THE BOX-CAR CHILDREN
_By Gertrude Chandler Warner_
_Author of "Star Stories For Little Folks" and, with Frances Warner,
of "Life's Minor Collisions"_
_With pictures by
Dorothy Lake Gregory_
RAND McNALLY & COMPANY
CHICAGO NEW YORK
_Copyright, 1924, by_
RAND MCNALLY & COMPANY
[Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any evidence
that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
THE CONTENTS
THE FLIGHT 9
THE SECOND NIGHT 18
SHELTER 27
A NEW HOME 34
HOUSEKEEPING 43
EARNING A LIVING 51
AT HOME 61
BUILDING THE DAM 71
CHERRY PICKING 81
THE RACE 88
MORE EDUCATION 96
GINSENG 105
TROUBLE 111
CAUGHT 120
A NEW GRANDFATHER 127
A UNITED FAMILY 134
SAFE 142
[Illustration: _Jess shut the door with as much care as she had opened
it_]
THE FLIGHT
About seven o'clock one hot summer evening a strange family moved into
the little village of Middlesex. Nobody knew where they came from, or
who they were. But the neighbors soon made up their minds what they
thought of the strangers, for the father was very drunk. He could hardly
walk up the rickety front steps of the old tumble-down house, and his
thirteen-year-old son had to help him. Toward eight o'clock a pretty,
capable-looking girl of twelve came out of the house and bought a loaf
of bread at the baker's. And that was all the villagers learned about
the newcomers that night.
"There are four children," said the bakeshop woman to her husband the
next day, "and their mother is dead. They must have some money, for the
girl paid for the bread with a dollar bill."
"Make them pay for everything they get," growled the baker, who was a
hard man. "The father is nearly dead with drink now, and soon they will
be only beggars."
This happened sooner than he thought. The next day the oldest boy and
girl came to ask the bakeshop woman to come over. Their father was dead.
She went over willingly enough, for someone had to go. But it was clear
that she did not expect to be bothered with four strange children, with
the bakery on her hands and two children of her own.
"Haven't you any other folks?" she asked the children.
"We have a grandfather in Greenfield," spoke up the youngest child
before his sister could clap her hand over his mouth.
"Hush, Benny," she said anxiously.
This made the bakeshop woman suspicious. "What's the matter with your
grandfather?" she asked.
"He doesn't like us," replied the oldest boy reluctantly. "He didn't
want my father to marry my mother, and if he found us he would treat us
cruelly."
"Did you ever see him?"
"Jess has. Once she saw him."
"Well, did he treat you cruelly?" asked the woman, turning upon Jess.
"Oh, he didn't see me," replied Jess. "He was just passing through
our--where we used to live--and my father pointed him out to me."
"Where did you use to live?" went on the questioner. But none of the
children could be made to tell.
"We will get along all right alone, won't we, Henry?" declared Jess.
"Indeed we will!" said Henry.
"I will stay in the house with you tonight," said the woman at last,
"and tomorrow we will see what can be done."
The four children went to bed in the kitchen, and gave the visitor the
only other bed in the house. They knew that she did not at once go to
bed, but sat by the window in the dark. Suddenly they heard her talking
to her husband through the open window.
"They must go to their grandfather, that's certain," Jess heard her say.
"Of course," agreed her husband. "Tomorrow we will make them tell us
what his name is."
Soon after that Jess and Henry heard her snoring heavily. They sat up in
the dark.
"Mustn't we surely run away?" whispered Jess in Henry's ear.
"Yes!" whispered Henry. "Take only what we need most. We must be far off
before morning, or they will catch us."
Jess sat still for a moment, thinking, for every motion she made must
count.
"I will take both loaves of bread," she thought, "and Violet's little
workbag. Henry has his knife. And all Father's money is in my pocket."
She drew it out and counted it in the dark, squinting her eyes in the
faint light of the moon. It amounted to nearly four dollars.
"You'll have to carry Benny until he gets waked up," whispered Jess. "If
we wake him up here, he might cry."
She touched Violet as she spoke.
"Sh! Violet! Come! We're going to run away," she whispered.
The little girl made no sound. She sat up obediently and tried to make
out the dim shadow of her sister.
"What shall I do?" she said, light as a breath.
"Carry this," said Jess, handing her the workbag and a box of matches.
Jess tiptoed over to the tin box on the table, drew out the two loaves
of bread, and slipped them into the laundry bag. She peered around the
room for the last time, and then dropped two small clean towels and a
cake of soap into the bag.
"All right. Pick him up," she said to Henry.
Henry bent over the sleeping child and lifted him carefully. Jess took
the laundry bag, turned the doorknob ever so softly, opened the door
ever so slowly, and they tiptoed out in a ghostly procession.
Jess shut the door with as much care as she had opened it, listened to
the bakeshop woman's heavy snoring for a moment, and then they turned
and picked their way without a sound to the country road.
"She may wake up before morning, you know," whispered Henry. "We must do
our fastest walking before then. If we can only get to another town
before they find out we're gone, they won't know which way to go."
Jess agreed, and they all walked briskly along in the faint moonlight.
"How far can you carry Benny?" asked Violet.
"Oh, at least a mile," said Henry confidently, although his arms were
beginning to ache. Benny was five years old, and he was a fat, healthy
boy as well.
"_I_ think we could all walk faster if we woke him up," said Jess
decidedly. "We could each take his hand and almost carry him along."
Henry knelt by the roadside and set the little fellow against his knee.
"Come, Benny, you must wake up now and walk!" said Jess coaxingly.
"Go away!" Benny mumbled with his eyes shut, trying to lie down again.
"Let me try," Violet offered softly.
"Say, Benny, you know little Cinnamon Bear ran away to find a nice warm
bed for the winter? Now, you play you're Cinnamon, and Henry and Jess
will help you along, and we'll find a bed."
Violet's little plan worked. Benny was never too cross to listen to the
wonderful stories his sister Violet could tell about Cinnamon Bear. He
stood up bravely and marched along, yawning, while his big brother and
sister almost swung him between them.
Not a soul passed them on the country road. All the houses they saw were
dark and still. And when the first faint streaks of morning light
showed in the sky, all four children were almost staggering with sleep.
"I _must_ go to sleep, Henry," murmured Jess at last. Little Benny was
asleep already, and Henry was carrying him again.
"The first place we come to, then," panted Henry.
Violet said nothing, but she kept her eyes open.
Finally she caught Henry's sleeve. "Couldn't we make that haystack do?"
she asked, pointing across a newly mown field.
"Indeed we could," said Henry thankfully. "What a big, enormous one it
is! I was too sleepy to see it, I guess."
"And see how far away from the farmhouse and barn it is, too!" echoed
Jess.
The sight gave them new courage. They climbed over two stone walls, got
across a brook somehow with the heavy child, and arrived at the
haystack.
Henry laid his brother down and stretched his aching arms, while Jess
began to burrow into the haystack. Violet, after a moment of watching
her, did the same.
"Here's his nest," said Jess sleepily, taking her head out of the deep
round hole she had made. Henry lifted the child into the opening and was
pleased to see that he curled up instantly, smiling in his sleep.
Jess pulled wisps of hay over the opening so that it was absolutely
invisible, and then proceeded to dig out a similar burrow for herself.
"We can stay here just--as long--as we like, can't we, Henry?" she
murmured, digging with her eyes shut.
"We sure can," replied Henry. "You're an old brick, Jess. Get in, and
I'll pull the hay over the hole."
Violet was already curled up in her nest, which was hidden so completely
that Henry spoke to her to see if she were there. Then he wriggled
himself backward into the haycock without stopping to hollow it out,
pulled a handful of hay over his head, and laid his head on his arm.
Just as he did so he heard a heavy voice say, "Now, then, lass, git
along!" Then he heard the rumble of a milk wagon coming down a near-by
lane, and he realized thankfully that they had hidden themselves just
before the first farmer in the neighborhood had set off toward
Middlesex with his milk cans.
"He will say he didn't meet us coming this way," thought Henry, "so they
will hunt for us the other way. And that will give us time to cover a
lot more ground."
He dropped asleep just as the roosters all over the valley began to
answer each other.
THE SECOND NIGHT
The roosters crowed and the hens clucked; the farmer's wife began to get
breakfast, and the four children slept on. Dinner time came and went,
and still they slept, for it must be remembered that they had been awake
and walking during the whole night. In fact, it was nearly seven o'clock
in the evening when they awoke. Luckily, all the others awoke before
Benny.
"Can you hear me, Jess?" said Henry, speaking very low through the wall
of hay.
"Yes," answered Jess softly. "Let's make one big room of our nests."
No sooner said than done. The boy and girl worked quickly and quietly
until they could see each other. They pressed the hay back firmly until
they had made their way into Violet's little room. And then she in turn
groped until she found Benny.
"Hello, little Cinnamon!" whispered Violet playfully.
And Benny at once made up his mind to laugh instead of cry. But laughing
out loud was almost as bad, so Henry took his little brother on the hay
beside him and talked to him seriously.
"You're old enough now, Benny, to understand what I say to you. Now,
listen! When I tell you to _keep still_ after this, that means you're to
stop crying if you're crying, or stop laughing if you're laughing, and
be just as still as you possibly can. If you don't mind, you will be in
danger. Do you understand?"
"Don't I have to mind Jess and Violet too?" asked Benny.
"Absolutely!" said Henry. "You have to mind us all, every one of us!"
Benny thought a minute. "Can't I ask for what I want any more?" he said.
"Indeed you can!" cried Jess and Henry together. "What is it you want?"
"I'm _awful_ hungry," said Benny anxiously.
Henry's brow cleared. "Good old Benny," he said. "We're just going to
have supper--or is it breakfast?"
Jess drew out the fragrant loaf of bread. She cut it with Henry's
jackknife into four quarters, and she and Henry took the two crusty ends
themselves.
"That's because we have to be the strongest, and crusts make you
strong," explained Jess.
Violet looked at her older sister. She thought she knew why Jess took
the crust, but she did not speak.
"We will stay here till dark, and then we'll go on with our journey,"
said Henry cheerfully.
"I want a drink," announced Benny.
"A drink you shall have," Henry promised, "but you'll have to wait till
it's really dark. If we should creep out to the brook now, and any one
saw us--" He did not finish his sentence, but Benny realized that he
must wait.
He was much refreshed from his long sleep, and felt very lively. Violet
had all she could do to keep him amused, even with Cinnamon Bear and his
five brothers.
At last Henry peeped out. It was after nine o'clock. There were lights
in the farmhouse still, but they were all upstairs.
"We can at least get a drink now," he said. And the children crept
quietly to the noisy little brook not far from the haystack.
"Cup," said Benny.
"No, you'll have to lie down and drink with your mouth," Jess explained.
And so they did. Never did water taste so cool and delicious as it did
that night to the thirsty children.
When they had finished drinking they jumped the brook, ran quickly over
the fields to the wall, and once more found themselves on the road.
"If we meet any one," said Jess, "we must all crouch behind bushes until
he has gone by."
They walked along in the darkness with light hearts. They were no longer
tired or hungry. Their one thought was to get away from their
grandfather, if possible.
"If we can find a big town," said Violet, "won't it be better to stay in
than a little town?"
"Why?" asked Henry, puffing up the hill.
"Well, you see, there are so many people in a big town, nobody will
notice us--"
"And in a little village everyone would be talking about us," finished
Henry admiringly. "You've got brains, Violet!"
He had hardly said this, when a wagon was heard behind them in the
distance. It was coming from Middlesex. Without a word, the four
children sank down behind the bushes like frightened rabbits. They could
plainly hear their hearts beat. The horse trotted nearer, and then
began to walk up the hill.
"If we hear nothing in Townsend," they heard a man say, "we have plainly
done our duty."
It was the baker's voice!
"More than our duty," said the baker's wife, "tiring out a horse with
going a full day, from morning until night!"
There was silence as the horse pulled the creaky wagon.
"At least we will go on to Townsend tonight," continued the baker, "and
tell them to watch out. We need not go to Intervale, for they never
could walk so far."
"We are well rid of them, I should say," replied his wife. "They may not
have come this way. The milkman did not see them, did he?"
The baker's reply was lost, for the horse had reached the hilltop, where
he broke into a canter.
It was some minutes before the children dared to creep out of the bushes
again.
"One thing is sure," said Henry, when he got his breath. "We will not go
to Townsend."
"And we _will_ go to Intervale," said Jess.
With a definite goal in mind at last, the children set out again with a
better spirit. They walked until two o'clock in the morning, stopping
often this time to rest and to drink from the horses' watering troughs.
And then they came upon a fork in the road with a white signpost shining
in the moonlight.
"Townsend, four miles; Intervale, six miles," read Henry aloud. "Any one
feel able to walk six more miles?"
He grinned. No one had the least idea how far they had already walked.
"We'll go that _way_ at least," said Jess finally.
"That we will," agreed Henry, picking up his brother for a change, and
carrying him "pig-back."
Violet went ahead. The new road was a pleasant woody one, with grass
growing in the middle. The children could not see the grass, but they
could feel it as they walked. "Not many people pass this way, I guess,"
remarked Violet. Just then she caught her toe in something and almost
fell, but Jess caught her.
The two girls stooped down to examine the obstruction.
"Hay!" said Jess.
"Hay!" repeated Violet.
"Hey!" cried Henry, coming up. "What did you say?"
"It must have fallen off somebody's load," said Jess.
"We'll take it with us," Henry decided wisely. "Load on all you can
carry, Jess."
"For Benny," thought Violet to herself. So the odd little party trudged
on for nearly three hours, laden with hay, until they found that the
road ended in a cart path through the woods.
"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Jess, almost ready to cry with disappointment.
"What's the matter?" demanded Henry in astonishment. "Isn't the woods a
good place to sleep? We can't sleep in the road, you know."
"It does seem nice and far away from people," admitted Jess, "and it's
almost morning."
As they stood still at the entrance to the woods, they heard the rumble
of a train. It roared down the valley at a great rate and passed them on
the other side of the woods, thundering along toward the city.
"Never mind the train, either," remarked Henry. "It isn't so _awfully_
near; and even if it were, it couldn't see us."
He set his brother down and peered into the woods. It was very warm.
"Lizzen!" said Benny.
"Listen!" echoed Violet.
"More water!" Benny cried, catching his big brother by the hand.
"It is only another brook," said Henry with a thankful heart. "He wants
a drink." The trickle of water sounded very pleasant to all the children
as they lay down once more to drink.
Benny was too sleepy to eat. Jess quickly found a dry spot thick with
moss between two stones. Upon this moss the three older children spread
the hay in the shape of an oval bed. Benny tumbled into it with a great
sigh of satisfaction, while his sisters tucked the hay around him.
"Pine needles up here, Jess," called Henry from the slope. Each of them
quickly scraped together a fragrant pile for a pillow and once more lay
down to sleep, with hardly a thought of fear.
"I only hope we won't have a thunderstorm," said Jess to herself, as she
shut her tired eyes.
And she did not open them for a long time, although the dark gray clouds
piled higher and more thickly over the sleeping children.
SHELTER
When Jess opened her eyes it must have been about ten o'clock in the
morning. She sat up and looked all around her. She could see dimly the
opening where they had come into the woods. She looked around to see
that her family was still safely by her. Then she looked up at the sky.
At first she thought it must still be night, and then she realized that
the darkness was caused by an approaching storm.
"Whatever, _whatever_ shall we do now?" demanded Jess of the air.
She got up and looked in every direction for shelter. She even walked
quite a little way into the woods, and down a hill. And there she stood,
not knowing what to do next.
"I shall have to wake Henry up," she said at last. "Only how I hate to!"
As she spoke she glanced into the forest, and her feet felt as if they
were nailed to the ground. She could not stir. Faintly outlined among
the trees, Jess saw an old freight or box car. Her first thought was one
of fear; her second, hope for shelter. As she thought of shelter, her
feet moved, and she stumbled toward it.
It really was a freight car. She felt of it. It stood on rusty broken
rails which were nearly covered with dead leaves. Then the thunder
cracked overhead. Jess came to her usual senses and started back for
Henry, flying like the wind. He was awake, looking anxiously overhead.
He had not noticed that Jess was missing.
"Come!" panted Jess. "I've found a place! Hurry! hurry!"
Henry did not stop to ask questions. He picked up Benny, telling Violet
to gather up the hay. And then they ran headlong through the thick
underbrush in Jess' wake, seeing their way only too well by the sharp
flashes of lightning.
"It's beginning to sprinkle!" gasped Henry.
"We'll get there, all right," Jess shouted back. "It's not far. Be all
ready to help me open the door when we get there!"
By sheer good fortune a big tree stump stood under the door of the
freight car, or the children never could have opened it. As it was, Jess
sprang on the stump and Henry, pausing to lay Benny down, did likewise.
Together they rolled back the heavy door about a foot.
"That's enough," panted Jess. "I'll get in, and you hand Benny up to
me."
"No," said Henry quietly. "I must see first if any one is in there."
"It will rain!" protested Jess. "Nothing will hurt me."
But she knew it was useless to argue with Henry, so she hastily groped
in the bag for the matches and handed them to her brother. It must be
confessed that Jess held her breath while Henry struck one and peered
about inside the car.
"All's well!" he reported. "Come in, everybody!"
Violet passed the hay up to her brother, and crawled in herself. Then
Jess handed Benny up like a package of groceries and, taking one last
look at the angry sky and waving trees, she climbed in after him.
The two children managed to roll the door back so that the crack was
completely closed before the storm broke. But at that very instant it
broke with a vengeance. It seemed to the children that the sky would
split, so sharp were the cracks of thunder. But not a drop of rain
reached them in their roomy retreat. They could see nothing at all, for
the freight car was tightly made, and all outside was nearly as black as
night. Through it all, Benny slept on.
Presently the thunder grew fainter, and rumbled away down the valley,
and the rain spent itself. Only the drip from the trees on the top of
the car could be heard. Then Henry ventured to open the door.
He knelt on his hands and knees and thrust his head out.
The warm sunlight was filtering through the trees, making golden pools
of light here and there. The beautiful trees, pines and white birches
and oaks, grew thickly around and the ground was carpeted with flowers
and wonderful ferns more than a yard high. But most miraculous of all
was a miniature waterfall, small but perfect, where the same little
brown brook fell gracefully over some ledges, and danced away down the
glen.
In an instant Jess and Violet were looking over Henry's shoulder at the
pretty sight.
"How different everything looks with the sun shining!" exclaimed Jess.
"Things will soon be dry at this rate."
"It must be about noon," observed Henry, looking at the sun. And as he
spoke the faint echo of mill bells in the distance was heard.
"Henry!" said Jess sharply. "Let's _live_ here!"
"Live here?" repeated Henry dully.
"Yes! Why not?" replied Jess. "Nobody uses this car, and it's dry and
warm. We're quite far away. And yet we are near enough to a town so we
can buy things."
"And we're near water," added Violet.
Jess hugged her sister. "So we are, little mouse," she said--"the most
important thing of all."
"But--" began Henry.
"_Please_, Henry," said Jess excitedly. "I could make this old freight
car into the dearest little house, with beds, and chairs, and a
table--and dishes--"
"I'd like to live here, too," said a determined little voice from the
corner, "but I don't want to, unless--"
"Unless what?" asked Henry, panic-stricken.
"Unless I can have my dinner," Benny finished anxiously.
"We'll have something to eat right away, old fellow," said Henry,
thankful it was no worse. For he himself was beginning to see what a
cozy home the car really would make.
Jess cut the last loaf of bread into four pieces, but alas! it was very
dry. The children were so hungry that they tore it with their teeth like
little dogs, but Benny was nearly crying. He did not actually cry,
however, for just at the crucial moment Violet started a funny story
about Cinnamon Bear eating bread crusts out of the ash can.
"He ought to have milk," said Jess quietly to Henry.
"He _shall_ have milk," replied Henry. "I'll go down the railroad track
to the town and get some."
Jess counted out a dollar in ten dimes and handed it to Henry. "By the
time our four dollars are gone, you will have some work to do," she
said.
All the same Henry did not like to begin his trip. "How I hate to leave
you alone, Jess!" he said miserably.
"Oh, don't you worry," began Jess lightly. "We'll have a surprise for
you when you come back. You just wait and see!" And she nodded her head
wisely as Henry walked slowly off through the woods.
The moment he was out of sight she turned to Benny and Violet. "Now,
children," she said, "what do you think we're going to do? Do you know
what I saw over in the sunny part of the woods? I saw some blueberries!"
"Oh, oh!" cried Benny, who knew what blueberries were. "Can't we have
some blueberries and milk?"
"We certainly--" began Jess. But the sentence never was finished, for a
sharp crackle of dry leaves was heard. Something was moving in the
woods.
A NEW HOME
"Keep still!" whispered Jess.
Benny obeyed. The three children were as motionless as stone images,
huddled inside the freight car. Jess opened her mouth in order to
breathe at all, her heart was thumping so wildly. She watched like a cat
through the open door, in the direction of the rustling noise. And in a
moment the trembling bushes parted, and out crawled a dog. He was an
Airedale and was pulling himself along on three legs, whimpering softly.
Jess drew a long breath of relief, and said to the children, "It's all
right. Only a dog. But he seems to be hurt."
At the sound of her voice the dog lifted his eyes and wagged his tail
feebly. He held up his front foot.
"Poor doggie," murmured Jess soothingly, as she clambered out of the
car. "Let Jess see your poor lame foot." She approached the dog
carefully, for she remembered that her mother had always told her never
to touch a strange dog unless he wagged his tail.
But this dog's tail was wagging, certainly, so Jess bent over without
fear to look at the paw. An exclamation of pity escaped her when she saw
it, for a stiff, sharp thorn had been driven completely through one of
the cushions of the dog's foot, and around it the blood had dried.
"I guess I can fix that," said Jess briskly. "But taking the thorn out
is going to hurt you, old fellow."
The dog looked up at her as she laid his paw down, and licked her hand.
"Come here, Violet and Benny," directed Jess.
She took the animal gently in her lap and turned him on his side. She
patted his head and stroked his nose with one finger, and offered him
the rest of her breadcrust, which she had put in her apron pocket. The
dog snapped it up as if he were nearly starved. Then she held the soft
paw firmly with her left hand, and pulled steadily on the thorn with her
right hand. The dog did not utter a sound. He lay motionless in her lap,
until the thorn suddenly let go and lay in Jess' hand.
"Good, good!" cried Violet.
"Wet my handkerchief," Jess ordered briskly.
Violet did so, dipping it in the running brook. Jess wrapped the cool,
wet folds around the hot paw, and gently squeezed it against the wound,
the dog meanwhile trying to lick her hands.
"We'll s'prise Henry, won't we?" laughed Benny delightedly. "Now we got
a dog!"
"To be sure," said Jess, struck with the thought, "but that isn't what I
intended for a surprise. You know I was intending to get a lot of
blueberries, and maybe find some old dishes in a dump or something--"
"Can't we look while you hold the dog?" asked Violet anxiously.
"Of course you can, Pet!" said Jess. "Look over there by those rocks."
Benny and Violet scrambled through the underbrush to the place Jess
pointed out, and investigated. But they did not hunt long, for the
blueberries were so thick that the bushes almost bent over with their
weight.
"O Jessy," screamed Benny, "you never saw so many in your life! What'll
we pick 'em into?"
"Come and get a clean towel," said Jess, who noticed that Benny was
already "picking into" his own mouth.
"But that's just as well," she thought. "Because he won't get so hungry
waiting for the milk." She watched the two children a moment as they
dropped handfuls of the bluish globes on the towel. Then she carefully
got up with her little patient and went over and sat down in the center
of the patch. The berries were so thick she did not have to change her
position before the towel held over a quart.
"Oh, dear," sighed Jess. "I wish I could hunt for some dishes, so we
could have blueberries and milk."
"Never mind tonight," said Violet. "We can just eat a handful of berries
and then take a drink of milk, when Henry comes."
But it was even better than that, for when Henry came he had two bottles
of milk under one arm, a huge loaf of brown bread under the other, and
some golden cheese in waxed paper in his pocket.
But you should have seen Henry stare when he saw what Jess was holding!
"Where in the world--" began the boy.
"He _camed_ to us," volunteered Benny. "He camed for a s'prise for you.
And he's a nice doggie."
Henry knelt down to look at the visitor, who wagged his tail. "It
wouldn't be a bad thing to have a watchdog," said Henry. "I worried
about you all the time I was gone."
"Did you bring some milk?" inquired Benny, trying to be polite, but
looking at the bottles with longing eyes.
"Bless his heart!" said Jess, struggling to her feet with the dog.
"We'll have dinner right away--or is it supper?"
"Call it supper," suggested Henry, "for it's the last thing we'll have
to eat today."
"And then tomorrow we'll start having three meals every day," laughed
Jess.
It was certainly a queer meal, whatever it was. Jess, who liked above
all things to be orderly, spread out the big gray laundry bag on the
pine needles for a tablecloth. The brown loaf was cut by a very excited
little hostess into five thick squares; the cheese into four.
"Dogs don't eat cheese," Benny remarked cheerfully. The poor little
fellow was glad of it, too, for he was very hungry. He could hardly wait
for Jess to set the milk bottles in the center of the table and heap the
blueberries in four little mounds, one at each place.
"I'm sorry we haven't cups," Jess remarked. "We'll just have to drink
out of the same bottle."
"No, we won't," said Henry. "We'll drink half of each bottle, so that
will make at least two things to drink out of."
"Good for you, Henry," said Jess, much relieved. "You and Benny use one,
and Violet and I will use the other."
So the meal began. "Look, Benny," directed Henry. "Eat a handful of
blueberries, then take a bite of brown bread, then a nibble of cheese.
Now, a drink of milk!"
"It's good! It's good!" mumbled Benny to himself all through the meal.
You must not imagine that the poor wandering dog was neglected, for Jess
fed him gently, as he lay in her lap, poking morsels of bread into his
mouth and pouring milk into her own hand for him to lap up.
When the meal was over, and exactly half of each bottle of milk
remained, Jess said, "We are going to sleep on _beds_ tonight, and just
as soon as we get our beds made, we are all going to be washed."
"That'll be fun, Benny," added Violet. "We'll wash our paws in the
brook just the way Cinnamon does."
"First, let's gather armfuls of dry pine needles," ordered Jess. "Get
those on top that have been lying in the sunshine." Jess laid the dog
down on a bed of moss as she spoke, and started energetically to scoop
up piles of the fragrant needles. Soon a pile as high as her head stood
just under the freight-car door.
"I think we have enough," she said at last. Taking the scissors from
Violet's workbag, she cut the laundry bag carefully into two pieces,
saving the cord for a clothesline. One of the big squares was laid
across Benny's hay and tucked under. That was the softest bed of all.
Violet's apron and her own, she cut off at the belt.
"I'll sleep next to Benny," said Henry, "with my head up by the door.
Then I can hear what is going on." A big pile of pine needles was loaded
into the freight car for Henry's bed, and covered with the other half of
the laundry bag.
The remainder of the needles Jess piled into the farthest corner of the
car for herself and Violet. "We'll all sleep on one side, so we can
call it the bedroom."
"What'll be the other side?" inquired Benny.
"The other side?" repeated Jess. "Let me think! I guess that'll be the
sitting room, and perhaps some of the time the kitchen."
"On rainy days, maybe the dining room," added Henry with a wink.
"Couldn't it be the parlor?" begged Benny.
"Certainly, the parlor! We forgot that," agreed Jess, returning the
wink. She was covering the last two soft beds with the two aprons. "The
tops of these aprons are washcloths," she said severely. Then armed with
the big cake of soap she led the way to the brook. The dog watched them
anxiously, but when Jess said, "Lie still," he obeyed. From the moment
Jess drew the thorn from his foot he was her dog, to obey her slightest
command and to follow her wherever she went.
The clean cool brook was delightful even to Benny. The children rolled
up their sleeves and plunged their dusty arms into its waters,
quarreling good-naturedly over the soap, and lathering their stained
faces and necks with it. When they were well rinsed with clear water
they dried themselves with the towel. Then Jess washed both towels
nicely with soap, rinsed them, and hung them on the clothesline of tape,
which she had stretched between two slender birch trees. They flapped
lazily in the wind.
"Looks like home already, Jess," said Henry, smiling at the washing.
The tired children clambered into the "bedroom," Jess coming last with
the wounded dog.
"We'll have to leave the door open, it's so hot," said Henry, lying down
with a tired sigh.
And in less than ten minutes they were fast asleep, dog and all--asleep
at six o'clock, asleep without naming the dog, without locking the door,
without fear, for this was the first night in four that they had been
able to go to sleep _at night_, as children should.
HOUSEKEEPING
The next morning Jess was up before the others, as was fitting for a
little housekeeper. That is, she was first if we except the dog, who had
opened one eye instantly every time his little mistress stirred in her
sleep. He sat watching gravely in the door of the car as Jess descended
to get breakfast. She walked from the little waterfall quite a distance
down the brook, looking at it with critical eyes.
"This will be the well," she said to herself, regarding a small but deep
and quiet basin just below the falls. Below that she found a larger
basin, lined with gravel, with flat stones surrounding it.
"This will be the washtub," she decided. "And now I must go back to the
refrigerator." This was the strangest spot of all, for behind the little
waterfall was a small quiet pool in which Jess had set the milk bottles
the night before. Not a drop of water could get in, but all night long
the cool running water had surrounded the bottles. They were now fairly
icy to the touch. Jess smiled as she drew them out.
"Is it good?" asked Benny's voice. There he sat in the door of the car,
swinging his legs, his arm around the shaggy dog.
"It's delicious!" declared Jess. "Cold as ice." She climbed up beside
him as she spoke, bringing the breakfast with her. The other two
children sat up and looked at it.
"Today, Jess," began Henry, "I will go back to town and try to get a job
mowing lawns or something. Then we can afford to have something besides
milk for breakfast."
Milk suited Benny very well, however, so the older children allowed him
to drink rather more than his share. Henry did not waste any time
talking. He brushed his hair as well as he could without a brush, rolled
down his sleeves, and started for town with the second dollar.
"Glad you've got a dog, Jess," he called back, as he waved his straw
hat.
The children watched him disappear around the curve and then turned to
Jess expectantly. They were not mistaken. Jess had a plan.
"We'll explore," she began mysteriously. "We'll begin here at the car,
and hunt all over these woods until we find a dump!"
"What's a dump?" inquired Benny.
"O Benny!" answered Violet. "You know what a dump is. All old bottles
and papers and broken dishes."
"And wheels?" asked Benny interestedly. "Will there be any old wheels?"
"Yes, maybe," assented Violet. "But cups, Benny! Think of drinking milk
out of a cup again!"
"Oh, yes," said Benny, politely. But it was clear that his mind was
centered on wheels rather than cups.
The exploring party started slowly down the rusty track, with the dog
hopping happily on three legs. The fourth paw, nicely bandaged with
Jess' handkerchief, he held up out of harm's way.
"I think this is a spur track," said Jess. "They built it in here so
they could load wood on the cars, and then when they had cut all the
wood they didn't need the track any more."
This explanation seemed very likely, for here and there were stumps of
trees and decaying chips. Violet took note of these chips, and
remembered them some days later. In fact, both girls kept their eyes
open, and pointed out things of interest to each other.
"Remember these logs, Violet, if we should ever need any," said Jess
pointing.
"Blackberry blossoms!" returned Violet briefly, turning one over gently
with her foot.
"Big flat stones!" remarked Jess, later on, as they came upon a great
heap of them.
Here the track came out into the open sunshine, and broken pieces of
rail showed clearly where it had joined the main track at some time in
the past. And here from the top of the wooded hill the children could
plainly see the city in the valley. They walked along the track, picking
out a church steeple here and there, forgetting for a moment the object
of their search.
"There's a wheel!" Benny cried triumphantly from behind.
The girls looked down, and with a glad cry of surprise Jess recognized a
dump at the foot of the hill. They found it not composed entirely of
ashes and tin cans, either, although both of these were there in great
profusion. It was a royal dump, containing both cups and wheels.
"O Benny!" cried Jess, "if it hadn't been for you!" She hugged him,
wheel and all, and began turning over the rubbish with great delight.
"Here's a white pitcher, Jess," Violet called, holding up a perfect
specimen with a tiny chip in its nose.
"Here's a big white cup," said Jess delightedly, laying it aside.
"Want a teapot, Jessy?" inquired Benny, offering her an enormous blue
enameled affair without a handle.
"Yes, _indeed_!" cried Jess. "We can use that for water. I've found two
cups and a bowl already. And Violet, we ought to be looking for spoons,
too."
Violet pointed without speaking to her little pile of treasures. There
were five iron spoons covered with rust.
"Wonderful!" pronounced Jess with rapture. Indeed, it is doubtful if
collectors of rare and beautiful bits of porcelain ever enjoyed a search
as much as did these adventurers in the dump heap.
Benny actually found four wheels, exactly alike, probably from the same
cart, and insisted upon carrying them back. To please him, Jess allowed
him to add them to the growing pile.
"Here's a big iron kettle," observed Violet. "But we won't really cook
with a fire, will we, Jess?"
"We'll take it back, though," replied Jess with a knowing look. "We can
pile lots of dishes in it."
They could, and did, but not until after Benny had discovered his
beloved "pink cup." It was a tea-party cup of bright rose-color with a
wreath of gorgeous roses on it, and a little shepherdess giving her lamb
a drink from a pale blue brook. It had a perfectly good handle, gold
into the bargain. Its only flaw was a dangerous crack through the lamb's
nose and front feet. Jess made a cushion for it out of grass and laid it
on top of the kettle full of treasures. All the things, even the wheels,
were laid on a wide board which the two girls carried between them.
[Illustration: _Benny discovered his beloved "pink cup"_]
Can you imagine the dishwashing when the gay party returned to the
freight car? Children do not usually care for dishwashing. But never did
a little boy hand dishes to his sister so carefully as Benny did. On
their hands and knees beside the clear, cool little "washtub," the
three children soaped and rinsed and dried their precious store of
dishes. Jess scoured the rust from the spoons with sand. "There!" she
said, drying the last polished spoon. The children sat back and looked
admiringly at their own handiwork. But they did not look long. There was
too much to be done.
"Jess," exclaimed Violet, "I'll tell you!" Violet seldom spoke so
excitedly. Even Benny turned around and looked at her.
"Come and see what I noticed inside the car last night!"
Both children followed her, and peered in at the door.
"See, on the wall, right over on the other door, Jess." Now, all Jess
could see were two thick chunks of wood nailed securely to the closed
door opposite the open one. But she whirled around and around as fast as
she could, clapping her hands. When she could get her breath, however,
she skipped over to the board they had carried, dusted it nicely, and
laid it carefully across the two wooden projections. It was a perfect
shelf.
"There!" said Jess.
The children could hardly wait to arrange the shining new dishes on the
shelf. Violet quietly gathered some feathery white flowers, a daisy or
two, and some maidenhair ferns, which she arranged in a glass vase
filled with water from the "well." This she put in the middle, with the
broken edge hidden.
"There!" said Jess.
"You said 'there' three times, Jessy," remarked Benny, contentedly.
"So I did," replied Jess laughing, "but I'm going to say it again." She
pointed and said, "There!"
Henry was coming up the path.
EARNING A LIVING
Henry had all sorts of packages under his arm and in his pockets. But he
wouldn't open them or tell a thing about his adventures until dinner was
ready, he said. "Jess, you're a wonder!" he exclaimed when he saw the
dishes and the shelf.
The big kettle was selected, and they all began to pick blueberries as
fast as they could, telling Henry meanwhile all about the wonderful
dump. At last the tablecloth was spread and Henry unwrapped his parcels
before the whole excited family.
"I bought some more brown bread," he said, producing the loaves, "and
some more milk--in the same little store where I went yesterday. It's
kept by a little old man, and it's called a Delicatessen Shop. He has
_everything_ in his store to eat. I bought some dried beef because we
can eat it in our fingers. And I bought a big bone for the dog."
"His name is Watch," Jess interrupted.
"All right," said Henry, accepting the name. "I bought a bone for
Watch."
Watch fell on the bone as if he were famished, which indeed he nearly
was.
It was a rapturous moment when Jess poured the yellow milk into four
cups or bowls, and each child proceeded to crumble the brown bread into
it with a liberal scattering of blueberries. And then when they ate it
with spoons! Nobody was able to speak a word for several minutes.
Then Henry began slowly to tell his tale.
"I earned a dollar just this morning," he began proudly. "I walked along
the first shady street I came to--nice houses, you know. And there was a
fellow out mowing his own lawn. He's a nice fellow, too, I can tell
you--a young doctor." Henry paused to chew blissfully.
"He was pretty hot," Henry went on. "And just as I came to the gate, his
telephone rang. I heard it, and called after him and asked if he didn't
want me to finish up."
"And he said he did!" cried Jess.
"Yes. He said, 'For goodness' sake, yes!'" Henry answered smiling. "You
see, he wasn't used to it. So I mowed the lawn and trimmed the edges,
and he said he never had a boy trim it as well as I did. And then he
asked me if I wanted a steady job."
"O Henry!" cried Violet and Jess together.
"I told him I did, so he said to come back this afternoon any time I
wanted, or tomorrow--he said he didn't care just when--any time."
Henry gave his cup a last polish with his spoon and set it down
dreamily. "It's a pretty house," he went on, "and there's a big garden
behind it--vegetable garden. And an orchard behind that--cherry orchard.
You ought to see the cherry trees! Well, when I was trimming the edges
near the kitchen door, the cook came and watched me. She's a fat
Irishwoman." Henry laughed at the recollection.
"She asked me if I liked cookies. Oh, if you had smelled them baking
you'd have died laughing, Benny. Dee-licious! So I said I did, and she
passed me out one, and when she went back I put it in my pocket."
"Did she see you?" asked Jess anxiously.
"Oh, no," said Henry confidently. "For I carefully chewed away for a
long time on nothing at all."
Benny began to look fixedly at Henry's pocket. It certainly was still
rather bulgy.
"When I went, the doctor paid me a dollar, and the cook gave me this
bag."
Henry grinned as he tossed the paper bag to Jess. Inside were twelve
ginger cookies with scalloped edges, smelling faintly of cinnamon and
sugar.
"I'm going to keep track of everything I earn and spend," said Henry,
watching Jess as she handed around the cookies with reverence.
"How are you going to write without a pencil?" asked Jess.
"There are pieces of tailor's chalk in my workbag," said Violet.
Henry gave his younger sister a gentle pat, as she returned with her
workbag and fished for the chalk.
While the girls rinsed the empty dishes in the brook and stored away the
food for supper, Henry was beginning his cash account on the wall of his
bedroom. It was never erased, and Henry often now looks at the account
with great affection.
Soon the girls came to inspect it. Meanwhile Benny looked on with great
delight as Watch tried to bury his bone with only one paw to dig with.
"Earned, $1.00; Cash on hand, $3.85," read Jess aloud.
Below, he had written:
Milk .24
Bread .10
Bread .20
Cheese .10
Milk .24
Beef .20
Bone .05
Cloth .10
"Cloth!" exclaimed Violet. "What on earth?"
Henry laughed a little, and watched her face as he drew out his last
package and handed it to her.
"I thought we ought to have a tablecloth," he explained. "So I got a
yard at the ten-cent store--but it isn't hemmed, of course."
With a cry of delight Violet unwrapped the brown cloth with its edge of
blue. Her clever fingers were already evening the two ends. She was
never so happy as when with a needle.
Henry set off again with a light heart. Here was one sister curled up
happily against a big tree, setting tiny stitches into a very straight
hem. Here was another sister busily gathering pliant twigs into a bundle
for a broom with which to sweep the stray pine needles from the house.
And here was Benny, curled up sound asleep on the ground with the dog
for a pillow.
It was quite late when Henry returned. In fact, it was nearly seven
o'clock, although he didn't know that. Several treasures had been added
in his absence. The broom stood proudly in the corner with a slim stick
for a handle. The new tablecloth had been washed and was drying on the
line. And Jess, who had decided to wash one garment a day, had begun
with Benny's stockings. When Henry came they were being put on again
with much pride by Benny himself. Violet had darned a big hole in each.
This time Henry himself could not wait to tell his sisters what he had.
He passed them the package at once, with shining eyes.
"Butter!" cried Jess with a radiant face.
It was butter, cool and sweet. Nobody remembered that they had been a
week without tasting either butter or meat when at last they sat down to
their royal supper.
"These are trick spoons," explained Henry. "Turn them upside down, and
use the handle, and they become knives."
They were knives; anyway, they were used to spread the delicious morsels
of butter on the brown loaf. With dried beef, and a cookie for dessert,
who could ask for better fare? Certainly not the four children, who
enjoyed it more than the rarest dainties.
"I washed the doctor's automobile this afternoon," Henry related. "Then
I washed both piazzas with the hose, and tomorrow I'm going to hoe in
the garden. Oh, wouldn't I love to have a nice cold swim in that brook!"
Henry was hot and sticky, certainly. He looked with longing eyes at the
waterfall as he finished the last crumbs of his supper.
"I wonder if we couldn't fix up a regular swimming pool," he said, half
to himself.
"Of course we could," replied Violet, as if nothing were too difficult.
"Jess and I know where there are big logs, and big flat stones."
"You do, hey?" said Henry staring at his gentle little sister.
"Well, why couldn't we, Henry?" struck in Jess. "Just a little below
this there is a sort of pool already, only not big enough."
"We sure could!" cried Henry. "Some day I'll stay home from work, and
we'll see."
Nobody realized that Henry had been working only one day in all. Anyway
it seemed as if they had always lived in the comfortable home in the
freight car, with Henry plying back and forth from the city each day,
bringing them new surprises.
Henry went to bed that night with a head full of plans for damming up
the brook. He almost shouted when he thought suddenly of Benny's wheels.
He began to plan to make a cart to carry the heavy stones to the brook.
And that was when he first noticed that Watch was not asleep. He could
see his eyes shining red in the darkness. It must have been around
eleven o'clock.
Henry reached over and patted his rough little back. Watch licked the
hand, but didn't close his eyes. Suddenly he began to growl softly.
"Sh!" said Henry to the dog. Now thoroughly startled, he sat up; Jess
sat up. They did not hear a sound.
"Better shut the door," breathed Henry. Together they rolled the door
very slowly and softly until it was shut.
Still they did not hear anything. But still Watch continued his uneasy
growling.
Violet and Benny slumbered on. Jess and Henry sat motionless, with their
hearts in their mouths.
"Supposing it was some other tramp," whispered Jess, "somebody else that
wanted to sleep here!"
"Watch would bite 'em," whispered Henry briefly. Jess never knew what
confidence Henry had in the faithful dog.
Then a branch cracked sharply outside, and Watch barked out loud. Jess
smothered the dog instantly in her arms. But it had been a bark and it
was loud, clear, and unmistakable.