Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
[Illustration]
LITTLE MISS MOUSE
BY
AMY E. BLANCHARD
Author of "Little Maid Marian," "Little Miss Oddity,"
"Little Sister Anne," "Mistress May," etc.
NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1906, by
GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY
_Published August, 1906_
_All rights reserved_
Printed in U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. BUTTONHOLES
II. THE POCKET
III. HENRIETTA'S RED COAT
IV. ONE FRIDAY AFTERNOON
V. BILLY AND THE DOLL
VI. MISS HESTER MEETS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE
VII. A SURPRISE PARTY
VIII. A STRANGE VISITOR
IX. UNCLE SIDNEY
X. HOMESICK
XI. SIGNED, SIMON PETTY
XII. A JOURNEY
LITTLE MISS MOUSE
CHAPTER I
Buttonholes
"AUNT HESTER, do you like to make buttonholes?" Ruth asked with
interest in her tones.
"No," was the answer, "I hate to make them." Aunt Hester bit off her
thread fiercely. "I hate them," she repeated, reaching for her spool
which had fallen under the chair.
Ruth made a scramble for it, picked it up and laid it in Aunt Hester's
lap.
"If you don't like to make them, what's the reason you do it?" she went
on. "I thought grown-up people could do just what they liked."
Aunt Hester gave a little scornful laugh. "That's where you are
mistaken. When I was a little girl like you I thought so, too, and when
my mother made me sit by her and sew as I make you, I used to think
that when I grew up I'd never touch a needle."
"Oh, and now you have to do it nearly all day." There was sympathy in
Ruth's tones.
"Never you mind what I do all day. You chatter too much. Go on with
your work."
And Ruth returned to the slow and tedious task of picking out the
threads from a coat. The threads stood up in a long row down the seam.
Ruth called them Indians on account of the fancied resemblance to the
feathered decorations on the heads of the savages in a picture in her
geography.
She and Aunt Hester were sitting in the latter's bedroom where the
two always spent an hour together on Saturday afternoons. Ruth always
resented being kept indoors on this holiday, but Aunt Hester was
obdurate.
To be sure Billy had to stack wood or chop kindling or do some such
task at the same hour so he wouldn't be on hand to play with, anyhow.
Lucia Field had to help her mother; Annie Waite's mother kept her busy,
and it seemed as if there was a combined intention on the part of the
older people to give this unhappy hour to children.
It was probable that they had decided to do it at some mothers'
meeting, Ruth concluded, and she always felt a sudden rebellious pang
whenever Aunt Hester prepared to go forth to one of these gatherings,
for just after, there was sure to be a period of extra strictness, and
certain little tasks that perhaps had been gradually slighted during
the month were enforced more rigidly.
Ruth looked up at the clock. It still wanted fifteen minutes to three
and there were many Indians still poking up their heads along the line
of brown cloth. She ventured another remark. It was out of reason to
sit silent more than ten minutes at a time.
"What are you going to do with this, Aunt Hester?" she asked.
"Make a coat for Billy."
"Whose did it use to be?"
"My father's."
"Oh." Ruth's mind wandered to the time when the coat had been new. It
must have been a long time ago, she considered. She wondered what old
Major Brackenbury kept in his pockets, and surreptitiously slipped her
hand in the one which was still hanging to the piece of cloth upon
which she was at work. He might have been fond of peppermint lozenges,
she thought, like Dr. Peaslee who never failed to produce one when
he met Ruth. But no lozenges of any kind were to be found; only some
siftings of tobacco and particles of dust did Ruth's hand bring forth
from the deep pocket.
She worked away diligently for a few minutes, then her tongue wagged
again. "Was your father like Dr. Peaslee?" she questioned.
"Not a bit," sighed Miss Hester. "He was tall and slim, though not too
slim. He carried a gold-headed cane. I can see him now," she stretched
forth her hand and smoothed the cloth which lay in Ruth's lap. "I can
see him now in that very coat coming out the gate with Bruno at his
heels."
Ruth's eyes followed hers to the big house across the way. The tall
white pillars were visible through the evergreens. It had been a
pleasant place to live in.
"I know all about Bruno," she said, "but tell me some more. I am so
tired of unripping."
"Of ripping, you mean. You couldn't unzip, you know. You have only five
minutes more, so I can't begin to tell tales now. I want you to find
Billy and tell him I want him to go to the store when he has finished
his task."
"May I go to the store, too?"
"Yes."
Ruth settled back contentedly. Only five minutes more to fight the
Indians. She would try to get to the end of the seam before the clock
in the kitchen struck. So her fingers flew along the stretch of brown
cloth and there were but a few more threads to pull when one, two,
three, strokes sounded solemnly and slowly from the tall clock in the
corner of the kitchen.
Ruth looked up inquiringly and Aunt Hester nodded her head.
"Fold up your work and put it in the big chest," she said, "and then
you may go and find Billy. When he has finished his work, tell him to
come to me."
Ruth did as she was bid. She found Billy industriously stacking wood.
"Whew," he cried as he saw the little girl, "there's a lot of it, isn't
there? See how much I have already piled up."
"You're 'most through, aren't you?" said Ruth. "How hard you must have
been working, Billy."
Billy smiled appreciatively. When Billy smiled, you forgot his red hair
and snub nose, for his bright blue eyes were squeezed up so merrily
and his whole face showed such a sunny expression that, you felt like
smiling in return.
Ruth, on the contrary, was a sombre looking little mite with burning
dark eyes, a small thin face and serious mouth. Her greatest beauty was
her chestnut hair which rippled in shining waves to her waist when it
was unplaited, but Miss Hester insisted upon smooth braids and was very
particular that every hair should be in place, so the shimmering masses
were generally confined in two plaits and tied tightly by a black
ribbon.
"I'll help," said Ruth after she had watched Billy sturdily working to
get his pile completed. "Aunt Hester wants to send you to the store and
I'm going, too. Billy, did you know she hated to make buttonholes and
her father had a gold-headed cane?"
"I know; I saw it once, the cane I mean. I didn't know about the
buttonholes. She won't have to make 'em when I am a man."
"Why? What for?" asked Ruth, struggling with a stick of wood.
"'Cause, she has to do 'em now, so she can buy things for us."
"Oh, I didn't know that was why."
Ruth placed her stick of wood so that it rolled down from the pile. She
thrust it back again and stood looking very thoughtful, then she said
soberly, "She's awful good, isn't she, Billy?"
"You bet she is. She's a Jim dandy, if she does make a fellow work
Saturday afternoons. Where'd you and me be, if it wasn't for her?"
"You'd be selling papers and I'd be in an orphan asylum, I suppose,"
returned Ruth readily. She was accustomed to this reminder from Billy.
"That's just what," he returned settling Ruth's wobbly stick more
securely in place.
"Tell me where you saw the cane," said Ruth, picking up a stick more
suited to her abilities.
"I saw it at Dr. Peaslee's; but don't you tell. She might not like us
to mention it. It's my opinion she sold it to him."
"Maybe, when the claim is settled, she'll buy it back again. I wish it
would hurry up and get settled; I'd love to live over there again."
Ruth nodded her head toward the big house with the pillars. "We didn't
stay long enough to get used to it."
"If she can stand it here, we can," returned Billy eyeing his wood-pile
critically. "That's all now, Ruth. I've just got to chop up a little
kindlin' and then we can go 'long."
"I'll pick up some chips," said Ruth, stooping to fill her apron with
the splinters and bits of bark which lay around.
Then, following Billy, who, with arms piled high, strode toward the
kitchen, she rejoiced that the real work of the day was over for them
both. To be sure she must dry the tea things and help put them away,
but that was active employment and did not come in the same list with
sitting still for an hour laboriously picking out stitches.
Ruth and Billy were not in any way related to each other. They were
found deserted in the streets of a large city near-by and when an
appeal was made at a Home Missionary meeting in their behalf, Miss
Brackenbury had offered to take them both. That was a year or more
previous to this special Saturday afternoon and Miss Hester had then
lived in the big house across the way.
Old Major Brackenbury was alive then, though blind and helpless, quite
a different person from the one described to Ruth as wearing the brown
coat. He lived but three months after the children became members of
the household, and the next thing the neighbors knew, the big house was
given up and Miss Hester was taking her young charges to a tiny home
across the way.
Miss Hester shed many tears at leaving her old home in which she had
expected to pass the remainder of her days. She had believed herself
comfortably provided for, but, when her father's affairs were settled,
there was very little left.
Ruth, awe-stricken, believed the tears were all because of the major's
death, but Billy, wise before his time with a knowledge of what poverty
meant, knew better. He had overheard a conversation between Miss Hester
and Dr. Peaslee and he knew there were many things to cause Miss
Hester's lips to tremble and her eyes to overflow, for had he not heard
the good doctor trying to persuade her to give up Ruth and Billy and
had she not replied:
"No, I have pleased myself in taking them. I was lonely and wanted them
for my comfort. Shall I give them up now when I pledged myself to take
them? The Lord sent them to me and He means me to keep them. Would I
desert my own flesh and blood under like circumstances? Would I not
work my fingers to the bone for children of my own and shall I do less
by these whom Heaven has given me?"
The doctor coughed and wiped his eyes but he did not give up. "They
will be well cared for in some institution, Hester," he said. "Or they
may perhaps find good homes. You need not return them to the streets
and what is left will not be enough for you three."
Miss Hester set her lips firmly. "I'll make it enough. I am not the
only woman who has had to work for her living."
"But what can you do, Hester? What can you do?" said the doctor in a
troubled way.
Miss Hester thought for a moment. "I can make buttonholes beautifully
and do all sorts of fine sewing and embroidery. Hand-work is very much
in vogue now and I surely ought to eke out my income; and then you know
there is the claim," she added with a little smile.
"Pshaw!" said the doctor, as he brought his stick down hard, but he did
not try to urge her further, though he shook his head and sighed.
And so it was that, with the best and choicest of her belongings, Miss
Hester removed to the tiny house with its bit of front yard and its
roomier back lot.
It was not long before the fine sewing daily work, was the main part of
Miss Hester's daily work, for the doctor spread the information far and
near that Miss Brackenbury made beautiful buttonholes and did exquisite
hand-work, and that she would be willing to help out those of her
neighbors less accomplished.
Then Maude Fowler came over to know if Miss Hester would help with her
trousseau; Mrs. Ayres brought a dozen baby's frocks; Mrs. Baker wanted
a fine shirtwaist, and so it went on till Miss Hester had about all she
could do, and managed to have enough to supply the wants of herself and
her adopted children, though their food was plain enough.
Billy did not forget what he had heard, and, though he never said a
word of it to Ruth, he faithfully kept alive the fact that they owed
a great deal to Miss Hester. He brought a cheerful presence into her
life, showing an awkwardly expressed, but perfectly true, affection
which Miss Hester recognized and returned.
As for Ruth, she was younger and did not show her feelings so easily.
She had been brought up in a different school, too, and was used to a
fond mother's caresses. To this mother's memory she clung, and Miss
Hester often wondered if she cared at all for her or indeed for any one.
"She hasn't those big, burning eyes for nothing," said Dr. Peaslee.
"She may be undemonstrative, but she is not shallow, I'll warrant you."
So Miss Hester was watching the growth of this little bud, wondering
if it would ever show a heart full of warmth and color, and if, in the
long run, Ruth would really love her as Billy did. Miss Hester was not
of the gushing sort herself, but, once in a while, she would pass her
hand over Ruth's shining head or would pat Billy's shoulder. Then Billy
would give her one of his beaming smiles as he snuggled up against
her. But Ruth would only turn her great eyes upon Miss Hester with a
questioning look and would invariably slip off into some corner after
such a caress.
This autumn afternoon, after they had deposited their burdens in the
wood-box, they were given directions by Miss Hester with a list of
things to be brought from the store.
"Now, don't loiter by the way," was the charge given. "I want the
things as soon as I can get them, Billy."
"What do you suppose they are?" asked Ruth as they passed out the gate.
"Do you reckon it is anything good, Billy? Maybe she has the claim."
"Ah, say, you've got bats in yer belfry," returned Billy. "She ain't
got no claim. I'm only goin' to get oatmeal and rice and things like
that."
"Oh." Ruth sighed. It would have been pleasant to anticipate materials
for gingerbread or some such luxury. "I wish it had been raisins and
currants and citron and all that like we had last Thanksgiving," she
said.
"Never you mind," returned Billy. "It's all right. What we have every
day is heaps better than that old crust you had for dinner the day they
found you on the corner, a beggar."
"Hush, Billy Beatty," cried Ruth stamping her foot. "I told you never,
never to speak about that again. I just hate to have you, I do. I
wasn't a beggar, I wasn't. I never asked anybody for anything and I
never will. I'd die first."
"Well, you needn't get so mad about it," replied Billy. "I couldn't
help it. I might have if I had been there, and if I hadn't sprained
my ankle like I did; that's 'why I couldn't get along. It hurt like
the mischief and I couldn't run after people like the other boys, so
I didn't sell a single paper that morning, and I didn't have a copper
to get anything to eat, so that's why I keeled over the way I did, and
they picked me up with the wits sorter knocked out of me, and just then
that preacher, or whatever he was that had you by the hand, come along.
And when Dr. Peaslee was goin' me over, he told him I'd just sorter
fainted 'cause I hadn't had no chicken pie for dinner, and he had us
both took to that place where they looks after young uns what ain't got
nobody else to look after 'em; Children's Aid Society, they call it,
and they fed us up slick, didn't they?"
"Now, you're talking as you did when I first knew you," said Ruth
disdainfully, "and not the way Aunt Hester likes you to talk. Don't
let's go back to that dreadful time. Billy, do you suppose your
relations will ever come after you?"
"Ain't got none."
"But I've a father, you know."
"Maybe you have and maybe you haven't. What's the matter with his being
killed in an accident? You wouldn't care much, would you?"
"I don't know. It would be nice to have somebody your very own." Ruth
spoke wistfully. "He wasn't bad. Mother said he'd come back; she knew
he would. She said that the day before she went to heaven."
The child's lip trembled and she bent over to pick up a scarlet leaf in
her pathway that she might hide her feelings.
"He won't come," declared Billy positively. "As for me I like it here
all right and I'm goin' to stay and keep a store here myself when I
grow up."
"Oh, good! And will you sell candy—that kind that's all pink and soft?"
"Sure," returned Billy. "We'll move back into the big house and have
rice puddin' with raisins in every day, if we like."
"I'd rather have that lovely other kind of pudding like we had last
Thanksgiving."
"We'll have that too, sometimes."
"Maybe we won't have to wait till you grow up, Billy," said Ruth, to
whom so long a vista of years seemed an eternity; "you know there's the
claim. What is a claim, anyhow, Billy?"
Billy hesitated. He didn't like to show his ignorance but he was not
at all sure that he knew what it meant. "It's government," he said
presently, "government," he repeated more importantly.
Ruth look puzzled. It did not seem much plainer to her than before.
"But how will that make us able to go into the big house?" she asked.
"Oh, they'll give a lot of money to Aunt Hester so she won't have to
sew any more."
"Oh, who'll give the money, Billy? Who is 'they'?"
"Oh, I don't just know their names. Maybe the president does it or he
gets somebody, some big general, to do it for him." Billy's notions of
such things were very vague.
"Oh my!" Ruth was much impressed; her imagination immediately flew
to the possible arrival of some magnificent creature in regimentals,
riding a coal black steed. He would draw rein before the door and she
would run out and open the gate for him. "Do you suppose he would know
where she lives, that she's not living in the big house any more?" she
asked after a moment.
"Of course." Billy spoke confidently.
He did not like to be questioned as closely as Ruth had an inconvenient
way of doing, so he changed the subject.
"I'll race you to the store," he said, "and I'll give you a start from
here to the corner."
Therefore, Ruth set off and the two reached the store neck and neck.
They entered breathing hard between quick bursts of laughter.