A BROKEN WHEEL.
"Let's take a ride, the very first thing we do," said Eunice, eagerly,
after breakfast. "I'm wild to get behind Mopsie and Charcoal again," for
the ponies had been sent over from East Wellsboro for the children's
use.
"I'm going to--" began Cricket, and then she stopped, remembering that
she was going to surprise the family with what she felt sure would be
the result of her mining explorations,--the finding of mamma's
long-buried money-bag. But then, she could dig any time, she reflected.
So Luke, the man, brought up the ponies, harnessed to the little cart,
that was getting to be close quarters for Eunice and Cricket, to say
nothing of Edna.
"Dearest old Charcoal!" said Eunice, caressing her pony, as he rubbed
his affectionate head against her shoulder, expecting sugar; "isn't it
lovely to have him again! But, Cricket, don't you think he is really
getting smaller all the time? Last summer his head came above my
shoulder, and look at him now!"
"Does it occur to you that your shoulder may be growing above his head?"
suggested Auntie Jean, laughing. "Unless you put a brick on your head, I
am sadly afraid that you wouldn't be able to ride Charcoal next summer."
"When Eunice and Cricket are big ladies, Helen and I are going to have
the ponies. Papa said so," piped up Zaidee.
"Dear me!" said Cricket, mournfully. "I wish I could take a tuck in my
legs. I don't want them to get so long that I can't ride Mopsie. Get in,
girls. Hello, Billy! If we had any room, we'd take you, too."
Billy grinned.
"Old Billy can walk as fast as them little tikes can run," he said, with
scorn.
"All right, then, you come, too," said Edna, jumping into the cart; "you
jog along behind. Don't you want to?" And off started the little
cavalcade, with Cricket driving, because she was the smallest, and could
perch up on the others' knees, while old Billy, all beam, jogged after,
making almost as good time, with his long legs and shambling gait, as
the ponies.
Back of Marbury there are miles of level roads, almost free of
underbrush, intersected in every direction with roads and lanes, and one
can drive for hours without leaving the shelter of the stately forest
trees.
They had been riding for an hour or more, laughing and singing, and
shouting sometimes, since there was no one to be disturbed, when
suddenly one wheel went over a big stone, which Cricket, in glancing
back to see if Billy were in sight, did not notice and turn out for.
"Look out, Cricket!" warned Eunice, but too late. Thump came down the
wheel and crack went something, and in a twinkling down came one side of
the cart, while the wheel lay on the ground. The well-trained little
ponies stood still at the first "whoa!" and the children were out in a
flash.
They looked at each other in dismay. How should they get the cart home
again with only one wheel?
"And we must be twenty miles from home," said Eunice, soberly.
"Oh, no, we're not," said Edna, for as she usually spent her summers at
Marbury, she knew this country-side well. "Only two or three miles,
that's all. You see we've been driving around so much that it seems
longer, but it's not really far. This lane leads out on to the
Bainbridge road, by the old Ellison Place, and that's only two miles
from home. But, after all, nobody may come along here for hours to help
us about the cart."
Just then old Billy came lumbering up around the curve behind them.
"Sho, now!" he said, surveying the wreck. "Wheel's come off."
"Exactly so, Billy. Now the question is, can we get it on?" returned
Eunice.
But something was broken, and getting it on proved impossible.
"Billy carry the cart," suggested that individual, who had a high
opinion of his own strength.
"Well, hardly, Billy,--but, oh, I have an idea! Billy, you hold up the
cart on that side, so it will run on the other wheel as the ponies draw
it, and Cricket can lead them, and Edna and I will roll the wheel along.
You said it wasn't far, Edna."
Billy lifted the side of the cart, obediently, while Cricket started the
ponies forward. This worked very well. Then Edna and Eunice armed
themselves with sticks and found that their new variety of wheel rolled
in fine style, with a little persuasion.
"What a come down," laughed Eunice. "We start out in state, and we come
back on foot."
"Let's play we're a triumphant procession," instantly suggested Cricket,
the fertile of resource. "I'll be the emperor, what was his name? The
one that conquered Zenobia. I'll be that one, and Billy is one of my
slaves, a captive of war, and you can be Zenobia, Eunice, and you're her
daughter, Edna, coming into Rome at the head of my procession after
you're conquered. You go ahead singing 'Hail to the Chief.' That's it;
march along like that. Now don't go too fast. I really ought to be
riding in the cart, but I'm afraid Billy couldn't hold me up, so I'll
play I'm tired of riding in state. Play we haven't come into the city
yet."
"I can't think how 'Hail to the Chief' goes," said Eunice, after one or
two attempts at the tune. "I keep getting into 'Hail Columbia happy
land.'"
"That won't do, for this is Rome and not Columbia we're coming to. This
is the way that 'Hail to the Chief' goes," and Cricket sang the first
line.
Now Cricket, alas, was, unfortunately, absolutely devoid of voice to
sing. She loved music dearly, but she could not keep to a tune to save
her life. Like a certain modern heroine, she could not even keep the
shape of the tune. Consequently, unless the girls had known the words,
they could not have told whether she was singing "Old Hundred," or
"Tommy, make room for your uncle."
Edna and Eunice almost doubled up with laughter. Edna sang like a little
woodthrush, and Eunice also had a sweet and tuneful voice.
"Oh, Cricket, you'll kill me," gasped Edna. "Your voice goes up when it
should go down, and down when you ought to go up, and the rest of the
time you go straight along."
Cricket looked injured, for, strange to say, she was sensitive on the
subject. She loved music so dearly, that she never could understand why
she couldn't make the sounds she wished come out of her little round
throat.
"I never pretended that I thought I could be singeress to the
President," she remarked, with dignity. "Anyway, if I'm emperor, I have
people to sing for me. Begin, Zenobia."
"I don't know 'Hail to the Chief,'" said Edna. "Let's sing 'Highland
Laddie'--I love that," and Edna piped up in a gay little voice, that
startled the birds overhead, and presently attracted the attention of
two prowlers, who were getting birds' eggs for their collection.
"The kids have had an accident," said one of them, peering through the
trees. "Hi! there!"
"There are the boys," said Eunice, as the "triumphant procession" halted
at the voice. "Come and help us," she called.
"No, we don't want any help," said Edna, moving on, "and boys are such a
bother. Don't call them." But the boys needed no calling, and so she
added, with decision, "You can't come with us unless you behave
yourselves."
"We're a triumphant procession," explained Cricket, "and you must go
behind and be slaves. I'm the emperor that captured Zenobia, and Edna
and Eunice are Zenobia and her daughter. They're to march in front,
singing, and Billy is one of my captives who carries my chariot because
the wheel came off, and these are my elephants that draw it. Ho, there,
base minion! are you tired?" for Billy was grunting a little under his
burden.
"Guess one of them boys better spell old Billy a little," suggested the
slave, putting down his side of the chariot, and mopping off his face
with his red bandanna. "Cart's kinder heavy when you carry it so fur.
Hurts your hand, too."
"That's so, boys," said the emperor, stopping her diminutive elephants.
"Do help him, please. There, now, Zenobia and her daughter are almost
out of sight. Put your eggs and things in the cart, Will,--I mean in the
chariot. Now let's start. Billy, you can walk in front of me now."
They started on again, the boys holding up the side of the demoralized
chariot, and keeping up a fire of jokes.
"Next time you're emperor, Marcus Aurelius, see that your groom looks
after your chariot wheels before you start," said Archie, finally. "It
would be inconvenient to have a wheel come off when you're making a
charge, and it would give your majesty a nasty fall."
"Yes, my grooms are getting very careless. I think I'll make gladiolas
of them, and get some new ones. I captured a couple of pretty fair
looking slaves, a little while ago, that I'm thinking will do. If they
don't," she added, severely, "I'll cut off their heads, and put them in
a dungeon."
"Don't do that. I'd rather you'd make a 'gladiola' of me, too. I don't
mind so much about my head, but don't put me in a dungeon. See here,
emperor, next time you break down, please do it within easy reach of
your ancestral halls. The side of this chariot hurts my hands, and I
wouldn't demean myself so for any one but your majesty."
"That's too bad. Shall I carry it a little while?" asked the emperor,
sympathizingly, as they turned into the main road. "My hands are pretty
strong."
"No; your humble slaves can manage a little longer."
"It's a good mile home, now," said Archie. "See here. The blacksmith
shop is not far down the road. We'll leave the cart there, to be mended.
Edna! Eunice! Stop at the blacksmith's."
So the "triumphant procession" came to a halt, while the ponies were
unharnessed, and the cart and wheel left for repairs. Cricket mounted
Mopsie, with the boys walking beside her, while Billy stalked along,
leading Charcoal, since Eunice and Edna were walking along together.
Will was very fond of his merry little cousin, who laughed at his jokes,
took his teasing good-naturedly, and loved and admired him with all her
heart. He was nearly sixteen, big and strong of his age, and Cricket
thought him the nicest boy in the world. She was not nearly so fond of
Archie, who was a year younger than Will. He teased her more, was
quicker-tempered, somewhat conceited, and rather liked to order the
girls around. He was slight and small for his age, and he did not have
his reddish hair for nothing.
Auntie met them at the gate, with an anxious face.
"What has happened, children?" she asked, resignedly.
"Nothing, much, auntie," answered Cricket, cheerfully. "We lost the
cart-wheel off, that's all. It was real fun coming home. We left it at
the blacksmith's to get it mended."
"So you've begun already," said auntie, laughing, but relieved.
[Illustration: "OLD BILLY TELLS HIS STORY TO THE TWINS"]