DAISY’S BALL
“Mrs. Shakespeare Smith would like to have Mr. John Brooke, Mr. Thomas
Bangs, and Mr. Nathaniel Blake to come to her ball at three o’clock
to-day.
“P.S.--Nat must bring his fiddle, so we can dance, and all the boys
must be good, or they cannot have any of the nice things we have
cooked.”
This elegant invitation would, I fear, have been declined, but for the
hint given in the last line of the postscript.
“They _have_ been cooking lots of goodies, I smelt ’em. Let’s go,” said
Tommy.
“We needn’t stay after the feast, you know,” added Demi.
“I never went to a ball. What do you have to do?” asked Nat.
“Oh, we just play be men, and sit round stiff and stupid like grown-up
folks, and dance to please the girls. Then we eat up everything, and
come away as soon as we can.”
“I think I could do that,” said Nat, after considering Tommy’s
description for a minute.
“I’ll write and say we’ll come;” and Demi despatched the following
gentlemanly reply,--
“We will all come. Please have lots to eat.--J. B. Esquire.”
Great was the anxiety of the ladies about their first ball, because
if every thing went well they intended to give a dinner-party to the
chosen few.
“Aunt Jo likes to have the boys play with us, if they are not rough; so
we must make them like our balls, then they will do them good,” said
Daisy, with her maternal air, as she set the table and surveyed the
store of refreshments with an anxious eye.
“Demi and Nat will be good, but Tommy will do something bad, I know he
will,” replied Nan, shaking her head over the little cake-basket which
she was arranging.
“Then I shall send him right home,” said Daisy, with decision.
“People don’t do so at parties, it isn’t proper.”
“I shall never ask him any more.”
“That would do. He’d be sorry not to come to the dinner-ball, wouldn’t
he?”
“I guess he would! we’ll have the splendidest things ever seen, won’t
we? Real soup with a ladle and a tureem [she meant _tureen_] and a
little bird for turkey, and gravy, and all kinds of nice vegytubbles.”
Daisy never _could_ say vegetables properly, and had given up trying.
“It is ’most three, and we ought to dress,” said Nan, who had arranged
a fine costume for the occasion, and was anxious to wear it.
“I am the mother, so I shan’t dress up much,” said Daisy, putting on a
night-cap ornamented with a red bow, one of her aunt’s long skirts, and
a shawl; a pair of spectacles and a large pocket handkerchief completed
her toilette, making a plump, rosy little matron of her.
Nan had a wreath of artificial flowers, a pair of old pink slippers, a
yellow scarf, a green muslin skirt, and a fan made of feathers from the
duster; also, as a last touch of elegance, a smelling-bottle without
any smell in it.
“I am the daughter, so I rig up a good deal, and I must sing and dance,
and talk more than you do. The mothers only get the tea and be proper,
you know.”
A sudden very loud knock caused Miss Smith to fly into a chair, and fan
herself violently, while her mamma sat bolt upright on the sofa, and
tried to look quite calm and “proper.” Little Bess, who was on a visit,
acted the part of maid, and opened the door, saying with a smile, “Wart
in, gemplemun; it’s all weady.”
In honor of the occasion, the boys wore high paper collars, tall
black hats, and gloves of every color and material, for they were an
afterthought, and not a boy among them had a perfect pair.
“Good day, mum,” said Demi, in a deep voice, which was so hard to keep
up that his remarks had to be extremely brief.
Every one shook hands and then sat down, looking so funny, yet so
sober, that the gentlemen forgot their manners, and rolled in their
chairs with laughter.
“Oh, don’t!” cried Mrs. Smith, much distressed.
“You can’t ever come again if you act so,” added Miss Smith, rapping
Mr. Bangs with her bottle because he laughed loudest.
“I can’t help it, you look so like fury,” gasped Mr. Bangs, with most
uncourteous candor.
“So do you, but I shouldn’t be so rude as to say so. He shan’t come to
the dinner-ball, shall he, Daisy?” cried Nan, indignantly.
“I think we had better dance now. Did you bring your fiddle, sir?”
asked Mrs. Smith, trying to preserve her polite composure.
“It is outside the door,” and Nat went to get it.
“Better have tea first,” proposed the unabashed Tommy, winking openly
at Demi to remind him that the sooner the refreshments were secured,
the sooner they could escape.
“No, we never have supper first; and if you don’t dance well you won’t
have any supper at all, _not one bit, sir_,” said Mrs. Smith, so
sternly that her wild guests saw she was not to be trifled with, and
grew overwhelmingly civil all at once.
“_I_ will take Mr. Bangs and teach him the polka, for he does not know
it fit to be seen,” added the hostess, with a reproachful look that
sobered Tommy at once.
Nat struck up, and the ball opened with two couples, who went
conscientiously through a somewhat varied dance. The ladies did well,
because they liked it, but the gentlemen exerted themselves from more
selfish motives, for each felt that he must earn his supper, and
labored manfully toward that end. When every one was out of breath they
were allowed to rest; and, indeed, poor Mrs. Smith needed it, for her
long dress had tripped her up many times. The little maid passed round
molasses and water in such small cups that one guest actually emptied
nine. I refrain from mentioning his name, because this mild beverage
affected him so much that he put cup and all into his mouth at the
ninth round, and choked himself publicly.
“You must ask Nan to play and sing now,” said Daisy to her brother, who
sat looking very much like an owl, as he gravely regarded the festive
scene between his high collars.
“Give us a song, mum,” said the obedient guest, secretly wondering
where the piano was.
Miss Smith sailed up to an old secretary which stood in the room,
threw back the lid of the writing-desk, and sitting down before it,
accompanied herself with a vigor which made the old desk rattle as she
sang that new and lovely song, beginning--
“Gaily the troubadour
Touched his guitar,
As he was hastening
Home from the war.”
The gentlemen applauded so enthusiastically that she gave them
“Bounding Billows,” “Little Bo-Peep,” and other gems of song, till they
were obliged to hint that they had had enough. Grateful for the praises
bestowed upon her daughter, Mrs. Smith graciously announced,--
“_Now_ we will have tea. Sit down carefully, and don’t grab.”
It was beautiful to see the air of pride with which the good lady did
the honors of her table, and the calmness with which she bore the
little mishaps that occurred. The best pie flew wildly on the floor
when she tried to cut it with a very dull knife; the bread and butter
vanished with a rapidity calculated to dismay a housekeeper’s soul;
and, worst of all, the custards were so soft that they had to be drunk
up, instead of being eaten elegantly with the new tin spoons.
I grieve to state that Miss Smith squabbled with the maid for the best
jumble, which caused Bess to toss the whole dish into the air, and
burst out crying amid a rain of falling cakes. She was comforted by a
seat at the table, and the sugar-bowl to empty; but during this flurry
a large plate of patties was mysteriously lost, and could not be found.
They were the chief ornament of the feast, and Mrs. Smith was indignant
at the loss, for she had made them herself, and they were beautiful
to behold. I put it to any lady if it was not hard to have one dozen
delicious patties (made of flour, salt, and water, with a large raisin
in the middle of each, and much sugar over the whole) swept away at one
fell swoop?
“You hid them, Tommy; I know you did!” cried the outraged hostess,
threatening her suspected guest with the milk-pot.
“I didn’t!”
“You did!”
“It isn’t proper to contradict,” said Nan, who was hastily eating up
the jelly during the fray.
“Give them back, Demi,” said Tommy.
“That’s a fib, you’ve got them in your own pocket,” bawled Demi, roused
by the false accusation.
“Let’s take ’em away from him. It’s too bad to make Daisy cry,”
suggested Nat, who found his first ball more exciting than he expected.
Daisy was already weeping, Bess like a devoted servant mingled her
tears with those of her mistress, and Nan denounced the entire race
of boys as “plaguey things.” Meanwhile the battle raged among the
gentlemen, for, when the two defenders of innocence fell upon the
foe, that hardened youth intrenched himself behind a table and pelted
them with the stolen tarts, which were very effective missiles, being
nearly as hard as bullets. While his ammunition held out the besieged
prospered, but the moment the last patty flew over the parapet, the
villain was seized, dragged howling from the room, and cast upon the
hall floor in an ignominious heap. The conquerors then returned flushed
with victory, and while Demi consoled poor Mrs. Smith, Nat and Nan
collected the scattered tarts, replaced each raisin in its proper bed,
and rearranged the dish so that it really looked almost as well as
ever. But their glory had departed, for the sugar was gone, and no one
cared to eat them after the insult offered to them.
[Illustration: _Miss Smith accompanied herself with a vigor which made
the old desk rattle. Page 135._]
“I guess we had better go,” said Demi, suddenly, as Aunt Jo’s voice was
heard on the stairs.
“P’r’aps we had,” and Nat hastily dropped a stray jumble that he had
just picked up.
But Mrs. Jo was among them before the retreat was accomplished, and
into her sympathetic ear the young ladies poured the story of their
woes.
“No more balls for these boys till they have atoned for this bad
behavior by doing something kind to you,” said Mrs. Jo, shaking her
head at the three culprits.
“We were only in fun,” began Demi.
“I don’t like fun that makes other people unhappy. I am disappointed
in you, Demi, for I hoped you would never learn to tease Daisy. Such a
kind little sister as she is to you.”
“Boys always tease their sisters; Tom says so,” muttered Demi.
“I don’t intend that _my_ boys shall, and I must send Daisy home if you
cannot play happily together,” said Aunt Jo, soberly.
At this awful threat, Demi sidled up to his sister, and Daisy hastily
dried her tears, for to be separated was the worst misfortune that
could happen to the twins.
“Nat was bad too, and Tommy was baddest of all,” observed Nan, fearing
that two of the sinners would not get their fair share of punishment.
“I am sorry,” said Nat, much ashamed.
“I ain’t!” bawled Tommy through the key-hole, where he was listening,
with all his might.
Mrs. Jo wanted very much to laugh, but kept her countenance, and said
impressively, as she pointed to the door,--
“You can go, boys, but remember, you are not to speak to or play with
the little girls till I give you leave. You don’t deserve the pleasure,
so I forbid it.”
The ill-mannered young gentlemen hastily retired, to be received
outside with derision and scorn by the unrepentant Bangs, who would
not associate with them for at least fifteen minutes. Daisy was soon
consoled for the failure of her ball, but lamented the edict that
parted her from her brother, and mourned over his short-comings in her
tender little heart. Nan rather enjoyed the trouble, and went about
turning up her pug nose at the three, especially Tommy, who pretended
not to care, and loudly proclaimed his satisfaction at being rid of
those “stupid girls.” But in his secret soul he soon repented of the
rash act that caused this banishment from the society he loved, and
every hour of separation taught him the value of the “stupid girls.”
The others gave in very soon, and longed to be friends, for now there
was no Daisy to pet and cook for them; no Nan to amuse and doctor them;
and, worst of all, no Mrs. Jo to make home pleasant and life easy for
them. To their great affliction, Mrs. Jo seemed to consider herself one
of the offended girls, for she hardly spoke to the outcasts, looked as
if she did not see them when she passed, and was always too busy now to
attend to their requests. This sudden and entire exile from favor cast
a gloom over their souls, for when Mother Bhaer deserted them, their
sun had set at noon-day, as it were, and they had no refuge left.
This unnatural state of things actually lasted for three days, then
they could bear it no longer, and fearing that the eclipse might become
total, went to Mr. Bhaer for help and counsel.
It is my private opinion that he had received instructions how to
behave if the case should be laid before him. But no one suspected
it, and he gave the afflicted boys some advice, which they gratefully
accepted and carried out in the following manner:--
Secluding themselves in the garret, they devoted several play-hours
to the manufacture of some mysterious machine, which took so much
paste that Asia grumbled, and the little girls wondered mightily. Nan
nearly got her inquisitive nose pinched in the door, trying to see
what was going on, and Daisy sat about, openly lamenting that they
could not all play nicely together, and not have any dreadful secrets.
Wednesday afternoon was fine, and after a good deal of consultation
about wind and weather, Nat and Tommy went off, bearing an immense flat
parcel hidden under many newspapers. Nan nearly died with suppressed
curiosity, Daisy nearly cried with vexation, and both quite trembled
with interest when Demi marched into Mrs. Bhaer’s room, hat in hand,
and said, in the politest tone possible to a mortal boy of his years,--
“Please, Aunt Jo, would you and the girls come out to a surprise party
we have made for you? Do, it’s a _very_ nice one.”
“Thank you, we will come with pleasure; only, I must take Teddy with
me,” replied Mrs. Bhaer, with a smile that cheered Demi like sunshine
after rain.
“We’d like to have him. The little wagon is all ready for the girls;
and you won’t mind walking just up to Pennyroyal Hill, will you,
Aunty?”
“I should like it exceedingly; but are you quite sure I shall not be in
the way?”
“Oh, no, indeed! we want you very much; and the party will be spoilt if
you don’t come,” cried Demi, with great earnestness.
“Thank you kindly, sir;” and Aunt Jo made him a grand curtsey, for she
liked frolics as well as any of them.
“Now, young ladies, we must not keep them waiting; on with the hats,
and let us be off at once. I’m all impatience to know what the surprise
is.”
As Mrs. Bhaer spoke every one bustled about, and in five minutes the
three little girls and Teddy were packed into the “clothes-basket,”
as they called the wicker wagon which Toby drew. Demi walked at the
head of the procession, and Mrs. Jo brought up the rear, escorted
by Kit. It was a most imposing party, I assure you, for Toby had a
red feather-duster in his head, two remarkable flags waved over the
carriage, Kit had a blue bow on his neck, which nearly drove him wild,
Demi wore a nosegay of dandelions in his buttonhole, and Mrs. Jo
carried the queer Japanese umbrella in honor of the occasion.
The girls had little flutters of excitement all the way; and Teddy was
so charmed with the drive that he kept dropping his hat overboard, and
when it was taken from him he prepared to tumble out himself, evidently
feeling that it behooved him to do something for the amusement of the
party.
When they came to the hill “nothing was to be seen but the grass
blowing in the wind,” as the fairy books say, and the children looked
disappointed. But Demi said, in his most impressive manner,--
“Now, you all get out and stand still, and the surprise party will come
in;” with which remark he retired behind a rock, over which heads had
been bobbing at intervals for the last half-hour.
A short pause of intense suspense, and then Nat, Demi, and Tommy
marched forth, each bearing a new kite, which they presented to the
three young ladies. Shrieks of delight arose, but were silenced by the
boys, who said, with faces brimful of merriment, “That isn’t all the
surprise;” and, running behind the rock, again emerged bearing a fourth
kite of superb size, on which was printed, in bright yellow letters,
“For Mother Bhaer.”
“We thought you’d like one, too, because you were angry with us, and
took the girls’ part,” cried all three, shaking with laughter, for this
part of the affair evidently _was_ a surprise to Mrs. Jo.
She clapped her hands, and joined in the laugh, looking thoroughly
tickled at the joke.
“Now, boys, that is regularly splendid! Who did think of it?” she
asked, receiving the monster kite with as much pleasure as the little
girls did theirs.
“Uncle Fritz proposed it when we planned to make the others; he said
you’d like it, so we made a bouncer,” answered Demi, beaming with
satisfaction at the success of the plot.
“Uncle Fritz knows what I like. Yes, these are magnificent kites, and
we were wishing we had some the other day when you were flying yours,
weren’t we, girls?”
“That’s why we made them for you,” cried Tommy, standing on his head as
the most appropriate way of expressing his emotions.
“Let us fly them,” said energetic Nan.
“I don’t know how,” began Daisy.
“We’ll show you, we want to!” cried all the boys in a burst of
devotion, as Demi took Daisy’s, Tommy Nan’s, and Nat, with difficulty,
persuaded Bess to let go her little blue one.
“Aunty, if you will wait a minute, we’ll pitch yours for you,” said
Demi, feeling that Mrs. Bhaer’s favor must not be lost again by any
neglect of theirs.
“Bless your buttons, dear, I know all about it; and here is a boy who
will toss up for me,” added Mrs. Jo, as the professor peeped over the
rock with a face full of fun.
He came out at once, tossed up the big kite, and Mrs. Jo ran off with
it in fine style, while the children stood and enjoyed the spectacle.
One by one all the kites went up, and floated far overhead like gay
birds, balancing themselves on the fresh breeze that blew steadily
over the hill. Such a merry time as they had! running and shouting,
sending up the kites or pulling them down, watching their antics in
the air, and feeling them tug at the string like live creatures trying
to escape. Nan was quite wild with the fun, Daisy thought the new play
nearly as interesting as dolls, and little Bess was so fond of her “boo
tite,” that she would only let it go on very short flights, preferring
to hold it in her lap and look at the remarkable pictures painted on it
by Tommy’s dashing brush. Mrs. Jo enjoyed hers immensely, and it acted
as if it knew who owned it, for it came tumbling down head first when
least expected, caught on trees, nearly pitched into the river, and
finally darted away to such a height that it looked a mere speck among
the clouds.
By and by every one got tired, and fastening the kite-strings to trees
and fences, all sat down to rest, except Mr. Bhaer, who went off to
look at the cows, with Teddy on his shoulder.
“Did you ever have such a good time as this before?” asked Nat, as
they lay about on the grass, nibbling pennyroyal like a flock of sheep.
“Not since I last flew a kite, years ago, when I was a girl,” answered
Mrs. Jo.
“I’d like to have known you when you were a girl, you must have been so
jolly,” said Nat.
“I was a naughty little girl, I am sorry to say.”
“I like naughty little girls,” observed Tommy, looking at Nan, who made
a frightful grimace at him in return for the compliment.
“Why don’t I remember you then, Aunty? Was I too young?” asked Demi.
“Rather, dear.”
“I suppose my memory hadn’t come then. Grandpa says that different
parts of the mind unfold as we grow up, and the memory part of my mind
hadn’t unfolded when you were little, so I can’t remember how you
looked,” explained Demi.
“Now, little Socrates, you had better keep that question for grandpa,
it is beyond me,” said Aunt Jo, putting on the extinguisher.
“Well, I will, _he_ knows about those things, and _you don’t_,”
returned Demi, feeling that on the whole kites were better adapted to
the comprehension of the present company.
“Tell about the last time you flew a kite,” said Nat, for Mrs. Jo had
laughed as she spoke of it, and he thought it might be interesting.
“Oh, it was only rather funny, for I was a great girl of fifteen, and
was ashamed to be seen at such a play. So Uncle Teddy and I privately
made our kites, and stole away to fly them. We had a capital time, and
were resting as we are now, when suddenly we heard voices, and saw a
party of young ladies and gentlemen coming back from a picnic. Teddy
did not mind, though he was rather a large boy to be playing with a
kite, but I was in a great flurry, for I knew I should be sadly laughed
at, and never hear the last of it, because my wild ways amused the
neighbors as much as Nan’s do us.
“‘What shall I do?’ I whispered to Teddy, as the voices drew nearer and
nearer.
“‘I’ll show you,’ he said, and whipping out his knife he cut the
strings. Away flew the kites, and when the people came up we were
picking flowers as properly as you please. They never suspected us, and
we had a grand laugh over our narrow escape.”
“Were the kites lost, Aunty?” asked Daisy.
“Quite lost, but I did not care, for I made up my mind that it would be
best to wait till I was an old lady before I played with kites again;
and you see I have waited,” said Mrs. Jo, beginning to pull in the big
kite, for it was getting late.
“Must we go now?”
“I must, or you won’t have any supper; and that sort of surprise party
would not suit you, I think, my chickens.”
“Hasn’t our party been a nice one?” asked Tommy, complacently.
“Splendid!” answered every one.
“Do you know why? It is because _your_ guests have behaved themselves,
and tried to make every thing go well. You understand what I mean,
don’t you?”
“Yes’m,” was all the boys said, but they stole a shamefaced look
at one another, as they meekly shouldered their kites and walked
home, thinking of another party where the guests had _not_ behaved
themselves, and things had gone badly on account of it.