After this, don't say anything more to me about babies. There's nothing
more spiteful and militious than a baby. Our baby got me into an awful
scrape once--the time I blacked it. But I don't blame it so much that
time, because, after all, it was partly my fault; but now it has gone
and done one of the meanest things a baby ever did, and came very near
ruining me.
It has been a long time since mother and Sue said they would never trust
me to take care of the baby again, but the other day they wanted awfully
to go to a funeral. It was a funeral of one of their best friends, and
there was to be lots of flowers, and they expected to see lots of
people, and they said they would try me once more. They were going to be
gone about two hours, and I was to take care of the baby till they came
home again. Of course I said I would do my best, and so I did; only when
a boy does try to do his best, he is sure to get himself into trouble.
How many a time and oft have I found this to be true! Ah! this is indeed
a hard and hollow world. The last thing Sue said when she went out of
the door was, "Now be a good boy if you play any of your tricks I'll let
you know." I wish Mr. Travers would marry her, and take her to China. I
don't believe in sisters, anyway.
They hadn't been gone ten minutes when the baby woke up and cried, and I
knew it did it on purpose. Now I had once read in an old magazine that
if you put molasses on a baby's fingers, and give it a feather to play
with, it will try to pick that feather off, and amuse itself, and keep
quiet for ever so long. I resolved to try it; so I went straight
down-stairs and brought up the big molasses jug out of the cellar. Then
I made a little hole in one of mother's pillows, and pulled out a good
handful of feathers. The baby stopped crying as soon as it saw what I
was at, and so led me on, just on purpose to get me into trouble.
Well, I put a little molasses on the baby's hands, and put the feathers
in its lap, and told it to be good and play real pretty. The baby began
to play with the feathers, just as the magazine said it would, so I
thought I would let it enjoy itself while I went up to my room to read a
little while.
That baby never made a sound for ever so long, and I was thinking how
pleased mother and Sue would be to find out a new plan for keeping it
quiet. I just let it enjoy itself till about ten minutes before the time
when they were to get back from the funeral, and then I went down to
mother's room to look after the "little innocent," as Sue calls it. Much
innocence there is about that baby!
I never saw such a awful spectacle. The baby had got hold of the
molasses jug, which held mornagallon, and had upset it and rolled all
over in it. The feathers had stuck to it so close that you couldn't
hardly see its face, and its head looked just like a chicken's head. You
wouldn't believe how that molasses had spread over the carpet. It seemed
as if about half the room was covered with it. And there sat that
wretched "little innocent" laughing to think how I'd catch it when the
folks came home.
Now wasn't it my duty to wash that baby, and get the feathers and
molasses off it? Any sensible person would say that it was. I tried to
wash it in the wash-basin, but the feathers kept sticking on again as
fast as I got them off. So I took it to the bath-tub and turned the
water on, and held the baby right under the stream. The feathers were
gradually getting rinsed away, and the molasses was coming off
beautifully, when something happened.
The water made a good deal of noise, and I was standing with my back to
the bath-room door, so that I did not hear anybody come in. The first
thing I knew Sue snatched the baby away, and gave me such a box over the
ear. Then she screamed out, "Ma! come here this wicked boy is drowning
the baby O you little wretch won't you catch it for this." Mother came
running up-stairs, and they carried the baby into mother's room to dry
it.
You should have heard what they said when Sue slipped and sat down in
the middle of the molasses, and cried out that her best dress was
ruined, and mother saw what a state the carpet was in! I wouldn't repeat
their language for worlds. It was personal, that's what it was, and I've
been told fifty times never to make personal remarks. I should not have
condescended to notice it if mother hadn't begun to cry; and of course I
went and said I was awfully sorry, and that I meant it all for the best,
and wouldn't have hurt the baby for anything, and begged her to forgive
me and not cry any more.
When father came home they told him all about it. I knew very well they
would, and I just lined myself with shingles so as to be good and ready.
But he only said, "My son, I have decided to try milder measures with
you. I think you are punished enough when you reflect that you have made
your mother cry."
That was all, and I tell you I'd rather a hundred times have had him
say, "My son, come up-stairs with me." And now if you don't admit that
nothing could be meaner than the way that baby acted, I shall really be
surprised and shocked.