given me an attack of the blues, and you could not have chosen a better
time for coming. I have been wanting an opportunity to thank you for
your kindness to Adele, but we have been so busy, it seemed impossible
for me to find time to go anywhere. Adele has talked of nothing else
but you and your little girl since her rather awkward tumble. I am
afraid she gave you a great deal of trouble.”
“Not a bit of it,” returned Mrs. Loomis. “I only hope she didn’t take
cold.”
“No, she did not, thanks to your prompt measures. She is an impulsive,
headstrong little creature, and I am at loss sometimes just how to
manage her. Fortunately my friend Miss Laurent has consented to come to
us, and with her coöperation I hope we shall do great things for Adele.
I wanted to have the house all in order before Miss Laurent should
come, and it has been such a task.”
Jessie wished very much that Miss Hallett would send for Adele
instead of talking about her, and presently was relieved when a tall
mulatto woman was summoned. “Go tell Miss Adele that she is to come
in, Angeline,” said Miss Hallett. “Or,” she turned to Mrs. Loomis,
“perhaps your little girl would rather go out to Adele. She is in the
summer-house. My brother has had it enclosed with glass, and Adele
rather likes to play there. Would you rather go to Adele?” she asked
Jessie.
There was no doubt in Jessie’s mind that she would very much prefer
this, and in another moment she was following Angeline through the hall
to a side door and down a broad walk to the summer-house.
“Young lady to see you, honey baby,” said Angeline putting her head in
the door.
Adele, who was busy over something in one corner, turned suddenly and
caught sight of Jessie standing on the sill. She darted forward, and
flung her arms around her visitor, kissing her first on one cheek and
then on the other. “I am so glad you have come,” she cried. “I thought
you never would. You may go, Angeline.” She turned to the tall maid who
drew down her mouth and disappeared leaving the little girls alone.
“I thought of course you would come over yesterday, to the play place,
you know,” returned Jessie.
Adele dropped her eyes and appeared to be looking attentively at her
toes. “I couldn’t,” she said presently.
“Why not?”
“She wouldn’t let me.”
“What she?”
“Aunt Betty. She’s horrid like that sometimes and is just as mean as
she can be.”
“Is that because she isn’t--she isn’t just like other people?” asked
Jessie hesitatingly. She could readily understand that a person who
looked like Miss Hallett might have reason to be disagreeable.
Adele looked at her fixedly for a moment, then to Jessie’s great
discomfiture she burst into tears. “She isn’t! She isn’t! She isn’t!”
she repeated. “She is just like other people and she is dear and good
and lovely. You shan’t say she is not.”
Jessie was bewildered. “I didn’t mean--I didn’t mean----” she began
helplessly.
“It was I who was horrid,” Adele went on. “It was all my doing. I got
mad and screamed and fought Angeline and wouldn’t eat my supper because
I couldn’t have coffee and lots, lots, lots of sugar in it, and so Aunt
Betty said I shouldn’t go to see you till she said I might. She isn’t
horrid at all, and you shan’t say she is. She is perfectly beautiful.”
“It wasn’t _I_ who said she was horrid, you know,” said Jessie with an
emphasis on the _I_.
“Well, I don’t care. You thought so.” Adele wiped her eyes and stood
thoughtfully picking off the dead leaves from a potted geranium on a
shelf near by. Jessie was silent. She hardly knew whether to go or stay.
Presently Adele turned around with the sweetest of smiles. “Let’s
play,” she said. “I’ll show you all my dolls. Why didn’t you bring
Charity or Peter Pan with you?”
“I will next time,” said Jessie, relieved at the turn of affairs, but
wondering what kind of girl Adele really was.
“Come,” cried Adele, grasping Jessie’s hand. “The dolls are all up in
the playroom. I was making medicine for them just now. They have ague,
every blessed one of them, and they are shaking their heads off, at
least one of them is,” she added with a laugh. “I’ll show you which
one it is.” She pulled Jessie along the boardwalk and up-stairs to a
pleasant upper room where six dolls were abed, most of them staring
smilingly at the ceiling, though two of them had their eyes shut. Adele
picked up one of them and showed a very wobbly head which seemed in
danger of soon departing from its body. “This is the shakiest one,”
she said, “and she’ll have to have a double dose of medicine. Indeed,
I don’t know but that she will have to go to a hospital. That is my
newest one.” She pointed to a very fresh and smiling flaxen-haired
beauty.
“What is her name?” asked Jessie.
“She hasn’t any in particular. I never name my dolls.”
“Oh, don’t you?” This seemed as incredible to Jessie as if she had been
told that a family of children had been left unnamed. “I don’t see how
you get along if you don’t name them,” she said.
“Oh, I scarcely ever play with more than one at a time, and then I can
always call that one dolly or honey or something,” was the reply.
“I should think you would have to name them,” persisted Jessie. “When
you are talking about them what do you say?”
“I hardly ever do talk about them. When I do it is to Aunt Betty, and
then I say the new doll, or the doll with the brown hair, or something
of that kind. Don’t let’s play with dolls. I bet you can’t catch me
before I get downstairs.” And while Jessie was recovering herself
Adele was off and away down the stairs at the foot of which she stood
laughing as Jessie descended more slowly. “I think I shall ask Angeline
for some cakes,” she said. “Come along into the kitchen. I suppose that
cross old Roxy wouldn’t give us any, but I can coax Angeline into
anything. Angeline! Angeline!” she called imperiously, “come here.”
Angeline appeared at the entry door. “I want some cakes,” said Adele,
“some for Jessie and me. We’re hungry.”
“Dey ain’ no mo’ cakes, honey,” said Angeline. “Yo done eat ’em all up.”
“Then make some right away, or tell Roxy she’s got to do it.”
“Roxy she done gone to de sto’.”
“Oh, bother! You go along and make some, and be quick about it, too,”
ordered Adele.
“Law, honey chile, how long yuh spec’ it tek to mek up de fiah an’ bake
cake? Yuh foolish, chile. I done got some sweet ertaters in de ashes,”
she hastened to say as she saw Adele’s face puckering up for a cry. “I
tell yuh what, honey; I git yuh two nice bowls o’ milk an’ nice sweet
ertaters an’ yuh kin tek ’em out in de summah-house an’ eat ’em.”
“I suppose that will have to do,” said Adele with resignation. “Do you
like sweet potatoes and milk?” she asked Jessie.
“I never ate any. At least, of course I have eaten sweet potatoes
often enough and I drink milk, but I never ate them together.”
“They are mighty good together,” Adele assured her. “Bring ’em along,
Angeline, to the summer-house, and don’t you be forever about it
either.” And Adele stalked off with Jessie in her wake.
“She’s very good-natured, isn’t she?” remarked Jessie when they had
reached the summer-house.
“Who? Angeline? Oh, so so.”
“I wouldn’t dare to talk to Minerva that way,” said Jessie after a
pause.
“You wouldn’t? I don’t see why. I always talk as I please to Angeline.
She nursed my mother and she nursed me, and she doesn’t care what I
say to her. Besides, I am her mistress.” Adele held her head high, and
Jessie looked at her admiringly.
“Well,” she said, “I suppose that must make a difference; Minerva was
never nurse to my mother.”
The two bowls of milk and warm sweet potatoes soon appeared and though
Jessie did not care very much for the combination, she ate part of
her share fearing she might seem rude if she did not. She was glad,
however, that she did not have to finish, and that a message from her
mother obliged her to return to the house.
“We must go now, dear,” said Mrs. Loomis. “We have made a long call.”
She smiled at Adele as the two little girls came in.
“Oh, no, you mustn’t go,” spoke up Adele. “At least, you might let
Jessie stay. Won’t you, please?”
“Not to-day,” said Mrs. Loomis gently. “Your aunt has been kind enough
to promise that we may have you to-morrow to spend the day, so I think
Jessie and I will have to say good-bye now.”
“Oh, am I going for the whole day?” exclaimed Adele delightedly,
catching her aunt’s hand and pressing her cheek against it as was her
way of doing. “Is Angeline going to take me, or can I go alone? I know
the way.”
“You may go over alone,” Miss Betty told her. “But I will send Angeline
for you.”
Remembering Adele’s outburst earlier in the afternoon, Jessie steeled
herself to move closer to Miss Hallett and to say, “I’m glad you will
let Adele come. I haven’t any little girls to play with, you see.”
“Oh, yes, you have,” put in Adele with mischief in her eyes; “you have
Playmate Polly, you know.”
Mrs. Loomis looked down with a puzzled expression. “Who in the world is
Playmate Polly?” she asked. “I never heard of her.”
“She is a horrid creature,” said Adele laughing. “She has scraggy hair,
and a dreadful rough skin, but Jessie is very fond of her, and I don’t
like her to be.”
Jessie hung her head. She was afraid of being laughed at. “She’s only a
tree,” she said in a low voice.
Miss Betty smiled, but Mrs. Loomis put her arm around her little
daughter and said: “Then I am sure she is a very harmless acquaintance,
who will set my little girl no bad examples, and I am sure she is much
better than no one.”
Jessie looked up with a grateful smile. Mother always understood. She
would tell her all about Polly now that it was a secret no longer. Yet
she felt hurt and offended to think that Adele had not kept faith with
her, though, as she reflected, it was not about Polly that her promise
was made, but about Peter Pan and his grotto. Adele knew, however,
that Jessie wanted both kept a secret, and so the little visitor threw
her hostess a reproachful look which Adele understood and eagerly
responded to by saying, “I didn’t tell about the other thing, Jessie.
Indeed I didn’t. Now that you have me, I didn’t suppose you would care
any more about Polly.”
Mrs. Loomis was too considerate to ask about “the other thing,” but
she was told all about Playmate Polly on the way home, and agreed with
Jessie that it was very well to have such an amiable friend when there
was danger of a sudden flare up from Adele.
“The poor child has no mother; we must be very patient with her,” Mrs.
Loomis said. “She has always been a delicate little thing, and in
consequence is greatly spoiled. Her aunt is very frail, too, and says
she cannot stand scenes. I hope Miss Laurent will have wisdom enough
to know how to manage such a wilful little girl. Miss Hallett tells me
that her friend is a very superior woman and that she hopes a great
deal from her.” She was silent for a few minutes while Barney carried
them several rods along the road. Then she said, “What do you think of
having lessons with Adele, daughter?”
“Oh! Why, I don’t know. I suppose if I have to have lessons at all that
it would be nicer than anything. Am I to do it, mother?”
“I think so. I shall have to speak to your father first, but Miss
Hallett is very eager to have such an arrangement and brought up the
subject herself, so I do not see but that we shall profit by it. She is
very anxious that Adele should have a companion, for she has been too
much with older persons, and it would certainly settle our difficulty
of lessons for you.”
This gave Jessie a great deal to think about all that evening, and the
last question she asked that night was, “Will you promise to tell me
first thing in the morning, mother?”
And her mother answered, “I promise.”
_CHAPTER V_
_A New Pet_
_CHAPTER V_
_A New Pet_
As Mrs. Loomis had said, Miss Hallett’s proposition settled the
question of lessons for Jessie, and so when Adele appeared the next
morning, bright and early, Jessie had the great piece of news to tell
her, and Adele responded in her usual tempestuous way by giving Jessie
a tremendous hug, and by rushing to Mrs. Loomis to embrace her, too.
“It will be perfectly lovely,” she cried. “You will come to my house
every morning and we’ll have lessons in the playroom; it will have to
be a workroom then, and in the afternoon we can play by the brook.”
“We’ll not be able to all winter,” said Jessie, “for it will be too
cold.”
“Oh, I forgot that; we don’t have much winter down our way, you know.”
“Of course I don’t mean that we can never play out-of-doors,” returned
Jessie, “but it will be too damp down by the brook most of the time,
and it will often be too snowy.”
“Oh, the snow! I long for it,” cried Adele clasping her hands.
“It is nice,” said Jessie. “I like to slide on the ice, too, even when
it isn’t snowy. We can often go out on the little pond when the ice is
thick. It is rather fun to be out in the cold at any time, for you feel
so good when you come in.”
“I shall get Miss Eloise to let me walk home with you sometimes,” said
Adele, “because you will have to come by yourself in the morning, and
it wouldn’t be fair for you to walk both ways alone. Does the brook
freeze over?”
“Sometimes,” Jessie told her, “and then we can cross on the ice. I’d
rather go that way always, for it is shorter than to go around by the
road, but I suppose I can’t in very bad weather.”
“What will you do about Polly when it gets cold?” asked Adele.
“Oh, I can always see her except when there is deep snow.”
“And the grotto?”
“I’ll have to cover it up with brush and it will be there in the
spring. Why did you tell my secret, Adele?”
“Because I don’t like Polly. I didn’t tell about the grotto, did I?
and I think Polly is ugly. I wish you didn’t like her.”
“Anyhow, she never tells things I don’t want her to,” said Jessie
severely.
Adele buried her head in the sofa cushion of the lounge upon which
she was sitting, and began to sob, “I don’t care, I don’t care. She
is nothing but an ugly wicked old tree, and you _shall_ love me best,
because I love you best. I don’t pick out queer bad old creatures like
that to love more than you. I believe she is nothing but an old witch.”
For a moment Jessie felt quite remorseful, but then a feeling of not
wanting to be forced into likes and dislikes took possession of her,
and she relentlessly said: “I shall not like you best if you tell my
secrets.”
“I won’t tell any more. ’Deed and ’deed I won’t,” said Adele, lifting a
tear-stained face. “Please love me best, Jessie.” She caught Jessie’s
hands and put them around her own neck looking at her so pleadingly
that Jessie’s heart melted and she answered; “All right, I’ll like you
best.”
But the words were scarcely out of her mouth before they were stopped
with kisses, and Adele looked as happy as she had looked miserable a
moment before. “Now come,” she said, “let’s go to the grotto. I brought
paper dolls; one is Wendy and the other is Tinker Bell. Now you can
finish the story, and we’ll have a lovely time.”
They started off very happily, Mrs. Loomis watching them from the
window. “I don’t know how it is going to turn out,” she said to
herself, “but I hope Jessie will learn self-control by seeing how it
looks to fly into such tantrums as Adele’s. I think the sight of them
will do her more good than any amount of precept.”
Having given her word that Polly should no more have first place,
Jessie was ready to be very amiably disposed toward Adele, yet from
nine o’clock in the morning till six in the evening is a long stretch,
and it was rather too much to expect that two excitable little
girls could spend all that time in one another’s company without
disagreements. Once during the day Jessie gathered up her dolls and
started for home, leaving Adele disconsolately sitting on a stone, but
Adele was the first to ask to make up, and begged so hard to be taken
back into favor that Jessie yielded. Once, too, Adele in a sudden rage
threatened to demolish the grotto, because Jessie insisted upon having
her way with Wendy.
“She’s mine,” protested Adele.
“I don’t care. I know all about her better than you. I saw the play and
you didn’t,” this conclusively.
Adele flung Wendy on the ground and added insult to injury by
threatening to chop down Playmate Polly some night. “And when you get
up in the morning, she will be gone forever,” said Adele.
This was too much for Jessie. “You won’t dare to do such a thing,” she
cried. “I shall tell my father never to let you step your foot on the
place again. You can just take your old paper dolls and go home.”
Adele arose speechless with rage. She deliberately tore Tinker Bell
into bits and threw the pieces at Jessie, then snatching up Wendy she
turned toward home.
At once Jessie seemed to hear her mother say: “We must be patient with
her; she has no mother.” And she was filled with remorse. “Come back,
come back,” she cried. “I didn’t mean it at all. You can have Wendy do
anything you like. And it doesn’t matter about Tinker Bell. No one ever
sees her anyway, for she’s just a little twinkling light. One of the
candles will do for her. I’m sorry; I really am, Adele.” So peace was
made, and the rest of the day passed happily enough.
When they went up to the house for dinner Sam met them. “I’ve got a new
pet for you,” he said to Jessie. “Come down to the barn after dinner
and I’ll show you.”
“Oh, what is it? Do tell us,” begged Jessie.
But Sam laughed and walked away, so Jessie knew it was no use to
question further, for Sam never would be coaxed to tell. She was in
great haste to finish her dinner, but Adele was hungry and seemed to
enjoy everything so much that Jessie felt that it would not be polite
to hurry her. She did not hesitate, however, to urge Adele to make
haste as soon as her last mouthful of dessert was swallowed. “Do come
right away,” she said. “I must see what Sam has. Aren’t you wild to
know? I am.”
“What do you think it is?” said Adele. “Maybe he was only fooling.”
“No, I am sure he was in earnest. I know Sam well enough for that. He
often brings me things, and I have an idea this is something alive.”
The two children were not long in reaching the barn, the big door of
which was open. It was a big, roomy place smelling of hay. Three horses
stood in their stalls, and as the little girls entered, a brown hen
flew cackling from one of the empty mangers. “I’ll have Sam get that
egg for us,” remarked Jessie. “I wonder where he is. Sam! Sam!” she
called.
A voice answered from the harness room and Jessie led the way thither.
Sam was sitting on a box mending harness. “Here we are,” said Jessie.
“Show us what you said you had.”
“See if you can find it,” said Sam, and Jessie immediately set to work
to search. She knew all the corners and crannies, if Adele did not.
It was quite like a game, and rather an entertaining one. Here they
came upon a setting hen who had stolen a nest in the hay; there a
squeaking mouse would scuttle across the timbers, scaring both girls
into shrieking. At last they made their discovery, for, as they were
searching in front of Barney’s stall, directly above their heads
something suddenly cried out: “Caw!”
The children looked up to see a black crow looking down at them from
a perch in the corner. “Oh, I believe that is it,” said Jessie. “Sam!
Sam! is it a crow?”
Sam came forward and lifted down the bird which was tethered by a
long cord. “Yes,” he said. “He is a young one that got a little hurt
somehow. I found him in the cornfield. He’ll learn to talk after a bit,
and I’ve clipped his wings so he can’t fly far. He will get as tame as
a dog after a while.”
Jessie put a finger on the shining black head of the crow. “Isn’t he
funny?” she said. “It will be perfectly lovely to have a pet who can
talk, and I think you are very good, Sam, to bring him to me. Will he
say real words, like people?”
“He won’t be quite as glib as a parrot, maybe, but he will say a
number of words, and it won’t be long before he will be following you
everywhere.”
“I don’t think he is very pretty,” remarked Adele, who was standing at
one side and did not seem to care about touching the bird.
“Oh, I think he is,” returned Jessie. “He is so jetty black, and has
such a knowing look. I like him very much. I don’t suppose I can keep
him in the house, Sam.”
“Better not, or he’ll be playing havoc with things. He’ll soon learn
to stay around with the chickens, and when you want to have him near
you can tether him. I knew one once that was as good as a watch-dog.
Let any one come around day or night and he’d set up his Caw! Caw! I’ll
take him out-of-doors for you now. He can’t get away very far, but I’d
better tether him. Where’ll you have him?”
“Oh, down by the brook where we play,” Jessie told him.
The two little girls led the way and Sam tethered the bird by a long
cord. He hopped around contentedly, and soon became tame enough to come
quite close to the girls and peck at their feet. “Polly can take care
of him, you see,” said Jessie. “I think she rather likes birds, at
least I’ve seen her holding them quite often.”
Adele laughed. “You do say such ridiculous things about Polly.”
Jessie paid no attention to this remark but continued her line of
thought. “I think she misses my playing with her as much as I used to,
so I’ll tell her she can play with the crow all she likes. I wonder
what we’d better call him. He’s as shiny and black as coal; you know
the kind that has all sorts of colors in it. He looks that way when he
turns his head.”
“I don’t think Coal would be a very pretty name,” objected Adele.
“I don’t think so either,” Jessie agreed with her. “I’ll have to think
of something else.” They turned over in their minds all the things
that suggested blackness or darkness, from ink to thunder-clouds,
finally hitting upon Ebony, which was a happy thought of Jessie’s who
remembered an ebony chest in her Aunt Lucy’s house. “We can call him
Ebon for short,” she said. “It is a nice, easy name.”
“And Eb would be still shorter,” said Adele. “Hello, Eb.”
The crow responded by putting his head to one side and remarking “Caw!”
in a way which made both girls laugh.
“When I get the gray kitten,” said Jessie, “I shall have two new pets.”
“And I haven’t any,” said Adele wistfully.
“I am sure Effie Hinsdale would give you one of the kittens,” said
Jessie. “I’ll ask mother if we can go there Saturday. I know she will
be glad--Effie I mean--to get a good home for another kitten. There is
a gray something like mine and two black ones.”
“I’d rather have black, I think, and I’ll call it Velvet,” said Adele
swift in decision.
“I’ve named mine Cloudy,” Jessie told her. “We can’t have them yet, you
know.”
“Why not?”
“They’re not big enough to leave their mother. I thought I saw a cat, a
yellow cat, on your porch one morning.”
“Oh, that’s the stable cat. He is very wild and won’t let me come near
him. I’d rather have a kitten anyway.”
“Well, we can go see the kittens at Effie’s even if we can’t take them
just yet, and we shall have the crow.”
“And Polly,” put in Adele with a laugh.
“She isn’t a pet; she is a friend,” replied Jessie with some dignity,
feeling that Adele meant to underrate Playmate Polly’s importance.
In a very short time Ebon had become quite tame, and followed the
little girls as if he were a dog. He constantly amused them by his
funny ways. Although he had not yet learned to talk, Sam declared that
he would in time, and meanwhile Adele went with Jessie to see Effie’s
kittens, and was promised a black one. So from having no companions
at all, Jessie felt that she would be very well supplied that winter.
“There will be you and your kitten, me and my kitten, Polly and Eb,”
she said to Adele. “That will be a great many of us to play together.”
“Yes, and there will be Miss Eloise and horrid lessons,” returned Adele.
Jessie sighed. “Yes,” she said, “I have been thinking of that. I wish
we could take lessons like pills and have done with them.”
“In jelly?”
“No, I’d just gulp them down with water and have some bread and jelly
afterward.”
The children were in the sitting-room, having just returned from
Effie’s. Mrs. Loomis was sitting there sewing. She smiled as she
listened to what the children were saying. “I think you will be doing
just about as you say,” she remarked. “You will swallow down your
lessons in the morning, and in the afternoon you will have your bread
and jelly in the shape of play. I don’t believe you will find the
lessons such a terrible dose as you think.”