bark; but he didn’t dare for fear of scaring the beautiful little man
who was now approaching the funny twisted handle. ‘Hurry and hop down,
O lovely lady, and run to your place, for here he comes!’
“So the lovely lady hopped down, and hurried with all her might to her
old place on the front of the China Mug, crowding her rose garland into
the basket hanging on her arm as she went along. And she had just got
there, and was picking up her gown to make a little courtesy, when the
beautiful little man came up and stood quite still.
“‘I will make you a bow all the rest of my life,’ he said, bowing away
as fast as he could.
“‘And I will courtesy to you as long as I live,’ she said, dropping him
a most beautiful one. And so as there was nothing else for him to do,
Sir Bow-wow ran to his end of the shelf, and stood up as stiff as ever.
And that’s the way we found them all the next morning when we got up
and went into the kitchen,” said Polly.
XXIV.
BROWN BETTY.
Mrs. Whitney sat in her room, her soft hair floating over her
dressing-gown, with little Dick in her arms, just as he had run wailing
with his story of distress.
“My throat isn’t sore,” he screamed between his tears; “and I want to
go out with the other boys.”
Polly, running along the hall, with a new book that Jasper had loaned
her tucked under her arm, a happy half-hour dancing before her eyes,
heard him, and stopped suddenly, then she turned back, and put her
brown head in the doorway.
“Oh, dear!” and she came close to Mrs. Whitney’s chair.
“I’m not sick,--and I want to go out with the boys,” roared Dick, worse
than ever. “I want to go out--I want to go out.”
“I suppose that’s just what Brown Betty cried,” said Polly, saying the
first thing that popped into her head of all the stories she used to
tell in The Little Brown House.
“Eh?” Little Dick lifted his head from the nest where he had burrowed
under his mother’s soft hair, and regarded her closely through his
tears.
Polly knelt down by Mrs. Whitney’s side, and turned her back on
Jasper’s new book, where she laid it on the floor. “You don’t know how
Brown Betty wanted to get out,” she said; “but she couldn’t do it, not
a bit of it.”
“Why not?” demanded Dick suddenly, and edging along on his mother’s lap
to look into Polly’s eyes. “Why couldn’t she get out, Polly?”
“Why, because she fell in,” said Polly, shaking her brown head sadly,
“and there was no one to help her out, no matter how much she cried; so
she made up her mind not to cry at all.”
“Didn’t she cry a teenty, wee bit?” asked little Dick, trying to wipe
away the drops on his cheeks with his chubby hand.
“Not a single bit of a tear,” said Polly decidedly; “what was the use?
it wouldn’t help her to get out. You see, it was just this way. She was
hurrying down the garden path, just as fast as her feet would carry
her, and she had a big bundle in her mouth”--
“In her mouth?” repeated little Dick in astonishment; and, slipping
from his mother’s lap, he cuddled on the floor beside Polly, and folded
his small hands.
“Yes, in her mouth,” said Polly merrily. “Oh! didn’t I tell you? Brown
Betty was a dear little bug, just as brown as could be; and the bundle
in her mouth was a piece of a dead fly she was taking home for her
children’s dinner.”
“Oh!” said Dick; “tell me, Polly.”
Mrs. Whitney slipped out of her chair to finish her dressing, first
pausing to pat Polly’s brown hair.
“So you see poor Brown Betty couldn’t look very well where she was
going; for the piece of a dead fly stuck out in front of her eyes
so far, that the first thing she knew, down she went--down, down,
down,--and she never stopped till she stood in the midst of hundreds
and hundreds of black creatures.”
“O Polly!” exclaimed little Dick in dismay.
“Yes,” said Polly; “and there she was, and she couldn’t speak for a
minute, for she had come so far and so fast, that it was impossible for
her to catch her breath, so the black creatures ran around and around
her in great glee, and every one of them said: ‘How very nice and fat
you are; now we’ll eat you up.’”
“O Polly!” cried little Dick again, and snuggling up closer; “didn’t
she cry then.”
“No,” said Polly, “she didn’t, because you see it wouldn’t have done
any good,--she’d got to think up things, how to get out, and all that,
you know, so there wasn’t any time to cry. And she spoke up just as
soon as she could catch her breath, ‘Oh, what a wonderful place is
this!’ and she rolled her little bits of eyes all around; and the ants
said”--
“Oh! were the hundreds of black creatures ants?” asked little Dick.
“Yes, indeed; oh! didn’t I tell you?” cried Polly, all in one breath;
“they were dear little black ants, and the deep, deep place that Brown
Betty tumbled into when she was carrying home the piece of a dead fly,
was their house. And when she said ‘Oh, what a wonderful place is
this!’ they were all very much pleased, and they ran around and around
her faster than ever, all talking together, and they said, ‘She seems
to be very wise,--it’s a pity to eat her just now. We will wait and let
her tell us things first.’
“And Brown Betty heard them say that as they were all running around
and around her; for you see when she made up her mind not to cry, she
thought she would better keep her ears open as well as her eyes, and
find out some way to escape.”
“What’s escape?” interrupted little Dick.
“Oh! to get out, so they wouldn’t eat her up!” said Polly; “well, and
so when she heard them say that, why, Brown Betty thought of something
else that would give her more time to think up things, how to get away.
And she said, ‘Oh! if I might only see some of the splendid places
you’ve got in your house, I should be so happy;’ for you see she had
heard how the ants build great, long halls and rooms, and ever so many
nooks and crannies. And the big ant that made them all mind everything
she said, heard her say it, because Brown Betty called it as out loud
as she could; and so the big ant spoke up, and ordered a company of a
hundred ants to get into line.”
“O Polly, a hundred ants!” cried little Dick with an absorbed face.
[Illustration: “O Polly, a hundred ants!” cried little Dick with an
absorbed face.]
“Yes, indeed, that’s nothing,” said Polly; “sometimes they had a
thousand march off somewhere, wherever the big Queen Ant would tell
them to go. Well, these hundred ran right around Brown Betty, and got
her in the middle.
“‘Now, go and show her the long corridor,’ said the big Mother Ant.”
“You said she was the Queen Ant,” corrected Dick.
“Yes, so she was, and the Mother Ant too,” said Polly; “but I like that
best, so I’m going to call her so. Well”--
“Polly,” said little Dick hastily, “I very much wish you’d call her
Captain Ant.”
“Well, I will,” said Polly, bursting into a merry laugh, that made Mrs.
Whitney smile too, a smile that went right down into Polly’s heart, and
made her forget all about Jasper’s new book lying there on the floor.
“Now she’s Captain Ant; we mustn’t forget that, Dicky.”
“We mustn’t forget that,” repeated Dick, in great satisfaction. “Now go
on, Polly, do.”
“So the company of a hundred ants went off just as Captain Ant had told
them, to show Brown Betty the long corridor.”
“What’s a long cor--what is that word, Polly?”
“Corridor; oh! that’s a great long hall, ever and ever so long,” said
Polly; “and it was broad and splendid, and the walls were as smooth
as a board, and the top was just as smooth too, and out of it ran
different rooms, and nooks, and crannies, and funny little places.
So, when Brown Betty heard Captain Ant command them to show her the
long corridor, she began to set her busy little head to thinking that
perhaps she might steal away from them, and hide somewhere in one of
these queer little spots.”
“And did she?” cried little Dick eagerly.
“Oh, I can’t tell you now!” said Polly; “wait and see. Well, off they
went down the long corridor with the smooth dirt walls, and”--
“You said it was board,” corrected little Dick.
“Oh, no, Dicky!” said Polly, “I said it was as smooth as a board,
but they were all made of dirt,--dirt walls; and everything was all
polished off by the ants till it was straight, and high, and splendid.
Well, off they went.
“‘What a perfectly remarkable place,’ cried Brown Betty, rolling up
her little bits of eyes at everything as they marched her along in the
middle, which pleased them very much; so they let her drop behind the
procession once in a while to admire something or other.”
“Oh! now she is going to run away, I know,” said Dick in great
excitement.
“Oh, she can’t get away yet!” said Polly. “You wait and see,
Dicky. Just then, while she was hanging back from the rest of the
company,--for they were all talking together, as they ran around and
around, and saying how extremely wise she was, and what a pity it
was that they had got to eat her up, after they had shown her all
about,--she heard a little noise. You see, she was peering into a
little cranny.”
“What’s a cranny?” asked Dick abruptly.
“Oh! a little hide-away place in the wall,” said Polly. “Well, she was
peering in there, and wondering if she could slip in when the hundred
ants weren’t looking, when she heard this little noise.”
“What was it?” asked Dick, getting as close to Polly as he could.
“You’ll see. And then as she peered in, she saw another brown bug, just
like herself, only bigger, chained to the side of the wall, so she
couldn’t get away.”
“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Dick; “how big was the chain?”
“Oh! it wasn’t big at all,” said Polly; “how could it be, to fasten up
that wee brown bug? It was all made of the hairs of the black spiders
dropped in the garden, where the ant house was; and the ants had
twisted them together, and made chains to tie up their prisoners with.”
“Oh!” said Dicky, drawing a long breath. “And was she tied up tight?”
“Oh! just as tight,” said Polly; “the chain went all around her leg,
and over her neck, and there she was sobbing away as if her heart would
break.”
“What made her cry?” asked Dick. “Why didn’t she think up things, how
to get away, just like your brown bug, Polly?” and he drew himself up
with the determination to be like Brown Betty.
“Well, you see she didn’t,” said Polly, “that’s just the difference; so
there she was chained to the wall of that cranny.
“‘They’re waiting till I get fat enough,’ said this poor creature to
Brown Betty, ‘then they’ll eat me; I heard them say so.’
“Now, Brown Betty couldn’t act as if she heard anything you know, for
all those hundred ants would pounce on them both, and cut their heads
off, maybe; so she said, ‘Hush, and I’ll try to save you;’ then she
hurried off to the company. ‘Now show me something more wonderful
yet,’ she said.
“‘We’ll show her the Hall of Justice,’ said the ants one to another.”
“What is that, Polly?” asked little Dick.
“Oh, you’ll see! the ants are going to tell Brown Betty all about it;
then you’ll know. Well, so off they went; and by this time they thought
so much of Brown Betty’s wisdom, for they were all talking of it
together, that they got very careless about keeping her in the middle,
but they let her wander at the end of the procession, and stop when she
wanted to admire anything very much.”
[Illustration: Brown Betty and the ants.]
“Oh, now I know that she is going to run away!” exclaimed little Dick,
striking his hands together in great delight.
“And at last there they stood in the middle of the great Hall of
Justice. Brown Betty just blinked her eyes, she was so afraid she
should cry, when the ants all screamed out together, ‘We try our
prisoners here before we eat them up.’ But she pretended she didn’t
care; and she said, ‘What’s that big chair up there?’ pointing to the
end of the long room.
“‘That is not a chair,’ said the ants all together, ‘that is the
throne.’
“‘What’s a throne?’ asked Brown Betty, to gain time to think out
things by keeping them talking. Besides, she was trembling so with
fright, that her poor little knees knocked together, and she had to say
something or she would have dropped in a dead faint.
“‘Oh,--oh,--so wise a creature not to know what a throne is!’ exclaimed
all the ants together in astonishment; and they ran around and around
worse than ever, till poor Brown Betty’s head spun to see them go, they
made her so giddy.
“‘It’s where the Queen Ant sits to’”--
“You said you’d call her Captain Ant,” broke in Dick.
“Oh, yes, so I did!--well, Captain Ant,” corrected Polly. “‘Well, it’s
where the Captain sits,’ said the ants all together, still running
around and around, ‘to try the prisoners.’
“‘Oh!’ said Brown Betty, her poor knees knocking together worse than
ever. Then she managed to pick up courage to ask the first thing that
came into her head. ‘How does she try them?’
“One of the hundred ants ran out from the company, and close up to
Brown Betty. ‘She is so wise,’ he said to himself, ‘I want to show her
that I am wise too.’ So he hurried up to her side. ‘Do you see that
sword hanging up there?’ he whispered; and the other ninety-nine ants
were all talking together and running about so they didn’t hear him.
“‘Where?’ asked Brown Betty, peering up above the throne. ‘I see
nothing.’
“‘Of course,’ said the ant who wanted to show how wise he was; and he
laughed softly, he was so pleased that he could tell her something new.
‘You can’t see it till I tell you where it is, so I am wiser than you.
Well, when the Queen has that in her hand, she can do anything she
pleases,--it all comes to pass. It hangs just back of the throne, at
the top. Now, don’t you think I am wise?’
“Brown Betty’s heart gave a great jump. ‘Oh, sir!’ she cried, ‘what a
wonderful creature you are!’ which so delighted the ant, that he ran
round and round her sixty times without stopping, talking to himself
all the while; ‘She says I’m a wonderful creature.’
“All this time Brown Betty was thinking how she could get up into that
throne; and presently she said as loud as she could, ‘One of the most
wonderful places that ever I was in is this very spot. But I must sit
on that throne before I can say it is _the_ most wonderful place,’ she
added boldly, while her poor knees shook and knocked so together she
thought she should die.
“‘She must say it is _the_ most wonderful place she was ever in,’
declared the company of ants in consternation, ‘else Captain Ant will
have our heads off when we carry her back;’ and they ran round and
round her worse than ever, saying this over all the time.
“At last they all stopped and swarmed around her, keeping her in the
middle. ‘Will you say “This is _the_ most wonderful place I was ever
in,” if we let you get up in the throne?’ they cried at her.
“‘I will,’ promised Brown Betty as quick as a flash. So they opened
their ranks; and before she could think twice, there she was up in the
throne, and looking down into their faces. But how to get hold of the
sword, she didn’t know.”
“O Polly, do let her get that sword!” cried little Dick in great
distress. “Please show her how. Please hurry, Polly, and show her how
quick.”
“And there she was, looking down into their faces, and she knew she
must hurry and say the words she had promised, and then get down; and
she was at her wits’ end to know what to do.”
“Please hurry, and show her how quick,” begged little Dick, his knees
knocking together.
“‘What a wonderful top to that throne!’ cried Brown Betty; ‘I must see
that first;’ and as quickly as she said the words, up she ran with all
speed to the very tip of the throne spread over her head. The wise ant
who had told her of the sword, just then screamed out, ‘Hold her back!’
but it was too late; Brown Betty’s little bits of eyes were keen and
sharp; there was the sword, hanging before her; and in a second it was
in her mouth, and she was waving it over the hundred ants.
“‘Stop where you are!’ she screamed at them, ‘or I’ll cut your heads
off!’ and not a single ant moved.”
“She killed them all, she killed them!” piped Dicky in the most joyful
tone; and springing to his feet he danced all over the dressing-room,
singing, “Brown Betty killed them all!”
“Oh, no, she didn’t!” said Polly, as soon as she could make herself
heard.
“She didn’t kill them!” exclaimed little Dick, coming to a dead stop in
amazement.
“Oh, no! of course not,” said Polly; “Brown Betty wouldn’t do such a
cruel thing, if she could get away and help the other brown bug off
without hurting them. She just slipped down from the throne, waving her
sword at them, and telling them she would cut their heads off if they
stirred; but they couldn’t, you know; then she slammed the door of the
Hall of Justice tight to, and locked them all in.”
“That was worse,” said Dicky, coming up quite close to her.
“Oh! some of the other ants would come by and by, to look for them,”
said Polly comfortingly, “and let them out. So down the long corridor
she ran with the Captain’s sword in her mouth, till she reached the
cranny where the other brown bug was tied.
“‘Stop crying!’ she commanded; and with one flash of the sword, she
snipped the chain everywhere it was fastened. ‘Now come on;’ and she
dragged the prisoner out. And away they went, Brown Betty waving the
sword high; for she didn’t know when she would meet any ants, and she
must be ready to keep them off.
“‘You’ve been here longer than I,’ she cried to the other brown bug;
‘don’t you know some way out?’
“‘Let me stop and think,’ begged the other brown bug; ‘you hurry me so
I can’t think of anything.’ So Brown Betty pulled her into a little
cubby-hole, they were racing by, in the corridor, while she stood on
guard, still waving the Captain’s sword.
“‘I will give you till I can count ten,’ she said.
‘One--two--three--four--five--six--seven--eight’”--
“Oh, dear!” groaned little Dick.
“‘Nine--ten’--
“‘Straight ahead! turn to your right!’ screamed the other brown bug;
and out into the long corridor they stepped once more, and ran like
lightning; and then, after awhile, ‘Turn!’ she said; ‘I heard them say
that they had built a secret way;’ and there was a little narrow slit
of a way, down which they turned; and they turned, and they turned,
till finally after they had got through turning, all of a sudden out it
came into the green grass; and, don’t you think, right around the door,
only they didn’t see it, it was so covered with a clump of leaves, were
six little, wee, tiny brown bugs, all crying and screaming and rubbing
their eyes for their mammy, and there she was right in their midst.”
“O Polly! was it Brown Betty’s home she got to?” screamed little Dick,
throwing his arms around her, his cheeks aflame.
“Yes,” said Polly, “it truly was; and Brown Betty would never have
found it at all if she hadn’t gone back to save the other brown bug.”
“And what did she do with the Captain’s sword?” at last asked Dicky,
coming out of his entrancement.
“I don’t know,” said Polly; “but here come the boys, Dicky.”
XXV.
THE SILLY LITTLE BROOK.
“Please, Polly,” entreated Phronsie, pulling Polly’s gown gently.
“O Pet! there isn’t time,” said Polly hastily, “to tell you a story
now. Why, Mamsie will call us in a quarter of an hour.”
“Just the ‘Silly Little Brook,’” pleaded Phronsie, folding her hands.
“Why, you’ve heard that fifty thousand times,” said Polly; “oh,--oh!
don’t ask for that.” She gave a long yawn, and flew back to the table.
“Where is that pink embroidery silk Auntie gave me? Now I’ll try that
new stitch.”
“Here ’tis,” said Phronsie, getting down on the floor, and spying it
where it had trailed off on the table-cloth; and she quickly brought it
up in her hand.
“Oh, that’s good!” exclaimed Polly in great satisfaction, with one eye
on the French mantel clock. “Now, if I had to hunt for that tiresome
pink silk, the whole quarter of an hour would be gone; and I must try
this rosebud to show to Auntie Whitney.” She seized her embroidery
work, huddling up silks and thimble, and all, and ran to ensconce
herself in a cosey corner of the library sofa, humming softly to
herself the last piece of music Monsieur had given to her.
“I might have a _piece_ of the ‘Silly Little Brook,’” said Phronsie,
standing quite still by the table.
“What is it?” cried Polly, coming out from the trills and runs, to
stare at her. “Oh, that story! I forgot all about it, Phronsie. Yes,
indeed, you shall have it.” And a remorseful wave made her cheek rosy
red. “I’m a selfish little pig, Phronsie. Come over, and I’ll tell it
right away.”
“You’re not a little pig,” said Phronsie, hurrying over to the sofa to
tuck herself away in a blissful frame of mind close to Polly; “and I am
so glad you are going to tell it, and please begin right off, Polly,”
all in one breath.
“Yes, indeed, I will,” said Polly with a sorry little twinge for the
minutes lost. “Well, you know the Silly Little Brook was not our
Cherry Brook,” she began, well knowing that fact must usher in the
story.
“It was not our Cherry Brook,” repeated Phronsie distinctly, and
smoothing down her white apron, “because our Cherry Brook was a nice
brook, and didn’t do silly things.”
“That’s so,” assented Polly, wondering if she was making her rosebud
pink enough; “well, one day, quite early in the morning, when the sun
was peeping over the top of a high mountain”--
“Tell how he peeped over, please, Polly,” begged Phronsie, who dearly
loved to have Polly act out her stories.
So Polly laid down her rosebud, thimble, and all, in Phronsie’s lap,
and got up and told it over again, to Phronsie’s intense satisfaction;
then she hopped back to her embroidery work.
“And at the same time the Silly Little Brook awoke, and opened its eyes
to the sun and the world. ‘Oh! how do you do?’ said the Sun, laughing
as the Silly Little Brook blinked its eyes at him.
“‘Who are you?’ asked the Silly Little Brook; ‘I never saw you before.’
“‘Of course not,’ said the Sun, laughing worse than ever, ‘because you
have never been awake before. Come, now, it is time for you to get to
work; you’ve been a long time asleep. Look back of you.’
“The Silly Little Brook did just as the Sun told her, and looked back
of her. ‘I don’t see anything,’ she said, ‘except a black hole in the
ground.’
“‘Of course you don’t,’ said the Sun, ‘because that’s all there is to
see. You’ve just come out of that hole, where you’ve been asleep all
your life. Now look ahead!’
“The Sun said this so loud, and stared at her face so long, that the
Silly Little Brook began to feel quite uncomfortable; so she winked and
blinked and said nothing.
“‘Look ahead,’ commanded the Sun sharply. ‘Oh, you silly, stupid,
little thing!’ And this time she obeyed; and there was a tiny, wee,
little stream of clear, white water trickling away like a thread down
the mountain.”
“It was the Silly Little Brook,” cried Phronsie, clapping her hands in
glee, just as if she hadn’t heard the story time and again.
“Yes,” said Polly, bobbing her head, and setting in quick stitches,
“so it was. ‘Now hurry up!’ said the Sun; by this time he was very
fierce, for his face had been getting rounder and bigger every minute,
‘and set to work, for you have a great deal to do. Be a useful little
brook, and don’t stop on your way, and I shall be glad that you woke
up. Good-day!’ And the Silly Little Brook felt her feet give way before
her, and in a minute she was slipping and sliding down, down, the
mountain side.
“‘I’m not going to be sent down in this fashion,’ she grumbled as soon
as she could catch her breath, while she rested a bit in a hollow. ‘I
shall choose my way, and what I’ll do; and I’m not going to work all
the time either, and that cross old Sun needn’t think he can command me
to do it. I’m going to play as much as I want to.’ With that she rested
in the hollow all that day, and the next, and the next.”
Phronsie shook her yellow head mournfully, as one who knows a sorrowful
tale too well.
[Illustration: Phronsie shook her yellow head mournfully.]
“The first day,” said Polly, hurrying on, “the birds came to see the
Silly Little Brook; and they sang sweet songs over her head, and they
told her pretty stories, and they dipped their beaks in her clear
little pool of water in the hollow; and the Silly Little Brook said to
herself, ‘Oh, what a lovely time this is! How good it was for me that
I didn’t mind what the cross old Sun said to me when he told me not to
stop. Forsooth! I shall stop here as long as I want to.’”
“What does for--what is it, Polly,--mean?” asked Phronsie who always
asked this question at this particular stage of the story.
“Oh, it doesn’t mean anything!” said Polly carelessly.
“Then, why did she say it?” persisted Phronsie.
“Oh, because it sounded nice!” said Polly, twitching her pink silk
thread out to replace it with a green one to begin on the calyx;
“people have to say things sometimes that don’t mean anything--in a
story.”