
"No, auntie; I don't know what's the matter; I 'spect it's the blues. I
had 'em you know, when the beer came to an end--I mean the world--I mean
that night Polly Whiting called me up."
Horace used all his self-control to keep from laughing.
"Well, Cousin Dotty, you do look blue, I declare; as blue as the
skimmiest milk of the cheatiest milkman. Mother, isn't there
something in the medicine chest that is good for the blues?"
"They are in my side--I mean _it_," said Dotty, dismally. "I'm afraid
it's a--snake?"
Mrs. Clifford took the afflicted child in her arms, and began to
question her with regard to the exact spot where she felt the "blues,"
assuring her that some relief might be afforded if the nature of the
trouble could only be discovered.
"O, ho," cried Horace, suddenly; "I know what it is; it's a jigger."
Upon reflection, it was decided that Horace might be right. A little
creature called the _chègre_, had perhaps made its way out of some
decayed log and crept in under Dotty's skin, causing all this heat and
irritation. There was a small, hard swelling on her side, which appeared
to move. Her father asked her if she was willing to have him cut it out
with his penknife.
Dotty hesitated; her nerves quivered at sight of the sharp blade.
"But that cruel little _chègre_ is drinking your blood, my daughter. The
more he drinks, the larger he will grow, and the harder it will be to
cut him out."
"That's so," said Horace. "I could preach, with jigger for a text. Ahem!
He is like sin--the more you let him stay, the more you'll wish you
hadn't. Come, Dotty, be brave, and out with him!"
"You can talk to _me_," said Dotty, bitterly; "but if it was _your_ side
that had a _jiggle_ in, perhaps you'd feel as bad's I do."
Horace was prepared for this.
"But I've had them cut out twice, miss. Being a boy, I could bear it!"
This settled the question.
"Girls are just as brave as boys," said Dotty; and submitted to the
knife without a murmur.
The next day she was regarded as something of an invalid. She had lost
so much sleep that she did not rise until her father was far away on his
journey. Aunt Maria gave her a late breakfast, which was also to serve
for an early dinner. It was an oyster-stew; and Dotty enjoyed eating it
in Mrs. Clifford's room on the lounge. Katie sat beside her, watching
every mouthful, and begging for it the moment it entered the spoon.
"Don't tease so," said Dotty; "your poor cousin is sick; you don't want
to take away her soup?"
"Yes, I does," replied Katie, coolly; "I likes it myself," opening her
mouth for more.
Dotty gave her an oyster. The next moment something grated against
Katie's teeth, and she picked out the hard substance with her fingers.
Mrs. Clifford happened to see it.
"That is a pearl," said she.
"A pearl, auntie? Why, isn't that something precious? Mamma has pearls
in a ring."
"I will show it to your uncle," replied Mrs. Clifford, turning it over
in her hand; "but I think it is a true pearl, only a little discolored
by the heat it has undergone in being cooked."
"O, I'll have a ring made of it! What funny oysters you do have out
West!"
"The pyurl is mine," said Katie; "I finded it in my toof."
"No, it's mine, darling, for 'twas in my stew."
"Well, tenny rate, I want um," said Katie, dancing around the sofa,
"_if_ you pees um."
"O, no; little bits of girlies don't need it--do they, auntie?"
"I hope," said Mrs. Clifford, smiling, "it will not cost either of you
any of those 'falling pearls which men call tears.' It isn't worth
crying about."
Katie was easily persuaded to give it up.
"You may keep um if you'll let me have two poun's of gold; _two_ poun's
to make me a ying."
Dotty could not promise the gold; but said Katie should have the next
pickled lime she bought with her money; and this answered quite as well.
Just as Dotty was going to her room to put away the choice pearl in a
box which stood in her trunk, there was a loud noise. Phebe, coming up
stairs with a pail of water in each hand, had stumbled and fallen. The
water was pouring down in a cataract, and after it rattled the pails
Mrs. Clifford ran to the rescue. Phebe was looking aghast, making a wild
gesture with one hand, and rubbing her nose with the other.
"You didn't fall on your _nose_, Phebe?"
"Yes, ma'am," sobbed the poor girl; "and I believe it's broke; I heard
it crack!"
Mrs. Clifford might have upbraided Phebe for carrying two buckets up
stairs at once, contrary to orders; but she did nothing of the sort; she
kindly sent for the surgeon, who set the two fragments of nose together
as well as he could.
"Never mind it, child," remarked he, facetiously, to the disconsolate
Phebe; "you have only been beautifying your countenance. Hereafter you
will not be taken for one of the flat-nosed race."
The young African saw no amusement in the joke, and left the room with
her handkerchief at her eyes.
"Doctor," said Mrs. Clifford, "how could you speak so to that poor
child? She has just as much regard for her personal appearance as you
and I have for ours. You never use such language to one of my family;
and please remember I would not have the feelings of my servants
unnecessarily wounded any sooner than those of my children."
"I stand rebuked, my dear madam," replied the family physician,
respectfully.
"I wish there were more such women as Mrs. Clifford," mused he, as he
drove home; "she lives up to the Golden Rule; and if there's any better
prescription than the Golden Rule for making a lady, I haven't seen it
yet; that's all."
It was one of those days when strange things seem ready to happen, one
after another. Dotty, whose little head was rather unsettled by seeing
and hearing so many new things, had an impression that such events as
these were always occurring out West, and that they would never have
happened anywhere else.
_Chègres_ in logs, pearls in oysters; and now somebody had fallen up
stairs and broken her nose. In Maine who ever heard the like?
Dotty twirled her hair, in a state of wonder as to what would come next.
It came before bedtime.
She and Grace had been marching about the dining-room, singing martial
songs. They went into the darkened parlor, still promenading, Grace's
arm about her little cousin's waist.
Suddenly Grace stopped, and whispered,--
"What's that?"
Dotty listened. It was a groan. It must proceed from a human throat; but
there was no one in the room but their two selves.
"I think there is _something_ in the hall," whispered Grace; "I must go
tell papa."
Mr. Clifford immediately took a lamp, and went to investigate the
mystery. Dotty insisted upon going too, though she hardly knew why,
except that the prospect of some unknown horror fascinated her. She
clung to the skirt of her uncle's coat, though he would have preferred
not to be hindered. No one else, not even Horace, cared to follow.
As they entered the parlor there was the same sound from the hall, even
more unearthly than ever. Dotty had entire faith in her uncle, and was
not at all alarmed till they passed through the parlor doorway, and she
saw the finger-prints of blood on the panels. Then she did tremble, and
she had half a mind to draw back; but curiosity was stronger than fear.
What _could_ it be that walked into people's houses _Out West_, and
groaned so in their front halls? She must see the whole thing for
herself, and be prepared to describe it to Prudy.
She soon knew what it meant. There was a poor intoxicated man lying on
the mat. Seeing the door open, he had staggered in while the family were
at tea. In some way he had hurt his hand, and stained the door with
blood. So there was nothing at all mysterious or supernatural in the
affair, when it was once explained.
The poor creature was too helpless to be sent into the street; and Mr.
Clifford and Katinka carried him into the stable, and laid him upon a
bed of sweet hay.
"I'm glad not to be a Hoojer," said Dotty, with a severe look at her
Cousin Horace. "You don't ever see such bad men in the State of Maine.
The whiskey is locked up; and I don't know as there _is_ any whiskey."
"Down East is a great place, Dotty! Don't I wish I was a Yankee--I mean
a 'Publican?"
"But you can't be, Horace," returned little Dotty, looking up at him
with deep pity in her bright eyes; "you weren't born there. You're a
Hoojer, and you'll have to _stay_ a Hoojer."