THE ALARM
One day Captain Prout said to Kenneth, “How’d ye like to go out with
me to-morrow morning to catch bait for my lobster traps? We’ll have to
start early,--right early for a little city feller like you. What do
you say to four o’clock?”
“Oh, I can get up at four o’clock just as easily as at seven,” said
Kenneth proudly; “of course I will go with you, Captain Prout.”
The Captain chuckled. “’Tain’t so easy as you think, to git up at
sunrise, when you ain’t used to it,” he said; “but you kin set an
alarm, I guess. You ask your father, an’ if he says you can go,
I’ll take you off from the beach in my boat to-morrow morning at
four-fifteen; that is, pervided you’re there, Sonny.”
Of course he would be there! Kenneth asked his father if he might go,
and Mr. Thornton was quite willing, for he knew that Captain Prout
would be careful of the little boy. Kenneth did not tell his father how
early he must start. But without troubling any one he set the alarm
clock at four, and put it under the bed, so that it would be sure to
waken him in due season.
Now, very early the next morning, when every one in the Thornton
cottage was sleeping soundly, two little figures came walking up
through the woods towards the back door. The little boy carried a
pail of milk, and the little girl walked beside him, and they looked
something like the children whom you see in the full moon,--Jack and
Jill. But these were not Jack and Jill. They were Tommy and Mary Prout,
Captain Prout’s twins, and it happened to be their turn to bring the
milk that morning to the Thornton cottage for Kenneth’s and Rose’s
breakfast. I don’t know what Kenneth and Rose would have done if the
little Prouts had forgotten to come with the milk. But they never
forgot, not once, all summer. There were six of them--three boys and
three girls--and every morning in July and August, whether it rained
or shone, two of them came two miles from Lobster Cove with the milk.
And they came very early,--so early that no one in the cottage ever
saw them do it. They were glad of this, for they were very bashful.
Whenever they were out in the woods or along the shore and heard any
one coming, they always scuttled away and hid like little frightened
animals.
Sometimes Kenneth and Rose spied one or two of these children running
away through the woods, but they had scarcely ever seen their faces,
and did not know one from another. They called them just “the little
Prouts,” and thought them very queer.
[Illustration: THEY WERE TOMMY AND MARY PROUT]
But the little Prouts knew Kenneth and Rose much better. They often
watched them from a distance, when Kenneth and Rose did not know. And
they thought the Thornton children the most wonderful creatures that
ever lived, and their toys and their doings the finest ever known.
For you see, the little Prouts had no toys of their own, and were very
different from Kenneth and Rose in every way, except in being little
brothers and sisters.
Tommy and Mary, who were just the age of Kenneth, came stealing very
quietly through the woods with the pail of milk, which they carried
around to the back door and set upon the step, ready for Katie to take
it when she came down to get breakfast. They had done their errand, and
now were they not ready to tramp home? Oh, no! They stood for a minute
listening, to be sure that no one was stirring in the cottage, and then
very softly they tiptoed around to the front of the house, where the
broad piazza was. Sometimes the city children left their toys all night
out on the piazza. The little Prouts knew this, for they had often
before done just this same thing in the early morning after their long
tramp with the milk.
It was such a fine night that Rose had swung her doll’s hammock on
the piazza, and Alice, her beautiful new doll, was sleeping here very
sweetly. Rose had heard that it was good for children to sleep in the
open air. Kenneth had left his express wagon and his rocking-horse out
here, too.
The little Prouts stood at the foot of the piazza steps, staring up at
these wonderful things.
At last Mary Prout reached out her hand and touched her brother. “Ain’t
I dreaming?” she said. “No, I ain’t. But Tommy! Ain’t they beautiful!”
Tommy took a step towards the piazza and paused, listening. There was
no sound in the house. “Let’s go up,” he whispered. “No one will ever
know. Come on.”
The two children stole noiselessly up the steps and crept over the
piazza to the sheltered nook where the toys were safe from the dew.
Mary sank down on her knees beside Alice. “Oh, oh!” she breathed. “I
never saw anything so beautiful!”
Tommy was looking eagerly at the rocking-horse. “Oh, how I wish ’t I
dared ride on him, just once!” he thought. He reached out his hand to
stroke the mane of the beautiful creature, the like of which he had
never before seen. And at the same moment Mary stretched a trembling
hand towards Alice’s golden curls. Think of having a doll like that for
your very own, to kiss and play with, and carry around wherever you
went! If only she might have it in her arms just once, Mary felt that
she should be happy all the rest of her days.
But just at that moment there came a terrible sound,
“Pr-r-r-jingle-jangle! P-r-r-r-r! Jang-jang!” In the stillness it
seemed to sound louder than the loudest thunder. Tommy started as if he
had been shot. Poor Mary drew back her hand as if Alice’s yellow curls
had burned them. “Pr-r-r-jang-jang!” The dreadful noise continued, and
it came from inside the house.
With one frightened leap Tommy and Mary were down the piazza steps.
Casting one wild look behind to see if they were being followed by the
terrible creature that was growling to warn and punish them for daring
to touch those precious treasures, they fled away like foxes across
the garden and into the woods at the back of the house. Poor little
frightened things! They thought that their early-morning secret had
been discovered, and never again would they dare to venture near that
piazza which was the only fairyland that they knew.
Meanwhile what was going on inside the house? “Pr-r-r-jang-jang!” The
alarm clock still buzzed away fiercely. Kenneth had wound it up as far
as it would go, and for several minutes the bell rang, until every one
in the house, except Kenneth himself, was wide awake.
Papa and Mamma woke up instantly. Mrs. Thornton’s first thought was
about the new baby. “Oh, John!” she cried, “has anything happened to
the baby? Do call Eliza.”
Mr. Thornton was already out of bed. “It can’t be burglars,” he said,
“for we haven’t any burglars down here on the island, nor any burglar
alarm, either. Don’t be frightened. I will go and look through the
house.”
In the hall he met Aunt Claire and the servants, shivering in their
wrappers. “Oh, John,” cried Aunt Claire, “is the house afire? I
certainly heard a fire-alarm.”
“Nonsense!” said Mr. Thornton. “It must be some one pulling the
door-bell.” But when he went down to open the door, with the servants
following in a frightened, huddled group, there was no one waiting
outside. The piazza was empty. Only Alice swung peacefully in her
hammock, seeming not the least frightened.
“It is very strange,” muttered Mr. Thornton. “It certainly seemed to me
inside the house.”
In the hall outside the nursery he met old Eliza, the nurse.
“Have you been into Master Kenneth’s room?” she asked. “I thought the
noise came from there, though I don’t see how it could be so.”
“It can’t be, of course,” said Mr. Thornton, but he went into Kenneth’s
room, where the boy was still sleeping soundly. It was just at this
moment that Kenneth at last woke up.
“What is the matter?” he murmured, blinking sleepily. “What is the
matter, Papa?”
“We heard a bell ring,” said his father, “and Eliza thought that it
came from here. Did you hear it?”
“No, Papa,” said Kenneth drowsily, “I didn’t hear any bell,” and
turning over he went fast asleep again. It was a quarter past four, and
Captain Prout was just rowing away from the beach, where he had looked
in vain for his little passenger.
“I knew he would forgit to come!” he chuckled.
From Kenneth’s room Mr. Thornton went to Rose’s. He found her standing
by the window in her little blue wrapper, looking out towards the
woods.
“Oh, Papa, what is it?” she said eagerly. “Do you think it was the
fairies?”
“Fairies? Why, what makes you think it was fairies?” asked Mr.
Thornton, “though I must confess that I don’t know what else it could
have been.”
“I looked out of the window,” said Rose, “and I saw two little
creatures run into the woods as fast as they could go. One was a little
girl and one was a little boy, and I think they were fairies who had
been ringing our door-bell.”
“Pooh-pooh! Fairies don’t ring doorbells,” said her father. “And
at this time in the morning it isn’t likely that any of the island
children were ringing our bell and running away, as the naughty boys
do in the city sometimes. I don’t understand it at all. But the noise
has stopped, so let us finish our naps, as Kenneth is doing. He is the
wisest of us all, not to bother his head about it.”
And so they all went back to bed and slept soundly until breakfast time.
At the breakfast table the first thing Kenneth said was,--
“Oh, goodness me! I was going to fish with Captain Prout at four
o’clock in the morning. But I didn’t wake up. How he will laugh at me!
But why didn’t my alarm clock go off?”
“_Alarm clock?_” said his father. “So you set the alarm, did you? Well,
that accounts for everything. What a sleepy head you are, Kenneth!”
Yes, that accounted for everything, except for Rose’s fairies. They
never were accounted for. And indeed, those poor little fairies never
again dared visit that scene of their terrible early-morning alarm.