[Illustration: _The good Professor and his wife were taken prisoner by
many arms. See page 354. Frontispiece._]
ORCHARD HOUSE EDITION
LITTLE MEN
Life at Plumfield with Jo’s Boys
_A Sequel to “Little Women”_
By
Louisa M. Alcott
_With Illustrations in Color by_
Reginald Birch
[Illustration]
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
BOSTON 1934
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by
LOUISA M. ALCOTT,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.
_Copyright, 1899, 1913,_
BY JOHN S. P. ALCOTT.
_Copyright, 1901,_
BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
_All rights reserved_
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
TO
FREDDY AND JOHNNY
The Little Men
TO WHOM SHE OWES SOME OF THE BEST AND HAPPIEST
HOURS OF HER LIFE,
THIS BOOK IS GRATEFULLY DEDICATED
BY THEIR LOVING
“AUNT WEEDY.”
Contents
CHAPTER PAGE
I. NAT 1
II. THE BOYS 18
III. SUNDAY 28
IV. STEPPING-STONES 49
V. PATTY PANS 62
VI. A FIRE BRAND 84
VII. NAUGHTY NAN 106
VIII. PRANKS AND PLAYS 118
IX. DAISY’S BALL 131
X. HOME AGAIN 145
XI. UNCLE TEDDY 164
XII. HUCKLEBERRIES 180
XIII. GOLDILOCKS 206
XIV. DAMON AND PYTHIAS 216
XV. IN THE WILLOW 239
XVI. TAMING THE COLT 259
XVII. COMPOSITION DAY 271
XVIII. CROPS 286
XIX. JOHN BROOKE 297
XX. ROUND THE FIRE 312
XXI. THANKSGIVING 336
Illustrations
The good Professor and his wife were taken prisoner
by many arms _Frontispiece_
Miss Smith accompanied herself with a vigor which
made the old desk rattle 136
All were glad to gather round the hearth, as the
evenings grew longer 312
_Little Men_
_Life at Plumfield with Jo’s Boys_
CHAPTER I
NAT
“Please, sir, is this Plumfield?” asked a ragged boy of the man who
opened the great gate at which the omnibus left him.
“Yes; who sent you?”
“Mr. Laurence. I have got a letter for the lady.”
“All right; go up to the house, and give it to her; she’ll see to you,
little chap.”
The man spoke pleasantly, and the boy went on, feeling much cheered
by the words. Through the soft spring rain that fell on sprouting
grass and budding trees, Nat saw a large square house before him,--a
hospitable-looking house, with an old-fashioned porch, wide steps, and
lights shining in many windows. Neither curtains nor shutters hid the
cheerful glimmer; and, pausing a moment before he rang, Nat saw many
little shadows dancing on the walls, heard the pleasant hum of young
voices, and felt that it was hardly possible that the light and warmth
and comfort within could be for a homeless “little chap” like him.
“I hope the lady _will_ see to me,” he thought; and gave a timid rap
with the great bronze knocker, which was a jovial griffin’s head.
A rosy-faced servant-maid opened the door, and smiled as she took the
letter which he silently offered. She seemed used to receiving strange
boys, for she pointed to a seat in the hall, and said, with a nod,--
“Sit there and drip on the mat a bit, while I take this in to missis.”
Nat found plenty to amuse him while he waited, and stared about him
curiously, enjoying the view, yet glad to do so unobserved in the dusky
recess by the door.
The house seemed swarming with boys, who were beguiling the rainy
twilight with all sorts of amusements. There were boys everywhere,
“up-stairs and down-stairs and in the lady’s chamber,” apparently,
for various open doors showed pleasant groups of big boys, little
boys, and middle-sized boys in all stages of evening relaxation, not
to say effervescence. Two large rooms on the right were evidently
school-rooms, for desks, maps, blackboards, and books were scattered
about. An open fire burned on the hearth, and several indolent lads
lay on their backs before it, discussing a new cricket-ground, with
such animation that their boots waved in the air. A tall youth was
practising on the flute in one corner, quite undisturbed by the racket
all about him. Two or three others were jumping over the desks,
pausing, now and then, to get their breath, and laugh at the droll
sketches of a little wag who was caricaturing the whole household on a
blackboard.
In the room on the left a long supper-table was seen, set forth with
great pitchers of new milk, piles of brown and white bread, and perfect
stacks of the shiny gingerbread so dear to boyish souls. A flavor
of toast was in the air, also suggestions of baked apples, very
tantalizing to one hungry little nose and stomach.
The hall, however, presented the most inviting prospect of all, for
a brisk game of tag was going on in the upper entry. One landing was
devoted to marbles, the other to checkers, while the stairs were
occupied by a boy reading, a girl singing lullaby to her doll, two
puppies, a kitten, and a constant succession of small boys sliding down
the banisters, to the great detriment of their clothes, and danger to
their limbs.
So absorbed did Nat become in this exciting race, that he ventured
farther and farther out of his corner; and when one very lively boy
came down so swiftly that he could not stop himself, but fell off
the banisters, with a crash that would have broken any head but one
rendered nearly as hard as a cannon-ball by eleven years of constant
bumping, Nat forgot himself, and ran up to the fallen rider, expecting
to find him half-dead. The boy, however, only winked rapidly for a
second, then lay calmly looking up at the new face with a surprised
“Hullo!”
“Hullo!” returned Nat, not knowing what else to say, and thinking that
form of reply both brief and easy.
“Are you a new boy?” asked the recumbent youth, without stirring.
“Don’t know yet.”
“What’s your name?”
“Nat Blake.”
“Mine’s Tommy Bangs; come up and have a go, will you?” and Tommy got
upon his legs like one suddenly remembering the duties of hospitality.
“Guess I won’t, till I see whether I’m going to stay or not,” returned
Nat, feeling the desire to stay increase every moment.
“I say, Demi, here’s a new one. Come and see to him;” and the lively
Thomas returned to his sport with unabated relish.
At his call, the boy reading on the stairs looked up with a pair of big
brown eyes, and after an instant’s pause, as if a little shy, he put
the book under his arm, and came soberly down to greet the new-comer,
who found something very attractive in the pleasant face of this
slender, mild-eyed boy.
“Have you seen Aunt Jo?” he asked, as if that was some sort of
important ceremony.
“I haven’t seen anybody yet but you boys; I’m waiting,” answered Nat.
“Did Uncle Laurie send you?” proceeded Demi, politely, but gravely.
“Mr. Laurence did.”
“He is Uncle Laurie; and he always sends nice boys.”
Nat looked gratified at the remark, and smiled, in a way that made his
thin face very pleasant. He did not know what to say next, so the two
stood staring at one another in friendly silence, till the little girl
came up with her doll in her arms. She was very like Demi, only not so
tall, and had a rounder, rosier face, and blue eyes.
“This is my sister Daisy,” announced Demi, as if presenting a rare and
precious creature.
The children nodded to one another; and the little girl’s face dimpled
with pleasure, as she said, affably,--
“I hope you’ll stay. We have such good times here; don’t we, Demi?”
“Of course, we do; that’s what Aunt Jo has Plumfield for.”
“It seems a very nice place indeed,” observed Nat, feeling that he must
respond to these amiable young persons.
“It’s the nicest place in the world; isn’t it, Demi?” said Daisy, who
evidently regarded her brother as authority on all subjects.
“No; I think Greenland, where the icebergs and seals are, is more
interesting. But I’m fond of Plumfield, and it is a very nice place
to be in,” returned Demi, who was interested just now in a book on
Greenland. He was about to offer to show Nat the pictures and explain
them, when the servant returned, saying, with a nod toward the
parlor-door,--
“All right; you are to stop.”
“I’m glad; now come to Aunt Jo.” And Daisy took him by the hand with a
pretty protecting air, which made Nat feel at home at once.
Demi returned to his beloved book, while his sister led the new-comer
into a back room, where a stout gentleman was frolicking with two
little boys on the sofa, and a thin lady was just finishing the letter
which she seemed to have been re-reading.
“Here he is, Aunty!” cried Daisy.
“So this is my new boy? I am glad to see you, my dear, and hope you’ll
be happy here,” said the lady, drawing him to her, and stroking back
the hair from his forehead with a kind hand and a motherly look, which
made Nat’s lonely little heart yearn toward her.
She was not at all handsome, but she had a merry sort of face, that
never seemed to have forgotten certain childish ways and looks, any
more than her voice and manner had; and these things, hard to describe
but very plain to see and feel, made her a genial, comfortable kind of
person, easy to get on with, and generally “jolly,” as boys would say.
She saw the little tremble of Nat’s lips as she smoothed his hair, and
her keen eyes grew softer, but she only drew the shabby figure nearer
and said, laughing,--
“I am Mother Bhaer, that gentleman is Father Bhaer, and these are the
two little Bhaers.--Come here, boys, and see Nat.”
The three wrestlers obeyed at once; and the stout man, with a chubby
child on each shoulder, came up to welcome the new boy. Rob and Teddy
merely grinned at him, but Mr. Bhaer shook hands, and pointing to a low
chair near the fire, said, in a cordial voice,--
“There is a place all ready for thee, my son; sit down and dry thy wet
feet at once.”
“Wet? so they are! My dear, off with your shoes this minute, and I’ll
have some dry things ready for you in a jiffy,” cried Mrs. Bhaer,
bustling about so energetically, that Nat found himself in the cosy
little chair, with dry socks and warm slippers on his feet, before he
would have had time to say Jack Robinson, if he had wanted to try. He
said “Thank you, ma’am,” instead; and said it so gratefully, that Mrs.
Bhaer’s eyes grew soft again, and she said something merry, because she
felt so tender, which was a way she had.
“These are Tommy Bangs’ slippers; but he never will remember to put
them on in the house; so he shall not have them. They are too big; but
that’s all the better; you can’t run away from us so fast as if they
fitted.”
“I don’t want to run away, ma’am.” And Nat spread his grimy little
hands before the comfortable blaze, with a long sigh of satisfaction.
“That’s good! Now I am going to toast you well, and try to get rid of
that ugly cough. How long have you had it, dear?” asked Mrs. Bhaer, as
she rummaged in her big basket for a strip of flannel.
“All winter. I got cold, and it wouldn’t get better, somehow.”
“No wonder, living in that damp cellar with hardly a rag to his poor
dear back!” said Mrs. Bhaer, in a low tone to her husband, who was
looking at the boy with a skilful pair of eyes, that marked the thin
temples and feverish lips, as well as the hoarse voice and frequent
fits of coughing that shook the bent shoulders under the patched jacket.
“Robin, my man, trot up to Nursey, and tell her to give thee the
cough-bottle and the liniment,” said Mr. Bhaer, after his eyes had
exchanged telegrams with his wife’s.
Nat looked a little anxious at the preparations, but forgot his fears,
in a hearty laugh, when Mrs. Bhaer whispered to him, with a droll
look,--
“Hear my rogue Teddy try to cough. The syrup I’m going to give you has
honey in it; and he wants some.”
Little Ted was red in the face with his exertions by the time the
bottle came, and was allowed to suck the spoon, after Nat had manfully
taken a dose, and had the bit of flannel put about his throat.
These first steps toward a cure were hardly completed, when a great
bell rang, and a loud tramping through the hall announced supper.
Bashful Nat quaked at the thought of meeting many strange boys, but
Mrs. Bhaer held out her hand to him, and Rob said, patronizingly,
“Don’t be ’fraid; I’ll take care of you.”
Twelve boys, six on a side, stood behind their chairs, prancing with
impatience to begin, while the tall flute-playing youth was trying to
curb their ardor. But no one sat down, till Mrs. Bhaer was in her place
behind the teapot, with Teddy on her left, and Nat on her right.
“This is our new boy, Nat Blake. After supper you can say, How do you
do? Gently, boys, gently.”
As she spoke every one stared at Nat, and then whisked into their
seats, trying to be orderly, and failing utterly. The Bhaers did
their best to have the lads behave well at meal times, and generally
succeeded pretty well, for their rules were few and sensible, and
the boys, knowing that they tried to make things easy and happy, did
their best to obey. But there _are_ times when hungry boys cannot
be repressed without real cruelty, and Saturday evening, after a
half-holiday, was one of those times.
“Dear little souls, do let them have one day in which they can howl and
racket and frolic, to their hearts’ content. A holiday isn’t a holiday,
without plenty of freedom and fun; and they shall have full swing
once a week,” Mrs. Bhaer used to say, when prim people wondered why
banister-sliding, pillow-fights, and all manner of jovial games were
allowed under the once decorous roof of Plumfield.
It did seem at times as if the aforesaid roof was in danger of flying
off; but it never did, for a word from Father Bhaer could at any time
produce a lull, and the lads had learned that liberty must not be
abused. So, in spite of many dark predictions, the school flourished,
and manners and morals were insinuated, without the pupils exactly
knowing how it was done.
Nat found himself very well off behind the tall pitchers, with Tommy
Bangs just round the corner, and Mrs. Bhaer close by, to fill up plate
and mug as fast as he could empty them.
“Who is that boy next the girl down at the other end?” whispered Nat to
his young neighbor under cover of a general laugh.
“That’s Demi Brooke. Mr. Bhaer is his uncle.”
“What a queer name!”
“His real name is John, but they call him Demi-John, because his
father is John too. That’s a joke, don’t you see?” said Tommy, kindly
explaining. Nat did not see, but politely smiled, and asked, with
interest,--
“Isn’t he a very nice boy?”
“I bet you he is; knows lots and reads like any thing.”
“Who is the fat one next him?”
“Oh, that’s Stuffy Cole. His name is George, but we call him Stuffy
’cause he eats so much. The little fellow next Father Bhaer is his boy
Rob, and then there’s big Franz his nephew; he teaches some, and kind
of sees to us.”
“He plays the flute, doesn’t he?” asked Nat as Tommy rendered himself
speechless by putting a whole baked apple into his mouth at one blow.
Tommy nodded, and said, sooner than one would have imagined possible
under the circumstances, “Oh, don’t he, though? and we dance sometimes,
and do gymnastics to music. I like a drum myself, and mean to learn as
soon as ever I can.”
“I like a fiddle best; I can play one too,” said Nat, getting
confidential on this attractive subject.
“Can you?” and Tommy stared over the rim of his mug with round eyes,
full of interest. “Mr. Bhaer’s got an old fiddle, and he’ll let you
play on it if you want to.”
“Could I? Oh, I would like it ever so much. You see I used to go round
fiddling with my father, and another man, till he died.”
“Wasn’t that fun?” cried Tommy, much impressed.
“No, it was horrid; so cold in winter, and hot in summer. And I
got tired; and they were cross sometimes; and I didn’t have enough
to eat.” Nat paused to take a generous bite of gingerbread, as if
to assure himself that the hard times were over; and then he added
regretfully,--“But I did love my little fiddle, and I miss it. Nicolo
took it away when father died, and wouldn’t have me any longer, ’cause
I was sick.”
“You’ll belong to the band if you play good. See if you don’t.”
“Do you have a band here?” And Nat’s eyes sparkled.
“Guess we do; a jolly band, all boys; and they have concerts and
things. You just see what happens to-morrow night.”
After this pleasantly exciting remark, Tommy returned to his supper,
and Nat sank into a blissful reverie over his full plate.
Mrs. Bhaer had heard all they said, while apparently absorbed in
filling mugs, and overseeing little Ted, who was so sleepy that he put
his spoon in his eye, nodded like a rosy poppy, and finally fell fast
asleep, with his cheek pillowed on a soft bun. Mrs. Bhaer had put Nat
next to Tommy, because that roly-poly boy had a frank and social way
with him, very attractive to shy persons. Nat felt this, and had made
several small confidences during supper, which gave Mrs. Bhaer the
key to the new boy’s character, better than if she had talked to him
herself.
In the letter which Mr. Laurence had sent with Nat, he had said--
“DEAR JO,--Here is a case after your own heart. This poor
lad is an orphan now, sick and friendless. He has been a
street-musician; and I found him in a cellar, mourning for his
dead father, and his lost violin. I think there is something in
him, and have a fancy that between us we may give this little
man a lift. You cure his over-tasked body, Fritz help his
neglected mind, and when he is ready I’ll see if he is a genius
or only a boy with a talent which may earn his bread for him.
Give him a trial, for the sake of your own boy,
“TEDDY.”
“Of course we will!” cried Mrs. Bhaer, as she read the letter; and when
she saw Nat, she felt at once that whether he was a genius or not, here
was a lonely, sick boy, who needed just what she loved to give, a home,
and motherly care. Both she and Mr. Bhaer observed him quietly; and in
spite of ragged clothes, awkward manners, and a dirty face, they saw
much about Nat that pleased them. He was a thin, pale boy, of twelve,
with blue eyes, and a good forehead under the rough, neglected hair; an
anxious, scared face, at times, as if he expected hard words, or blows;
and a sensitive mouth, that trembled when a kind glance fell on him;
while a gentle speech called up a look of gratitude, very sweet to see.
“Bless the poor dear, he shall fiddle all day long if he likes,” said
Mrs. Bhaer to herself, as she saw the eager, happy expression on his
face when Tommy talked of the band.
So, after supper, when the lads flocked into the school-room for more
“high jinks,” Mrs. Jo appeared with a violin in her hand, and after a
word with her husband, went to Nat, who sat in a corner watching the
scene with intense interest.
“Now, my lad, give us a little tune. We want a violin in our band, and
I think you will do it nicely.”
She expected that he would hesitate; but he seized the old fiddle at
once, and handled it with such loving care, it was plain to see that
music was his passion.
“I’ll do the best I can, ma’am,” was all he said; and then drew the bow
across the strings, as if eager to hear the dear notes again.
There was a great clatter in the room, but as if deaf to any sounds
but those he made, Nat played softly to himself, forgetting every
thing in his delight. It was only a simple negro melody, such as
street-musicians play, but it caught the ears of the boys at once, and
silenced them, till they stood listening with surprise and pleasure.
Gradually they got nearer and nearer, and Mr. Bhaer came up to watch
the boy; for, as if he was in his element now, Nat played away and
never minded any one, while his eyes shone, his cheeks reddened, and
his thin fingers flew, as he hugged the old fiddle and made it speak to
all their hearts the language that he loved.
A hearty round of applause rewarded him better than a shower of
pennies, when he stopped and glanced about him, as if to say--
“I’ve done my best; please like it.”
“I say, you do that first rate,” cried Tommy, who considered Nat his
_protégé_.
“You shall be first fiddle in my band,” added Franz, with an approving
smile.
Mrs. Bhaer whispered to her husband--
“Teddy is right: there’s something in the child.” And Mr. Bhaer nodded
his head emphatically, as he clapped Nat on the shoulder, saying,
heartily--
“You play well, my son. Come now and play something which we can sing.”
It was the proudest, happiest minute of the poor boy’s life when he was
led to the place of honor by the piano, and the lads gathered round,
never heeding his poor clothes, but eying him respectfully, and waiting
eagerly to hear him play again.
They chose a song he knew; and after one or two false starts they got
going, and violin, flute, and piano led a chorus of boyish voices that
made the old roof ring again. It was too much for Nat, more feeble than
he knew; and as the final shout died away, his face began to work, he
dropped the fiddle, and turning to the wall, sobbed like a little child.
“My dear, what is it?” asked Mrs. Bhaer, who had been singing with all
her might, and trying to keep little Rob from beating time with his
boots.
“You are all so kind--and it’s so beautiful--I can’t help it,” sobbed
Nat, coughing till he was breathless.
“Come with me, dear; you must go to bed and rest; you are worn out, and
this is too noisy a place for you,” whispered Mrs. Bhaer; and took him
away to her own parlor, where she let him cry himself quiet.
Then she won him to tell her all his troubles, and listened to the
little story with tears in her own eyes, though it was not a new one to
her.
“My child, you _have_ got a father and a mother now, and this is home.
Don’t think of those sad times any more, but get well and happy; and
be sure you shall never suffer again, if we can help it. This place is
made for all sorts of boys to have a good time in, and to learn how to
help themselves and be useful men, I hope. You shall have as much music
as you want, only you must get strong first. Now come up to Nursey and
have a bath, and then go to bed, and to-morrow we will lay some nice
little plans together.”
Nat held her hand fast in his, but had not a word to say, and let his
grateful eyes speak for him, as Mrs. Bhaer led him up to a big room,
where they found a stout German woman with a face so round and cheery,
that it looked like a sort of sun, with the wide frill of her cap for
rays.
“This is Nursey Hummel, and she will give you a nice bath, and cut
your hair, and make you all ‘comfy,’ as Rob says. That’s the bath-room
in there; and on Saturday nights we scrub all the little lads first,
and pack them away in bed before the big ones get through singing. Now
then, Rob, in with you.”
As she talked, Mrs. Bhaer had whipped off Rob’s clothes and popped him
into a long bath-tub in the little room opening into the nursery.
There were two tubs, besides foot-baths, basins, douche-pipes, and all
manner of contrivances for cleanliness. Nat was soon luxuriating in the
other bath; and while simmering there, he watched the performances of
the two women, who scrubbed, clean night-gowned, and bundled into bed
four or five small boys, who, of course, cut up all sorts of capers
during the operation, and kept every one in a gale of merriment till
they were extinguished in their beds.
By the time Nat was washed and done up in a blanket by the fire, while
Nursey cut his hair, a new detachment of boys arrived and were shut
into the bath-room, where they made as much splashing and noise as a
school of young whales at play.
“Nat had better sleep here, so that if his cough troubles him in the
night you can see that he takes a good draught of flax-seed tea,” said
Mrs. Bhaer, who was flying about like a distracted hen with a large
brood of lively ducklings.
Nursey approved the plan, finished Nat off with a flannel night-gown,
a drink of something warm and sweet, and then tucked him into one of
the three little beds standing in the room, where he lay looking like
a contented mummy, and feeling that nothing more in the way of luxury
could be offered him. Cleanliness in itself was a new and delightful
sensation; flannel gowns were unknown comforts in his world; sips of
“good stuff” soothed his cough as pleasantly as kind words did his
lonely heart; and the feeling that somebody cared for him made that
plain room seem a sort of heaven to the homeless child. It was like a
cozy dream; and he often shut his eyes to see if it would not vanish
when he opened them again. It was too pleasant to let him sleep, and he
could not have done so if he had tried, for in a few minutes one of the
peculiar institutions of Plumfield was revealed to his astonished but
appreciative eyes.
A momentary lull in the aquatic exercises was followed by the sudden
appearance of pillows flying in all directions, hurled by white
goblins, who came rioting out of their beds. The battle raged in
several rooms, all down the upper hall, and even surged at intervals
into the nursery, when some hard-pressed warrior took refuge there.
No one seemed to mind this explosion in the least; no one forbade it,
or even looked surprised. Nursey went on hanging up towels, and Mrs.
Bhaer looked out clean clothes, as calmly as if the most perfect order
reigned. Nay, she even chased one daring boy out of the room, and fired
after him the pillow he had slyly thrown at her.
“Won’t they hurt ’em?” asked Nat, who lay laughing with all his might.
“Oh dear, no! we always allow one pillow-fight Saturday night. The
cases are changed to-morrow; and it gets up a glow after the boys’
baths; so I rather like it myself,” said Mrs. Bhaer, busy again among
her dozen pairs of socks.
“What a very nice school this is!” observed Nat, in a burst of
admiration.
“It’s an odd one,” laughed Mrs. Bhaer; “but you see we don’t believe
in making children miserable by too many rules, and too much study.
I forbade night-gown parties at first; but, bless you, it was of no
use. I could no more keep those boys in their beds, than so many
jacks in the box. So I made an agreement with them: I was to allow a
fifteen-minute pillow-fight, every Saturday night; and they promised to
go properly to bed, every other night. I tried it, and it worked well.
If they don’t keep their word, no frolic; if they do, I just turn the
glasses round, put the lamps in safe places, and let them rampage as
much as they like.”
“It’s a beautiful plan,” said Nat, feeling that he should like to join
in the fray, but not venturing to propose it the first night. So he lay
enjoying the spectacle, which certainly was a lively one.
Tommy Bangs led the assailing party, and Demi defended his own room
with a dogged courage, fine to see, collecting pillows behind him as
fast as they were thrown, till the besiegers were out of ammunition,
when they would charge upon him in a body, and recover their arms. A
few slight accidents occurred, but nobody minded, and gave and took
sounding thwacks with perfect good humor, while pillows flew like big
snowflakes, till Mrs. Bhaer looked at her watch, and called out--
“Time is up, boys. Into bed, every man Jack, or pay the forfeit!”
“What is the forfeit?” asked Nat, sitting up in his eagerness to know
what happened to those wretches who disobeyed this most peculiar, but
public-spirited schoolma’am.
“Lose their fun next time,” answered Mrs. Bhaer. “I give them five
minutes to settle down, then put out the lights, and expect order. They
are honorable lads, and they keep their word.”
That was evident, for the battle ended as abruptly as it began--a
parting shot or two, a final cheer, as Demi fired the seventh pillow at
the retiring foe, a few challenges for next time, then order prevailed;
and nothing but an occasional giggle, or a suppressed whisper, broke
the quiet which followed the Saturday-night frolic, as Mother Bhaer
kissed her new boy, and left him to happy dreams of life at Plumfield.