JACK AND JILL
David was tempted to go for a second visit to his Lady of the Roses,
but something he could not define held him back. The lady was in his
mind almost constantly, however; and very vivid to him was the picture
of the garden, though always it was as he had seen it last with the
hush and shadow of twilight, and with the lady's face gloomily turned
toward the sunless pool. David could not forget that for her there were
no hours to count; she had said it herself. He could not understand how
this could be so; and the thought filled him with vague unrest and pain.
Perhaps it was this restlessness that drove David to explore even more
persistently the village itself, sending him into new streets in search
of something strange and interesting. One day the sound of shouts and
laughter drew him to an open lot back of the church where some boys
were at play.
David still knew very little of boys. In his mountain home he had never
had them for playmates, and he had not seen much of them when he went
with his father to the mountain village for supplies. There had been,
it is true, the boy who frequently brought milk and eggs to the cabin;
but he had been very quiet and shy, appearing always afraid and anxious
to get away, as if he had been told not to stay. More recently, since
David had been at the Holly farmhouse, his experience with boys had
been even less satisfying. The boys--with the exception of blind
Joe--had very clearly let it be understood that they had little use for
a youth who could find nothing better to do than to tramp through the
woods and the streets with a fiddle under his arm.
To-day, however, there came a change. Perhaps they were more used to
him; or perhaps they had decided suddenly that it might be good fun to
satisfy their curiosity, anyway, regardless of consequences. Whatever
it was, the lads hailed his appearance with wild shouts of glee.
"Golly, boys, look! Here's the fiddlin' kid," yelled one; and the
others joined in the "Hurrah!" he gave.
David smiled delightedly; once more he had found some one who wanted
him--and it was so nice to be wanted! Truth to tell, David had felt not
a little hurt at the persistent avoidance of all those boys and girls
of his own age.
"How--how do you do?" he said diffidently, but still with that beaming
smile.
Again the boys shouted gleefully as they hurried forward. Several had
short sticks in their hands. One had an old tomato can with a string
tied to it. The tallest boy had something that he was trying to hold
beneath his coat.
"'H--how do you do?'" they mimicked. "How do you do, fiddlin' kid?"
"I'm David; my name is David." The reminder was graciously given, with
a smile.
"David! David! His name is David," chanted the boys, as if they were a
comic-opera chorus.
David laughed outright.
"Oh, sing it again, sing it again!" he crowed. "That sounded fine!"
The boys stared, then sniffed disdainfully, and cast derisive glances
into each other's eyes--it appeared that this little sissy tramp boy
did not even know enough to discover when he was being laughed at!
"David! David! His name is David," they jeered into his face again.
"Come on, tune her up! We want ter dance."
"Play? Of course I'll play," cried David joyously, raising his violin
and testing a string for its tone.
"Here, hold on," yelled the tallest boy. "The Queen o' the Ballet ain't
ready". And he cautiously pulled from beneath his coat a struggling
kitten with a perforated bag tied over its head.
"Sure! We want her in the middle," grinned the boy with the tin can.
"Hold on till I get her train tied to her," he finished, trying to
capture the swishing, fluffy tail of the frightened little cat.
David had begun to play, but he stopped his music with a discordant
stroke of the bow.
"What are you doing? What is the matter with that cat?" he demanded.
"'Matter'!" called a derisive voice. "Sure, nothin' 's the matter with
her. She's the Queen o' the Ballet--she is!"
"What do you mean?" cried David. At that moment the string bit hard
into the captured tail, and the kitten cried out with the pain. "Look
out! You're hurting her," cautioned David sharply.
Only a laugh and a jeering word answered. Then the kitten, with the bag
on its head and the tin can tied to its tail, was let warily to the
ground, the tall boy still holding its back with both hands.
"Ready, now! Come on, play," he ordered; "then we'll set her dancing."
David's eyes flashed.
"I will not play--for that."
The boys stopped laughing suddenly.
"Eh? What?" They could scarcely have been more surprised if the kitten
itself had said the words.
"I say I won't play--I can't play--unless you let that cat go."
"Hoity-toity! Won't ye hear that now?" laughed a mocking voice. "And
what if we say we won't let her go, eh?"
"Then I'll make you," vowed David, aflame with a newborn something that
seemed to have sprung full-grown into being.
"Yow!" hooted the tallest boy, removing both hands from the captive
kitten.
The kitten, released, began to back frantically. The can, dangling at
its heels, rattled and banged and thumped, until the frightened little
creature, crazed with terror, became nothing but a whirling mass of
misery. The boys, formed now into a crowing circle of delight, kept the
kitten within bounds, and flouted David mercilessly.
"Ah, ha!--stop us, will ye? Why don't ye stop us?" they gibed.
For a moment David stood without movement, his eyes staring. The next
instant he turned and ran. The jeers became a chorus of triumphant
shouts then--but not for long. David had only hurried to the woodpile
to lay down his violin. He came back then, on the run--and before the
tallest boy could catch his breath he was felled by a stinging blow on
the jaw.
Over by the church a small girl, red-haired and red-eyed, clambered
hastily over the fence behind which for long minutes she had been
crying and wringing her hands.
"He'll be killed, he'll be killed," she moaned. "And it's my fault,
'cause it's my kitty--it's my kitty," she sobbed, straining her eyes to
catch a glimpse of the kitten's protector in the squirming mass of legs
and arms.
The kitten, unheeded now by the boys, was pursuing its backward whirl
to destruction some distance away, and very soon the little girl
discovered her. With a bound and a choking cry she reached the kitten,
removed the bag and unbound the cruel string. Then, sitting on the
ground, a safe distance away, she soothed the palpitating little bunch
of gray fur, and watched with fearful eyes the fight.
And what a fight it was! There was no question, of course, as to its
final outcome, with six against one; but meanwhile the one was giving
the six the surprise of their lives in the shape of well-dealt blows
and skillful twists and turns that caused their own strength and weight
to react upon themselves in a most astonishing fashion. The one
unmistakably was getting the worst of it, however, when the little
girl, after a hurried dash to the street, brought back with her to the
rescue a tall, smooth-shaven young man whom she had hailed from afar as
"Jack."
Jack put a stop to things at once. With vigorous jerks and pulls he
unsnarled the writhing mass, boy by boy, each one of whom, upon
catching sight of his face, slunk hurriedly away, as if glad to escape
so lightly. There was left finally upon the ground only David alone.
But when David did at last appear, the little girl burst into tears
anew.
"Oh, Jack, he's killed--I know he's killed," she wailed. "And he was so
nice and--and pretty. And now--look at him! Ain't he a sight?"
David was not killed, but he was--a sight. His blouse was torn, his tie
was gone, and his face and hands were covered with dirt and blood.
Above one eye was an ugly-looking lump, and below the other was a red
bruise. Somewhat dazedly he responded to the man's helpful hand, pulled
himself upright, and looked about him. He did not see the little girl
behind him.
"Where's the cat?" he asked anxiously.
The unexpected happened then. With a sobbing cry the little girl flung
herself upon him, cat and all.
"Here, right here," she choked. "And it was you who saved her--my
Juliette! And I'll love you, love you, love you always for it!"
"There, there, Jill," interposed the man a little hurriedly. "Suppose
we first show our gratitude by seeing if we can't do something to make
our young warrior here more comfortable." And he began to brush off
with his handkerchief some of the accumulated dirt.
"Why can't we take him home, Jack, and clean him up 'fore other folks
see him?" suggested the girl.
The boy turned quickly.
"Did you call him 'Jack'?"
"Yes."
"And he called you, Jill'?"
"Yes."
"The real 'Jack and Jill' that 'went up the hill'?" The man and the
girl laughed; but the girl shook her head as she answered,--
"Not really--though we do go up a hill, all right, every day. But those
aren't even our own names. We just call each other that for fun. Don't
YOU ever call things--for fun?"
David's face lighted up in spite of the dirt, the lump, and the bruise.
"Oh, do you do that?" he breathed. "Say, I just know I'd like to play
to you! You'd understand!"
"Oh, yes, and he plays, too," explained the little girl, turning to the
man rapturously. "On a fiddle, you know, like you."
She had not finished her sentence before David was away, hurrying a
little unsteadily across the lot for his violin. When he came back the
man was looking at him with an anxious frown.
"Suppose you come home with us, boy," he said. "It isn't far--through
the hill pasture, 'cross lots,--and we'll look you over a bit. That
lump over your eye needs attention."
"Thank you," beamed David. "I'd like to go, and--I'm glad you want me!"
He spoke to the man, but he looked at the little red-headed girl, who
still held the gray kitten in her arms.