Visiting
Beth was seated with Fritz and the kittens in a large Mexican hammock
on the front porch. She held up a warning finger to her mother who
stood in the doorway.
"Mamma, do not frighten birdie away. He is not the least bit afraid of
me, and I love to hear him sing."
Mrs. Davenport was surprised to see a mocking bird perched on the
railing directly by the side of Beth. His little head was cocked
sidewise, and floods of sweet sounds issued from his throat.
His spouse, who was guarding their nest up in the big live oak in the
front yard, trilled her limited paeon of praise.
Beth, who often acted as interpreter for beast and bird, thought the
proud wife-bird meant to say:
"Bravo. Isn't he the most wonderful tenor that ever lived? Are you
surprised that I love him so? He is the best and smartest husband in
all the world."
Fritz and black pussy grew restless. She spit at him, and he barked at
her.
"Now, my dears, do let me enjoy this beautiful music in peace," Beth
said reprovingly.
Hardly had she spoken, before black pussy sprang away, and Fritz was
after her in an instant.
Beth did not dare follow for fear of frightening away Mr. Mocking Bird,
who stopped singing as cat and dog scampered away, but who had not yet
flown back to his mate. He was watching fearfully every move of the
frolicsome pair.
Away scurried kitty to the other end of the porch with Fritz a close
second. Suddenly, she turned, settling down on her back with her claws
out-stretched, ready to receive Fritz. In an instant he was on her.
Over and over they rolled in their wild play. Fritz became too rough
to suit puss, and she gave him a sudden dab with her sharp little
claws. The blow disabled him for a moment, allowing puss to spring
away from him. She scampered down the steps and towards the big tree
with Fritz again after her.
Mr. Mocking Bird was up in arms in an instant. How dared the impudent
creatures approach that tree where dwelt his wife and children! He
flew to the rescue.
Mrs. Mocking Bird, too, had grown so nervous that she, also, left her
young, and joined in the fray. Together Mr. and Mrs. Mocking Bird
dived and pecked at the cat and the dog in a most ferocious manner.
Beth rushed out, ready to assist the birds, if necessary, but her aid
was not needed.
Black puss and Fritz were so taken by surprise at the fierce onslaught
of the birds that they turned and sneaked away as fast as they could
go. Thus, through the power of love, the weaker triumphed over the
stronger. Later on the mocking birds also came out victors in another
contest, and against greater numbers, too. It happened in this wise:
As the days went by, Beth grew somewhat restless. She did not exactly
tire of Fritz, puss, and Arabella, but she longed for diversion. Then
one evening Mr. Davenport brought home a large coop of chickens, and
calling Beth to him, he said:
"You are to tend these, daughter, and hunt eggs every day."
"Oh you dear, good papa. I want to take one of the sweet things in my
arms."
Thereupon she tried to get a chicken, but somehow, in so doing, she
upset the coop. Away flurried the chickens in every direction. Beth
felt ready to cry.
"Never mind," said Mr. Davenport; "when they go to roost to-night, we
can catch them, and put them in the chicken house."
That night, some of the chickens perched on sheds, and some on trees.
A few had the hardihood to fly up on the branches of the live oak in
the front yard.
Mrs. Mocking Bird was just falling asleep in the nest with her young,
and Mr. Mocking Bird was already asleep not far from her side. The
chickens aroused the mother bird in an instant.
"Dearest," she piped, "I hear a dreadful noise down-stairs. I think
there must be burglars in the house. You must go down and see."
Now, every one knows that a man hates to be disturbed from a sound
sleep, and Mr. Mocking Bird proved no exception.
"Oh, birdie," he grumbled, "do leave me alone; you're always imagining
things."
"Imagining things, am I?" she answered shrilly. "Just hear that awful
noise. You're so lazy that you would see me and the children murdered
before you'd move. If you don't want me to think you a coward, you'll
go down this instant. This instant, I say."
Now Mr. Mocking Bird was, as Mrs. Mocking Bird knew, very brave, and he
also loved her praise. So he only blinked his eyes once more, and
literally flew down-stairs. There he spied the chickens settling down
for a good night's rest. Such impudence aroused his ire. He did not
hesitate a second, but dived into their midst and pecked furiously at
the poor, unsuspecting intruders. The chickens, taken utterly by
surprise, fluttered to the ground without offering any resistance.
They cackled so loudly, however, that the noise brought Titus to their
rescue, and he succeeded in capturing the badly frightened hens.
Mr. Mocking Bird, triumphant, ascended to his anxious spouse.
"Dearest," she cried, "you're not hurt, are you?"
"Hurt!" he repeated boastfully, "hurt? Well, I should say not. It was
only some upstart chickens who dared to sneak into the house, and I'm
more than a match for any number of such. I guess we shan't be
disturbed again by chickens or by impudent dogs and cats."
Mr. Mocking Bird proved right in his surmise. The birds thereafter
enjoyed their home without further intrusion.
Under Beth's care, the chickens flourished finely. They laid many an
egg which in due time were placed beneath mamma hens.
There was a very proud little girl in the Davenport family when finally
balls of yellow broke through the egg shells.
Then Beth began saving eggs for Easter, and, on Easter Day, she found
that she had enough to give every darky one, besides having all that
were wanted for her own family.
This Eastertide brought new diversions to Beth. For one thing, she
received an invitation to spend a night in town with a little girl
named Laura Corner. The Davenports and the Corners had been friends in
the North before the two families moved South.
Beth had never before spent a night away from home. She thought it
would be a "sperience" to go, and prevailed upon Mrs. Davenport to let
her accept the invitation.
The momentous day arrived at last. Beth wished to take all her
belongings with her, from Fritz to a small trunk. She had to be
content, however, with a valise.
Fritz and Arabella were admonished to be good during her absence, and
the chickens were entrusted to Marian's care.
Mrs. Davenport drove Beth to town. Upon reaching the Corners' home,
Beth's heart sank unaccountably, and she had a hard time to keep the
tears back, when she kissed her mother good-bye. However, Laura and
the Corners were so very cordial that her spirits soon revived.
In the afternoon several little girls, who had been invited to play,
came in. Among the number was one who especially attracted Beth. She
was slight and graceful. Her hair was golden and her eyes were blue.
Beth, of course, was introduced to all the girls, but did not catch the
name of this one.
"She looks like that picture of the cherub we have at home," decided
Beth. "I wonder what her name is. I guess I'll call her 'Cherub' to
myself. Cherub, you're very pretty, but you're too quiet to be much
fun."
Most of the little girls had their dolls with them; all, in fact,
excepting Beth and the "Cherub." The latter sat apart from the other
children. She looked so very demure that Beth thought her bashful, and
took pity on her. Seating herself beside her, she asked:
"Wouldn't your mamma let you bring your doll? My mamma thought I had
better not bring mine so far."
The "Cherub" showed little interest in the conversation. She answered
curtly:
"I haven't a doll."
Beth's eyes opened in surprise. "You haven't any doll? What a pity."
Then she hesitated. She feared the "Cherub" might be too poor to
afford dolls. She was soon undeceived, however, by the "Cherub"
exclaiming:
"_I_ don't think it a pity. I don't care for dolls; they're a
nuisance. I like to play outdoors."
"So do I."
The "Cherub" grew animated. "Do you? Say, can you climb trees and
walk on stilts and----"
"What are stilts?"
"Don't you know?" There was a slight contempt expressed for such
woeful ignorance. "They are long pieces of wood with places for your
feet up from the ground. It's just as if you had wooden legs, only
they make you tall so that you feel quite grown up."
"I'd like to walk on stilts."
"Would you? Where do you live?"
"Out on the old shell road."
"What! are your folks the people who bought the place near us?"
"Do you live on the shell road, too?" Beth was delighted. She was
beginning to think the "Cherub" might prove very companionable.
"Yes. Your name is Beth Davenport, isn't it? Mine's Julia Gordon.
Say, Beth, I'll come to see you and teach you how to walk on stilts if
you like."
"Will you, really? When will you come?"
"To-morrow morning."
Beth's face fell. "Oh, that's a pity. I shan't be home. I'm going to
stay here all night."
"Well, never mind. I'll come the morning after."
"All right, don't forget."
"No, I'll be there right after breakfast."
Games were started at this juncture, and then came refreshments. Soon
afterwards, the guests took their departure. The "Cherub" said in
parting:
"We'll have a jolly time with the stilts, Beth. I've been wanting to
teach somebody for a long time."
Laura and Beth had a merry time together until tea-time. Then, after
tea, Laura's older sister, Florrie, told them stories. Beth was simply
fascinated. She could listen forever, she thought, and not grow weary.
Florrie made her characters live by the magic of her voice and words.
Just before it was time for the children to retire, Florrie took down
the Bible and read a chapter to them.
Then the children went up-stairs to bed. They had a pillow fight after
they were in their night-dresses. Sad to relate, in the scuffle, their
clothes were strewn around the room, and Beth carelessly failed to
gather hers together again.
They talked in bed until Mrs. Corner called to them to stop. Laura
soon fell asleep, but Beth's heart, again, grew heavy. She missed the
good-night kiss from her mamma, and tears rose to her eyes. She tried
not to sob for fear of awakening Laura. Minutes seemed hours to her.
She realized more than ever the depth of her love for her mother, and
she resolved in future to be the best girl alive. That resolve somehow
quieted her so that she fell asleep and forgot her heartache in
pleasant dreams. She dreamed that it was the day after the morrow, and
that Julia had come with stilts so high that they touched the clouds.
Beth walked on them without the least difficulty; then, all of a
sudden, she dropped them, and found herself flying with the utmost
ease. She wondered she had never tried it before; it was so very
delightful to fly. But, suddenly, the clouds turned into smoke and
fire. Beth awakened with a start. The room was very light, as light
as if it was broad daylight.
Beth gave Laura a poke, "Laura, it must be late. See how light it is."
Laura jumped out of bed, and, running to one of the windows, raised the
curtain. Both of the children cried out in fright then. Flames shot
and curled to the very window of their room. Laura could not tell
whether their house was on fire or not. She feared so, and the house
next door was one mass of flames.
Beth sprang out of bed, too.
"Mamma, mamma," screamed Laura. Nobody answered. "Come quick or we'll
burn." Still only the crackling of the flames could be heard.
"They've forgotten us," cried Beth with chattering teeth. "Laura, you
know the way down-stairs, don't you? Let's go."
"We must dress first," answered Laura.
Beth stamped her foot. "I'm not going to wait to dress. Besides, I
don't know where my things are. Oh, why didn't I mind mamma and put
them away carefully. Now they'll burn."
The more prudent Laura gathered up her clothes from a chair where she
had laid them, and led the way into the hall. They found it pitch dark
there.
Suddenly Laura stopped. "Oh, Beth, I can't let it burn."
"What will burn, Laura?"
"My beautiful new Easter hat. I must go for it."
"Laura Corner, you _must not_ go back for it. We ourselves might burn
while you were getting it."
But Laura had thrust her clothes into Beth's unwilling arms, and was
off like a flash to rescue her Easter hat. Beth did not know the way
sufficiently well to go on by herself, and so, trembling, she awaited
Laura's return.
[Illustration: Laura Corner in the treasured Easter hat.]
Laura was soon back, pressing the precious hat close to her side. Such
treatment was likely to do it great damage, but, in her excitement,
Laura did not stop to think of this.
Down-stairs a light shone in the parlor. Guided by its friendly beams,
Laura led the way there. No one was within. The house was deserted
but for the two trembling girls.
"Beth, God alone can help us," and Laura's face was almost as white as
the Easter hat under her arm.
Beth's lip trembled. "He's so far away. I wish mamma were here."
"Beth, God will hear us if we pray. Get down on your knees beside me."
"I'd rather run out into the street," answered Beth, who always
believed in action rather than words.
"You're a wicked little girl. My mamma says I must never go on the
street without some grown-up person. So get on your knees this minute."
Beth meekly obeyed. Laura folded her hands. Beth imitated her.
"Begin," said Laura.
"Begin what?" and Beth's eyes were wide open from surprise; yes, and
from fear, too.
"Why, to pray, of course."
"I'm not going to. You're the one who wanted to. Why don't you begin
yourself?"
"I can't. I'm too scared. Go on, Beth, and pray."
"I--I don't know what to say. Would 'Now I lay me down to sleep,' do?"
"No, silly. We're not laying us down to sleep. It's a fire. God's to
keep us from burning to death. So pray."
"I--I'm not going to," and Beth jumped to her feet.
Laura began crying: "You're very wicked, Beth Davenport, and we'll burn
to death, and it'll all be your fault."
"We won't burn if you'll come with me into the street. I'm going
anyway."
"Why, children, what are you doing here?" asked Mrs. Corner, coming
into the parlor.
Laura rushed to her mamma and threw her arms around her neck.
"Oh, mamma, we thought you'd forgotten us, and would let us burn to
death."
"Why, you poor little things. Of course, I hadn't forgotten you. Our
house is not on fire. The fire is next door. We've been over there
helping, and we thought we would not waken you unless there was danger
of this house burning. They're getting the flames under control.
Charlie has been working with wet blankets to keep our roof from
catching. Now, children, you must go back to bed. Come, I'll go up
with you."
When the two were again in bed and alone, Beth said;
"Laura, you ought to want to make up for calling me wicked."
"I guess you aren't wicked, after all, for God didn't let us burn. I'm
sorry, Beth."
The children kissed. Then, worn out by the thrilling events of the
night, slumber claimed them and held them captive until late next day.