 Section 1 of the Junior Classics, Volume 6, Old Fashioned Tales This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Jeffrey Wilson, Ames, Iowa. The Junior Classics, Volume 6, Old Fashioned Tales The Race for the Silver Skates by Mary Mapes Dodge The 20th of December came at last, bringing with it the perfection of winter weather. All over the level landscape lay the warm sunlight. It tried its power on lake, canal and river, but the ice flashed defiance and showed no sign of melting. The very weathercock stood still to enjoy the sight. This gave the windmills a holiday. Nearly all the past week they had been whirling briskly. Now, being rather out of breath, they rocked lazily in the clear still air. Catch a windmill working when the weathercocks have nothing to do. There was an end to grinding, crashing, and sawing for that day. It was a good thing for the millers near Brook. Long before noon they concluded to take in their sails and go to the race. Everybody would be there. Already the north side of the frozen Y was bordered with eager spectators. The news of the great skating match had traveled far and wide. Men, women and children in holiday attire were flocking toward the spot. Some wore furs and wintry cloaks or shawls, but many, consulting their feelings rather than the almanac, were dressed as for an October day. The sight selected for the race was a faultless plain of ice near Amsterdam on that great arm of the Zeruderzee, which Dutchmen, of course, must call the eye. The townspeople turned out in large numbers. Strangers in the city deemed it a fine chance to see what was to be seen. Many a peasant from the northward had wisely chosen the 20th as the day for the next city trading. It seemed that everybody, young and old, who had wheels, skates, or feet at command, had hastened to the scene. There were the gentry and their coaches dressed like Parisians fresh from the boulevards. Amsterdam children in charity uniforms. Girls from the Roman Catholic orphan house in sable gowns and white headbands. Boys from the burger asylum with their black tights and short-skirted harlequin coats. Footnote. This is not said in derision. Both the boys and girls of this institution wear garments quartered in red and black alternately. By making the dress thus conspicuous, the children are in a measure deterred from wrongdoing while going about the city. The burger orphan asylum affords a comfortable home to several hundred boys and girls. Holland is famous for its charitable institutions. End of footnote. Boys from the burger asylum with their black tights and short-skirted harlequin coats. There were old-fashioned gentlemen in cocked hats and velvet knee-bridges. Old-fashioned ladies, too, in stiff quilted skirts and bodices of dazzling brocade. These were accompanied by servants bearing foot stoves and cloaks. There were the peasant folk arrayed in every possible Dutch costume. Shy young rustics in brazen buckles. Simple village maidens concealing their flaxen hair under fillets of gold. Women whose long narrow aprons were stiff with embroidery. Women with short corkscrew curls hanging over their foreheads. Women with shaved heads and close-fitting caps. And women in striped skirts and windmill bonnets. Men in leather, in homespun, in velvet and broadcloth. Burgers in model European attire and burgers in short jackets, wide trousers and steeple-crowned hats. There were beautiful Friesland girls in wooden shoes and coarse petticoats, with solid gold crescents encircling their heads, finished at each temple with a golden rosette, and hung with lace a century old. Some wore necklaces, pendants and earrings of the purest gold. Many were content with gilt or even with brass, but it is not an uncommon thing for a Friesland woman to have all the family treasure in her headgear. More than one rustic lass displayed the value of 2,000 guilders upon her head that day. Scattered throughout the crowd were peasants from the island of Marken, with sabose, black stockings and the widest of britches. Also women from Marken, with short blue petticoats and black jackets gaily figured in front. They wore red sleeves, white aprons and a cap like a bishop's miter over their golden hair. The children often were as quaint and odd-looking as their elders. In short, one-third of the crowd seemed to have stepped bodily from a collection of Dutch paintings. Everywhere could be seen tall women and stumpy men, lively-faced girls and youths whose expression never changed from sunrise to sunset. There seemed to be at least one specimen from every known town in Holland. There were Utrecht water-bearers, Gouda cheese-makers, Delft pottery-men, Ski-dom distillers, Amsterdam diamond-cutters, Rotterdam merchants, dried-up herring-packers and two sleepy-eyed shepherds from Tessel. Every man of them had his pipe and tobacco pouch. Some carried what might be called the smoker's complete outfit, a pipe, tobacco, a pricker with which to clean the tube, a silver net for protecting the bowl and a box of the strongest of brimstone matches. A true Dutchman, you must remember, is rarely without his pipe on any possible occasion. He may, for a moment, neglect to breathe, but when the pipe is forgotten, he must be dying indeed. There were no such sad cases here. Wreaths of smoke were rising from every possible quarter. The more fantastic the smoke wreath, the more placid and solemn the smoker. Look at those boys and girls on stilts. That is a good idea. You can see over the heads of the tallest. It is strange to see those little bodies high in the air, carried about on mysterious legs. They have such a resolute look on their round faces, what wonder that nervous old gentleman, with tender feet, wince and tremble while the long-legged little monsters stride past them. You will read in certain books that the Dutch are quiet people. They know they are generally. But listen, did ever you hear such a din? All made up of human voices. No, the horses are helping somewhat, and the fiddles are squeaking pitifully. How it must pain fiddles to be tuned. But the mass of the sound comes from the great Volkshumana that belongs to a crowd. That queer little dwarf, what you're talking about with a heavy basket, winding in and out among the people, helps not a little. You can hear his shrill cry above all the other sounds. Peepen and tabak! Peepen and tabak! Another, his big brother, though evidently some years younger, is selling donuts and bonbons. He is calling on all pretty children, near to come quickly or the cakes will be gone. You know quite a number among the spectators. High up in Yonder Pavilion, erected upon the border of the ice, are some persons whom you have seen very lately. In the center is Madame Van Gleck. It is her birthday, you remember. She has the post of honor. There is Meniere Van Gleck, whose Mierscham has not really grown fast to his lips. It only appears so. There are grandfather and grandmother, whom you met at the St. Nicholas Fett. All the children are with them. It is so mild they have brought even the baby. The poor little creature is swaddled very much after the manner of an Egyptian mummy. But it can crow with delight, and when the band is playing, open and shut its animated mittens in perfect time to the music. Grandfather, with his pipe and spectacles and fur cap, makes quite a picture as he holds baby upon his knee. Perched high upon their canopied platforms, the party can see all that is going on. No wonder the ladies look complacently at the glassy ice. With a stove for a footstool, one might sit cosily beside the North Pole. There is a gentleman with them who somewhat resembles St. Nicholas as he appeared to the young Van Gleck on the 5th of December. But the saint had a flowing white beard, and this face is as smooth as a pippin. His saintship was larger around the body too, and between ourselves he had a pair of thimbles in his mouth, which this gentleman certainly has not. It cannot be St. Nicholas after all. Nearby, in the next pavilion, sit the Van Hopes, with their son and daughter, the Van Genes, from the Hague. Peter's sister is not one to forget her promises. She has brought bouquets of exquisite hot-house flowers for the winners. These pavilions, and there are others beside, have all been erected since daylight. That semi-circular one containing Meniere Korb's family is very pretty, and it proves that the Hollander's are quite skilled at tent-making. But I like the Van Gleck's best. The center one, striped red and white, and hung with evergreens. The one with the blue flags contains the musicians. Those pagoda-like affairs, decked with seashells and streamers of every possible hue, are the judges' stands, and those columns and flagstaffs upon the ice mark the limits of the race course. Two white columns twined with green, connected at the top by that long floating strip of drapery, form the starting point. Those flagstaffs, half a mile off, stand at each end of the boundary line, cut sufficiently deep to be distinct to the skaters, though not enough to trip them when they turn to come back to the starting point. The air is so clear, it seems scarcely possible that the columns and flagstaffs are so far apart. Of course the judges' stands are but little nearer together. Half a mile on the ice, when the atmosphere is like this, is but a short distance after all, especially when fenced with a living chain of spectators. The music has commenced. How melody seems to enjoy itself in the open air. The fiddles have forgotten their agony, and everything is harmonious. Until you look at the blue tent, it seems that the music springs from the sunshine, it is so boundless, so joyous. Only when you see the staid-faced musicians you realize the truth. Where are the racers? All assembled together near the white columns. It is a beautiful sight. Forty boys and girls in picturesque attire, darting with electric swiftness in and out among each other, or sailing in pairs and triplets, beckoning, chatting, whispering in the fullness of youthful glee. A few careful ones are soberly tightening their straps. Others, halting on one leg, with flushed, eager faces, suddenly cross the suspected skate over their knee, give it an examining shake, and dart off again. One and all are possessed with the spirit of motion. They cannot stand still. Their skates are a part of them, and every runner seems bewitched. Holland is the place for skaters after all. Where else can nearly every boy and girl perform feats on the ice that would attract a crowd if seen on Central Park? Look at Ben. I did not see him before. He is really astonishing the natives. No easy thing to do in the Netherlands. Save your strength, Ben. You will need it soon. Now other boys are trying. Ben is surpassed already. Such jumping, such poising, such spinning, such India rubber exploits generally. That boy with a red cap is the lion now. His back is a watchspring. His body is cork. No, it is iron, or it would snap at that. He is a bird, a top, a rabbit, a corkscrew, a sprite, a flashball, all in an instant. When you think he's erect, he is down, and when you think he is down, he is up. He drops his glove on the ice and runs a summer set as he picks it up. Without stopping, he snatches the cap from Jacob Pote's astonished head and claps it back again hindsight before. Lookers on hurrah and laugh. Foolish boy, it is arctic weather under your feet, but more than temperate overhead. Big drops already are rolling down your forehead. Superb skater as you are, you may lose the race. A French traveller, standing with a notebook in his hand, sees our English friend Ben by a donut of the dwarf's brother and eat it. Thereupon he writes in his notebook that the Dutch take enormous mouthfuls and universally are fond of potatoes boiled in molasses. There are some familiar faces near the white columns. Lambert, Ludwig, Peter, and Carl are all there, cool and in good skating order. Hans is not far off. Evidently he is going to join in the race, for his skates are on. The very pair that he sold for seven guilders. He had soon suspected that his fairy godmother was the mysterious friend who had bought them. This settled he had boldly charged her with the deed, and she, knowing well that all her little savings had been spent in the purchase, had not had the face to deny it. Through the fairy godmother too, he had been rendered amply able to buy them back again. Therefore Hans is to be in the race. Carl is more indignant than ever about it, but as three other peasant boys have entered, Hans is not alone. Twenty boys and twenty girls, the latter by this time are standing in front, braced for the start, for they are to have the first run. Hilda, Richie and Katrina are among them. Two or three bend hastily to give a last pull at their skate straps. It is pretty to see them stamp to be sure that all is firm. Hilda is speaking pleasantly to a graceful little creature in a red jacket and a new brown petticoat. Why, it is Gretel. What a difference those pretty shoes make and the skirt and the new cap. Annie Bowman is there too. Even Janzon Kulp's sister has been admitted, but Janzon himself has been voted out by the directors because he killed the stork and only last summer was caught in the act of robbing a bird's nest, a legal offence in Holland. This Janzon Kulp you see was, there I cannot tell the story just now, the race is about to commence. Twenty girls are formed in a line, the music has ceased. A man whom we shall call the crier stands between the columns and the first judges stand. He reads the rules in a loud voice. The girls and boys are to race in turn until one girl and one boy has beaten twice. They are to start in a line from the united columns, skate to the flagstaff line, turn and then come back to the starting point, thus making a mile at each run. A flag is waved from the judges stand. Madame Van Gleck rises in her pavilion. She leans forward with a white handkerchief in her hand. When she drops it, a bugler is to give the signal for them to start. The handkerchief is fluttering to the ground. Hark, they are off. No, back again. Their line was not true in passing the judges stand. The signal is repeated. Off again. No mistake this time. Whew, how fast they go. The multitude is quiet for an instant, absorbed in eager, breathless watching. Cheers spring up along the line of spectators. Huzzah! Five girls are ahead. Who comes flying back from the boundary mark? We cannot tell. Something red, that is all. There is a blue spot flitting near it and a dash of yellow nearer still. Spectators at this end of the line strain their eyes and wish they had taken their post nearer the flagstaff. The wave of cheers is coming back again. Now we can see. Katrina is ahead. She passes the Van Hop pavilion. The next is Madame Van Gleck's. That leaning figure gazing from it is a magnet. Hilda shoots past Katrina waving her hand to her mother as she passes. Two others are close now whizzing on like arrows. What is that flash of red and gray? Hurrah! It is Gretel. She too waves her hand but toward no gay pavilion. The crowd is cheering but she hears only her father's voice. Well done, little Gretel. Soon Katrina, with a quick merry laugh, shoots past Hilda. The girl in yellow is gaining now. She passes them all, all except Gretel. The judges lean forward without seeming to lift their eyes from their watches. Cheer after cheer fills the air. The very columns seem rocking. Gretel has passed them. She has won. Gretel, brinker, one mile, shouts the crier. The judges nod. They write something upon a tablet which each holds in his hand. While the girls are resting, some crowding eagerly around our frightened little Gretel, some standing aside in high disdain, the boys form in line. Menir Van Gleck drops the handkerchief this time. The buglers give a vigorous blast. The boys have started. Halfway already. Did ever you see the like? Three hundred legs flashing by in an instant. But there are only twenty boys. No matter. There were hundreds of legs, I am sure. Where are they now? There is such a noise one gets bewildered. What are the people laughing at? Oh, at that fat boy in the rear. See him go. See him. He'll be down in an instant. No, he won't. I wonder if he knows he is all alone. The other boys are nearly at the boundary line. Yes, he knows it. He stops. He wipes his hot face. He takes off his cap and looks about him. Better to give up with a good grace. He has made a hundred friends by that hearty, astonished laugh. Good Jacob Pote. The fine fellow is already among the spectators, gazing as eagerly as the rest. A cloud of feathery ice flies from the heels of the skaters as they bring to and turn at the flagstaffs. Something black is coming now, one of the boys. It is all we know. He has touched the Vox Humana stop of the crowd. It fairly roars. Now they come nearer. We can see the red cap. There's Ben. There's Peter. There's Hans. Hans is ahead. Young Madame van Gend almost crushes the flowers in her hand. She had been quite sure that Peter would be first. Carl Schummel is next, then Ben, and the youth with the red cap. The others are pressing close. A tall figure darts from among them. He passes the red cap. He passes Ben, then Carl. Now it is an even race between him and Hans. Madame van Gend catches her breath. It is Peter. He is ahead. Hans shoots past him. Hilda's eyes fill with tears. Peter must beat. Annie's eyes flash proudly. Gretel gazes with clasped hands. Four strokes more will take her brother to the columns. He is there. Yes, but so was Young Schummel just a second before. At the last instant Carl, gathering his powers, had whizzed between them and passed to the goal. Carl Schummel, one mile, shouts the crier. Soon Madame van Gleck rises again. The falling handkerchief starts the bugle, and the bugle, using its voice as a bow string, shoots off twenty girls like so many arrows. It is a beautiful sight, but one has not long to look. Before we can fairly distinguish them, they are far in the distance. This time they are close upon one another. It is hard to say as they come speeding back from the flagstaff, which will reach the columns first. There are new faces among the foremost. Eager glowing faces, unnoticed before. Katrina is there, and Hilda, but Gretel and Richie are in the rear. Gretel is wavering, but when Richie passes her, she starts forward afresh. Now they are nearly beside Katrina. Hilda is still in advance. She is almost home. She has not faltered since that bugle note sent her flying, like an arrow still she is speeding toward the goal. Cheer after cheer rises in the air. Peter is silent, but his eyes shine like stars. Huzzah! Huzzah! The crier's voice is heard again. Hilda van Gleck, one mile. A loud murmur of approval runs through the crowd, catching the music in its course, till all seems one sound with a glad rhythmic throbbing in its depths, when the flag waves all is still. Once more the bugle blows a terrific blast. It sends off the boys like chaff before the wind. Dark chaff, I admit, and in big pieces. It is whisked around at the flagstaff, driven faster yet by the cheers and shouts along the line. We begin to see what is coming. There are three boys in advance this time, and all abreast, Hans, Peter, and Lambert. Carl soon breaks the ranks rushing through with a whiff. Fly, Hans, fly, Peter, don't let Carl beat again. Carl the bitter, Carl the insolent. Van Monen is flagging, but you are as strong as ever. Hans and Peter, Peter and Hans, which is foremost? We love them both. We scarcely care which is the fleeter. Hilda, Annie, and Gretel, seated upon the long crimson bench, can remain quiet no longer. They spring to their feet, so different and yet one in eagerness. Hilda instantly receipts herself. None shall know how interested she is. None shall know how anxious, how filled with one hope. Shut your eyes then, Hilda. Hide your face rippling with joy. Peter has beaten. Peter van Holp, one mile, calls the crier. The same buzz of excitement as before, while the judges take notes. The same throbbing of music through the din, but something is different. A little crowd presses close about some object near the column. Carl has fallen. He is not hurt, though somewhat stunned. If he were less sullen, he would find more sympathy in these warm young hearts. As it is, they forget him as soon as he is fairly on his feet again. The girls are to skate their third mile. How resolute the little maidens look as they stand in a line. Some are solemn with a sense of responsibility. Some wear a smile half bashful, half provoked. But one air of determination pervades them all. This third mile may decide the race. Still, if neither Gretel nor Hilda win, there is yet a chance among the rest for the silver skates. Each girl feels sure that this time she will accomplish the distance in one half the time. How they stamp to try their runners. How nervously they examine each strap. How erect they stand at last. Every eye upon Madame Van Gleck. The bugle thrills through them again. With quivering eagerness they spring forward, bending but in perfect balance. Each flashing stroke seems longer than the last. Now they are skimming off in the distance. Again the eager straining of eyes. Again the shouts and cheering. Again the thrill of excitement. As, after a few moments, four or five in advance of the rest come speeding back, nearer, nearer to the white columns. Who is first? Not Richie, Katrina, Annie nor Hilda. Nor the girl in yellow. But Gretel. Gretel, the fleetest sprite of a girl that ever skated. She was but playing in the earlier race. Now she is an earnest, or rather, something within her has determined to win. That lithe little form makes no effort. But it cannot stop, not until the goal is passed. In vain the crier lifts his voice. He cannot be heard. He has no news to tell. It is already ringing through the crowd. Gretel has won the silver skates. Like a bird she has flown over the ice. Like a bird she looks about her in a timid, startled way. She longs to dart to the sheltered nook where her father and mother stand. But hands is beside her. The girls are crowding round. Hilda's kind, joyous voice breathes in her ear. From that hour none will despise her. Goose girl or not, Gretel stands acknowledged queen of the skaters. With natural pride, Hans turns to see if Peter van Holp is witnessing his sister's triumph. Peter is not looking toward them at all. He is kneeling, bending his troubled face low and working hastily at his skates trap. Hans is beside him at once. Are you in trouble, minneur? Ah, Hans, that you? Yes, my fun is over. I tried to tighten my strap to make a new hole, and this botheration of a knife has cut it nearly into. Minneur! said Hans at the same time pulling off a skate. You must use my strap. Not I, indeed, Hans Brinker, cried Peter, looking up. Though I thank you warmly. Go to your post, my friend. The bugle will sound in a minute. Minneur! pleaded Hans in a husky voice. You have called me your friend. Take this strap quick. There is not an instant to lose. I shall not skate this time. Indeed, I am out of practice. Minneur, you must take it. And Hans, blind and deaf to any remonstrance, slipped his strap into Peter's skate and implored him to put it on. Come, Peter! cried Lambert from the line. We are waiting for you. For Madame's sake, pleaded Hans, be quick. She is motioning to you to join the racers. There the skate is almost on. Quick, Minneur, fasten it. I could not possibly win. The race lies between Master Schummel and yourself. You are a noble fellow, Hans, cried Peter, yielding at last. He sprang to his post just as the white handkerchief fell to the ground. The bugle sends forth its blast, loud, clear and ringing. Off go the boys. Minneur! cried a tough old fellow from Delft. They beat everything, these Amsterdam youngsters. See them. See them, indeed. They are winged mercuries, every one of them. What mad errand are they on? Ah, I know. They are hunting Peter van Hope. He is some fleet-footed runaway from Olympus. Mercury and his troop of winged cousins are in full chase. They will catch him. Now Carl is the runaway. The pursuit grows furious. Ben is foremost. The chase turns in a cloud of mist. It is coming this way. Who is hunted now? Mercury himself. It is Peter, Peter van Hope. Fly, Peter, Hans is watching you. He is sending all his fleetness, all his strength into your feet. Your mother and sister are pale with eagerness. Hilda is trembling and dare not look up. Fly, Peter. The crowd has not gone deranged. It is only cheering. The pursuers are close upon you. Touch the white column. It beckons. It is reeling before you it. Huzzah! Huzzah! Peter has won the silver skates. Peter van Hope shouted the crier. But who heard him? Peter van Hope shouted a hundred voices. For he was the favorite boy of the place. Huzzah! Huzzah! Now the music was resolved to be heard. It struck up a lively air, then a tremendous march. The spectators, thinking something new was about to happen, deigned to listen and to look. The racers formed in single file. Peter, being tallest, stood first. Gretel, the smallest of all, took her place at the end. Hans, who had borrowed a strap from the cake boy, was near the head. Three gaily twined arches were placed at intervals upon the river, facing the Van Gleck pavilion. Skating slowly and in perfect time to the music, the boys and girls moved forward, led on by Peter. It was beautiful to see the bright procession glide along like a living creature. It curved and doubled, and drew its graceful length in and out among the arches. Whichever way Peter the head went, the body was sure to follow. Sometimes it steered direct for the center arch. Then, as if seized with a new impulse, turned away and curled itself about the first one. Then unwound slowly and bending low, with quick snake-like curvings, crossed the river, passing at length through the farthest arch. When the music was slow, the procession seemed to crawl like a thing afraid. It grew livelier, and the creature darted forward with a spring. Gliding rapidly among the arches, in and out, curling, twisting, turning, never losing form, until at the shrill call of the bugle rising above the music, it suddenly resolved itself into boys and girls standing in double semicircle before Madame Van Gleck's pavilion. Peter and Gretel stand in the center, in advance of the others. Madame Van Gleck rises majestically. Gretel trembles but feels that she must look at the beautiful lady. She cannot hear what is said, there is such a buzzing all around her. She is thinking that she ought to try and make a curtsy, such as her mother makes to the maester, when suddenly something so dazzling is placed in her hand that she gives a cry of joy. Then she ventures to look about her. Peter too has something in his hands. Oh, oh, how splendid! she cries, and oh, how splendid! is echoed as far as people can see. Meantime the silver skates flash in the sunshine, throwing dashes of light upon these two happy faces. Mevro van Gend sends a little messenger with her bouquets, one for Hilda, one for Carl, and others for Peter and Gretel. At sight of the flowers, the queen of the skaters becomes uncontrollable. With a bright stare of gratitude, she gathers skates and bouquets in her apron, hugs them to her bosom, and darts off to search for her father and mother in the scattering crowd. End of Section 1. Recording by Jeffrey Wilson, Ames, Iowa. Old Fashioned Tales Nellie's Hospital by Louisa M. Elcott Nellie sat beside her mother picking lint, but while her fingers flew, her eyes often looked wistfully out into the meadow, golden with buttercups and bright with sunshine. Presently she said, rather bashfully, but very earnestly, Mama, I want to tell you a little plan I've made, if you'll please not laugh. I think I can safely promise that, my dear, said her mother, putting down her work, that she might listen quite respectfully. Nellie looked pleased and went on confidingly, since Brother Will came home with his lame foot. And I've helped you tend him. I've heard a great deal about hospitals and liked it very much. Today I said I wanted to go and be a nurse, like Aunt Mercy, but Will laughed, and told me I'd better begin by nursing sick birds and butterflies and pussies before I tried to take care of men. I did not like to be made fun of, but I've been thinking that it would be very pleasant to have a little hospital all my own. And be a nurse in it, because if I took pains, so many pretty creatures might be made well, perhaps. Could I, Mama? Her mother wanted to smile at the idea, but did not. For Nellie looked up with her heart and eyes so full of tender compassion, both for the unknown men for whom her little hands had done their best, and for the smaller sufferers near her home, that she stroked the shining head and answered readily, Yes, Nellie, it will be a proper charity for such a young Samaritan, and you may learn much if you are an earnest. You must study how to feed and nurse your little patients, else your pity will do no good, and your hospital become a prison. I will help you, and Tony shall be your surgeon. Oh, Mama, how good you always are to me. Indeed, I am in truly earnest. I will learn, I will be kind, and may I go now and begin? You may, but tell me first where you will have your hospital. In my room, Mama, it is so snug and shiny, and I never should forget it there, said Nellie. You must not forget it anywhere. I think that plan will not do. How would you like to find caterpillars walking in your bed to hear sick pussies mewing in the night, to have beetles clinging to your clothes, or see mice, bugs, and birds tumbling downstairs whenever the door was open? said her mother. Nellie laughed at that thought a minute, then clapped her hands and cried, let us have the old summer house. My doves only used the upper part, and it would be so like Frank in the storybook. Please say yes again, Mama. Her mother did say yes, and snatching up her hat, Nellie ran to find Tony, the gardener's son, a pleasant lad of twelve, who was Nellie's favorite playmate. Tony pronounced the plan a jolly one, and, leaving his work, followed his young mistress to the summer house, for she could not wait one minute. What must we do first, she asked, as they stood looking in at the dim, dusty room, full of garden tools, bags of seeds, old flower pots, and watering cans, clear out the rubbish, miss, answered Tony. Here it goes, then. And Nellie began bundling everything out in such haste that she broke two flower pots, scattered all the squash seeds, and brought a pile of rakes and holes clattering down upon her ears. Just wait a bit, and let me take the lead, miss. You hand me things. I'll pile them in the barrel and wheel them off to the barn. Then it will save time and be finished up tidy. Nellie did as he advised, and very soon nothing but dust remained. What next, she asked, not knowing in the least. I'll sweep up while you see a polly can come and scrub the room out. It ought to be done before you stay here, let alone the patients. So it had, said Nellie, looking very wise all of a sudden, will says the words. That means the rooms, Tony, are scrubbed every day or two and kept very clean and well-venty. Something, I can't say it. Having plenty of air come in, I can clean windows while polly mobs, and then we shall soon be done. Away she ran, feeling very busy and important. Polly came, and very soon the room looked like another place. The four lattice windows were set wide open, so the sunshine came dancing through the vines that grew outside, and Curious Roses peeped in to see what frolic was afoot. The walls shone white again, for not a spider dared to stay. The wide seed, which encircled the room, was deslust now. The floor as nice as willing hands could make it, and the south wind blew away all musty odours with its fragrant breath. How fine it looks! cried Nellie, dancing on the doorstep. Lest a footprint should mar the still damp floor. I'd almost like to fall sick for the sake of staying here, said Tony, admiringly. What sort of beds are you going to have, Miss? I suppose it won't do to put butterflies and toads and worms into beds like the real soldiers, where Will was, and certainly looking anxious. Tony could hardly help shouting at the idea, but rather than trouble his little mistress, he said very soberly, I'm afraid they wouldn't lay easy, not being used to it. Tucking up a butterfly would about kill him. The worms would be apt to get lost among the bed clothes, and the toads would tumble out the first thing. I shall have to ask Mama about it. What will you do while I'm gone, said Nellie, unwilling that a moment should be lost. I'll make frames for nettings to the windows, else the devs will come in and eat up the sick people. I think they will know that it is a hospital, and be too kind to hurt or frighten their neighbors, began Nellie, but as she spoke, a plump white dev walked in, looked about with its red-winged eyes, and quietly packed up a tiny bug that had just ventured out from the crack where it had taken refuge when the deluge came. Yes, we must have the nettings. I'll ask Mama for some lace, said Nellie, when she saw that, and, taking her pet dev on her shoulder, told it about her hospital as she went toward the house for, loving all little creatures as she did, it grieved her to have any harm befall even the least or plainness of them. She had a sweet child fancy that her plain-mates understood her language as she did theirs, and that birds, flowers, animals, and insects felt for her the same affection which she felt for them. Love always makes friends, and nothing seemed to fear the gentle child, but welcomed her like a little son who shone a like on all, and never suffered any clips. She was gone some time, and when she came back her mind was full of new plans, one hand full of brushes, the other full of books, while over her head floated the lace, and a bright green ribbon hung across her arm. Mama says that the best beds will be little baskets, boxes, cages, and any sort of thing that suits the patients. For each will need different care and food and medicine. I have not baskets enough, so as I cannot have pretty white beds, I am going to braid pretty green nests for my patients, and while I do it, Mama thought you'd read to me the pages she has marked so that we may begin right, yes, miss, I like that, but what is the ribbon for? asked Tony. Oh, that's for you. Will says that, for her to be an army surgeon, you must have a green band on your arm. So I got this to tie on when we play hospital. Tony let her decorate the sleeve of his grey jacket, and when the nettings were done, the welcome books were opened and enjoyed. It was a happy time sitting in the sunshine with leaves pleasantly astir all about them, devs cooing overhead, and flowers sweetly gossiping together through the summer afternoon. Nellie wove her smooth green rushes, Tony poured over his pages, and both found something better than fairy legends in the family histories of insects, birds, and beasts. All manner of wonders appeared, and were explained to them, till Nellie felt as if a new world had been given her so full of beauty, interest, and pleasure that she never could be tired of studying it. Many of these things were not strange to Tony because, born among plants, he had grown up with them as if they were brothers and sisters. And the sturdy, brown-faced boy had learned many lessons which no poet or philosopher could have taught him, unless he had become as childlike as himself and studied from the same great book. When the baskets were done, the marked pages all read, and the son began to draw his rosy curtains around him before smiling. Good night. Nellie ranged the green beds around the room. Tony put in the screens, and the hospital was ready. The little nurse was so excited that she could hardly eat her supper, and directly afterwards ran up to tell Will how well she had succeeded with the first part of her enterprise. Now Brother Will was a brave young officer who had fought stoutly and done his duty like a man. But when lying weak and wounded at home, the cheerful courage which had led him safely through many dangers seemed to have deserted him, and he was often gloomy, sad or fretful because he longed to be at his post again, and time passed very slowly. This troubled his mother and made Nellie wonder why he found lying in a pleasant room so much harder than fighting battles or making weary marches. Anything that interested and amused him was very welcome, and when Nellie, climbing on the arm of his sofa, told her plans, mishaps and successes, he laughed out more heartily than he had done for many a day, and his thin face began to twinkle with fun as it used to do so long ago. That pleased Nellie, and she chatted like any affectionate little magpie till Will was really interested for when one is ill, small things amuse. Do you expect your patients to come to you, Nellie? He asked, No, I shall go and look for them. I often see poor things suffering in the garden and the wood, and always feel as if they ought to be taken care of, as people are. You won't like to carry insane bugs, lame toads, and convulsive kittens in your hands, and they would not stay on a stretcher if you had one. You should have an ambulance and be a branch of the Sanitary Commission, said Will. Nellie had often heard the words but did not quite understand what they meant, so Will told her of that great, never-failing charity to which thousands owe their lives. And the child listened with lips apart, eyes often full, and so much love and admiration in her heart that she could find no words in which to tell it. When her brother paused, she said earnestly, Yes, I will be a sanitary. This little cart of mine shall be my ambulance, and I'll never let my water barrels go empty, never drive too fast, or be rough with my poor passengers, like some of the men you tell me about. Does this look like an ambulance? Will? Not a bit, but it shall. If you and Mama like to help me, I want four long bits of cane, a square of white cloth, some pieces of thin wood, and the gum pot, said Will, sitting up to examine the little cart, feeling like a boy again as he took out his knife and began to whittle. Upstairs and downstairs ran Nelly till all necessary materials were collected, and almost breathlessly she watched her brother arch the canes over the cart, cover them with the cloth, and fit an upper shelf of small compartments, each lined with cotton wool to serve as beds for wounded insects, lest they should hurt one another or jostle out. The lower part was left free for any larger creatures which Nelly might find. Among her toys she had a tiny cask which only needed a peg to be watertight. This was filled and fitted in before, because, as the small sufferers needed no seats, there was no place for it behind, and, as Nelly was both horse and driver, it was more convenient in front. On each side of it stood a box of stores, in one were minute rollers, as bandages are called. A few bottles, not yet filled, and a wee doll's jar of cold cream, because Nelly could not feel that her outfit was complete without a medicine chest. The other box was full of crumbs, bits of sugar, bird seed, and grains of wheat and corn. Lest any famished stranger should die for want of food before she got it home, then Mama painted U.S. San Com in bright letters on the cover, and Nelly received her charitable plaything with a long sigh of satisfaction. Nine o'clock already, bless me, what a short evening this has been, exclaimed Will, as Nelly came to give him her good-night kiss. And such a happy one, she answered, Thank you very, very much, dear Will, I only wish my little ambulance was big enough for you to go in. I'd so like to give you the first ride. Nothing I should like better if it were possible, though I've a prejudice against ambulances in general. But as I cannot ride, I'll try and hop out to your hospital tomorrow and see how you get on. Which was a great deal for Captain Will to say, because he had been too listless to leave his sofa for several days. That promise sent Nelly happily away to bed, only stopping to pop her head out of the window to see if it was likely to be a fair day tomorrow, and to tell Tony about the new plan as he passed below. Where shall you go to look for your first load of sick folks? Miss, he asked, all round the garden first, then through the grove, and home across the brook. Do you think I can find any patients so? Said Nelly, I know you will. Good night, Miss. And Tony walked away with a merry look on his face. That Nelly could not have understood if she had seen it. Up rose the sun bright and early, and up rose Nurse Nelly, almost as early and as bright. Breakfast was taken in a great hurry, and before the dew was off the grass, this branch of the SC was all a stir. Papa, Mama, Big Brother, and Baby Sister, men and maids all looked out to see the funny little ambulance depart, and nowhere in all the summer fields was there a happier child than Nelly. As she went, smiling down the garden path, where tall flowers kissed her as she passed, and every blithe bird seemed singing a good speed. How I wonder what I shall find first, she thought, looking sharply on all sides as she went, crickets chirped, grasshoppers leaped, ants worked busily at their subterranean houses, spider spun shining webs from twig to twig, bees were coming for their bags of gold, and butterflies had just begun their holiday. A large white one alighted on the top of the ambulance, walked over the inscription as if spelling it letter by letter, then floated away from flower to flower, like one carrying the good news far and wide. Now everyone will know about the hospital, and they're glad to see me coming, thought Nelly, and indeed it seems so. But just then, a blackbird, sitting on the garden wall, burst out with a song full of musical joy. Nelly's kitten came running after to stare at the wagon and rub her soft side against it. A bright eyed toad looked out from his cool bower among the lily leaves, and at that minute Nelly found her first patient. In one of the dewy cobwebs hanging from a shrug, nearby set a fat, black, and yellow spider, watching a fly whose delicate wings were just caught in the net. The poor fly buzzed pitifully, and struggled so hard that the whole web shook, but the more he struggled, the more he entangled himself, and the fierce spider was preparing to descend that it might weave a shroud about its prey. When a little finger broke the threads and lifted the fly safely into the palm of a hand, where he lay faintly humming his thanks, Nelly had heard much about contraband, knew who they were, and was very much interested in them. So, when she freed the poor black fly, she played, he was her contraband, and felt glad that her first patient was one that needed help so much, carefully brushing away as much of the web as she could. She left small Pompey, as she named him, to free his own legs, lest her clumsy fingers should hurt him. Then she laid him in one of the soft beds with a grain or two of sugar if he needed refreshment, and made him rest and recover from his fright, remembering that he was at liberty to fly away whenever he liked, because she had no wish to make a slave of him. Feeling very happy over this new friend, Nelly went on singing softly as she walked, and presently she found a pretty caterpillar dressed in brown fur, although the day was warm. He lay so still she thought him dead till he rolled himself into a ball as she touched him. I think you are either faint from the heat of this thick cult of yours, or that you are going to make a cocoon of yourself. Mr. Fuzz said, Nelly, now I want to see you turn into a butterfly, so I shall take you, and if you get lively again I will let you go. I shall play that you have given out on a march, as the soldiers sometimes do, and been left behind for the sanitary people to see to. In went sulking Mr. Fuzz, and untrendled the ambulance till a golden green rose beetle was discovered, lying on its back kicking as if in a fit. Dear me, what shall I do for him? Thought Nelly, he acts as baby did when she was so ill, and Mama put her in a warm bath. I haven't got my little tub here, or any hot water, and I'm afraid the beetle would not like it if I had. Perhaps he has pain in his stomach. I'll turn him over, and pat his back, as nurse does babies when she cries for pain like that. She set the beetle on his legs, and did her best to comfort him. But he was evidently in great distress, for he could not walk, and instead of lifting his emerald overcoat and spreading the wings that lay underneath, he turned over again, and kicked more violently than before, not knowing what to do. Nelly put him into one of her soft nests for Tony to cure if possible. She found no more patients in the garden except a dead bee, which she wrapped in a leaf, and took home to bury. When she came to the grove, it was so green and cool, she longed to sit and listen to the whisper of the pines, and watched the larch tassels wave in the wind. But, recollecting her charitable errand, she went rustling along the pleasant path till she came to another patient, over which she stood considering several minutes before she could decide whether it was best to take it to her hospital. Because it was a little gray snake with a bruised tail, she knew it would not hurt her, yet she was afraid of it. She thought it pretty, yet could not like it. She pitted its pain, yet shrunk from helping it, for it had a fiery eye and a keen quivering tongue that looked as if longing to bite. He is a rebel. I wonder if I ought to be good to him, thought Nelly, watching the reptile writhe with pain. Will said there were sick rebels in his hospital, and one was very kind to him. It says, too, in my little book, love your enemies. I think snakes are mine, yes, I'll try and love him because God made him. Some boy will kill him if I leave him here, and then perhaps his mother will be very sad about it. Come, poor worm, I wish to help you, so be patient and don't frighten me. Then Nelly laid her little handkerchief on the ground, and with a stick gently lifted the wounded snake upon it, and, folding it together, laid it in the ambulance. She was thoughtful after that, busy puzzling her young head about the duty of loving those who hate us, and being kind to those who are disagreeable or unkind, that she went through the rest of the wood quite forgetful of her work. A soft, quink, quink, made her look up, and listen, the sound came from the long meadow grass and, bending it carefully back, she found a half-fledged bird with one wing trailing on the ground, and its eyes dim with pain or hunger. You, darling thing, did you fall out of your nest and hurt your wing, cried Nelly, looking up into the single tree that stood nearby? No nest was to be seen. No parent birds hovered overhead, and little Robin could only tell its troubles in that mournful quink, quink, quink. Nelly ran to get both her chests, and, sitting down beside the bird, tried to feed it to her great joy it ate crumb after crumb, as if it were half-starved, and soon fluttered nearer with a confiding fearlessness that made her very proud. Soon baby Robin seemed quite comfortable, his eye brightened, he quipped, no more, and, but for the drooping wing, would have been himself again. With one of her bandages, Nelly bound both wings closely to his sides, for fear he should hurt himself by trying to fly, and though he seemed amazed at her proceedings, he behaved very well, only staring at her, and ruffling up his few feathers in a funny way that made her laugh, then she had to discover some way of accommodating her two larger patients so that neither should hurt nor alarm the other. A bright thought came to her after much pondering, carefully lifting the handkerchief. She pinned the two ends to the roof of the cart, and there swung little forked tongue, while Rob lay easily below. By this time Nelly began to wonder how it happened that she found so many more injured things than ever before, but it never entered her innocent head that Tony had searched the wood and meadow before she was up, and laid most of these creatures ready to her hands that she might not be disappointed. She had not yet lost her faith in fairies, so she fancied they too belonged to her small sisterhood, and presently it did really seem impossible to doubt that the good folk had been at work. Coming to the bridge that crossed the brook, she stopped a moment to watch the water ripple over the bright pebbles, the ferns bend down to drink, and the funny tadpoles frolicked in quieter nooks where the sun shone, and the dragonflies swung among the rushes. When Nelly turned to go on, her blue eyes opened wide, and the handle of the ambulance dropped with a noise that caused a stout frog to skip into the water heels overhead. Directly in the middle of the bridge was a pretty green tent made of two tall, burdock leaves. The stems were stuck into cracks between the boards, the tips were pinned together with a thorn, and one great buttercup knotted in the doorway like a sleepy sentinel. Nelly stared and smiled, listened, and looked about on every side. Nothing was seen but the quiet meadow and the shady grove. Nothing was heard but the babble of the brook and the cheery music up the bobble inks. Yes, said Nelly softly to herself, that is a fairy tent, and in it I may find a baby elf sick with whooping cough or scarlet fever. How splendid it would be. Only I could never nurse such a dainty thing. Stooping eagerly, she peeped over the buttercup's drowsy head and saw what seemed a tiny cock of hay. She had no time to feel disappointed for the haycock began to stir and, looking nearer, she beheld two silvery grey mites who wagged wee tails and stretched themselves as if they had just waked up. Nelly knew that they were young field mice and rejoiced over them, feeling rather relieved that no fairy had appeared, though she still believed them to have had a hand in the matter. I shall call the mice my babes in the wood. Because they are lost and covered up with leaves, said Nelly, as she laid them in her snugest bed where they nestled close together and fell fast asleep again, being very anxious to get home that she might tell her adventures and show how great was the need of a sanitary commission in that region, Nelly marched proudly up the avenue and, having displayed her load, hurried to the hospital where another applicant was waiting for her. On the step of the door lay a large turtle with one claw gone and on his back was pasted a bit of paper with his name, Commodore Waddell U.S.N. Nelly knew this was a joke of wills but welcomed the ancient mariner and called Tony to help her get him in. All that morning they were very busy settling the newcomer. For both people and books had to be consulted before they could decide what diet and treatment was best for each. The winged contraband had taken Nelly at her word and flown away on the journey home. Little Rob was put in a large cage where he could use his legs, yet not injure his lame wing. Forked tongue lay under a wire cover on sprigs of fennel for the gardener said that snakes were fond of it. The babes in the wood were put to bed in one of the rush baskets. Under a cotton wool coverlet, greenback the beetle found ease for his unknown aches in the warm heart of a rose where he sunned himself all day. The Commodore was made happy in a tub of water, grass and stones and Mr. Fuzz was put in a well ventilated glass box to decide whether he would be a cocoon or not. Tony had not been idle while his mistress was away and he showed her the hospital garden he had made close by in which were cabbage, nettle, and mignanette plants for the butterflies flowering herbs for the bees, chickweed and hemp for the birds, catnip for the pussies, and plenty of room left for whatever other patients might need. In the afternoon, while Nellie did her task at Lent Picking talking busily to Will as she worked, an interesting him in her affairs, Tony cleared a pretty spot in the grove for the bearing ground and made ready some small bits of slate on which to write the names of those who died. He did not have it ready an hour too soon for its unset two little graves were needed and Nurse Nellie shed tender tears for her first losses as she laid the motherless mice in one smooth hollow and the gray-coated rebel in the other she had learned to care for him already and when she found him dead was very glad she had been kind to him hoping that he knew it and died happier in her hospital than all alone in the shadowy wood. The rest of Nellie's patients prospered and of the many added afterward few died because of Tony's skillful treatment and her own faithful care. Every morning when the day proved fair the little ambulance went out upon its charitable errand. Every afternoon Nellie worked for the human sufferers whom she loved and every evening brother Will read aloud to her from useful books, showed her wonders with his microscope or prescribed remedies for the patients whom he soon knew by name and took much interest in it was Nellie's holiday but though she studied no lessons she learned much and unconsciously made her pretty play both an example and a rebuke for others at first it seemed a childish pastime and people laughed but there was something in the familiar words sanitary, hospital and ambulance that made them pleasant sounds to many ears as reports of Nellie's work went through the neighborhood other children came to see and copy her design rough lads looked ashamed when in her wards they found harmless creatures hurt by them and going on they said among themselves we won't stone birds chase butterflies and drown the girls little cats anymore though we won't tell them so and most of the lads kept their word so well that people said there had never been so many birds before as all that summer haunted wood and field tender hearted playmates brought their pets to be cured even busy farmers had a friendly word for the small charity which reminded them so sweetly of the great one which should never be forgotten lonely mothers sometimes looked out with wet eyes as the little ambulance went by recalling thoughts of absent sons who might be journeying painfully from far off hospital where brave women waited to tend them with hands as willing hearts as tender as those the gentle child gave to herself a pointed task at home the charm worked also no more idle days for Nellie or fretful ones for will because the little sister would not neglect the helpless creatures so dependent upon her and the big brother was ashamed to complain after watching the patients of these lesser sufferers and merrily said he would try to bear his own wound as quietly and bravely as the Commodore bore his Nellie never knew how much good she had done captain will till he went away again in the early autumn then he thanked her for it and though she cried for joy and sorrow she never forgot it because he left something behind him which always pleasantly reminded her of the double success her little hospital had won when will was gone and she prayed softly in her heart that God would keep him safe and bring him home again she dried her tears and went away to find comfort in the place where he had spent so many happy hours with her she had not been there before that day and when she reached the door she stood quite still and wanted very much to cry again for something beautiful had happened she had often asked will for a motto for her hospital and he had used to find her one she thought he had forgotten it but even in the hurry of that busy day he had found time to do more than keep his word well Nellie said in doors lovingly brightening the tarnished buttons on the blue coat that had seen so many battles above the roof where the doves cooed in the sun now wrestled a white flag with the golden s c shining on it as the wind tossed it to and fro below on the smooth panel of the door a skillful pencil had drawn two arching ferns in whose soft shadow poised upon a mushroom stood a little figure of nurse Nellie and underneath at another of doctor Tony bottling medicine with spectacles upon his nose both hands of the miniature Nellie were outstretched as if beckoning to a train of insects birds and beasts which was so long that it not only circled round the lower rim of this fine sketch but dwindled in the distance to mere dots and lines such merry conceits as one found there a mouse bringing the tail it had lost in some curled trap a door bug with a shade over its eyes an invalid butterfly carried in a tiny litter by long legged spiders a fat frog with gouty feet hopping upon crutches Jenny Wren sobbing in a nice handkerchief as she brought dear dead cock robin to be restored to life rabbits lambs cats calves and turtles all came trooping up to be healed by the benevolent little maid who welcomed them so heartily Nellie laughed at these comical mites till the tears ran down her cheeks and thought she never could be tired of looking at them but presently saw far lines clearly printed underneath her picture and her childish face grew sweetly serious as she read the words of a great poet which Will had made both compliment and motto he prayeth best who loveth best all things both great and small for the dear God who loveth us he made and loveth all End of Section 2 Section 3 of the Junior Classics Volume 6 Old Fashioned Tales This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Peter The Junior Classics Volume 6 Old Fashioned Tales Section 3 A Fox and a Raven by Rebecca H. Davis A raven sitting high up on a limb had a fine piece of cheese he was just going to enjoy it when along came Mr. Fox now the Fox wanted the cheese and he knew he could not catch the raven so he began to flatter the raven's croaking voice and to beg the raven for one of his sweet songs at last the poor raven silly with flattery opened his mouth to sing when low the cheese dropped to the ground and off ran the wily fox with a stolen treasure in his mouth the raven flew away and never was heard of a game Donnie was a king's daughter she had heard her father talk of the battles into which he had led his mighty warriors and of how all the world that she knew had once been his from the hills behind which the sun rose to the broad rushing river where it set now all of this account was strictly true but the king as he talked wore no clothes but a muddy pair of cotton trousers sat on a log in the sun a pig rooting about his bare feet black Joe going by called him a lazy old red skin and that was true too but these differing accounts naturally confused Donnie's mind when the old chief was dead however there was none of all talk of his warriors or battles a large part of the land was left though a long stretch of river bottom and forests but with very little swamp his brother Oostoga when he was in a good humor planted a field of corn as he had no wife to do it for him and with a little fish and game they managed to find enough to eat Oostoga and the little girl lived in a hut built of logs and mud and as the floor of it had never been scrubbed the grass actually began to grow out of the dirt in the corners there was a log smouldering on the earth where Donnie baked cakes of pounded corn and beans and niashes and on the other side of the dark room was the heap of straw where she slept besides this there were two hacked stumps of trees which served for chairs and an iron pot out of which they ate and there you have the royal replenishings of that palace all the other Indians had long ago gone west Donnie had nothing and nobody to play with she was as easily scared as a rabbit yet sometimes when Oostoga was gone for days together she was so lonely that she would venture down through the swamp to peep out at the water mill in the two or three houses which the white people had built the miller of all the white people was one that she liked best to watch he was so big and round and jolly and one day when he had met her in the path he did not call her engine or red nigger as the others did but had said where's your brother my dear just as if she were white she saw sometimes his two little girls and boy playing about the mill door and they were round and fat and jolly just like their father at last one day Oostoga went down to the mill and Donnie plucked up her courage and followed him when she was there hiding close behind the trough in which the horses were watered so that nobody could see her she heard the miller say to her brother you ought to go to work to clear your land my lad in two years there'll be hundreds of people moving in here and you own the best part of the valley Oostoga nodded the whole country once belonged to my people that's neither here nor there said the miller dead chickens don't count for hatching you go to work now and clear your land and you can sell it for enough to give you and this little girl behind the trough and education enough to give you both a chance equal to any white children Oostoga nodded again and said nothing he was shrewd enough and could work too when he was in the humor come Donnie he said but the miller's little fad and Jenny had found Donnie behind the trough and the three were making a nettle basket together and were very well acquainted already let the child stay till you come back from fishing Oostoga said the miller so Donnie stayed all the afternoon Jenny and Betty rolled and shouted talk fast enough with delight because they had this new little girl to play with and fad climbed all the trees as Jenny said to show off and Betty tumbled into the trough head over heels and was taken out dripping Donnie was very quiet but it was to her as if the end of the world had come all this was so happy and wonderful she had never had anybody to play with before then when Betty was carried in to be dried there was two the bright cheerful room with a lovely blue carpet on the floor and a white spread on the bed with fringe and red dolly is that shown in the sun putting their heads in at the window Betty's mother did not scold when she took her wet clothes off but said some funny things which made them laugh she looked at Donnie now and then standing with her little hands clasped behind her back does your mother never wash or dress you Donnie said Betty she is dead said Donnie Betty's mother did not say any more funny things after that when she had finished dressing Betty to the tying of her shoes she called the little Indian girl up to her what can you do she said so make moccasins she had the pleasantest voice and Donnie was not at all afraid I can so I can make baskets she said I am going to make a basket for every one of you very well you can have a tea party Jenny out of doors then she opened up a cupboard here are the dishes taking out a little box and bread jam, milk, sugar and candy candy cried Betty rushing out to tell Thad candy who ray shouted Thad for there are no shops out in that wild country where a boy can run for a stick of lemon or gum drops every time he gets a penny it was very seldom that Thad or Betty could have a taste of those red and white bull's eyes which their mother now took out of the jar in the locked cupboard they knew she brought it out to please the little Indian girl whose own mother was dead Jenny set the table for the tea party under a big oak there was a flat place on one of the round roots that rose out of the moss which was the very thing for a table so there she spread the little white gold plates and cups and saucers with the meat dish every bit as large as your hand in the middle full of candy the milk of course was put in the pot for coffee and set on three dead leaves to boil and Jenny allowed Donnie to fill the jam dishes herself with her own hands Donnie could hardly get her breath as she did it when they were all ready they sat down the sun shone and the wind was blowing and the water of the mill raced flushed and gurgled as it went by and a song sparrow perched himself on a fence close to them and sang and sang just as if he knew what was going on he wants to come to the party said Betty and then they all laughed Donnie laughed too the shining plates just fitted into the moss and there was a little pitcher the round bellied part of which was covered with sand while the handle and top were Jenny said of all the gold that was put in the middle of all Donnie did not think it was like fairy land or heaven because she had never in her life heard of fairy land or heaven she had never seen anything but her own filthy hut with its iron pot and wooden spoons when it was all over the children's mother Donnie felt as if she were her mother too called her in and took out of that same covered a roll of the loveliest red calico now Donnie she said if you make yourself a dress of this I will give you this box and she opened a box just like Jenny's inside packed in thin slips of paper was a set of dishes pure white with the tiniest rosebud in the middle of each cups saucers meat dish coffee pot and all and below all a pitcher with sand on the bottom brown but the top and handle of solid gold Donnie went back to the hut trotting along beside Ustaga a roll of calico under her arm and the next day she cut it out into a slip and began to sew Ustaga was at work all day cutting down dead trees when he came in at night Donnie said if you sold the land for much money could we have a home like the millers Ustaga was as much astonished as if a chicken had asked him a question but he said yes would I be like Jenny and Betty you're a chief starter rented Ustaga one day in the next week she went down to the river far in the woods and took a bath combing her long straight black hair down her shoulders then she put on her new dress and went down to the miller's house it was all very quiet for the children were not there but their mother came to the door she laughed out loud with pleasure the red dress was just the right color for her to wear with her dark skin and black hair her eyes were soft and shy and her bare feet and arms like most Indian women pretty enough to be copied in marble you are a good child you are a very good child here are the dishes I wish the children were at home sit right down on the step now and eat a piece of pie but Donnie could not eat the pie she was not full hello called the miller when he saw her why what a nice girl you are today Donnie your brother's hard at work it will all come right then Donnie stood around for a long time afraid to say what she wanted what is it asked the miller's wife Donnie managed to whisper if she were to have a party the next day could the children come to it and their mother said certainly in the evening it means as if to be easy to make Christians out of them too I'm going to do what I can for Donnie said the miller's wife it was not so easy for the little red skinned girl to have a party for she had neither jam nor bread nor butter not to mention candy but she was up very early the next morning and made tiny cakes of corn no bigger than your thumbnail and she went to a hollow tree she knew of and got a cup full of honey and brought some red haws and heaps of nuts hickory and chestnuts when Ustaga had gone she set out her little dishes under a big oak and dressed herself in her lovely frock though she knew the party could not begin for hours and hours the brown cakes and honey and scarlet haws were in the white dishes and the gold pitcher with a big purple flower was in the middle Donnie sat down and looked at it all after two or two Ustaga would build a house like the miller's and she would have a blue carpet on the floor and a white bed and wear red frocks every day like Betty just then she heard voices talking Ustaga had come back and sat upon a log and the trader who came around once a year stood beside him a pack open at his feet it was this peddler Hawk who was talking I tell you Ustagi the miller's a fool there's no new settlers coming here and nobody wants your land there's hundreds and thousands of acres beyond better than this you'd better take my offer look at that suit he held up short trousers of blue cloth worked with colored porcupine quills and a scarlet mantle glittering with beads of gold fringe I don't want it Granted Ustaga sell my land for big pile money oh very well I don't want to buy your land there's thousands of acres to be had for the asking but there's not such a dress as that in the United States I had that dress made on purpose for you Ustagi I said make me a dress for the son of a great chief the handsomest man eyeing the lad from head to foot that lives this side of the great water Ustaga grunted but his eyes began to sparkle here now Ustagi just try it on to please me I'd like to see you dress like a chief for once Ustaga nothing loth dropped his dirty blanket and was soon rigged in the glittering finery while hawk nodded in rapt admiration there's not a man in the county red skinned her pale face but would know you for the son of a great Danoma go look down in the creek Ustagi Ustaga went and came back walking more slowly he began to take off his mantle the deputation from these northern tribes going this winter to see the great father at Washington if Ustagi had a proper dress he could go but shall a son of Danoma come before the great father and torn horse blanket your words are too many said Ustaga I have made up my mind I will sell you the land for the clothes Donnie came up then stood directly before him looking up at him but she said nothing it is not the habit of Indian women and children to speak concerning matters of importance Ustaga pushed her out of the way and with a traitor went into the hut finished their bargain and an hour or two her brother came up to Donnie he had his new clothes in a pack on his back come he said pointing beyond the great river to the dark woods we will come back here again Ustaga no we will never come back Donnie went to the tree looked down at the party she had made at the little dishes with a rose on each but she did not lift one of them up she took off her pretty dress and laid it beside them and going to the hut put on her old rags again then she came out and followed her brother whose face was turned toward the great dark woods in the west when the Miller's children came to the party that afternoon a pig was lying on Donnie's red dress and the dishes were scattered and broken but the hut was empty a year afterward the Miller came back from a long journey after he had kissed and hugged his wife and little ones he said you remember how Hawk cheated that poor Indian lad out of his land yes I always said it was the old story of the fox and the foolish raven over again it was the old story of the white and red man over again but out in an Indian village I found Donnie sick and starving the Miller's wife jumped to her feet the tears rushed to her eyes what did you do what did you do well there wasn't but one thing to do and I did that he went out to the wagon and carried in the little Indian girl and laid her on the bed poor child poor child where is Ustoka the Miller shook his head don't ask any questions about him the raven flew away to the woods and was never heard of again better if that were the end of Ustoka Donnie opened her tired eyes saw the blue carpet and the white bed where she lay and the red dolly is shining in the sun and looking in at the window and beside her were the children and the children's mother smiling down on her with tears in her eyes end of section 3