SPARROW, THE TRAMP.
[Illustration: “The sparrow again waited until the child had almost
reached him.”--_Page_ 155.]
SPARROW, THE TRAMP.
A Fable for Children.
BY LILY F. WESSELHOEFT.
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY JESSIE McDERMOTT._
[Illustration: Posy]
BOSTON:
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
1902.
_Copyright, 1888_,
BY ROBERTS BROTHERS.
UNIVERSITY PRESS:
JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE.
PUBLISHERS’ NOTE.
The lamented author of “Little Women” in her last days read with great
delight the manuscript of this little story; and its publication is
owing greatly to the interest which she had in it.
[Illustration: MRS. POLLY.]
SPARROW, THE TRAMP.
CHAPTER I.
“LET that sugar-bowl alone, Posy,” said Tom, as Posy extracted a lump
while they were waiting for Papa and Mamma to come down to breakfast.
“I’m not taking it for _myself_,” answered Posy, as plainly as the
large lump in her mouth permitted her to speak; “I’m only just getting
a lump for Dicky.”
“That’s a story,” said Tom.
“I was only just tasting it to see if it was a real sweet lump,” said
Posy very distinctly now, for the lump had disappeared. “I didn’t mean
to eat it, but it went all to pieces in my mouth.”
“You might have known it would,” said Tom.
“I guess I’d better pick out a real hard lump next time,” said Posy;
and she made up her mind not to put that one in her mouth, so she only
lapped it a little as she walked towards the canary’s cage.
Just then a noise was heard from the china-closet, and Tom at once went
to see what it was.
“Why, there’s a mouse-hole right in the corner of that upper shelf,” he
said; “I thought it sounded like a mouse gnawing.”
“Rats! rats!” called the parrot, whose cage hung in the window by the
side of the canary’s.
“You’re mistaken, ma’am,” said Tom; “the barn-cat doesn’t give the rats
a chance to come into the house,--they live in the barn.”
“Rats!” again cried the parrot.
Posy went up to the parrot’s cage and looked in.
“How do you do? How’s your mother?” asked the parrot, with her head on
one side.
“Pretty well, I thank you, Mrs. Polly,” answered Posy; and she couldn’t
resist the temptation of trying to seize the red feathers in Mrs.
Polly’s tail and give them a little tweak. Mrs. Polly always resented
such liberties, and made sudden dives at the chubby fingers; but Posy
had learned to be careful, and drew them out in time.
“You wouldn’t really bite Posy, would you?” asked the canary.
“No,” said Mrs. Polly, “I wouldn’t; but I guess you wouldn’t like to
have your tail pulled every time she gets a chance. It doesn’t hurt,
you know, but it’s very disagreeable. She steals the peanuts out of my
cage, too, and eats them. She’s a very mischievous child.”
“But she’s kind and good,” answered the canary.
Although this conversation took place between the birds, to the
children it seemed as if the canary sang his usual song and Polly
chattered in her accustomed way.
Just then Mr. and Mrs. Winton appeared, and the family took their
places at the breakfast-table.
Soon a slight rattling was heard among the dishes in the china-closet,
and Mr. Winton cautiously approached the closet door and suddenly
opened it. A large rat whisked into the hole Tom had discovered.
“We never had a rat in the house before,” said Mr. Winton, as he
returned to his seat; “I am afraid the house-cat doesn’t do her duty. I
never thought her so good a ratter as the barn-cat.”
“Michael must stop up the hole at once with broken glass and mortar,”
said Mrs. Winton; “I can’t have rats in the house.”
“Posy, run into the kitchen and see if Hannah has any more muffins,”
said Papa; for Katie, who had been both waitress and nurse to Posy, had
been gone a few days, and her place had not been supplied.
“How long that child stays!” said Papa, when some minutes had elapsed
and she did not return.
“Hannah is rather slow,” answered Mamma, “and perhaps the muffins were
not quite ready.”
A few minutes more passed, but no Posy appeared.
“What can that thumping be?” said Mamma. “I can’t imagine what Hannah
can be doing. I have heard it for some time. Do run and see what it
means, Tom.”
“I shouldn’t wonder if Posy were up to some mischief,” said Tom, as he
disappeared.
“What in the world can that boy be doing?” exclaimed Papa, after they
had waited some time and neither of the children appeared.
“I will see what the trouble is,” said Mamma; but before she rose from
her seat Tom reappeared, laughing, and leading Posy, who appeared
somewhat confused as she resumed her seat in silence.
“What do you suppose Posy has been doing?” said Tom. “She found Hannah
down cellar getting coal, and she locked her down; and then she took
the house-kittens and dipped their heads in the pitcher of milk on the
table and made ’em drink, and then she brought in the barn-kittens and
made them drink too. Hannah said Posy made believe she didn’t hear when
Hannah pounded on the door and told Posy to let her out. She said she
heard Posy running backward and forward, hurrying to get through before
anybody came.”
“Well,” said Posy, “kittens have to be teached to drink milk, you know.”
Papa laughed, as he was very apt to do when he heard of Posy’s
mischief; but when Mamma shook her head at him he stopped and tried to
look very serious.
“It was very naughty of you to lock Hannah down cellar, Posy,” he said;
“you see I can’t have any more muffins, for it’s time for me to go for
the train.”
Posy looked very sad to think she had been the cause of so much
trouble, and Papa could never bear to see his little girl unhappy; so
he caught her in his arms and kissed her, saying,--
“But I can’t help loving you, if you _are_ naughty.”
“Hannah,” said Posy, as Hannah entered to take away the breakfast, “my
papa says it was very naughty in me to lock you down cellar, but that
he loves me still.”
“Michael,” said Mr. Winton, as the horse was brought around to the door
to take him to the depot, “the rats gnawed a hole through the wall in
the china-closet last night, and I want you to stop it up with mortar
and broken glass.”
“All right, sir,” answered Michael. “If the barn-cat could be in two
places to onst, it’s no rats ye’d have in the house. She’s a rale
knowing baste, is the barn-cat. If you could only see the sinsible way
she has wid them kittens of hers. She kapes thim out of doors in foine
weather; and when the jew begins to fall, if it’s shut the door is, she
kapes thim walking about, for fear it’s a cold they’ll get.”
“Let’s go and see them,” said Tom; and off ran the children as Mr.
Winton stepped into the carriage and drove off.
Then, when all was still in the dining-room, a slight noise might have
been heard in the china-closet, and a long nose and a pair of very
sharp black eyes appeared in the now rat-hole.
Looking cautiously around, and stopping every minute to listen, the rat
ventured out. He was quite gray about the mouth from age, and had a
particularly vicious look in his shrewd old eyes. Finding all still, he
ventured out a little farther, and still farther, and at last slid down
from the shelf and entered the dining-room.
Mrs. Polly’s quick ears had heard him, and she watched him as he
noiselessly moved about, picking up the crumbs that had fallen from the
table.
“Hallo!” called out Mrs. Polly.
“Speak a little louder while you’re about it,” snarled the old rat, who
had started at the sound of her voice and listened anxiously to hear if
there were danger of detection; and as he spoke he gave a very vicious
grin that displayed his long yellow teeth, with one of the front ones
broken.
“I haven’t time to sit for my portrait this morning,” resumed the old
rat, as Mrs. Polly continued to gaze steadfastly at him. “You’ll know
me the next time you see me, I hope!”
“I know you already,” said Mrs. Polly; “you’re Graywhisker.”
“Whew!” exclaimed the old rat, with another grin that showed the broken
front tooth; “there’s nothing like being famous.”
“I’ve heard of you from my friend the barn-cat,” said Mrs. Polly. “She
has known you a long time, she says, but you don’t care to become very
intimate with her;” and Mrs. Polly gave a short laugh that was very
irritating to Graywhisker’s nerves.
“The old fiend!” he exclaimed angrily; “of all the meddlesome old--”
“Don’t get excited,” said Mrs. Polly calmly.
“You’d better mind your own business,” answered the old rat, “or
you’ll find yourself in trouble. The barn-cat and you are two very
different individuals, and I shan’t stand on ceremony with you, I can
assure you.”
“Do stand on ceremony with me,” said Mrs. Polly, with another laugh.
Graywhisker brought his teeth savagely together; but Mrs. Polly kept
her cold gray eye on him in such a very unconcerned manner that he
evidently thought better of his intention and resumed his search for
food.
“Mean people these,” he muttered; “not a scrap left. Come, don’t be
stingy, Mrs. Polly; give me one of your peanuts there. I don’t know
when I’ve tasted a peanut,--not since the day Posy left a few and went
into the house for a glass of water. She didn’t find many left when she
came back, though.”
“Come and get one if you want it,” said Mrs. Polly, eying five freshly
roasted peanuts that lay on the bottom of her cage.
Graywhisker watched her shrewdly for an instant, but couldn’t determine
from her expressionless countenance whether she really meant what she
said.
“It’s easy enough to pick one out,” he said to himself as he began to
climb the drapery that hung by the parrot’s cage.
Mrs. Polly watched him as he nimbly pulled himself up, and sat with her
head inclined slightly forward, following every motion of his. When
opposite the cage, he seized it with one of his forepaws, and with the
other tried to fish out a particularly fat peanut; but before he could
draw it out Mrs. Polly’s sharp beak pounced down on the paw, and he
gave a squeal of pain.
“Did it taste as well as those you stole from Posy?” asked Mrs. Polly.
“You old vixen!” began Graywhisker, “you--”
“Don’t swear,” said Mrs. Polly coolly.
The canary had been a silent spectator all this time, and hardly dared
to breathe; but when Mrs. Polly pounced on the old rat’s paw she gave a
nervous flutter.
“Oh! I hadn’t noticed you before, my friend,” exclaimed Graywhisker,
with his horrible grin; “you’re a very tender morsel, and I’m not a bit
afraid of your soft little beak;” and the old villain began to descend
the curtain on Mrs. Polly’s side and ascend the one that hung by the
canary’s cage.
Poor Dicky was completely paralyzed with terror. Up came the gray nose
and wicked-looking eyes nearer and nearer, and yet poor Dicky sat
without stirring, his terrified eyes fastened on the horrible monster
that could crush him with one grasp of his paw. At last he was opposite
the cage, and was about to reach out his paw to seize it, when the
spell that kept Dicky silent seemed broken, and he fluttered about,
uttering cries of terror. The strong paw still held the cage, and the
other paw reached in between the wires; but as the frightened bird, in
his agitation, fluttered within reach of the relentless paw, Mrs. Polly
gave a shrill whistle, and then another louder still.
A rustling was heard in the bushes outside the window, and at the
sound Graywhisker descended the curtain and scurried into the closet,
disappearing into his hole as the house-cat, with gleaming eyes, jumped
on the window-sill and glared around.
“Which way did he go?” she demanded.
The gray nose was pushed cautiously out of the hole, and a voice said,--
“Mrs. House-cat, did you ever get left?”
[Illustration: Graywhisker disappearing into his Hole]