HOME AGAIN
July had come, and haying begun; the little gardens were doing finely,
and the long summer days were full of pleasant hours. The house stood
open from morning till night, and the lads lived out of doors, except
at school time. The lessons were short, and there were many holidays,
for the Bhaers believed in cultivating healthy bodies by much exercise,
and our short summers are best used in out-of-door work. Such a rosy,
sunburnt, hearty set as the boys became; such appetites as they had;
such sturdy arms and legs, as outgrew jackets and trousers; such
laughing and racing all over the place; such antics in house and barn;
such adventures in the tramps over hill and dale; and such satisfaction
in the hearts of the worthy Bhaers, as they saw their flock prospering
in mind and body, I cannot begin to describe. Only one thing was needed
to make them quite happy, and it came when they least expected it.
One balmy night when the little lads were in bed, the elder ones
bathing down at the brook, and Mrs. Bhaer undressing Teddy in her
parlor, he suddenly cried out, “Oh, my Danny!” and pointed to the
window, where the moon shone brightly.
“No, lovey, he is not there, it was the pretty moon,” said his mother.
“No, no, Danny at a window; Teddy saw him,” persisted baby, much
excited.
“It might have been,” and Mrs. Bhaer hurried to the window, hoping it
would prove true. But the face was gone, and nowhere appeared any signs
of a mortal boy; she called his name, ran to the front door with Teddy
in his little shirt, and made him call too, thinking the baby voice
might have more effect than her own. No one answered, nothing appeared,
and they went back much disappointed. Teddy would not be satisfied with
the moon, and after he was in his crib kept popping up his head to ask
if Danny was not “tummin’ soon.”
By and by he fell asleep, the lads trooped up to bed, the house grew
still, and nothing but the chirp of the crickets broke the soft silence
of the summer night. Mrs. Bhaer sat sewing, for the big basket was
always piled with socks, full of portentous holes, and thinking of the
lost boy. She had decided that baby had been mistaken, and did not even
disturb Mr. Bhaer by telling him of the child’s fancy, for the poor man
got little time to himself till the boys were abed, and he was busy
writing letters. It was past ten when she rose to shut up the house. As
she paused a minute to enjoy the lovely scene from the steps, something
white caught her eye on one of the hay-cocks scattered over the lawn.
The children had been playing there all the afternoon, and, fancying
that Nan had left her hat as usual, Mrs. Bhaer went out to get it. But
as she approached, she saw that it was neither hat nor handkerchief,
but a shirt sleeve with a brown hand sticking out of it. She hurried
round the hay-cock, and there lay Dan, fast asleep.
Ragged, dirty, thin, and worn-out he looked; one foot was bare, the
other tied up in the old gingham jacket which he had taken from his
own back to use as a clumsy bandage for some hurt. He seemed to have
hidden himself behind the hay-cock, but in his sleep had thrown out
the arm that had betrayed him. He sighed and muttered as if his dreams
disturbed him, and once when he moved, he groaned as if in pain, but
still slept on quite spent with weariness.
“He must not lie here,” said Mrs. Bhaer, and stooping over him she
gently called his name. He opened his eyes and looked at her, as if
she was a part of his dream, for he smiled and said drowsily, “Mother
Bhaer, I’ve come home.”
The look, the words, touched her very much, and she put her hand under
his head to lift him up, saying in her cordial way,--
“I thought you would, and I’m so glad to see you, Dan.” He seemed
to wake thoroughly then, and started up looking about him as if he
suddenly remembered where he was, and doubted even that kind welcome.
His face changed, and he said in his old rough way,--
“I was going off in the morning. I only stopped to peek in, as I went
by.”
“But why not come in, Dan? Didn’t you hear us call you? Teddy saw, and
cried for you.”
“Didn’t suppose you’d let me in,” he said, fumbling with a little
bundle which he had taken up as if going immediately.
“Try and see,” was all Mrs. Bhaer answered, holding out her hand and
pointing to the door, where the light shone hospitably.
With a long breath, as if a load was off his mind, Dan took up a stout
stick, and began to limp towards the house, but stopped suddenly, to
say inquiringly,--
“Mr. Bhaer won’t like it. I ran away from Page.”
“He knows it, and was sorry, but it will make no difference. Are you
lame?” asked Mrs. Jo, as he limped on again.
“Getting over a wall a stone fell on my foot and smashed it. I don’t
mind,” and he did his best to hide the pain each step cost him.
Mrs. Bhaer helped him into her own room, and, once there, he dropped
into a chair, and laid his head back, white and faint with weariness
and suffering.
“My poor Dan! drink this, and then eat a little; you are at home now,
and Mother Bhaer will take good care of you.”
He only looked up at her with eyes full of gratitude, as he drank the
wine she held to his lips, and then began slowly to eat the food she
brought him. Each mouthful seemed to put heart into him, and presently
he began to talk as if anxious to have her know all about him.
“Where have you been, Dan?” she asked, beginning to get out some
bandages.
“I ran off more’n a month ago. Page was good enough, but too strict. I
didn’t like it, so I cut away down the river with a man who was going
in his boat. That’s why they couldn’t tell where I’d gone. When I left
the man, I worked for a couple of weeks with a farmer, but I thrashed
his boy, and then the old man thrashed me, and I ran off again and
walked here.”
“All the way?”
“Yes, the man didn’t pay me, and I wouldn’t ask for it. Took it out in
beating the boy,” and Dan laughed, yet looked ashamed, as he glanced at
his ragged clothes and dirty hands.
“How did you live? It was a long, long tramp for a boy like you.”
“Oh, I got on well enough, till I hurt my foot. Folks gave me things
to eat, and I slept in barns and tramped by day. I got lost trying to
make a short cut, or I’d have been here sooner.”
“But if you did not mean to come in and stay with us, what were you
going to do?”
“I thought I’d like to see Teddy again, and you; and then I was going
back to my old work in the city, only I was so tired I went to sleep on
the hay. I’d have been gone in the morning, if you hadn’t found me.”
“Are you sorry I did?” and Mrs. Jo looked at him with a half merry,
half reproachful look, as she knelt down to look at his wounded foot.
The color came up into Dan’s face, and he kept his eyes fixed on his
plate, as he said very low, “No, ma’am, I’m glad, I wanted to stay, but
I was afraid you--”
He did not finish, for Mrs. Bhaer interrupted him by an exclamation of
pity, as she saw his foot, for it was seriously hurt.
“When did you do it?”
“Three days ago.”
“And you have walked on it in this state?”
“I had a stick, and I washed it at every brook I came to, and one woman
gave me a rag to put on it.”
“Mr. Bhaer must see and dress it at once,” and Mrs. Jo hastened into
the next room, leaving the door ajar behind her, so that Dan heard all
that passed.
“Fritz, that boy has come back.”
“Who? Dan?”
“Yes, Teddy saw him at the window, and we called to him, but he went
away and hid behind the hay-cocks on the lawn. I found him there just
now fast asleep, and half dead with weariness and pain. He ran away
from Page a month ago, and has been making his way to us ever since. He
pretends that he did not mean to let us see him, but go on to the city,
and his old work, after a look at us. It is evident, however, that the
hope of being taken in has led him here through every thing, and there
he is waiting to know if you will forgive and take him back.”
“Did he say so?”
“His eyes did, and when I waked him, he said, like a lost child,
‘Mother Bhaer, I’ve come home.’ I hadn’t the heart to scold him, and
just took him in like a poor little black sheep come back to the fold.
I may keep him, Fritz?”
“Of course you may! This proves to me that we have a hold on the boy’s
heart, and I would no more send him away now than I would my own Rob.”
Dan heard a soft little sound, as if Mrs. Jo thanked her husband
without words, and, in the instant’s silence that followed, two great
tears that had slowly gathered in the boy’s eyes brimmed over and
rolled down his dusty cheeks. No one saw them, for he brushed them
hastily away; but in that little pause I think Dan’s old distrust for
these good people vanished for ever, the soft spot in his heart was
touched, and he felt an impetuous desire to prove himself worthy of the
love and pity that was so patient and forgiving. He said nothing, he
only wished the wish with all his might, resolved to try in his blind
boyish way, and sealed his resolution with the tears which neither
pain, fatigue, nor loneliness could wring from him.
“Come and see his foot. I am afraid it is badly hurt, for he has kept
on three days through heat and dust, with nothing but water and an old
jacket to bind it up with. I tell you, Fritz, that boy is a brave lad,
and will make a fine man yet.”
“I hope so, for your sake, enthusiastic woman, your faith deserves
success. Now, I will go and see your little Spartan. Where is he?”
“In my room; but, dear, you’ll be very kind to him, no matter how gruff
he seems. I am sure that is the way to conquer him. He won’t bear
sternness nor much restraint, but a soft word and infinite patience
will lead him as it used to lead me.”
“As if you ever were like this little rascal!” cried Mr. Bhaer,
laughing, yet half angry at the idea.
“I was in spirit, though I showed it in a different way. I seem to know
by instinct how he feels, to understand what will win and touch him,
and to sympathize with his temptations and faults. I am glad I do, for
it will help me to help him; and if I can make a good man of this wild
boy, it will be the best work of my life.”
“God bless the work, and help the worker!”
Mr. Bhaer spoke now as earnestly as she had done, and both came in
together to find Dan’s head down upon his arm, as if he was quite
overcome by sleep. But he looked up quickly, and tried to rise as Mr.
Bhaer said pleasantly,--
“So you like Plumfield better than Page’s farm. Well, let us see if we
can get on more comfortably this time than we did before.”
“Thanky, sir,” said Dan, trying not to be gruff, and finding it easier
than he expected.
“Now, the foot! Ach!--this is not well. We must have Dr. Firth
to-morrow. Warm water, Jo, and old linen.”
Mr. Bhaer bathed and bound up the wounded foot, while Mrs. Jo prepared
the only empty bed in the house. It was in the little guest-chamber
leading from the parlor, and often used when the lads were poorly, for
it saved Mrs. Jo from running up and down, and the invalids could
see what was going on. When it was ready, Mr. Bhaer took the boy in
his arms, and carried him in, helped him undress, laid him on the
little white bed, and left him with another hand-shake, and a fatherly
“Good-night, my son.”
Dan dropped asleep at once, and slept heavily for several hours; then
his foot began to throb and ache, and he awoke to toss about uneasily,
trying not to groan lest any one should hear him, for he _was_ a brave
lad, and did bear pain like “a little Spartan,” as Mr. Bhaer called him.
Mrs. Jo had a way of flitting about the house at night, to shut the
windows if the wind grew chilly, to draw mosquito curtains over Teddy,
or look after Tommy, who occasionally walked in his sleep. The least
noise waked her, and as she often heard imaginary robbers, cats, and
conflagrations, the doors stood open all about, so her quick ear
caught the sound of Dan’s little moans, and she was up in a minute. He
was just giving his hot pillow a despairing thump when a light came
glimmering through the hall, and Mrs. Jo crept in, looking like a droll
ghost, with her hair in a great knob on the top of her head, and a long
gray dressing-gown trailing behind her.
“Are you in pain, Dan?”
“It’s pretty bad; but I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I’m a sort of owl, always flying about at night. Yes, your foot is
like fire; the bandages must be wet again,” and away flapped the
maternal owl for more cooling stuff, and a great mug of ice water.
“Oh, that’s _so_ nice!” sighed Dan, as the wet bandages went on again,
and a long draught of water cooled his thirsty throat.
“There, now, sleep your best, and don’t be frightened if you see me
again, for I’ll slip down by and by, and give you another sprinkle.”
As she spoke, Mrs. Jo stooped to turn the pillow and smooth the
bed-clothes, when, to her great surprise, Dan put his arm round her
neck, drew her face down to his, and kissed her, with a broken “Thank
you, ma’am,” which said more than the most eloquent speech could have
done; for the hasty kiss, the muttered words, meant, “I’m sorry, I will
try.” She understood it, accepted the unspoken confession, and did not
spoil it by any token of surprise. She only remembered that he had no
mother, kissed the brown cheek half hidden on the pillow, as if ashamed
of that little touch of tenderness, and left him, saying, what he long
remembered, “You are my boy now, and if you choose you can make me
proud and glad to say so.”
Once again, just at dawn, she stole down to find him so fast asleep
that he did not wake, and showed no sign of consciousness as she wet
his foot, except that the lines of pain smoothed themselves away, and
left his face quite peaceful.
The day was Sunday, and the house so still that he never waked till
near noon, and, looking round him, saw an eager little face peering in
at the door. He held out his arms, and Teddy tore across the room to
cast himself bodily upon the bed, shouting, “My Danny’s tum!” as he
hugged and wriggled with delight. Mrs. Bhaer appeared next, bringing
breakfast, and never seeming to see how shamefaced Dan looked at the
memory of the little scene last night. Teddy insisted on giving him his
“betfus,” and fed him like a baby, which, as he was not very hungry,
Dan enjoyed very much.
Then came the doctor, and the poor Spartan had a bad time of it, for
some of the little bones of his foot were injured, and putting them to
rights was such a painful job, that Dan’s lips were white, and great
drops stood on his forehead, though he never cried out, and only held
Mrs. Jo’s hand so tight that it was red long afterwards.
“You must keep this boy quiet, for a week at least, and not let him put
his foot to the ground. By that time, I shall know whether he may hop a
little with a crutch, or stick to his bed for a while longer,” said Dr.
Firth, putting up the shining instruments that Dan did not like to see.
“It will get well sometime, won’t it?” he asked, looking alarmed at the
word “crutches.”
“I hope so;” and with that the doctor departed, leaving Dan much
depressed; for the loss of a foot is a dreadful calamity to an active
boy.
“Don’t be troubled, I am a famous nurse, and we will have you tramping
about as well as ever in a month,” said Mrs. Jo, taking a hopeful view
of the case.
But the fear of being lame haunted Dan, and even Teddy’s caresses did
not cheer him; so Mrs. Jo proposed that one or two of the boys should
come in and pay him a little visit, and asked whom he would like to see.
“Nat and Demi; I’d like my hat too, there’s something in it I guess
they’d like to see. I suppose you threw away my bundle of plunder?”
said Dan, looking rather anxious as he put the question.
“No, I kept it, for I thought they must be treasures of some kind, you
took such care of them;” and Mrs. Jo brought him his old straw hat
stuck full of butterflies and beetles, and a handkerchief containing a
collection of odd things picked up on his way: birds’ eggs, carefully
done up in moss, curious shells and stones, bits of fungus, and several
little crabs, in a state of great indignation at their imprisonment.
“Could I have something to put these fellers in? Mr. Hyde and I found
’em, and they are first-rate ones, so I’d like to keep and watch’em;
can I?” asked Dan, forgetting his foot, and laughing to see the crabs
go sidling and backing over the bed.
“Of course you can; Polly’s old cage will be just the thing. Don’t let
them nip Teddy’s toes while I get it;” and away went Mrs. Jo, leaving
Dan overjoyed to find that his treasures were not considered rubbish,
and thrown away.
Nat, Demi, and the cage arrived together, and the crabs were settled
in their new house, to the great delight of the boys, who, in the
excitement of the performance, forgot any awkwardness they might
otherwise have felt in greeting the runaway. To these admiring
listeners Dan related his adventures much more fully than he had done
to the Bhaers. Then he displayed his “plunder,” and described each
article so well, that Mrs. Jo, who had retired to the next room to
leave them free, was surprised and interested, as well as amused, at
their boyish chatter.
“How much the lad knows of these things! how absorbed he is in them!
and what a mercy it is just now, for he cares so little for books, it
would be hard to amuse him while he is laid up; but the boys can supply
him with beetles and stones to any extent, and I am glad to find out
this taste of his; it is a good one, and may perhaps prove the making
of him. If he should turn out a great naturalist, and Nat a musician,
I should have cause to be proud of this year’s work;” and Mrs. Jo sat
smiling over her book as she built castles in the air, just as she used
to do when a girl, only then they were for herself, and now they were
for other people, which is the reason perhaps that some of them came
to pass in reality--for charity is an excellent foundation to build
anything upon.
Nat was most interested in the adventures, but Demi enjoyed the beetles
and butterflies immensely, drinking in the history of their changeful
little lives as if it were a new and lovely sort of fairy tale--for,
even in his plain way, Dan told it well, and found great satisfaction
in the thought that here at least the small philosopher could learn of
him. So interested were they in the account of catching a musk rat,
whose skin was among the treasures, that Mr. Bhaer had to come himself
to tell Nat and Demi it was time for the walk. Dan looked so wistfully
after them as they ran off, that Father Bhaer proposed carrying him to
the sofa in the parlor for a little change of air and scene.
When he was established, and the house quiet, Mrs. Jo, who sat near
by showing Teddy pictures, said, in an interested tone, as she nodded
towards the treasures still in Dan’s hands,--
“Where did you learn so much about these things?”
“I always liked ’em, but didn’t know much till Mr. Hyde told me.”
“Who was Mr. Hyde?”
“Oh, he was a man who lived round in the woods studying these things--I
don’t know what you call him--and wrote about frogs, and fishes, and so
on. He stayed at Page’s, and used to want me to go and help him, and it
was great fun, ’cause he told me ever so much, and was uncommon jolly
and wise. Hope I’ll see him again sometime.”
“I hope you will,” said Mrs. Jo, for Dan’s face had brightened up, and
he was so interested in the matter that he forgot his usual taciturnity.
“Why, he could make birds come to him, and rabbits and squirrels didn’t
mind him any more than if he was a tree. He never hurt ’em, and they
seemed to know him. Did you ever tickle a lizard with a straw?” asked
Dan, eagerly.
“No, but I should like to try it.”
“Well, I’ve done it, and it’s so funny to see ’em turn over and stretch
out, they like it so much. Mr. Hyde used to do it; and he’d make
snakes listen to him while he whistled, and he knew just when certain
flowers would blow, and bees wouldn’t sting him, and he’d tell the
wonderfullest things about fish and flies, and the Indians and the
rocks.”
“I think you were so fond of going with Mr. Hyde, you rather neglected
Mr. Page,” said Mrs. Jo, slyly.
“Yes, I did; I hated to have to weed and hoe when I might be tramping
round with Mr. Hyde. Page thought such things silly, and called Mr.
Hyde crazy because he’d lay hours watching a trout or a bird.”
“Suppose you say _lie_ instead of _lay_, it is better grammar,”
said Mrs. Jo, very gently; and then added, “Yes, Page is a thorough
farmer, and would not understand that a naturalist’s work was just as
interesting, and perhaps just as important as his own. Now, Dan, if you
really love these things, as I think you do, and I am glad to see it,
you shall have time to study them and books to help you; but I want
you to do something besides, and to do it faithfully, else you will be
sorry by and by, and find that you have got to begin again.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Dan, meekly, and looked a little scared by the
serious tone of the last remarks, for he hated books, yet had
evidently made up his mind to study anything she proposed.
“Do you see that cabinet with twelve drawers in it?” was the next very
unexpected question.
Dan did see two tall old-fashioned ones standing on either side of
the piano; he knew them well, and had often seen nice bits of string,
nails, brown paper, and such useful matters come out of the various
drawers. He nodded and smiled. Mrs. Jo went on,--
“Well, don’t you think those drawers would be good places to put your
eggs, and stones, and shells, and lichens?”
“Oh, splendid, but you wouldn’t like my things ‘clutterin’ round,’ as
Mr. Page used to say, would you?” cried Dan, sitting up to survey the
old piece of furniture with sparkling eyes.
“I like litter of that sort; and if I didn’t, I should give you the
drawers, because I have a regard for children’s little treasures, and
think they should be treated respectfully. Now, I am going to make a
bargain with you, Dan, and I hope you will keep it honorably. Here are
twelve good-sized drawers, one for each month of the year, and they
shall be yours as fast as you earn them, by doing the little duties
that belong to you. I believe in rewards of a certain kind, especially
for young folks; they help us along and though we may begin by being
good for the sake of the reward, if it is rightly used, we shall soon
learn to love goodness for itself.”
“Do you have ’em?” asked Dan, looking as if this was new talk for him.
“Yes, indeed! I haven’t learnt to get on without them yet. My rewards
are not drawers, or presents, or holidays, but they are things which I
like as much as you do the others. The good behavior and success of
my boys is one of the rewards I love best, and I work for it as I want
you to work for your cabinet. Do what you dislike, and do it well, and
you get two rewards,--one, the prize you see and hold; the other, the
satisfaction of a duty cheerfully performed. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“We all need these little helps; so you shall try to do your lessons
and your work, play kindly with all the boys, and use your holidays
well; and if you bring me a good report, or if I see and know it
without words--for I’m quick to spy out the good little efforts of my
boys--you shall have a compartment in the drawer for your treasures.
See, some are already divided into four parts, and I will have the
others made in the same way, a place for each week; and when the
drawer is filled with curious and pretty things, I shall be as proud
of it as you are; prouder, I think--for in the pebbles, mosses, and
gay butterflies, I shall see good resolutions carried out, conquered
faults, and a promise well kept. Shall we do this, Dan?”
The boy answered with one of the looks which said much, for it showed
that he felt and understood her wish and words, although he did not
know how to express his interest and gratitude for such care and
kindness. She understood the look, and seeing by the color that flushed
up to his forehead that he was touched, as she wished him to be, she
said no more about that side of the new plan, but pulled out the upper
drawer, dusted it, and set it on two chairs before the sofa, saying
briskly,--
“Now, let us begin at once by putting those nice beetles in a safe
place. These compartments will hold a good deal, you see. I’d pin the
butterflies and bugs round the sides; they will be quite safe there,
and leave room for the heavy things below. I’ll give you some cotton
wool, and clean paper and pins, and you can get ready for the week’s
work.”
“But I can’t go out to find any new things,” said Dan, looking
piteously at his foot.
“That’s true; never mind, we’ll let these treasures do for this week,
and I dare say the boys will bring you loads of things if you ask them.”
“They don’t know the right sort; besides, if I lay, no, _lie_ here all
the time, I can’t work and study, and earn my drawers.”
“There are plenty of lessons you can learn lying there, and several
little jobs of work you can do for me.”
“Can I?” and Dan looked both surprised and pleased.
“You can learn to be patient and cheerful in spite of pain and no play.
You can amuse Teddy for me, wind cotton, read to me when I sew, and do
many things without hurting your foot, which will make the days pass
quickly, and not be wasted ones.”
Here Demi ran in with a great butterfly in one hand, and a very ugly
little toad in the other.
“See, Dan, I found them, and ran back to give them to you; aren’t they
beautiful ones?” panted Demi, all out of breath.
Dan laughed at the toad, and said he had no place to put him, but the
butterfly was a beauty, and if Mrs. Jo would give him a big pin, he
would stick it right up in the drawer.
“I don’t like to see the poor thing struggle on a pin; if it must be
killed, let us put it out of pain at once with a drop of camphor,”
said Mrs. Jo, getting out the bottle.
“I know how to do it--Mr. Hyde always killed ’em that way--but I didn’t
have any camphor, so I use a pin,” and Dan gently poured a drop on the
insect’s head, when the pale green wings fluttered an instant, and then
grew still.
This dainty little execution was hardly over when Teddy shouted from
the bedroom, “Oh, the little trabs are out, and the big one’s eaten ’em
all up.” Demi and his aunt ran to the rescue, and found Teddy dancing
excitedly in a chair, while two little crabs were scuttling about the
floor, having got through the wires of the cage. A third was clinging
to the top of the cage, evidently in terror of his life, for below
appeared a sad yet funny sight. The big crab had wedged himself into
the little recess where Polly’s cup used to stand, and there he sat
eating one of his relations in the coolest way. All the claws of the
poor victim were pulled off, and he was turned upside down, his upper
shell held in one claw close under the mouth of the big crab like a
dish, while he leisurely ate out of it with the other claw, pausing
now and then to turn his queer bulging eyes from side to side, and to
put out a slender tongue and lick them in a way that made the children
scream with laughter. Mrs. Jo carried the cage in for Dan to see the
sight, while Demi caught and confined the wanderers under an inverted
wash-bowl.
“I’ll have to let these fellers go, for I can’t keep ’em in the house,”
said Dan, with evident regret.
“I’ll take care of them for you, if you will tell me how, and they
can live in my turtle-tank just as well as not,” said Demi, who found
them more interesting even than his beloved slow turtles. So Dan gave
him directions about the wants and habits of the crabs, and Demi bore
them away to introduce them to their new home and neighbors. “What a
good boy he is!” said Dan, carefully settling the first butterfly, and
remembering that Demi had given up his walk to bring it to him.
“He ought to be, for a great deal has been done to make him so.”
“He’s had folks to tell him things, and to help him; I haven’t,” said
Dan, with a sigh, thinking of his neglected childhood, a thing he
seldom did, and feeling as if he had not had fair play somehow.
“I know it, dear, and for that reason I don’t expect as much from you
as from Demi, though he is younger; you shall have all the help that we
can give you now, and I hope to teach you how to help yourself in the
best way. Have you forgotten what Father Bhaer told you when you were
here before, about wanting to be good, and asking God to help you?”
“No, ma’am,” very low.
“Do you try that way still?”
“No, ma’am,” lower still.
“Will you do it every night to please me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” very soberly.
“I shall depend on it, and I think I shall know if you are faithful to
your promise, for these things always show to people who believe in
them, though not a word is said. Now here is a pleasant story about a
boy who hurt his foot worse than you did yours; read it, and see how
bravely he bore his troubles.”
She put that charming little book, “The Crofton Boys,” into his hands,
and left him for an hour, passing in and out from time to time that
he might not feel lonely. Dan did not love to read, but soon got
so interested that he was surprised when the boys came home. Daisy
brought him a nosegay of wild flowers, and Nan insisted on helping
bring him his supper, as he lay on the sofa with the door open into the
dining-room, so that he could see the lads at table, and they could nod
socially to him over their bread and butter.
Mr. Bhaer carried him away to his bed early, and Teddy came in his
night-gown to say good-night, for he went to his little nest with the
birds.
“I want to say my prayers to Danny; may I?” he asked; and when his
mother said, “Yes,” the little fellow knelt down by Dan’s bed, and
folding his chubby hands, said softly,--
“Pease Dod bess everybody, and hep me to be dood.”
Then he went away smiling with sleepy sweetness over his mother’s
shoulder.
But after the evening talk was done, the evening song sung, and the
house grew still with beautiful Sunday silence, Dan lay in his pleasant
room wide awake, thinking new thoughts, feeling new hopes and desires
stirring in his boyish heart, for two good angels had entered in: love
and gratitude began the work which time and effort were to finish; and
with an earnest wish to keep his first promise, Dan folded his hands
together in the darkness, and softly whispered Teddy’s little prayer,--
“Please God bless every one, and help me to be good.”