Transcriber’s Notes:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end.
* * * * *
[Illustration: BECKY’S LEAP. Page 89.]
_THE MAIDENHOOD SERIES._
RUNNING TO WASTE.
THE STORY OF A TOMBOY.
BY GEORGE M. BAKER.
AUTHOR OF “AMATEUR DRAMAS,” “DRAWING-ROOM STAGE,”
“SOCIAL STAGE,” “MIMIC STAGE,”
ETC., ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED._
BOSTON:
LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS.
NEW YORK:
LEE, SHEPARD AND DILLINGHAM.
* * * * *
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874,
BY GEORGE M. BAKER,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
* * * * *
TO
MRS. RACHEL E. BOLES,
A PATIENT INVALID, WHO WOULD HAVE ME BELIEVE
THAT A FEW OF HER WEARY HOURS HAVE
BEEN LIGHTENED BY THE READING OF
“THE STORY OF A TOMBOY,”
I Dedicate this Book,
IN REMEMBRANCE OF A LONG FRIENDSHIP,
AND IN GRATITUDE FOR MANY
KIND ACTS.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I.
STOLEN SWEETS. 7
CHAPTER II.
FALLEN FORTUNES. 22
CHAPTER III.
MRS. THOMPSON’S CROSS. 38
CHAPTER IV.
BECKY SLEEPER’S CHARITY. 56
CHAPTER V.
IN SCHOOL AND OUT. 73
CHAPTER VI.
BECKY’S LAST FROLIC. 90
CHAPTER VII.
MRS. THOMPSON DISOBEYS ORDERS. 104
CHAPTER VIII.
BECKY’S NEW BIRTH. 122
CHAPTER IX.
TEDDY SLEEPER DINES OUT. 145
CHAPTER X.
THE ROMANCE OF A POOR OLD MAID. 161
CHAPTER XI.
BECKY BEARDS THE LION IN HIS DEN. 176
CHAPTER XII.
AMONG THE WOODPECKERS. 197
CHAPTER XIII.
DELIA SLEEPER’S SHIP COMES IN. 215
CHAPTER XIV.
TWO YEARS AFTER. 231
RUNNING TO WASTE.
CHAPTER I.
STOLEN SWEETS.
“Bouncers, Teddy! the roundest and the rosiest. Drop them, quick! My
apron’s all ready for the darlings.”
“It’s very well to say drop _them_; but it’s just as much as I can do
to keep from falling myself. Don’t you see I’m holding on with both
hands?”
“What a fuss you do make! Come down, and let me try. I never saw a tree
yet big enough to scare me.”
“Who’s scart, Becky Sleeper? I ain’t--not by a long chalk. When a
feller’s holdin’ on with both hands, he can’t be expected to pick very
quick--can he?”
“Wind your arm round that branch over your head. There; now you’re all
right, Teddy.”
“That’s so. What a hand you are to contrive! Now look sharp--they’re
coming!”
Becky Sleeper, in imitation of famed “Humpty Dumpty,” sat upon a wall,
where she had no business to be, for the wall was the boundary of
Captain Thompson’s orchard. But there she sat, her feet dangling, her
hair flying, and her hands holding her apron by its corners, intent on
catching the apples which her brother was plucking from the tree above
her head.
An active, wide-awake little body was the girl who was acting as
accessory to the crime--a very common one--of robbing an orchard. Every
movement of her sprightly figure belied the family name. Perched upon
the wall, that cool October morning, she might have sat as a model
for the Spirit of Mischief. A plump, round, rosy face, with a color
in the cheeks that rivaled in brightness the coveted fruit above her,
blue eyes full of laughter, a pretty mouth, with dissolving views of
flashing teeth, teasing smiles, and a tongue never at rest; a queer
little pug nose, that had a habit of twitching a mirthful accompaniment
to the merriment of eyes and mouth, a profusion of light hair, tossed
to and fro by the quick motions of the head,--all these combined to
make a head-piece which would have delighted an artist, brightened
as it was by a few straggling rays of sunshine, that darted through
convenient openings in the mass of foliage above her head.
Miss Becky’s costume, however, did not furnish a fitting finish to her
face and figure, but, on the contrary, seemed much the worse for wear.
A high-neck, blue-check apron showed unmistakable signs of familiarity
with grape and berry juices; the rusty brown dress which peeped out
beneath it was plentifully “sown with tares,” and had a rough fringe at
the bottom never placed there by the dress-maker; a pair of stockings,
once white, had the appearance of having recently been dyed in a
mud-puddle, and a pair of stringless boots, which completed her attire,
were only prevented from dropping off by an elevation of the toes.
With her diminutive figure, her mischievous face, and her eager
interest in the apple raid, she might have been taken for a
thoughtless, giddy child. No stranger would have dreamed she was a
maiden with an undoubted right to affix to her name, age sixteen.
Her companion was a year younger, but greatly her superior in weight
and measure, not much taller, but remarkably round at the waist and
plentifully supplied with flesh. He lacked the activity of his sister,
but was ambitious to emulate her achievements, and to that end panted
and puffed with remarkable vigor.
Becky was an adept in all _boyish_ sports. She could climb a tree with
the activity of a squirrel, ride a horse without saddle or bridle, pull
a boat against the swift current of the river, “follow my leader” on
the roughest trail, take a hand at base ball, play cricket, and was
considered a valuable acquisition to either side in a game of football.
Teddy admired the vigor of his sister, was not jealous of her superior
abilities, although he was unlucky in his pursuit of manly sports.
He had to be helped up a tree, and very often lay at the foot, when
the helper thought he had successfully accomplished his task. Horses
generally dropped him when he attempted to ride; he always “caught
crabs” in boats; was a “muffer” at base ball, and in everybody’s way in
all sorts of games.
These two were companions in roguery, and were a terror to all
respectable people in Cleverly who possessed orchards which they valued
highly, or melon patches which they watched with anxious care; for,
no matter how high the value, or how strict the watch, this pair of
marauders had excellent taste in selection, and managed to appropriate
the choicest and best without leave or license.
Cleverly is a very staid, respectable, triangular township on the coast
of Maine, its southern, or sea line about six miles in length, forming
the base of the triangle, with a small village--Foxtown--at its
eastern point, and a somewhat more pretentious town--Geeseville--at
its western point. From these two places the division lines ran, one
north-east, the other north-west, meeting on Rogue’s River, where a
bridge makes the apex of the triangle. The roads, however, do not
traverse these boundary lines. There is a straight road from Foxtown
to Geeseville, passing over a bridge which spans the river where it
empties into the harbor. South of this highway is known as the fore
side, and here may be found Captain Thompson’s shipyard, a short,
chunky wharf, where occasionally a packet lies, and a blacksmith’s
shop.
A few rods west of the river another road breaks from the highway and
goes straight north. This is the main street of Cleverly. Climbing a
hill from the fore side, the traveller, on entering this street, will
find on the left a tailor’s shop, a country store, the post-office,
then a dozen houses, white, attractive, and roomy. On the right, a row
of neat and tidy houses, four in number; then a carpenter’s shop, the
church, a small school-house, a more expansive “academy,” several fine
dwellings, then a long hill, at the foot of which is a brick-yard,
and, a few rods farther, another settlement known as the “Corner.”
The distance between the fore side and the Corner is about a mile,
and between these two points may be found the wealth, culture, and
respectability of the township.
There is abundance of thrift, with very little “brag” about Cleverly.
Rogue’s River turns a paper mill, a woollen mill, and a nail factory.
Every season a vessel is launched from the ship-yard, and every winter
the academy is well filled with students; every Friday night, winter
and summer, the vestry of the church is crowded with an attentive
audience, and every Sunday the church is surrounded with horses and
vehicles of all sizes, varieties, and conditions; yet the quiet of the
place seems never broken. There is much beauty, with little attempt at
display, about the town. Trees line the street, vines climb about the
houses, shrubs peep out at the palings, and flowers bloom everywhere
without any seeming special assistance from the inhabitants.
There is very little change in the Cleverly of to-day from the Cleverly
of twenty years ago. Then Captain Thompson’s house stood directly
opposite the church, a large, square, two-story front, as grand as any
in the place. At the rear, a lower building, used as a kitchen, ran
out to one still lower, used as a wood-shed; this, in turn, stretched
out to another building, used as a carriage-house, while the barn,
of larger proportions, swung at the end of all; so that, approaching
it from the side, the structure had the appearance of a kite with a
very long tail to it. At the end of the stable was the kitchen garden;
beyond that, the orchard, and on the stone wall which separates it from
the lane, which in its turn separates the whole place from the woods,
patiently sits Miss Becky during this long description.
“Quick, Teddy! Three more will make a dozen; and that’s as many as
I can hold, they’re such whoppers. O, dear! my arms ache now,” said
Becky, after Teddy had employed more time than seemed necessary in
plucking the captain’s mammoth Baldwins.
“Don’t ache any more than mine do, I guess,” grumbled Teddy; “and I’m
all cramped up, too. Don’t believe I’ll ever git down agin.”
“O, yes, you will Teddy. You’re famous for quick descents, you know.
You always come down quicker than you go up; and such graceful
somersets as you do make! It’s better than the circus, any time, to see
you;” and a merry peal of laughter broke from Miss Becky’s lips.
“Becky, Becky! don’t do that!” cried Teddy; “they’ll hear you up at the
house. I wouldn’t have Cap’n Thompson catch me in this tree for a good
deal, I tell you. He’s promised me a whaling if he ever catches me on
his place.”
“Don’t be scart, Teddy. He won’t catch you this time. I can see the
house, and there is not a soul stirring; and, besides, the cap’n’s not
at home.”
“I tell you, Becky, somebody’s comin’. I can feel it in my bones. I’m
comin’ down;” and Teddy made a frantic effort to free himself from the
crotch of the tree, into which he was snugly fitted.
“Not until you make up the dozen, Teddy. Don’t be a goose! I haven’t
watched this tree a week for nothin’. Cap’n Thompson’s gone to the
ship-yard. I saw him ride off an hour ago on ‘Uncle Ned;’ and he never
gets back till dinner time when he goes there.”
“Don’t be too sure of that, Tomboy!”
With a slight scream, Becky turned her eyes from the camp of the enemy
to the lane. Not ten feet from her stood a white horse, and on his back
sat the dreaded enemy--Captain Thompson. A lively trembling of the
branches overhead gave evidence that another party was aware of the
startling interruption to a projected fruit banquet.
Becky looked at the captain. He had a very red face; he seemed to be
in a towering passion, and was, evidently, searching his short, stout
body for a tone deep and terrible enough with which to continue the
conversation. She looked at him with a smile on her face; but, at the
flash of his angry eyes, dropped hers to the apron which contained
the proofs of guilt, then stole a glance at her trembling accomplice,
straightened her little body, and looked defiantly at the horseman.
“So, Tomboy, I have caught you in the act--have I?” thundered the
captain.
“Yes, cap’n, you certainly have, this time, and no mistake,” saucily
answered the tomboy. “S’pose we’ve got to catch it now. What’s the
penalty? Going to put us in the pound, or lock us up in the barn?”
“Neither, Miss Impudence,” thundered the captain. “I’ll horsewhip you
both. Here, you, Master Ned, come out of that tree, quick! D’ye hear?”
That the delinquent did hear, and that he was inclined to obey, was
made manifest by a rustling among the leaves, and the dull thud of a
heavy body as it struck the ground, for Master Teddy, terrified at the
angry voice of the captain, had let go, and landed in a heap outside
the wall.
“Run, Teddy, run! Don’t let him catch you!” cried Becky, in excitement,
dropping her apron.
[Illustration: STOLEN SWEETS. Page 7.]
The round and rosy spoils, being freed, followed the law of
gravitation, and plumped one after another on to the head of the
prostrate Teddy, who was groaning and rubbing his elbows, with a very
lugubrious face.
“If you stir a step, you imp of mischief, I’ll break every bone in your
body,” cried the captain, hastily dismounting, and approaching Teddy,
with a long riding-whip in his hand.
“Don’t you touch my brother! Don’t you dare to touch my brother!” cried
Becky from her perch. “It’s a shame to make such a fuss about a few
apples!”
“It’s a great shame that a girl of your age should be caught stealing
apples,” replied the captain.
“’Tain’t my fault. We shouldn’t have been caught if you’d only staid at
the yard.”
The captain almost smiled; the audacity of the young depredator’s
attempt to shift the responsibility of the theft upon him, really
tickled him. Nevertheless, he approached Teddy, who, having rubbed
himself comfortable, now sat calmly awaiting his fate.
“Now, sir, what have you to say for yourself? Haven’t I told you to
keep off my place? Haven’t I given you sufficient warning? Haven’t I
promised you a thrashing if I caught you here--hey?” roared the captain.
“Yes, cap’n, you did. But I couldn’t help it. I--I--I didn’t want the
apples; b--b--but I wanted to climb the tree for fun; its such a hard
climb, and--and--” stammered Teddy, eyeing the whip.
“Don’t lie, you imp. There’s my apples all round you. You shall sweat
for this, I promise you. Off with your jacket, quick! D’ye hear?”
“Don’t strike him, cap’n; please don’t. He’s not to blame;” and Becky
plunged from the wall, and stood between the captain and her brother.
“He didn’t want the apples--indeed, he didn’t. He don’t like apples--do
you, Teddy?”
Teddy shook his head energetically, with a contemptuous look at the
fruit.
“I helped him up the tree, and I’m to blame for it all. You oughtn’t
to strike a boy for doing all he can to please his sister. If you must
whip somebody, take me.”
“Stand out of the way, Tomboy. Your time will come soon enough--never
fear.” And he pushed her from the path. “Off with that jacket. D’ye
hear?”
Teddy coolly unbuttoned his jacket, and threw it on the grass.
“Don’t tease him, Becky. I’m not afraid of his whip. If it’s any fun
for him, let him lay on. I guess I can stand it as long as he can;” and
Teddy looked defiantly at his adversary.
Becky ran to her brother, and threw her arms about his neck, to shield
him from the whip.
“He shan’t strike you, Teddy. It’s all my fault. He shan’t touch you.”
Captain Thompson was an obstinate man. When he made up his mind to the
doing of an act, nothing could stand in his way. Perhaps this accounted
for the coolness of Teddy in the trying situation in which he was
placed, who, remembering his promise, knew it must be fulfilled, and so
offered no resistance.
“Don’t, Becky. D’ye want to smother a feller? Don’t be a ninny. It’s
got to come. Go home--do.”
“I won’t. He shall kill me before he strikes you.”
Becky’s devotion was blighted in an instant, for the angry man seized
her by the arm and flung her across the lane. She fell to the ground
unhurt, for the grass was thick and soft.
“I’ll teach you to meddle. Don’t come near me till I’ve done with him.
Mind that.”
Becky sprang to her feet, fire flashing from her eyes. She was as angry
now as her tormentor. She picked up a stone, and despite his warning,
approached the captain. He should not strike her brother, she looked
at the house; no one in sight. Down the lane; no one--yes, there stood
Uncle Ned, cropping the grass, unmindful of the group. Ah, the horse!
There was a chance yet to save her brother.
“Now, you scamp, I’ll teach you to rob orchards!” and the whip was
raised.
Spry as a cat, Becky was at the captain’s back in an instant. She
jumped and caught the whip from his hand, then ran for the horse. The
captain quickly turned; but too late. Becky sprang to the saddle,
caught up the rein, lashed the horse, turned, and shouted, “Good by,
Teddy! Good by, cap’n!” and galloped down the lane.
“Come back, come back, you imp of mischief! Come back, I say,” shouted
the captain, running after her.
“Some other time, cap’n; can’t stop now. Good by;” and the saucy girl
turned, waved her hand to the maddened and baffled owner of the
Baldwins, plied the whip briskly, and was out of sight.
The captain, with a muttered “Hang it!”--which was the extent of his
swearing, for he was a deacon,--followed at as rapid a pace as he could
command, leaving Teddy solitary and alone.
The fat boy looked after his persecutor a moment, with a smile upon his
face, then rose, picked up his jacket, put it on, buttoned it at the
bottom, then coolly picked up the trophies of victory, tucked them into
his jacket and his pockets, crossed the lane, crept through a hedge,
and disappeared.