Peter Pan has lost his shadow again and I must find it.” This Peter Pan
of Jessie’s lost his shadow much more frequently than did the original
one, for the shadow was nothing but a bit of newspaper fastened by a
piece of thread and it was torn off very often.
“I’m going to have a Peter Pan, too,” Adele announced triumphantly.
“Aunt Betty has written papa to bring me one the next time he comes.”
“There couldn’t be two Peter Pans,” said Jessie in an annoyed tone.
“There could, too. I am sure I have just as much right to name my doll
after the Peter Pan as you have. There are hundreds and hundreds of
George Washingtons in the world and lots and lots of Grover Clevelands.”
Jessie could not deny this, but she was not pleased with the idea
of there being another Peter Pan so close at hand. “If you name your
doll Peter Pan, I’ll call mine something else,” she said, and then she
added, “I won’t have any use for the grotto, of course, so I will just
pull it down.”
“I think you are horrid mean,” said Adele. “You know I do love that
grotto.”
“Well, you can make one for yourself,” said Jessie calmly. “There’s
just as much stuff for it on your side of the brook as there is on
mine.”
The tears rushed to Adele’s eyes. “You know I couldn’t. I should never
know how, and besides your side of the brook has a much better bank.”
“Well,” said Jessie, unmoved, “there simply cannot be two Peter Pans.”
Adele snatched up her hat and ran from the room. Jessie, watching her
from the window rather shamefacedly, saw her hurrying down the hill.
She waited till Adele had safely crossed the log, then she turned away
saying to herself, “There couldn’t possibly be two Peter Pans.”
_CHAPTER VI_
_A Mystery_
_CHAPTER VI_
_A Mystery_
Like most of their quarrels this between the two little girls did not
last long, for the next morning Jessie had scarcely finished breakfast
before Adele appeared eager and smiling. “Papa came last night,” she
said, “and so did Miss Eloise.”
“Then are we to begin taking our pills to-day?” asked Jessie.
Adele laughed. “No, not till to-morrow. Aunt Betty and Miss Eloise
want to talk, and besides Aunt Betty says Miss Eloise is tired and she
mustn’t begin to work right away.”
“I thought we were the ones who had to work,” remarked Jessie.
“Don’t you suppose it is going to be just as hard for Miss Eloise?” put
in Mrs. Loomis. “Do you imagine it is going to be very amusing to be
shut up with two wilful little girls who don’t like lessons?”
“Oh!” Jessie had never thought of this side of the question. She looked
at Adele.
“Oh,” said Adele. Then after a pause, “But she doesn’t have to do it if
she doesn’t want to, and we do have to.”
“Do you think all persons who do their duty in this world really prefer
not to do some other thing?” asked Mr. Loomis. “Some persons like to
teach, I admit, but there are many who have to learn to like teaching
just as much as you will have to learn to like studying. So don’t
imagine it will be all fun for Miss Laurent. From what I can learn Miss
Eloise consented to be your teacher because she is a loyal friend, and
as your Aunt Betty, Adele, dreaded the thought of having a stranger in
the house, Miss Eloise consented to come. She fortunately has a gift
for teaching, but she is willing to come to this little country village
because she can be of use to Miss Hallett, and because she thinks she
can help you little girls. I hope both of you will remember that, and
that you will do nothing to make her sorry that she decided to come.”
This very serious way of taking it made the two little girls feel quite
subdued. Adele was first to recover her spirits. “You don’t know what
I’ve got,” she sang out as she held something in her hand behind her.
“Let me see,” cried Jessie springing toward her. Adele backed away.
“Guess,” she said.
Jessie shook her head. “Can’t.”
“Something papa brought me.”
“Oh, I know; a doll.”
Adele displayed her new possession. “Yes, but I am not going to call it
Peter Pan, at least, not yet a while, for it is smaller than yours. I
don’t say I never will, but now I am going to name it after papa.”
“What is his name?” asked Jessie.
“James. I shall call my doll Jamie. Come on, let’s go down to the
grotto. I wish now I hadn’t asked for a boy-doll; if it had been a girl
one I could have called it Wendy instead of the paper one. Do you know,
Jessie, Miss Eloise says that Peter Pan’s house was in the tree tops.”
“So it was,” Jessie remembered.
“But I like the grotto better,” declared Adele. “Aren’t you ready to
go?”
“We can’t go yet; the grass is too wet. We’ll have to wait till the
sun dries it a little. We can play in here for a while.”
Jessie had not been very enthusiastic over the new doll though she
was relieved that it was not exactly like her own, and that Adele had
decided to call it Jamie. The doll wore a scarlet coat with tiny brass
buttons upon it, white trousers and a little red cap. He was quite a
pretty little fellow, and Jessie admired him, though she did not say
so. When the sun had dried the grass enough the children set forth,
Ebon hopping behind them, sometimes taking a short flight with flapping
wings. It was a bright autumn morning, the sky very blue and the air
pleasant.
“I’m so glad it isn’t raining,” remarked Adele, “for it is our last
morning.”
“Except Saturday. We shall not study on Saturdays, shall we?”
“Oh, no, of course not.”
They had reached the foot of the hill, and Adele made straight for
the grotto, but Jessie stopped in front of the little Polly Willow.
“Good-morning, Polly,” she said, gently patting the rough bark.
Adele watched her, and then said mockingly, “Good-morning, old Polly.”
Then she exclaimed, “I know what I’m going to do; I’m going to have a
house for my Peter Pan, and I am going to build it on Polly’s head.”
“Indeed you shall not,” replied Jessie. “She is mine and I shall not
let you. Besides you said you weren’t going to call your doll Peter
Pan.”
“I said I wasn’t at first.”
“This is at first.”
“No, it was at first when I said that; now it is after a while.”
Jessie turned her back on Adele and it seemed as if their last
evening’s quarrel would break out afresh.
“Are you mad, Jessie?” questioned Adele.
No answer.
“Are you, Jessie?”
“Yes, I am.” The reply came in offended tones. “You know I don’t like
you to make fun of Polly.”
“Then say you like me best.”
“I have said that.”
“But do you really mean it?”
“Ye-es,” rather reluctantly. “At least I do when you don’t do me so
mean.”
“I won’t have the house on Polly’s head then. I’ll take this high
bush.” She set the scarlet-coated little figure in a bush close by.
“He looks like some red flower there, doesn’t he? I’m going to get
something to build the house with.”
“What kind of things?”
“Oh, leaves and moss and things.”
“Then I’ll stay here and get the grotto in order,” Jessie decided.
“I’m going to make a cradle for Peter Pan,” said Adele as she moved off.
Jessie did not follow, but busied herself in sweeping up, with a bunch
of twigs, the bits of earth which had fallen down over night upon the
floor of the cave, and in putting the moss into place. Ebon, hopping
about, regarded her with his bright eyes, and coming nearer tried to
peck at the shining piece of glass which made the lake in the centre
of the grotto. “Go away, Eb,” cried Jessie. “You are getting too
fusty entirely.” She shoved him away with her elbow, and he strutted
off dipping his head and uttering some protesting caws. After a few
minutes Jessie had the grotto in pretty good order, but concluded
a few more pebbles would not come amiss. These must be found in the
brook. The water was very clear, and in the shallow parts one could
easily get at the pebbles lying at the bottom of the stream. There
was a scraggy tree trunk at the water’s edge, and on this Jessie
sat, holding on to one gnarly root while she reached over to get the
pebbles. Brown leaves went drifting by on the stream; a Bob White
called from the grass near by. Jessie nodded understandingly to
Playmate Polly. “You like it, don’t you, Polly, or you wouldn’t stay
here. The idea of any one’s building a house on your head. I shall put
your hat on and then you will be able to show that you are not just an
ordinary tree. But now I must take back my pebbles.”
She gathered up the little stones and returned to the grotto where she
went on with her paving till she heard Adele’s voice saying: “I have
some beauty leaves all red and yellow, and I found some moss, too.”
Then an exclamation: “Why, where is my Peter Pan? Jessie Loomis, you
have hidden him just to tease me.”
“’Deed I have not,” returned Jessie. “I have been getting pebbles from
the brook.”
“I put him right here on top of this bush,” said Adele, “and he’s gone,
so you must have taken him. You did it on purpose just because you
didn’t want me to have a Peter Pan.”
“I did not,” returned Jessie indignantly. “He could easily have fallen
off. Look all around, in the grass and the leaves.”
“Has Mrs. Mooky been here?” asked Adele. “You know that story of the
little Tom Thumb that the cow was going to eat.”
“I believe Mrs. Mooky was somewhere about,” Jessie told her. “No,” she
remembered, “it wasn’t near here that I saw her; it was on the other
side of the fence in the pasture.”
Adele began to hunt around diligently, Jessie joining in the search,
but no lost doll was to be found. Once a bunch of scarlet berries on a
bush deceived them into thinking that by some mysterious means the doll
had been spirited away. “For you know he could fly,” said Adele.
At last they were obliged to give up looking, and Adele went home quite
convinced that Jessie knew where the doll was hidden, and Jessie, in
her turn went off up the hill toward the house, hurt and distressed to
think that Adele should not have believed her.
She went back after dinner to renew the search, and became satisfied
after a long hunt that Adele had mistaken the bush and that she had
put it somewhere else. A hollow stump in the neighborhood seemed the
most likely place, but though she managed to climb up where she could
peep into the hollow, it was all dark within and a stick poked in did
nothing more than scare a chipmunk nearly out of his wits, so that
presently he came out chattering and bristling with rage and fear.
Jessie went home and told her mother all about it, and after Mrs.
Loomis had gone with her to see what she could do, they both concluded
that the doll must have fallen far down into this same hollow stump,
and that it could not be found unless the stump were grubbed up.
“Do you think I ought to give her my Peter Pan?” Jessie asked
hesitatingly. “I like him best of all my dolls except Charity.”
“No, I don’t think you need do that,” her mother told her, “but when
I go to town I will try to find one that you can give her to replace
this.”
“May I tell her so?”
“Yes, if you like. I think if you do, it will convince her that you
spoke the truth.”
“She ought to have believed me anyhow.”
“Circumstances were against you, my dear. I know it is very hard to be
suspected, but there was some reason for Adele’s doing so, and I am
sure she will be satisfied when you tell her she is to have another
doll.”
“May I go over now and tell her?”
“Yes, if you won’t stay too long.”
Jessie set off toward the brook. She did not fail to search for the
doll as she went, but she stopped to lay her hand upon Playmate Polly
and to say: “You would have believed me, Polly. You always do believe
me, and I don’t think I shall ever tell Adele again that I like her
best.”
Playmate Polly made no answer, but the murmuring brook sang a little
song that Jessie liked and the whispering trees seemed to say: “We
know, we know.” The same little chipmunk was sitting on his haunches on
top of the hollow stump. He chattered fiercely as he saw Jessie, and
leaping into the nearest pine tree went whisking off. Jessie was not
sure but she liked her favorite playground better without the presence
of Adele, and she almost wished the yellow house were still empty.
It seemed as if she and Adele were continually at odds, and though
Adele professed to care very much for her, she didn’t see how it were
possible when she doubted her word.
She went rather slowly through the piece of woods and through the
orchard which lay on the other side of the brook. She realized that
now she would meet Miss Eloise, and though she wanted much to see what
manner of person she was, she rather dreaded the meeting, and besides
she really did not feel in a very friendly mood toward Adele just then,
only she could not have her go on believing untrue things. At last she
came out close to the garden fence. She stood still for a moment before
she opened the gate and went through. There was no one about, but she
heard voices from the front porch, and as she turned the corner of the
house she saw that there were four persons on the porch, Miss Betty,
a strange lady with fair hair who must be Miss Eloise, a man who was
probably Adele’s father, and Adele herself. Jessie paused where she
stood but Adele had heard the click of the gate and had caught sight of
the visitor.
“There she is now,” cried Adele. “Have you found him, Jessie? Have you
found him?”
Jessie came slowly forward. “No,” she said shyly. “Mother helped me to
look. We think he must have fallen down into a hollow stump and has
gone way down inside, but mother says she is going to town very soon
and she will get you another doll just like it.”
Miss Betty was listening. “Indeed she must not do that, Jessie,” she
said. “A little cheap doll like that is no loss, besides it was not you
who lost it, but Adele, and her father can easily get another when he
goes back to the city.”
“But,” Jessie hesitated, then she turned to Miss Betty. “I want mother
to get it so Adele will believe I spoke the truth, that I don’t tell
stories.” Jessie held her head high.
Miss Betty looked at Adele. “Why, honey,” she said, “I am sure you
never told Jessie that she wasn’t truthful.”
Adele nodded. “Hm, hm, I did, because I thought she might have hidden
the doll to tease me and because she didn’t want me to have a Peter
Pan.”
“But she has proved that she does want you to have one by asking her
mother to replace the one that is lost, and besides, you told me that
you were the last one that had the doll.”
Adele rushed at Jessie and flung her arms around her. “Wasn’t I
horrid?” she said. “I’ll believe every word you say after this. I
suppose you will say,” she whispered, “that Polly always has believed
you.”
“Yes,” Jessie nodded, “she certainly does.”
“I don’t care,” returned Adele defiantly. “I believe after all that she
is a thief, and that she stole my doll.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Miss Betty. “You both look as
fierce as turkey-cocks.”
“I’m talking about that old Polly,” answered Adele.
“You absurd children!” said Miss Betty laughing. “Come, Jessie, don’t
you want to meet your teacher? She is very anxious to meet you.
Eloise, dear, this is your other little pupil.”
Jessie was conscious of a pair of gray eyes that looked at her very
steadily but very kindly, and of two warm hands that held hers, but she
was overcome with shyness and said not a word.
“Do you think you are going to like her more than you do me?” Adele
asked Miss Eloise anxiously.
“You jealous little monkey,” said her aunt. “Why shouldn’t she like
Jessie best? Don’t you want her to?”
“I want her to like us both alike,” replied Adele.
“A perfectly safe reply,” said Miss Eloise. “I hope I have a place in
my heart big enough for both of you, my dears.”
“This is papa,” said Adele swinging Jessie around in front of Mr.
Hallett, who held out his hand.
“I hope you and this will-o’-the-wisp of ours will be good friends,” he
said to Jessie. “She needs some one to tone her down a little, and keep
her from having tantrums.” He softly patted Adele’s hand as he spoke.
“Jessie has tantrums, too,” spoke up Adele, “but they are pouty ones,
not screamy like mine.”
Jessie blushed and felt greatly embarrassed. She wished Adele were not
quite so outspoken.
“Never mind, dear,” said Miss Eloise leaning over and putting her arm
around Jessie. “If we don’t all have tantrums we all feel like it
sometimes, and when we were little girls very few of us did not have
them. We generally outgrew them, or learned self-control, and that is
what you and Adele will do.”
Jessie looked up gratefully and from that moment liked Miss Eloise.
So soon did this lady put her at her ease that in a few minutes she
found herself talking quite glibly about her home, her pets, and her
reasons for leaving school, realizing that she would not in the least
mind having lessons the next day. But presently she remembered that she
was not to stay too long, so she took her leave, Adele calling after
her: “Remember, you are not to get another doll. I won’t let you, and
I’d rather have a Wendy anyhow.”
_CHAPTER VII_
_Taking Pills_
_CHAPTER VII_
_Taking Pills_
It was with rather mixed feelings that Jessie set out the next morning
to begin lessons with Miss Eloise. She didn’t enjoy the idea of
studying, but she did like Miss Eloise and it would be quite a novelty
to have but one other schoolmate. She felt rather important, too, from
the fact that she was to begin French and music. This last thought gave
confidence to her step and brightness to her face when she appeared on
the porch of the yellow house.
Adele danced out to meet her. “We’re all ready,” she said. “Miss Eloise
and I have been fixing up the schoolroom, and we have put flowers in
there so it looks very nice. We are to have a table between us, you and
I. You shall choose which end you like best and I will take the other.
Elle est ici, mademoiselle,” she called out when they reached the top
of the stairs, and Jessie suddenly remembered that Adele knew French
almost as well as English, and she felt herself very ignorant.
However, Miss Eloise gave her such a cordial greeting, and the
schoolroom was so bright and cheery that she soon forgot everything but
her interest in choosing which end of the table she preferred, and in
looking at the books Miss Eloise had piled up. They were all fresh and
new and Jessie liked new books. “I don’t know a word of French,” she
said when she had seated herself.
“You need not say that very long,” said Miss Eloise.
“She need not say it five minutes from now,” put in Adele. “She can
begin with _Bon jour_, can’t she, Miss Eloise? Say _Bon jour_, Jessie.”
Jessie obediently repeated the words.
“Now you can say good-day,” Adele told her, “and you can’t say any more
that you don’t know a word of French.” Then she turned to Miss Eloise
and chatted away volubly for a minute or two while Jessie listened and
wondered if she would ever be so glib with a foreign tongue.
“I think I will make a rule that you are to speak to each other only
in French during lesson hours,” said Miss Eloise. “That will give you
both a chance and Jessie will be surprised how soon she will be able
to understand and speak a number of words. Now we will start in with
something else. Come here, Jessie, and show me how far you have gone in
arithmetic and how well you can spell.”
It turned out that Jessie was far ahead of Adele in these studies, but
that the latter knew more history and had a smattering of a number of
other things which Jessie knew nothing about. But after a while Miss
Eloise managed to arrange classes for them, dropping some of Adele’s
studies, which did not seem necessary for the present, and adding
some to Jessie’s list. But they had hardly settled down to real work
before it was time for a morsel of lunch and a fifteen minutes’ run
out-of-doors.
“I don’t think those were very bad pills to take,” said Jessie as the
two sat munching their apples on the porch steps.
“They will be worse after a while, I suppose,” said Adele. “Wait till
you have to sit at the piano and practice stupid exercises half an
hour at a time. You won’t like that one bit.”
“I suppose not,” returned Jessie with a sigh. “But you don’t have to do
that all the time, do you? You will have pieces after a while.”
“Oh, after a fashion, but they are not what I call tunes,” she said
scornfully.
This sounded very discouraging, but Jessie was not going to give up
hope. “Maybe some teachers do that way,” she said, “but I don’t believe
Miss Eloise will.”
“Wait and see,” returned Adele with a wise shake of the head.
The tinkle of a little bell took them indoors to lessons again, and
the next hour or two passed quickly, and to Jessie’s surprise very
pleasantly. “It is much nicer than going to the Hill School,” she told
her mother. “I know a whole lot of French and some of my notes on the
piano. When I know them all am I going to have a piano, mother?”
“Not at present,” Mrs. Loomis told her. “You are to practice on Adele’s
piano for a while. Pianos are rather expensive things and we shall
have to save up a lot of eggs and butter before we can buy one.”
“Adele is richer than I am, isn’t she, mother?”
“In some things, perhaps, but she has no mother nor brothers.”
Jessie threw her arms around her mother’s neck and gave her a mighty
hug. “And you are worth all the money in the world,” she said. “My two
brothers are pretty far away, but I do see them sometimes, and that’s
much better than not having any at all. Yes, I believe I am much richer
than Adele. She hasn’t any pets either. Where is Eb, mother?”
“Oh, my dear, I don’t know. He is out-of-doors somewhere. We cannot
have him in the house very often, for he gets into so much mischief.”
Jessie went out to find Eb, but not seeing him near, she concluded to
go to Playmate Polly and tell her all about her morning at the yellow
house, for Polly was always a good listener. It was rather pleasant,
too, to feel free to do exactly as she liked after the restriction of a
morning in the schoolroom.
She was sitting on a big rock talking quietly in an undertone to
Polly, when with a whoop and a hallo two boys came vaulting over the
fence and rushed toward her. For a moment Jessie was so startled that
she could give only little shrieks, but these soon changed to a squeal
of delight when she discovered the two intruders to be her brothers,
Max and Walter. “Oh! oh!” she cried. “Where did you come from, and how
do you happen to be home to-day?”
“Why, it is just a piece of luck for us,” said Max catching her up and
kissing her. “One of the boys, Carl Potter, is ill with something, the
doctor doesn’t know just what yet, and so he thought we boys had better
come home for a few days till he finds out whether it is diphtheria or
not. Of course I don’t mean it is luck for old Carl, but it gives us a
holiday.”
“I hope it isn’t diphtheria,” said Jessie sympathetically, “though it
is nice to have you home; it does seem so quiet without you. I have a
thousand things to tell you.”
“Fire away,” said Max.
“Well, I don’t go to the Hill School any more, but I have lessons with
Adele--she lives in the yellow house, you know. I know some French.
_Bon jour, monsieur. Comme portez vous?_”
“Pshaw!” interrupted Walter. “I can beat that with Latin.”
“Let’s hear you,” said Jessie.
“Stop your fooling,” put in Max. “Don’t be such a blower, Walter. I
know just about how much Latin you know. Never mind him, Jess, go on.”
“I have begun music, too,” Jessie turned to her elder brother, “and
some day I shall have a piano when mother can save enough butter and
eggs to get me one.”
“That will be fine,” said Max encouragingly.
“Then you don’t see old Ezra any more,” said Walter, “and can’t tell us
anything about the trains and the engines.”
“No.” Jessie shook her head. “I haven’t been to see him. He had
rheumatism, and I fell on the track one day; that’s why I stopped going
to school. There is a cross man in Ezra’s place and I don’t like him.”
“I say, that’s too bad,” said Max. “Old Ezra is always so good-natured
about letting you flag trains and things.”
“I’ve got a crow,” suddenly exclaimed Jessie, “and his name is Eb.
That’s short for Ebony. He doesn’t talk yet, but he is going to, Sam
says. I think he must be up in the barn. Come, and I’ll show him to
you. I have a new friend, too. Her name is Adele Pauline Falaise
Hallett, and she lives in the yellow house.”
“Mother wrote to us that the yellow house was taken,” said Walter. “I’m
sorry, for now we fellows can’t go there and play in that empty barn
like we used to.”
“I thought Effie Hinsdale was your best friend,” said Max to his sister.
“Effie is a friend, of course, but she lives across the railroad,
and I can’t go to see her unless some one goes with me. Besides, she
has a new friend, too; a girl named Anna Sharp that has come to the
neighborhood, so Effie don’t mind being second best. She has a gray
kitten that is to be mine when it is big enough.”
“Girls are always so crazy about cats and kittens,” said Walter
scornfully. “I’d much rather have the crow.”