Johnny Blossom
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[Illustration:
TELLEF’S GRANDMOTHER
]
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JOHNNY BLOSSOM
From the Norwegian of
DIKKEN ZWILGMEYER
TRANSLATED BY
EMILIE POULSSON
Illustrations by
F. LILEY YOUNG
[Illustration]
_THE PILGRIM PRESS_
BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO
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_COPYRIGHT, 1912
BY LUTHER H. CARY_
──────
Published, September, 1912
_THE·PLIMPTON·PRESS
[W·D·O]
NORWOOD·MASS·U·S·A_
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[Illustration]
Preface
HAVING made acquaintance with Johnny Blossom in his native land of
Norway through the stories about him by Miss Dikken Zwilgmeyer, the
desire to introduce the amusing, sound-natured boy to American children
has resulted in this translation.
Some liberty has been taken with the original text, chiefly to eliminate
circumstances or incidents which would not be clear to child readers in
a different environment; but I have taken pains to keep the translation
faithful to the original in spirit and expression, appreciating that in
these lies much of the wholesome power of the book.
Johnny Blossom is not local but universal. Interest in him is not even
limited to boys. When the book first appeared, a Norwegian reviewer
wrote:
“Our most popular author of books for little girls has this year
forsaken them, and apparently gone over to the boys, since her book is
about a boy; ... but I have yet to see the little girl who would not be
glad to read of such a boy as Johnny Blossom.... Although a genuine boy,
he is a right-minded little fellow with earnest childlike spirit; and he
can never be thoroughly content until he has had his mother’s full
forgiveness when he has been naughty, or, if he has wronged any one,
until he has made restitution.”
With confidence that such a child will be a good story-book friend for
our children, and a favorite with them as he is among his little
compatriots, I send Johnny Blossom forth to meet his welcome.
EMILIE POULSSON
HOPKINTON, MASS., 1912
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[Illustration]
CONTENTS
PAGE
I. JOHNNY BLOSSOM’S 3
FIGHTING
II. CRAB-FISHING 22
III. A CREDIT TO THE 33
SCHOOL
IV. AUNT GRENERTSEN’S 43
APPLES
V. THE RED BUOY 61
VI. JOHNNY BLOSSOM’S 74
CHRISTMAS PRESENTS
VII. A PRESENT FROM UNCLE 86
ISAAC
VIII. UNCLE ISAAC’S WILL 97
IX. ONE DAY IN VACATION 108
X. TELLEF’S GRANDMOTHER 120
XI. THE PET HORSE 130
XII. THE UMBRELLA 141
ADVENTURE
XIII. JOHNNY BLOSSOM’S 150
BIRTHDAY PARTY
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[Illustration]
Illustrations
Tellef’s Grandmother Frontispiece
Johnny Blossom’s 78
Christmas Presents
A Present from Uncle 90
Isaac
One Day in Vacation 114
[Illustration]
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JOHNNY BLOSSOM
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[Illustration]
CHAPTER I His Fighting
OH! Everything was so horrid! That stupid Tellef Olsen! Always boasting
and bragging about his muscle as if he were the only one in the town who
had muscle. Well, anyway, he wouldn’t be coming around here any more to
brag about it.
Johnny Blossom thrust his arm out fiercely and drew it slowly in again
with his teeth set and his face getting very red. Ha! That was awfully
good muscle there, just what muscle ought to be—rounding up in your arm
and as hard as iron to feel of. How tired he had been of the other boys’
bragging about Tellef, too. It seemed as if they never talked of
anything else. That was why he had been out of patience yesterday. Well,
he had shown them, once for all, who was the strongest.
My, oh, my! How he had pounded Tellef! But he would really like to know
whether any one wouldn’t be a little angry if, when he was sitting on a
fence not thinking of a thing, some one should come and poke him in the
back with a long stick?
For that was just the way the trouble began. He had been walking on his
tallest stilts the whole afternoon—the stilts that were exactly, to the
dot, one yard fifteen inches and a half tall—and then had sat himself on
the fence along the back alley. He was facing the yard, with his back
toward the alley, and that disgusting Olsen boy came past and gave him a
dig in the back with that sharp stick. Just think of it! Wouldn’t
anybody say it was unbearable?
Like a flash, John had slid down from the fence and rushed after Tellef;
and then came the fight.
Gracious! how that boy had yelled! Well, a good pommeling was just what
he deserved. It was rather a pity, though, that there had come a great
split in his jacket and that his fishpole had got broken to bits in the
fight. Even if it hadn’t ever been a good pole, it was wonderful how
much he caught with it. He had to catch fish for his mother every single
day. People said that at Tellef’s house they ate fish for breakfast,
dinner, and supper, and that they had scarcely anything else to eat.
Ugh! That must be tiresome! There was nothing so horrid when one came
home from school very hungry, and shouted at the kitchen door “What are
we going to have for dinner?” as to have Olea the cook say “Codfish.”
And think! That was about all they had to eat down in Tellef’s shanty.
Well, anyway, Tellef had given him an ugly scratch on the cheek. It hurt
awfully, for it was a long, deep scratch. Ugh! But the fight had been a
great one, and Tellef and everybody knew now who was the strongest, and
all that bragging about Tellef’s muscle was done with.
It must be grand to be so strong that one could, well, beat
everybody—that is, of course, all the boys,—if one had a mind to do it.
Not that he, Johnny Blossom, really wanted to fight everybody; only to
have strength enough to do it, if it were necessary. And to be able to
hold the heaviest things with your arm stretched out straight!
Every day at home he had a great gymnastic performance, holding a
dining-room chair at arm’s length. He could do it splendidly now, so
lately he had thought he would practise holding his sisters up that way.
If he began with the littlest sister he might by degrees work up to the
biggest. Perhaps even so he might not be able to manage Asta—she was so
fat. But they were all tiresome. They screamed if he merely touched
them. Just think what happened in the dining room only yesterday?
Without meaning the least harm, and as nicely as possible, he had taken
Dagny up to see whether he could hold her two minutes with his arm out
straight and stiff. And that big child, who was a whole year old, had
roared so that they had come rushing in from every corner of the house,
even Father, from his midday nap, with rumpled hair and angry looks. Oh,
dear! It was horrid. That stupid child! People might have understood
that he was just trying his strength.
Everything had been disagreeable all the afternoon, until by and by he
happened to think of trying to dance a mazurka on his highest stilts.
Doing that he had fortunately forgotten his troubles.
Then came Tellef’s hitting him in the back and their fighting, with
Tellef, for all his muscle, getting the worst of it. Of course Mrs.
Dahl, who had seen them fighting, would come and tell Mother. Awfully
pleasant that would be! Oh, well, he didn’t mind.
Johnny Blossom put his hands in his pockets and whistled, “_Yes, we love
our grand old Norway_,” loudly and shrilly.
Still, it was perfectly horrid that Tellef’s fishpole had got smashed.
That was awfully bad luck. And his jacket torn, too. But how could he
expect anything else when he was so horrid with his boasting and
everything?
“_Yes, we love our grand old Norway_,” Johnny Blossom whistled again
with great vigor.
Perhaps he ought to be looking after his own fishing tackle. Every one
was talking about going fishing nowadays and he’d better see whether his
tackle was hanging where it should be, on the wall of the wash-house.
William Holm had done nothing at school today but brag of that new
fishing tackle of his.
Not a sign of Johnny’s was to be seen. Who could have been so mean as to
take it away? Of course he had put it in its place. (A great stirring up
of things and searching everywhere.) Dear! How meddlesome people were!
Here they had gone and hidden away his fishing rod. Really, wouldn’t any
one be angry?
Oh! there it hung by the boiler closet. But what a forlorn, miserable
thing! He had not remembered that it was so worn out. Why, it scarcely
held together! It was almost a disgrace to have such shabby fishing
tackle, especially now when William Holm had that brand-new pole and
Philip Krag was going to get one tomorrow. No, this old thing would not
do. He positively needed a new outfit, and that meant that he simply
must have some money.
“_Yes, we love_”—Why, of course! He would go over to Kingthorpe. It was
a long time since he had been there, certainly as much as two weeks.
What a comfort it was to have such an uncle as Uncle Isaac of
Kingthorpe! For one thing, it sometimes happened that he made you a
present of a quarter, and a person was so likely to need a quarter—need
it badly, dreadfully, as he, Johnny Blossom himself, did today.
Without further delay off he started on the road to Kingthorpe, but his
thoughts were still busy.
Uncle Isaac had not given him anything the last time he was there, nor
the time before either, so very likely—Pshaw! Even if you got nothing at
all from Uncle Isaac, it was always more than pleasant to go to
Kingthorpe. He wasn’t going there to beg—far from it; he wasn’t quite so
mean as that.
Here his steps lingered a little, but he walked on nevertheless.
Some things about these visits were rather tiresome. Not exactly with
Uncle Isaac, though you had to be a bit careful with him, too; but there
was that fussy housekeeper of his, Miss Melling. One was never sure
which door she would poke her nose out of and call: “Walk quietly,
Johnny. Shut the door softly. Have you wiped your feet thoroughly,
Johnny boy?”
The idea of her calling him Johnny boy! That was perfectly outrageous!
What right had she to call him by that name? He had outgrown it long
ago, and no one used it now except just herself. Here he would be ten
years old in a fortnight, no, in twelve days—or, to be exact, twelve
days and a half, and so surely he was too old for that baby name.
Perhaps Miss Melling could fly through the air, but he couldn’t; and yet
she seemed to think that he could come all the way over here without
getting his shoes muddy! He would surely ask her today whether she could
fly. She did not look so very light!
All the floors at Kingthorpe were as shining as a mirror. Mother said
they were waxed. It was a good thing the floors at home were not waxed,
for it would be an awful job to take care of them. When he and Asta
played tag around the dining-room table for instance—my, oh my! but
there would be a good many scratches on the floor! Queer, that rich
people must have every thing so fine! For his part, he thought such
elegance was only a bother.
How disgusting about Tellef’s old fishing tackle! And that his jacket
should get that great split in it, too! The pity about the jacket was
that Tellef hadn’t any other. But all the same, it was mean of Tellef to
hit him in the back.
“_Yes, we love our grand old Norway!_” This time he whistled almost the
whole tune in his loud, shrill whistle; then he took to his heels and
was soon at the big gate that led into the Kingthorpe grounds.
It was queer, but the minute you were inside that gate you felt quiet,
almost solemn, and like behaving your very best. Everything was orderly
and stately and peaceful. The trees were very old and very tall, with
wonderfully broad, full crowns. The lawns were very spacious, with not a
single twig on the grass anywhere, and the paths were always smooth, as
if freshly raked.
Every one said that Uncle Isaac was awfully rich. Well, then, why did he
look so sad and why was he always thinking and thinking so hard? What in
the world could he be puzzling about when he was so rich? Why, he had
everything, even to a saddle horse and a pleasure yacht; and the horse
was a thoroughbred, according to Carlstrom the coachman.
It was different with Father. When he looked troubled, Mother said he
was worried about money matters, and that we had to be very careful with
our money. Pshaw! Why must some people be so careful about money, and
some ride on fine saddle horses, and some have nothing but fish to eat,
morning, noon, and night?
If he only hadn’t smashed Tellef’s fishing rod yesterday!
“_Yes, we love our grand old Norway!_” Suddenly he stopped short. Think
of his whistling in Kingthorpe Park! It was to be hoped that no one had
heard. Of course you should be nice and quiet here. It was to be hoped,
too, that that ill-tempered watchdog would not come growling along. Not
that Johnny Blossom was afraid of him. Far from it! But that dog was so
cross, you couldn’t like him.
Johnny stood still, unconsciously kicking a big hole in the path as he
meditated. Perhaps it would be just as well to go straight back home
again without seeing Uncle Isaac; but no—he really needed a quarter
terribly today; and on he ran through the grounds and burst in at the
big entrance door of Kingthorpe.
The front hall was very grand. It was two stories high and the floor was
of checkered black and white marble. Here you need not be so careful
about footmarks as on the other floors, which were all highly polished.
Pshaw! There stood Miss Melling, Uncle Isaac’s housekeeper. “Why! Is it
you, John? Is there anything particular wanted?”
There! Any one could see by that how horrid she was—asking if he wanted
anything in particular!
“Oh, I just came to see Uncle Isaac, it is so long since I was here.”
“Long? It seems to me you were here only last week.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Well, I don’t know whether your uncle is well enough to see you today.
I will find out.”
How tiresome Miss Melling was! Well, if she offered him cookies and
jelly today, as she sometimes did, she would find out that he wouldn’t
take anything from her. Never in the world.
Here she was again.
“Yes, you may go in; but you must wipe your feet well and shut the door
softly and not stay so long as to tire him.”
Wouldn’t any one suppose that Uncle Isaac was her uncle and not his,
Johnny Blossom’s, the way she behaved?
Johnny Blossom, cap in hand, tiptoed with unusual care over the highly
polished floor. First a gentle knock on Uncle’s door, then a louder one.
“Come right in, my boy.”
Johnny Blossom bowed low as he entered.
Gray-haired, delicate, with sorrowful eyes and long, white hands, Uncle
Isaac sat in his big, carved, oaken chair.
“Good day, John! Now this is very kind of you to come to me, away out
here.”
“Yes. I thought it was an awfully long time since you had seen me.”
“True, so it is. I suppose you are very busy nowadays?”
“Awfully busy. Tonight we are going out fishing.”
“I meant particularly at school.”
“Oh! Of course I go to school.”
“You are a good scholar?”
“Oh, well, I am not the worst. I’m not one of the best either, but I’m
not the worst, really.”
“But you should be among the best, Johnny Blossom.”
There was a short silence.
“It is awfully hard to be among the best, Uncle Isaac,” with an
apologetic smile.
“Not if a person is industrious, John.”
Johnny Blossom suddenly found something the matter with his shoestring.
His face was very red when he straightened up again, saying, “How
provoking shoestrings are!”
“How are your sisters?”
“Oh, very well.”
“My god-daughter, Dagny—she is getting big now?”
“My, oh, my! She is so heavy! You would hardly believe how heavy she is;
but I almost know that I could lift her and hold her at arm’s length
with my arm out like this, perfectly straight!”
“My dear John! You do not try lifting the child at arm’s length, as you
say?”
“Yes, I tried once. I could do it well enough, too; but you should just
see how cross that child is. She roars at nothing.”
“But there might be a bad accident if you dropped her.”
Johnny smiled condescendingly. “You don’t know how strong I am, Uncle
Isaac. Look at my muscle here.”
Quick as a flash, Johnny’s jacket was off and he was displaying his
little shirt sleeve. “Look here! Look! Isn’t that good muscle?”
Suddenly he glanced around the room. “Isn’t there something here I can
lift?”
“My dear Johnny! No, no!”
“Yes, that fire-screen will be just the thing.”
“No, no, thank you, John. I am willing to believe that you are very
strong.”
“There! This lamp will do.”
A little firm brown hand had already seized upon the big lamp.
Uncle Isaac roused up. “No, no, my boy! Let go the lamp! Let go
instantly!”
“Well, if you don’t want me to show you. But really, if my little finger
were only big enough, I could lift the lamp just with that.”
Johnny shook the brown little finger almost in Uncle Isaac’s face.
“Why, what have you done to your face, John? You have a big scratch
there.”
“Oh, that? Well, that’s—that’s nothing.”
“But how did you get it?”
“Why—it—it came so.”
“Came so? What do you mean?”
“Oh, we were fighting.”
“Why were you fighting?”
“It was just that stupid Tellef Olsen. He bragged so much about being
the strongest of all the boys”—
“And then?”
“The whole school said he was the strongest, and that was disgusting,
for it wasn’t true. I’m a great deal stronger than Tellef. I am really
awfully strong, I am.”
“And so you fought?”
“Yes. I was up on the fence yesterday, and Tellef Olsen went past in the
alley and hit me in the back with a long switch”—
“And then?”
“Why, yes. Then we fought each other, you know.”
A silence followed this remark. Since Uncle Isaac said nothing, Johnny
continued:
“I beat, too! My, what a thrashing I gave him! Now they’ll know I am the
strongest. I’d rather be strong than anything else.”
Again it was very still.
“You say that, do you, John? You think that to be strong is the greatest
thing? Possibly it was, in past ages; but in the future, the man with
the most love in his heart, the best man, will be the greatest. Remember
that, little John Blossom.”
The boy looked at his uncle in astonishment. The man with the most love
in his heart the best man? _He_ the greatest of all?
“Yes,” continued Uncle Isaac. “He who heals instead of wounds, he who
does good and helps the needy, he is the greatest, John Blossom.”
Heals and not wounds; does good; helps the needy. Johnny sat staring at
his Uncle Isaac. Deep within his heart there lay a weight, a sadness. It
was the thought of Tellef Olsen’s fishing rod that he had broken to
smithereens—Tellef’s, who had to go fishing every day or his mother and
the children would have nothing to eat; and of the jacket all split,
too,—the only one Tellef had.
Uncle Isaac was gazing far away, up toward the sky. “That is being
great; the greatest any one in the world can be.”
All at once it had become very impressive in there with Uncle Isaac, who
seemed to have forgotten him and continued gazing up into the sky.
Johnny Blossom turned and fidgeted in his seat. “I’ve got to go,” he
said suddenly.
“Well, well. Wait a minute.” Uncle Isaac took out his pocket-book and
gave John two bright half-dollars. “There is always something you would
like to buy for yourself, little John, so take this; but don’t fight any
more, and remember what it is that makes a man great.”
“Thank you, Uncle Isaac. Good-by.” With this Johnny Blossom bowed and
vanished.
Out in the front hall stood Miss Melling, holding in her hand a plate on
which was a big piece of cake with thick frosting on it.
“Johnny boy, see here! Here is something for you.”
He had bitten into the cake before he remembered that he never in the
world was going to take any more goodies from Miss Melling. “Thank you.”
He bowed low, with his mouth crammed full of cake. “Thank you.” Of
course he couldn’t possibly say that he wouldn’t have the cake when she
put it right under his nose that way. He had thought of her asking him
to go into her room to be treated to cookies and jelly. That was what he
had meant he would not do.
Soon he was in the grounds again, but he did not hurry, nor did he give
one thought to the cross mastiff. Every now and then he opened his hand
to look at the two silver pieces. To think that he really had two
half-dollars! He could get himself extra good fishing tackle for that
much money—far better than William Holm’s even. Yes, as Uncle Isaac had
said, there was always something you wanted to buy for yourself. What
was that other thing Uncle Isaac had said? The man with the most love in
his heart was the greatest? He who was kind was greater than he who was
strong?
How hard he had hit Tellef in the face! How the blood had spurted out
from his nose! It was too bad. Tellef had not been out to play last
night or today either. How that jacket of his looked, torn that way!
Really, it was a perfect shame.
Again and again Johnny Blossom opened his hand and looked at the silver
pieces. Suddenly, speaking aloud in his determination, he said: “I am
going to give these to Tellef. It was an awful shame for me to fight him
like that, even if he did hit me in the back.”
Johnny dashed off at a run. What if they hadn’t had even fish to eat at
Tellef’s house today on account of the broken pole?
The road was very steep and he almost slid down, landing right near the
shanty where Tellef lived. Oh, dear! What was to be done next? It would
be very embarrassing to say to Tellef that he felt ashamed of himself.
How could he do it?
Aha! there was Christina, Tellef’s little sister.
“Here, Christina. Will you give these to Tellef?”
Johnny Blossom handed her the two half-dollars, speaking fast and
feeling in a great hurry to get away. Christina looked at him in
amazement.
“What for?” she asked.
“Oh, because I fought him; because his fishpole got smashed.”
He was off, leaping up the steep road. Christina looked at the money and
then at the disappearing boy and said, “How queer he was!”
For several days Johnny Blossom avoided meeting Tellef, but he saw that
Tellef had bought a handsome strong fishing rod, and that he had had
fish to take home every single day.
“That’s fine new tackle you have,” said William Holm to Tellef one
afternoon.
“Yes.” Tellef cast a smiling glance at Johnny Blossom.
With that it was as if the old score between them was wiped out once for
all. That same afternoon they went fishing together and talked much
about the new fishing rod’s wonderful catching powers; but not a word
did Johnny Blossom say as to why he had given the money to Tellef, nor
did Tellef ever mention it. And there was no more talk between them as
to who was the stronger.
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