small paper bag of cakes and another of candies which were promptly
despatched across the watery way to Jessie; but as Cloudy was asleep
in the basket the little bags themselves were tied on the pole and were
transported in that way.
“Aunt Betty said Cloudy was lovely,” said Adele, “and he behaved
beautifully. I told her how generous you offered to be, and she sent
her love to you.”
“What did Miss Eloise say?”
“She wasn’t there. Aunt Betty said she had gone somewhere, but she
didn’t say where. I asked Aunt Betty if she thought papa would bring me
a kitten from the city, and she said he was going to bring me a big dog
in place of Dapple Gray. I’d love a big dog.”
“But where is Dapple Gray?” asked Jessie.
“He’s been sent away,” said Adele in a low voice. “Papa said as long as
I couldn’t be trusted that I couldn’t have him to drive till I was old
enough to have common sense, and so he has sent him to my cousin till
my sense grows enough for me to have him again. Do you suppose common
sense does grow?”
“I think it must,” returned Jessie thoughtfully, “for all grown people
have it.”
“I don’t believe they do,” said Adele, “for I have heard papa say
ever so many times that So-and-So had not a grain of common sense, and
So-and-So would be a big man, too.”
“Well, maybe they get it and then lose it,” replied Jessie, “like some
persons do their hair. Some persons have a great deal, and others are
quite bald, you know, like Dr. Sadtler.”
This seemed a reasonable conclusion and Adele accepted it. “Well,” she
said, “I hope if I ever do get my common sense that it will be nice and
thick and long like Miss Eloise’s hair.”
“Is your cousin a little girl?” asked Jessie returning to her thoughts
of Dapple Gray.
“No, he is a little boy, and he has been very ill, so papa said it
would be a great comfort to him to have a little pony like that.”
“Is he a big boy?” asked Jessie.
“About as big as your brother Max.”
“He will hate to give Dapple Gray up?” said Jessie.
“Maybe he will be strong and well again by the time my common sense
gets here,” said Adele. “I hope that won’t be so very long.”
“I hope so, too,” replied Jessie, thinking more of Dapple Gray than of
Adele’s development.
“Cloudy is waking up,” said Adele. “I’d better send him back to you.”
“Tie the basket on very strongly,” said Jessie, “so it can’t fall in
the water.”
But though Adele tied the basket securely enough, she was not quite so
certain of her own footing, her useless arm causing her to lose her
balance, and in regaining it she allowed the pole to drop so far that
the basket was dipped into the water, though fortunately not so far
that Cloudy received more wetting than gave him two dripping paws.
“Oh, dear, I am so relieved,” said Adele. “I thought he was drowned.
Why am I always doing such dreadful things?”
“You couldn’t help it,” Jessie assured her. “You have only one arm, you
see, and it was very hard to manage that long pole.” She dried Cloudy’s
paws on her handkerchief and then cuddled him under her jacket. “I
think I shall have to carry him up to the house,” she said, “for he
might take cold. Besides, I am sure it must be nearly dinner time.”
“We have had a perfectly lovely time,” returned Adele. “I was so
miserable last night when I went to bed, and I cried myself to sleep.”
“What made you so miserable?”
“Why, you see Dapple Gray went away yesterday afternoon, and I felt
so lonely when I thought I couldn’t have you or him either. I am so
glad you came down to the brook this morning. Will you come again this
afternoon?”
“If mother says I may.”
“Are you going to tell her?”
“Tell her what?”
“That you have been playing with me all the morning.”
“Of course I shall tell her. I tell her everything, and you know we
have minded exactly, for neither one of us has crossed the brook.
Mother never said I couldn’t talk to you; she only said I was not to go
over to your place.”
“And Aunt Betty said I mustn’t go to your place, so we really have
minded them, haven’t we?”
“I should think we had,” replied Jessie. “Good-bye.”
“Good-bye,” responded Adele. And both little girls went off feeling
very virtuous.
Jessie did not delay in telling her mother all about the morning’s
meeting. “Do you mind, mother?” she asked.
“No,” answered her mother. “I don’t think I do in the least. I see that
you both meant to be obedient, and I think the hard lesson Adele has
had promises to do her a great deal of good.”
“I feel so sorry for her, oh, so sorry,” said Jessie thoughtfully. “She
cried herself to sleep last night because she was so lonely. If she had
had you, mother, to tuck her up and kiss her good-night and to make her
feel comfortable inside, as you do me after I have been naughty, she
wouldn’t have felt so.”
“Poor little child,” said Mrs. Loomis compassionately.
“I think she loves me very much,” said Jessie, “and she did just as I
told her was right this morning. She never said one word about Polly
or Peter Pan, either. Don’t you think I can be friends with her again,
mother?”
“I think you can, for I am sure that you can do a great deal for her.
It is evident that she has never been used to giving her confidences
to her aunt, and so far, Miss Eloise has not been able to win them. I
think Miss Eloise will in time, and meanwhile we must do all we can.
Miss Eloise was here this morning, dearie.”
“Was she? Then that is why she was not at home when Adele took Cloudy
up to show her. What did she say, mother?”
“She said a great many things, and some things she said made me decide
to let you begin your lessons again, but I would rather you did not
spend too much time at the yellow house. If you go there in the
morning, that will be enough, and in the afternoon it will be better
for Adele to come here to play with you. I think it is getting too cold
to play by the brook, but there is the attic where you can be perfectly
safe. I will have one end cleared for you, and you can have all your
playthings up there.” Jessie threw her arms around her mother’s neck.
“You are just the dearest mother in the world,” she cried. “I wish
Adele had one exactly like you. May I just go down to the brook a few
minutes this afternoon and tell her, and may I bring her back with me?”
Mrs. Loomis smiled down at the eager face as she gave her consent.
“Just one thing more,” said Jessie. “Do you mind if I stay long enough
to shut up Peter Pan’s house for the winter? It won’t take long.”
“No, Miss Wendy, I don’t mind, if you will promise to mind the tree
tops.”
Jessie laughed, and felt very thankful that she had such a mother.
_CHAPTER XI_
_Who Took the Spoons?_
_CHAPTER XI_
_Who Took the Spoons?_
Lessons began again the next day, and this time continued without
interruption until the holidays. It would not be quite true to say that
there were never any more tantrums, but it is a fact that they were
less violent, and occurred less frequently. Adele really was trying to
improve, and if Jessie herself once in a while had what Adele called
“the pouts” and always mocked and made fun of her, Jessie was ashamed
to continue them for very long, for she hated to be made fun of. The
two had their little quarrels, to be sure, and sometimes did not speak
for as much as a whole day, but night usually brought regret and the
next morning each would be eager to make up.
One day Jessie coming home from school found her mother counting the
silver. “Jessie,” she said, “do you remember taking any of these small
teaspoons at any time?”
“Why no, mother,” returned Jessie. “I always have a kitchen spoon, you
know, and I haven’t had one of those for a long time, not since that
day I had the marmalade down by the brook.”
“I don’t see where they can have gone,” said Mrs. Loomis. “There are
two missing, and I am sure they were all here last week. Minerva is
very careful and I don’t think she could possibly have thrown them
out. You are quite sure that you and Adele have not had them up in the
attic?”
“I am quite sure,” returned Jessie, “but I will go and look.”
“I wish you would,” said her mother.
Jessie trudged up to the attic and searched among the playthings, but
there were no spoons to be seen. She went back to her mother. “They
are not there,” she said. “Adele and I haven’t had anything but dolls’
parties up there, and then we used the spoons that belong to the play
tea-set.”
“I cannot think where they can be,” repeated Mrs. Loomis.
“Perhaps the boys had them down at the barn or somewhere,” suggested
Jessie.
“But I have counted them since they went back to school, and they were
all here. I have looked everywhere I can think of, and so has Minerva.
They are never taken to the kitchen except to be washed, and the only
person who has been along is that old peddler who comes with tins
sometimes. I have always thought him an honest old soul, as peddlers
go, but I can think of no one else.”
“I don’t believe it was the peddler,” said Jessie. “He has been coming
here for a long time, and he is always very nice and kind. He gave me
a ring with a blue set in it one day because he said he liked little
girls, and that he once had a little daughter about my age who died. I
am sure it couldn’t be the peddler.”
“It doesn’t seem to me so either,” returned Mrs. Loomis, “but where are
the spoons?”
Jessie shook her head, and the loss remained a mystery, for no amount
of searching brought them to light. It even became more and more
mystifying, for in a few days a little coffee-spoon was missing. It
was a souvenir spoon which had been sent to Mrs. Loomis by her sister,
and had been left on Mrs. Loomis’s dressing bureau after the box
containing it was opened.
“This is more and more perplexing,” said Mrs. Loomis, “for I know
positively that I left it in my room, and who in the world could go up
there without my knowledge?”
This was the last spoon taken, and although the matter was not
forgotten it was after a while dropped, all concluding that in some
unexplained way the spoons had fallen behind the surbase or through
a crack in the floor. This might explain the disappearance of the
teaspoons, for there was a large crack in the kitchen floor near the
fireplace, but it could not account for the coffee-spoon. “I’ll have
that board in the kitchen taken up in the spring,” said Mr. Loomis. “We
don’t want to take the stove down now, and no doubt you will find the
other in your room somewhere when the spring cleaning is done.” So the
matter rested.
When Jessie told Adele about the loss she declared that Playmate Polly
had taken them. It was her way to charge Playmate Polly with all sorts
of evil traits, and the two little girls quarreled upon this subject
oftener than any other, absurd as it was. If Adele wanted to tease
Jessie she had but to say something disagreeable about Playmate Polly,
and Jessie’s anger would rise, so that it finally became as a red rag
to a bull, and the more Adele teased the more Jessie resented it.
They seldom played by the brook now, but the attic was a great source
of pleasure. It was well heated by a register, so there was no danger
that the children should take cold. A set of shelves on one side made a
fine playhouse, and Sam had made a low table of just the proper height.
It was a rough sort of affair, but served its purpose. The legs of two
old chairs were sawed down to suit the children and a bit of old carpet
was spread upon the floor, so they considered that the playroom was
finely furnished. Minerva put up a little white curtain at the window,
and would always remember them on baking days with a little pie, a pan
of tiny rolls, or some small cakes, so that Saturday was feast day as
well as holiday.
One Saturday the two children were sitting at the table coloring some
pictures in a couple of old magazines. Mr. Hallett had brought them
each a small paint box the night before and they took this first
opportunity of trying their powers. Cloudy, attired in the long white
frock belonging to Jessie’s baby doll, was asleep in an improvised crib
made of a small stool turned upside down. He seemed perfectly satisfied
and was having a good nap. Charity sat by his side in the character of
nurse, and Peter Pan was sitting in a swing which hung from the rafters.
“I think I shall put a red frock on my lady,” Adele said.
“I tried red,” said Jessie, “but it doesn’t go very well. It is kind of
thick and messy looking. I believe I will try this yellow.” They worked
away for a few moments, very much absorbed in their painting, but they
were interrupted by a faint mew from the crib. “The baby is waking up,”
said Jessie, “and he can’t walk about very well in that long frock. I
shall have to take it off, I suppose, so he can run about.”
“But he does look so cunning in it,” said Adele admiringly.
“I know he does, and I can put it on again after a while, but mother
says I have no right to make him uncomfortable, and to keep him from
playing when he wants to, so it will have to come off, and when he
gets sleepy I can put it on again. Oh, what’s that?”
Adele ran to the window and drew aside the curtain. “Why, it’s Eb,” she
exclaimed. “He is pecking at the window. He wants to come in. Shall I
open the window, Jessie?”
“Why, yes. It won’t do any harm to let him stay with us. I wonder how
he found his way. You might leave the window open, Adele. It is real
warm to-day and then he can go out when he wants to.”
“I see how he came,” said Adele looking out the window.
“He couldn’t fly as high as this with his wings clipped.”
“No, but he could fly as high as the smokehouse door. It is open, you
see, and then he could fly on the roof, and from there to the branch
of that big tree. He could walk along the branch, you see, and get up
here.”
“So he could, quite easily, and I suppose that is the way he came. It
is the first time he has found us. See how pleased he is,” for Eb was
walking about in the most insinuating manner, dipping and curtseying
and making enticing little sounds. “Don’t let him drink the paint
water, Adele; it might make him ill. No, Eb, you can’t have that,” for
Eb, attracted by the bright colors in the box, was trying to peck at
them. Jessie shut her box, and Adele did likewise. Then Eb spied the
kitten and sidled up to him. The girls watched the two in their funny
antics until they heard Minerva calling at the foot of the stairs.
Jessie ran down to her, and presently came back with a little apple pie
which she set on the table. “Doesn’t it look good?” she said. “Shall we
eat it now?”
“We might as well,” returned Adele.
“I brought up some milk for the kitten,” said Jessie, “so he can sit on
one side the table and Eb on the other. I have a stale crust up here
that I will soak in the milk and give to Eb. He will like that.” So
the funny company sat down together, the kitten perched on a high box
with a small saucer of milk before him, Eb with his soaked crust on a
piece of pasteboard, and the two girls, each with half a pie. Eb was
the first to finish his meal and then he flew down to see what other
entertainment the place afforded. He went prying around for a few
minutes before he spied Adele’s paint brush which she had neglected to
put away. The piece of bright metal at one end attracted him and in a
moment he was upon the window sill with the brush in his beak. Jessie
spied him just as he was about to take flight.
“Oh, see what Eb has!” she cried. “Shut the window quick!”
Adele, who was nearest, jumped up, but Eb was too quick for her and was
beyond reach before she could get to him. “He’s gone,” she cried. “He
has gone off with my brush. How shall we get it?”
“You stay here and watch him,” said Jessie, “and I will go down and see
if I can grab him before he gets away with it.”
She ran downstairs while Adele watched from the window. Still carrying
the brush, Eb walked across the roof to the limb of the tree which
overhung one side of the house. He took a short flight to the limb,
walked along it, flew to the smokehouse and stood there. The door,
however, was shut by now, and he was not sure that he could venture to
fly down from the roof. Now was Jessie’s time. She ran to the kitchen.
“Give me some dough or corn bread, or something, quick, Minerva,” she
said.
Minerva picked up a piece of corn bread from a plate and gave it to
her. “What in the world is the matter with the child?” she said as
Jessie scurried out. She followed the little girl to where she stood
crumbling the corn bread into one palm. “Well, I declare,” she said.
“What has he got now?”
“Adele’s paint brush,” Jessie told her. “Come, Eb. Come get some nice
supper.”
Eb cocked his head to one side, and regarded the outstretched hand for
a moment, then he dropped the paint brush and flew down to Jessie’s
shoulder. The paint brush rolled down from the roof to the ground.
Scattering the crumbs before him, Jessie set Eb down, and ran back,
stopping under the window from which Adele was looking and calling up
to her, “Here it is. I made him drop it.”
“I’ll come down and get it,” replied Adele.
“Bring Cloudy with you,” Jessie called back.
In a few minutes Adele appeared with Cloudy in her arms. “I shut the
window,” she said. “It is getting dark up there, and I suppose I shall
have Angelina coming for me in a few minutes. I am glad you were able
to make Eb give up the brush. What do you suppose he was going to do
with it? Isn’t he getting to be a thief?”
“He certainly is,” said Jessie. “I suppose he was going to hide it
somewhere.”
“I wonder where?”
“I’m sure I don’t know. Where do you suppose he would hide things,
Minerva?”
“Bless me, I’m sure I can’t tell. Well, there, I shouldn’t be the least
surprised if he was the one that stole those spoons. It is a wonder
none of us thought of that. It’s only lately he’s taken to carrying off
things, though. He tried to get my thimble off my finger yesterday.”
“I’m going right in to tell mother about him,” said Jessie, “and maybe
we can find the spoons if he has hidden them.”
Minerva followed the two children into the sitting-room, where Mrs.
Loomis was told of the suspicion which rested upon Eb. “Well, I
declare,” she said. “I verily believe he is the thief. We must watch
him, and see where he goes. Keep your eyes open, children, and perhaps
we can trace him.”
However, Eb was much too sly to be discovered at once, and despite all
their efforts they could not find out where he made a hiding-place
for his treasures. He was even given the chance to carry away certain
articles, but as soon as he saw that he was followed he would drop
what he carried and would fly off with a caw of derision. “He is the
cleverest creature I ever saw,” declared Minerva. “There is no catching
him napping. I let him carry off a piece of my red worsted this
morning, and would you believe it, he dropped it on the step as soon as
I opened the door.”
“We’ll catch him unawares some time,” said Sam.
But as if he knew himself suspected, Eb continued to behave with such
secrecy that no one could say that he was really the thief, and finally
Jessie declared that she didn’t believe he was guilty at all, and she
told Adele so.
“No, I don’t believe it is he,” Adele answered with a gleam of mischief
in her eye. “I have always believed it is Polly. I saw Eb sitting on
her head whispering things in her ear one day, when I was coming to
your house, so maybe he puts her up to it.”
“You are so silly, Adele,” returned Jessie impatiently, and turning
away.
Adele ran after. “Don’t get mad, Jessie. Please don’t. I was only
fooling, but it is such fun to pretend things about Polly. If you won’t
get mad, I will tell you a secret; a very great secret. Say you aren’t
mad.”
“I’m not so very mad,” Jessie answered, the prospect of a secret being
more than she could withstand.
The children were in the attic snuggled near the heater, for it had
suddenly grown quite cold. “Guess who the secret is about,” said Adele.
“About us?”
“You and me, do you mean? Well, partly.”
“Is Dapple Gray coming home?”
Adele looked grave. “No, not yet, though papa said the other day that
he was very sure I could have him some time, if I kept on improving.
I’ll tell you who the secret is about and then you can guess some more.
It is about Miss Eloise.”
“Is she going away?” asked Jessie in alarm, for she had become very
fond of her teacher.
Adele shook her head. “No, at least she is and she isn’t.”
“I don’t see how that could be.”
“Don’t you? I do. She might be going away from our house but not from
the neighborhood.”
“Why should she do that? Oh, do tell me, Adele. I can’t possibly guess.”
“Well,” agreed Adele, “it is this way. Miss Eloise is engaged to be
married to a professor or teacher or something. He has been here to see
her, and, what do you think? If they can find a house big enough near
here they are going to take it and have a school next year, and I shall
go to it. Papa is so pleased, because he says he will never have to
send me away to school then.”
“Shall you like going to a man?” asked Jessie somewhat disturbed.
“Oh, the teachers won’t all be men,” said Adele, “and I like Mr. Davis
very much. So will you, for of course you will go, won’t you?”
“I don’t know. Where will the school be?”
“They can’t tell till they see what house they can get.”
Jessie was thoughtful for a moment, then presently she cried, “I know.
I know just the place. It isn’t very far from here. We can see it from
the window, now that the trees are bare. It is a great big white house
with ever so many rooms in it. Father knows all about it. It is this
side the railroad track, so I could go there.”
“Oh, come, let’s go tell Miss Eloise,” said Adele with an eagerness
which seemed to suggest that perhaps the house would disappear over
night. And the two sought Miss Eloise without delay.
“I’ve told Jessie your secret,” said Adele bursting in upon her
teacher, “and she knows exactly the house for you and Mr. Davis. Her
father can tell you all about it.”
Miss Eloise looked up from her embroidery, a little flush mounting to
her cheek. “What do you think of my secret, Jessie?” she asked drawing
the little girl to her side.
“I think it is a very nice one for Mr. Davis,” she answered.
Miss Eloise laughed, and Miss Betty said, “I must tell him that.”
“Why don’t you think it is nice for me?” Miss Eloise asked Jessie.
“Maybe I shall think it is nice if you live in ‘The Beeches,’” she said.
“Then we surely must see about it. Is the name of the place ‘The
Beeches,’ and is it near here?”
“It is just beyond our place,” Jessie told her, “but the house hasn’t
been lived in for a long time. The man who owns it has gone abroad and
wants to sell it. My father can tell you all about it, for we have the
keys at our house.”
“Then we must certainly see about it,” said Miss Eloise, turning to
Miss Betty. “That would just suit, Betty, and I should rather be on
this side the railroad, for then we should be between Appledore and
Fulton so we could control both. Thank you, Jessie, for coming to tell
me. Of course we shall not open our school till next fall, but if the
house is out of repair it will take some time to put it in order, and
one should be in plenty of time for such things. Must you go now?”
“Yes, it is getting late,” said Jessie, “and I mustn’t be out after
dark.”
“I hope you are bundled up warm,” said Miss Betty, “for it is getting
so cold.”
“I’ll run all the way,” said Jessie, “and that will keep me warm.” She
made her adieux and started off, her thoughts full of Miss Eloise and
her secret.
_CHAPTER XII_
_What Was Found Out_
_CHAPTER XII_
_What Was Found Out_
That winter had really come was made apparent the next morning when a
light fall of snow covered the ground. Jessie looked out of her window
and saw that Playmate Polly wore a white hood and that a scarf of snow
hung down on one side of her. “I think it looks rather well,” said
Jessie to herself. “I wonder if mother will let me go where I can see
closer. I have never been to Polly’s in winter time. I wish it were
Saturday.”
She was so excited over the new snow that she could scarcely wait till
breakfast was over to go down the hill toward the brook. Mrs. Loomis
consented to her making a short call upon Playmate Polly. “For I do so
want to see her white hood,” said Jessie, “and I will wear my rubbers
so I shall not get my feet wet. If Adele comes tell her I will be back
in five minutes, or may I stay ten minutes, mother?”
“Not longer,” her mother told her.
She set off over the untrodden snow that lay between the house and the
fence, but beyond this she discovered that some one had been before
her, for there were footprints in the snow, queer little footprints
that went on for a short distance and then stopped beginning again
further on.