BROOKSIDE
Sunny Boy found himself looking into two dark eyes so much like Daddy's
that he almost jumped. But the rest of the old gentleman was not like
Daddy--no indeed. He was short and round instead of tall, and he had the
curliest white hair and beard Sunny Boy had ever seen. Sunny Boy knew
this must be Grandpa Horton, and when he was lifted up in a pair of
strong arms and given a tremendous hug before being gently set down, he
decided that he loved him very much.
"Grandma couldn't come," explained Grandpa, leading the way to an
old-fashioned carriage and pair of horses drawn up at the other end of
the station. "There's only Araminta to help her with the supper, and
Grandma's heart was set on having the biscuits just right. In you go,
Olive. Wait a minute, though, what about your trunk?"
"I have the check, Father," Mrs. Horton answered. "I thought Jimmie would
be coming down in the morning to the creamery. He can get it then."
"An' Mother brought her nightie in the bag an' my pajamas," contributed
Sunny Boy, waiting while Mother and the bag were stowed away on the back
seat.
"Want to ride up with me and help drive?" said Grandpa, turning to him
suddenly.
Poor Sunny Boy was sorely tempted, but he decided quickly.
"I have to take care of Mother," he said. "She might be lonesome all
alone in the back."
"No, indeed," cried Mother instantly. "You ride up there with Grandpa,
precious. You were so good not to tease about the taxi. I'll lean over
the seat and talk to you both."
So Sunny Boy and Grandpa got into the front seat, and Sunny learned that
the horses' names were Paul and Peter, and that they were not afraid of
automobiles, and that he could drive them whenever some older person was
with him. Paul and Peter trotted briskly along, and Grandpa said they
knew they were going home to supper.
They drove through the town, and Sunny Boy thought it looked very cool,
and clean, and pretty, after the warm and dusty train. The grass was
bright green, and, as Sunny Boy wrote Harriet, "millions and dozens" of
robins were singing among the trees. A great red sun was going to bed
back of a high dark hill, and Sunny Boy, sitting beside Grandpa and
holding the reins while Paul and Peter trotted steadily, thought that the
country was the nicest place he had ever been in.
Then, where the road divided, Grandpa took the reins and turned the team
to the left. They entered a lane with white-washed fences on either side
and tall waving trees like soldiers, which Mrs. Horton said were elms.
"Now, Sunny Boy," she told him softly, "here's Brookside."
Sunny Boy saw an old red brick house with a great white porch across the
front and a green lawn all about it. A white picket fence went all around
the lawn, and as Grandpa stopped the horses before the gate, three people
came out. There was a tall, thin young man who went to the horses' heads,
a little girl with flaming red hair who looked about fourteen years old,
and a tall, thin old lady with hair as white and curly as Grandpa's, who
came out to the carriage and took Mother and Sunny Boy both in her arms
at once.
"You're Grandma," said Sunny Boy.
It was Grandma Horton, and she remembered Sunny Boy without a bit of
trouble; though, as he had been only two weeks old the last time she had
seen him, he could not be expected to remember her.
"And this is Araminta," said Grandma, drawing the little red-haired girl
forward. "She is my right hand in the house. You recall Jimmie, Olive?"
Jimmie was the young man holding the horses. He came and shook hands with
Mrs. Horton, blushing a little, and chucked Sunny under the chin. Then he
took the team away to the barn, and Mother and Sunny Boy and Grandpa and
Grandma Horton and Araminta went in to supper.
They had wonderful fresh foamy milk to drink, and hot biscuits and cold
ham for the grown-ups. Sunny Boy was not expected to eat those--not at
night. There were baked apples, too, and honey and cookies. Sunny, seated
before a bowl of bread and milk, held a cookie in his hand and wondered
what was the matter with the hanging lamp with the pretty red shade. It
swung up and down like a train lantern.
"He's sleepy," he heard some one say. It sounded like Araminta.
He opened his eyes as wide as he could make them go, tried to take
another bite of cookie and made one last desperate effort to smile. The
smile ran into a yawn, and Sunny Boy gave up and tumbled, a tired little
ball of weariness, into Mother's lap.
He never knew who carried him upstairs, or when he was undressed. So,
waking in the morning to find the sun shining in four windows at once,
and Mother in her blue dressing gown brushing her hair, he was a bit
surprised.
"Hello!" said Mother gayly. "How do you think you are going to like the
country?"
"Are the chickens up?" asked Sunny Boy.
"Hours ago. Mr. Rooster crowing under our window woke me up at five
o'clock," replied Mrs. Horton. "I heard Jimmie bring in the milk a few
minutes before you sat up. And if you want to ride into town with him
after the trunk--"
Sunny Boy jumped out of bed and fairly galloped with his dressing. He
insisted on using the wash bowl and pitcher, though there was a nice
white bathroom down the hall, because a wash bowl and pitcher were new to
him. Just as he had finished brushing his hair, Araminta rapped at the
door to tell them breakfast was ready.
In the dining room Sunny Boy met another member of the family. Lying on a
rug in the corner was a shaggy brown and white collie that rose as they
came in and, coming over to Mrs. Horton, laid a beautiful pointed nose in
her lap.
"We shut him in the barn last night, because we thought you'd be too
tired to stand his barking," said Grandma. "His name is Bruce, and he is
very gentle. Don't be afraid of him, Sunny Boy."
The collie went back to his rug while they were at breakfast, but when
Jimmie and Sunny Boy started for the door he got up to follow them.
"Is he going, too?" asked Sunny Boy.
"He never goes off the farm," answered Jimmie. "He'll follow us to the
end of the lane and then go back. Hop in lively, now, for we're late as
it is."
Jimmie had harnessed Peter to a wagon that had only one high seat. In
back of this were two cans of milk which Jimmie explained, in answer to
Sunny's questions, would be made into butter at the creamery in
Cloverways.
"Is Araminta your sister?" Sunny Boy asked him as they jogged along.
"No, she's the tenant farmer's daughter--the man who does the farming for
your Grandpa, you know. I work Spring and Summer for him and in Winter I
go to the agricultural school. That's where they teach you to be a
farmer."
After they left the milk at the creamery they drove down to the station
and got the trunk. Sunny Boy told Jimmie about the alarm clock, and he
laughed. Then, after stopping at a yellow store with high white steps,
where Jimmie bought some groceries for Grandma, they turned Peter's head
toward home.
"What are you going to do first?" asked Jimmie, smiling down at his small
companion.
"I don't know--what are you?"
"Oh, I have work to do--have to weed the garden this morning. But you
have the whole farm to get acquainted with. I'll tell you--if I were you,
I'd go down to the brook and play."
"I guess I will," decided Sunny Boy.
Mrs. Horton wanted to unpack the trunk, and when Grandma assured her that
the brook was not deep and Sunny Boy promised not to go wading until she
should be there, she kissed him and told him to run along and have a good
time.
On his way to the brook, Sunny Boy passed Grandpa and Jimmie in wide
straw hats working in the garden. Grandpa pointed out the brook to him.
It ran through a meadow that came right up to the garden.
"I'll be down and play with you myself as soon as we get this lettuce
transplanted," said Grandpa.
Sunny had never had a brook to play in before, and he thought it fine. It
was not a very wide brook, but it was very clear, and Sunny Boy could see
the pebbles on the bottom. Little darting fish went in and out, hiding
under the long grasses that leaned over the edge. Bruce came panting down
as Sunny Boy looked at the water, and took a long drink. Then he lay down
in the grass, his brown doggie eyes fixed watchfully on his new friend.
"Wonder what that is?" said Sunny Boy to himself.
"That" was a wooden wheel that turned in the water with slow, even jerks,
sending out a little spray of rainbow drops that fell back into the
water. Sunny Boy got down on his knees to watch it. Quite suddenly,
without warning, the wheel stopped turning.
Sunny Boy waited, but it did not turn again. He blew on it gently, and
still it did not move. Then he ran over to the big tree nearest him and
picked up a stick.
"I'll fix it," he said aloud. "Grandpa'll be surprised if I get it mended
'fore he comes."
Well, as it turned out, Grandpa was surprised, but not as much as Sunny
Boy. He leaned over, and jabbed the obstinate wheel with his stick; the
dry end of the stake snapped, and Sunny Boy, stick and all, tumbled
head-first into the water. In after him leaped a flash of brown and
white--good old Bruce!
The water was very cold, and when Sunny had swallowed some of it and
shaken some from his eyes, he scrambled to his feet crying bitterly. He
thought he was freezing to death. Bruce pulled at his coat and tried to
drag him back, and it was his frantic barking that attracted Jimmie's
notice. He came tearing across the meadow, followed by Grandpa.
"There--there--you're all right," said Jimmie, as he pulled the little
boy out in a jiffy. "Don't cry so, Brother, you're only frightened. How'd
it happen?"
"The wheel stopped!" sobbed Sunny Boy. "An' I tried to fix it. I was
going to s'prise Grandpa."
"So you did," admitted Jimmie, while Bruce circled around them, barking
madly. "Now we'll have to look out that you don't surprise us more by
catching cold from this ducking."