Mr. Martin has gone away. He's gone to Europe or Hartford or some such
place. Anyway I hope we'll never see him again. The expressman says that
part of him went in the stage and part of him was sent in a box by
express, but I don't know whether it is true or not.
I never could see the use of babies. We have one at our house that
belongs to mother and she thinks everything of it. I can't see anything
wonderful about it. All it can do is to cry and pull hair and kick. It
hasn't half the sense of my dog, and it can't even chase a cat. Mother
and Sue wouldn't have a dog in the house, but they are always going on
about the baby and saying "ain't it perfectly sweet!" Why, I wouldn't
change Sitting Bull for a dozen babies, or at least I wouldn't change
him if I had him. After the time he bit Mr. Martin's leg father said
"that brute sha'n't stay here another day." I don't know what became of
him, but the next morning he was gone and I have never seen him since. I
have had great sorrows though people think I'm only a boy.
The worst thing about a baby is that you're expected to take care of him
and then you get scolded afterwards. Folks say, "Here, Jimmy! just hold
the baby a minute, that's a good boy," and then as soon as you have got
it they say, "Don't do that my goodness gracious the boy will kill the
child hold it up straight you good-for-nothing little wretch." It is
pretty hard to do your best and then be scolded for it, but that's the
way boys are treated. Perhaps after I'm dead folks will wish they had
done differently.
Last Saturday mother and Sue went out to make calls and told me to stay
home and take care of the baby. There was a base-ball match but what did
they care? They didn't want to go to it and so it made no difference
whether I went to it or not. They said they would be gone only a little
while, and that if the baby waked up I was to play with it and keep it
from crying and be sure you don't let it swallow any pins. Of course I
had to do it. The baby was sound asleep when they went out, so I left it
just for a few minutes while I went to see if there was any pie in the
pantry. If I was a woman I wouldn't be so dreadfully suspicious as to
keep everything locked up. When I got back up-stairs again the baby was
awake and was howling like he was full of pins; so I gave him the first
thing that came handy to keep him quiet. It happened to be a bottle of
French polish with a sponge in it on the end of a wire that Sue uses to
black her shoes, because girls are too lazy to use a regular
blacking-brush.
The baby stopped crying as soon as I gave him the bottle and I sat down
to read. The next time I looked at him he'd got out the sponge and about
half his face was jet-black. This was a nice fix, for I knew nothing
could get the black off his face, and when mother came home she would
say the baby was spoiled and I had done it.
Now I think an all black baby is ever so much more stylish than an all
white baby, and when I saw the baby was part black I made up my mind
that if I blacked it all over it would be worth more than it ever had
been and perhaps mother would be ever so much pleased. So I hurried up
and gave it a good coat of black. You should have seen how that baby
shined! The polish dried just as soon as it was put on, and I had just
time to get the baby dressed again when mother and Sue came in.
I wouldn't lower myself to repeat their unkind language. When you've
been called a murdering little villain and an unnatural son it will
wrinkle in your heart for ages. After what they said to me I didn't even
seem to mind about father but went up-stairs with him almost as if I was
going to church or something that wouldn't hurt much.
The baby is beautiful and shiny, though the doctor says it will wear off
in a few years. Nobody shows any gratitude for all the trouble I took,
and I can tell you it isn't easy to black a baby without getting it into
his eyes and hair. I sometimes think that it is hardly worth while to
live in this cold and unfeeling world.