HART
No second invitation was needed, and with one of the marvelous
“neck-or-nothing” bounds which only boys can make, Hart rested one hand
upon the fence and the next instant stood beside the surprised girl.
“How under the sun did you do it!” she exclaimed, for never having had
any boy companions excepting her cousins from the city, Denise hardly
knew what to expect from boys.
“That didn’t amount to much,” answered the boy, modestly, as he
followed Denise over the lawn, and a moment later was surrounded by her
inquisitive family. Ned promptly struck an attitude, and sniffed from
afar in long, audible breaths. Tan presented arms, so to speak, by
trying to rear upon his hind legs as of old, and make believe butt the
newcomer. Sailor walked right up to him and put his paw into his hand,
and Beauty, not to be outdone in politeness, instantly began to do his
tricks for their guest’s benefit. He lay down at his feet, rolled over
first one way and then the other so quickly that one wondered if he had
some sort of a patent spring inside him; then sat upon his hind legs
to “beg” and “sneeze” three times in rapid succession. Overhead the
kittens kept up a sort of accompaniment to the other’s performances by
running rapidly up and down the limbs and meowing incessantly.
“I say! What a lot of them!” exclaimed the boy, “and aren’t they
dandies?”
“Yes, I think that they _are_ a pretty nice family. Tan is all dressed
up because it is his birthday.”
“Not really? That’s a joke, for it’s mine, too. I’m twelve years old
to-day, and that is the reason I came out here. A sort of birthday
treat, don’t you see.”
“How funny,” cried Denise, “but isn’t it splendid, too! Let’s leave the
children down here to enjoy themselves while you and I get up into the
tree and have a fine talk. See the seats up there? It’s a fine place
for a powwow.”
“What do you mean by the children?” asked Hart, glancing about for
several infants, but failing to see them.
Denise laughed. “Oh, that is only my way of speaking of the pets. There
are such a lot of them that they need as much care as children, so I
call them so.”
Hart glanced up into the blossom-laden tree, and without another word
began to scramble into its fragrant depths, Denise following as nimbly
as a squirrel. Seating themselves upon bits of board which had been
nailed in the branches, they at once availed themselves of that blessed
privilege of childhood, and asked questions by the dozen.
“When did you come out?” was Denise’s first question.
“Just before luncheon with Mrs. Dean, the housekeeper. Father and
mother won’t be out until to-morrow. But I couldn’t wait any longer. I
wanted to see the place so much, and--” Hart paused abruptly, for he
had been about to add “you,” when he bethought himself of his manners.
“And what?” asked Denise.
“Why, you see, I hadn’t seen the place since I was just a little kid
only five years old, and mother said that she had always lived here
when she was a girl, and that your mother was her school-friend. And
then she told me about your pets, and--and--well, she said that she
hoped you and I would grow to be good friends, too, don’t you see,”
and the handsome blue eyes smiled in the friendliest way. Hart was a
handsome boy, tall and well formed for a boy of twelve, with a firm
mouth, fine teeth, and the most winning smile imaginable. Little
brownie Denise was an exact opposite, for his hair was a mass of
golden waves and hers as dark as a seal’s.
“Why, of course we’ll be friends. We are already, and it is just too
splendid for anything to think that you live so near, and we can be
together all the time,” for it never occurred to Denise that there
might be people in this world ready to criticise a boy and girl
friendship, and the silly nonsense of “little beaus” and “little
sweethearts” had, happily, never even entered her head. It was just
good comradeship with all her boy friends. True, she had never had any
close ones, although she knew nearly all the children in Springdale,
and was always glad to welcome them to her home. But the greater part
of her life was passed with her pets, and they filled it very full,
indeed. But here was a friend close at hand with whom she might talk,
drive, or cut any prank, and the experience was novel.
As they sat chattering, a musical bob-white whistle sounded almost
beneath their feet, and Mrs. Lombard’s face peered through the boughs.
“Who ever heard of a quail and a golden pheasant up a tree!” she said
merrily. “That boy up there is Hart Murray, I know, for he has stolen
his mother’s eyes and golden hair, and come out here to masquerade.
Come straight down here and let me shake hands with you.”
It would have been hard to resist the cordial welcome of Mrs. Lombard’s
voice, and a second later Hart’s slender hand lay in hers, and she was
smiling into his face as only Mrs. Lombard could smile. “I thought I
heard a wonderous piping in the old apple-tree,” she said, “and came
out to learn what manner of bird had taken possession. I have found a
_rara avis_, sure enough, and shall try to induce it to spend a good
part of its time in my grounds.”
“I don’t believe it will need much coaxing,” was the laughing reply.
“Oh, we have laid all sorts of splendid plans already,” cried Denise,
“and were just going over to see the rabbits when you piped up. Come
with us, Moddie,” and slipping her arm about her mother’s waist, Denise
led the way to the rabbits’ quarters in one end of Tan’s field. Resting
her hand upon the shoulder of the tall boy walking beside her, Mrs.
Lombard asked: “And what are the plans for good times?”
“Oh, all sorts of things. Father says that he will give me a pony and
a boat. Denise and I can have jolly rides, and I’ll take her rowing if
you’ll let her go; will you?” he asked eagerly.
“Dear me, who will guarantee her safe return?” asked Mrs. Lombard.
“Oh, I’ll take first-rate care of her, if you’ll only let her come;
please say yes,” and he placed his hand upon her shoulder.
He was probably unconscious of the act, but that was exactly the
influence Mrs. Lombard always exercised over young people; they were
at once drawn toward her, and soon lost all sense of the presence of a
“grown-up.”
They had now reached the rabbit-house, and were surrounded by black,
white, gray, and brown wiggling noses--dozens and dozens of of them.
Hart was delighted, and when Mrs. Lombard asked, “Wouldn’t you like to
have a pair for your own?” accepted her offer with a frank, boyish,
“You’d better believe I would.” So a fine pair, one black and one white
one, was selected, and within the hour had taken up their abode in the
hothouse in their neighbor’s grounds, there to live until their new
owner could build a house for them.
That was the beginning of a boy and girl friendship which lasted
many years, and was not broken till years after when Hart, grown to
splendid, talented manhood, slipped into “the great beyond,” and left
many a sad heart behind.
Ned Toodles had always displayed a very marked aversion for any one
wearing trousers, and it was funny enough to watch his attitude toward
Hart. At first he submitted to his caresses with the air of, “Well,
good breeding compels me to show no aversion, but remember, you are
only accepted on probation.” But Hart was too manly a little chap to
torment an animal, and before long Ned grew very fond of him, although
Hart had never yet attempted to ride him.
One afternoon, when Denise and Hart were playing “livery stable,”
and, as usual, having a royal good time, with Ned upon constant call,
Sailor harnessed to a small express wagon, and Beauty Buttons to the
doll’s carriage, for “pony orders for children,” the proprietor of the
stable received an order for a saddle-horse to be sent to a customer as
quickly as possible.
Obviously, Ned was the only animal in that stable who was
saddle-broken. Tan was standing in line, lest he feel neglected, but
“let’s make believe that he is just a boarding horse, which some lady
keeps in the stable, and that we can’t use him for anything.”
“Yes, and sometimes we must take him out and walk him around for
exercise,” answered Hart.
Z-z-z--z-ing! rang an imaginary telephone-bell, or, at least, a
call-bell, for this all happened long before the days of telephones.
“Thomas, there goes the order-bell,” called the proprietor, Mr. Andrews.
“Aye, aye, sir!” answered Thomas, running to the little window to
receive an imaginary order from without. “It’s from Mr. Casey, and he
wants a saddle-horse sent up right off.”
“Does he ask for a _side_ or man’s saddle,” asked the proprietor,
filled with inward misgivings should the order prove to be a demand for
the latter.
Thomas turned to the window to ask the invisible messenger which was
wanted, and stated that Mr. Casey wished to ride himself. Here was a
coil, but that proprietor was not to be baffled by the fact that the
stable boasted no man’s saddle, or that the only saddle horse would
be very liable to make things pretty lively for the first masculine
creature attempting to mount him. With an air of added importance she
said:
“Very good! Very good! I shall have to get the new saddle from the
harness-room,” and went to the pretty little closet containing all
Ned’s belongings. Taking from it her own beautiful little saddle with
its castor seat and immaculate saddle-cloth, she hastily rigged up a
stirrup upon the right side, unscrewed the pummels, and, heigh, presto!
there was your man’s saddle fine as a fiddle.
Ned was then taken from his stall, and the saddle adjusted. So far so
good. That move was not an unusual one, and his little mistress had
superintended the operation. No doubt she was going to ride him, even
though she had rigged up that queer dangling thing upon the right side
of the saddle.
“Thomas, it is only a short way to Mr. Casey’s, and I think that you’d
better lead King Royal. He is pretty fresh, and it will be safer.”
“Very good, sir,” answered the obedient Thomas, secretly resolving
to get upon that noble animal’s back once he was out of sight of
the stable. Just then another order was delivered: this time for a
pony-phaeton. “As this order must be filled without delay, I shall take
Tiny Tim over to Mrs. Murray’s myself, for perhaps she will not want
the young lady to drive herself,” said Mr. Andrews. “When you get back
you’d better take Gold Auster out for a little exercise; Miss Ward does
not like him to get stiffened up.”
King Royal was led out of the stable by the submissive Thomas, and
Mr. Andrews, making believe seat himself in the doll’s carriage, said
“Get up” to Tiny Tim. King Royal looked back as Thomas led him away,
as though trying to reason out in his horse mind why the one he loved
best did not come, too. But that person was filled with other concerns,
and Thomas was saying “Come on, now, Mr. Casey will be wantin’ you” in
very excellent imitation of John’s voice. A moment later, Tiny Tim had
passed into Mr. Murray’s grounds, and King Royal was marching off down
the road which led to Mr. Casey’s beautiful home on the river bank.
Arrived at the entrance gate, Thomas held a conversation with Mr.
Casey, and a wonderful transformation instantly took place, for Thomas
vanished, and “Mr. Casey” prepared to mount the noble animal sent to
him by Mr. Andrews. What happened next will need a chapter all to
itself.