 Chapter 14 of Under the Lilacs, 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 Linda Ferguson. Under the Lilacs by Louisa Mae Alcott. Chapter 14. Somebody Gets Lost Putting all care behind them, the young folks ran down the hill, with a very lively dog gambling beside them, and took a delightfully tantalising survey of the external charms of the big tent. But people were beginning to go in, and it was impossible to delay when they came round to the entrance. They felt that now his foot was on his native heath, and the superb air of indifference with which he threw down his dollar at the ticket office, carelessly swept up the change, and strolled into the tent with his hands in his pockets, was so impressive that even Big Sam repressed his excitement and meekly followed their leader, as he led them from cage to cage, doing the honours as if he owned the whole concern. Bab held tight to the flap of his jacket, staring about her with round eyes, and listening with little gasp of astonishment or delight to the roaring of lions, the snarling of tigers, the chatter of the monkeys, the groaning of camels, and the music of the very brass band shut up in a red bin. Five elephants were tossing their hay about in the middle of the menagerie, and Billy's legs shook under him as he looked up at the big beasts whose long noses and small, sagacious eyes filled him with awe. Sam was so tickled by the droll monkeys that the others left him before the cage, and went on to see the zebra, striped just like Mars' Muslim gown, Bab declared. But the next minute she forgot all about him in her rapture over the ponies in their tiny colts, especially one might of a thing who lay asleep on the hay, such a miniature copy of its little mouse-coloured mama that one could hardly believe it was alive. Oh, Ben, I must feel of it, the cunning baby horse! And down went Bab inside the rope to pat and admire the pretty creature, while its mother smelt suspiciously at the brown hat, and Baby lazily opened one eye to see what was going on. Come out of that, it isn't loud, commanded Ben, longing to do the same thing, but mindful of the proprieties and his own dignity. Bab reluctantly tore herself away to find consolation in watching the young lions, who looked so like big puppies, and the tigers washing their faces just as pusted. If I stroke them, wouldn't they purr? She asked, bent on enjoying herself, while Ben held her skirts lest she should try the experiment. You'd better not go to patting them, or you'll get your hands clawed up. Tigers do purr like fun, when they are happy, but these fellas never are, and you'll only see them spit and snarl, said Ben, leading the way to the humpy camels who were peacefully chewing their cud, and longing for the desert, with a dreamy, faraway look in their mournful eyes. Here, leaning on the rope and scientifically biting a straw while he talked, Ben played Shoman to his heart's content, till the ney of a horse from the circus tent beyond him, reminding him of the joys to come. We'd better hurry along and get good seats before folks begin to crowd. I want to sit near the curtain and see if any of the smithers lot around. They weren't going way off there. You can't see half so well, and that big drum makes such a noise you can't hear yourself think, said Sam, who had rejoined them. So they settled in good places, where they could see and hear all that went on in the ring, and still catch goonses of white horses, bright colours, and the glitter of helmets beyond the dingy red curtains. Ben treated Bab to peanuts and popcorn like an indulgent parent, and she murmured protestations of undying gratitude with her mouthful as she sat blissfully between him and the congenial billy. Sancho, meantime, had been much excited by the familiar sides and sounds, and now was greatly exercised in his doggish mind at the unusual proceeding of his master, for he was sure that they ought to be within there, putting on their costumes ready to take their turn. He looked anxiously at Ben, sniffed disdainfully at the strap, as if to remind him that a scarlet ribbon ought to take its place, and poked peanut shells about with his paw, as if searching for letters with which to spell his famous name. I know, old boy, I know, but it can't be done. We've quit the business, and must just look on. No larks for us this time, Sanch, so keep quiet and behave," whispered Ben, tucking the dog away under the seat with a sympathetic cuddle of the curly head that peeped out from between his feet. He wants to go and cut up, don't he? said Billy, and so do you, I guess, wish you were going to. Wouldn't it be fun to see Ben showing off in there? I'd be afraid to have him go up on a pile of elephants and jump through hoops like these folks," answered Bab, pouring over her pictured playbill with unabated relish. Done it a hundred times, and I'd just like to show you what I can do. They don't seem to have any boys in this lot. Shouldn't wonder if they'd take me if I asked them," said Ben, moving uneasily on his seat and casting wistful glances towards the inner tent, where he knew he would feel more at home than in his present place. I heard some men say that it's against the law to have small boys now. It's so dangerous, and not good for them, this kind of thing. If that's so, you're done for, Ben," observed Sam, with his most grown-up air, remembering Ben's remarks on fat boys. Don't believe a word of it, and Sam and I could go this minute and get taken on all bit. We are a valuable couple, and I could pre-read if I chose to," began Ben, getting excited and boastful. Oh, see, they're coming! Gold, carriages, and lovely horses, and flags, and elephants, and everything! cried Bab, giving a clutch at Ben's arm as the opening procession appeared, headed by the band, tooting and banging till their faces were as red as their uniforms. Round and round they went, till everyone had seen their fill. Then the riders alone were left caracoling about the ring, with feathers flying, horses prancing, and performers looking as tired and indifferent as if they would all like to go and sleep then and there. How splendid! sighed Bab as they went dashing out, to tumble off almost before the horses stopped. That's nothing. You wait till you see the bareback riding, and the acrobatic exercises, said Ben, quoting from the playbill, with the air of one who knew all about the feats to come, and could never be surprised any more. What are acrobatic exercises, asked Billy, thirsting for information? Leaping and climbing and tumbling, you'll see, George, what a stunning horse! And Ben forgot everything else, to feast his eyes on the handsome creature, who now came pacing in to dance, upset and replace chairs, kneel, bow, and perform many wonderful or graceful feats, ending with a swift gallop while the rider sat in a chair on its back, fanning himself with his legs crossed as comfortably as you please. That now is something like, and Ben's eyes, shone with admiration and envy as the pair vanished and the pink and silver acrobats came leaping into the ring. The boys were especially interested in this part, and well they might be, for strength and agility are many attributes which lads appreciate, and these lively fellows flew about like Indian rubber balls, each trying to outdo the other, till the leader of the acrobats capped the climax by turning a double somersault over five elephants standing side by side. There, sir, how's that for a jump? asked Ben, rubbing his hands with satisfaction as his friends clapped till their palms tingled. We'll rig up a springboard and try it," said Billy, fired with emulation. Where you get your elephants? asked Sam scornfully, for gymnastics were not in his line. You'll do for one, retorted Ben, and Billy and Bab joined in his laugh so heartily that a rough-looking man who sat behind them, hearing all they said, pronounced them a jolly set, and kept his eyes on Sancho, who now showed signs of insubordination. Hello, that wasn't on the bill, cried Ben, as a party-coloured clown came in, followed by half a dozen dogs. I'm so glad, now Sancho will like it. There's a poodle that might be his owny-donty brother, the one with the blue ribbon, said Bab, beaming with delight as the dogs took their seats in the chairs arranged for them. Sancho did like it, only too well, for he scrambled out from under the seat in a great hurry to go and greet his friends, and being sharply checked sat up and begged so piteously that Ben found it very hard to refuse and order him down. He subsided for a moment, but when the black spaniel, who acted the canine clown, did something funny and was applauded, Sancho made a dart as if bent on leaping into the ring to out to his rival, and Ben was forced to box his ears and put his feet on the poor beast, fearing he would be ordered out if he made any disturbance. Too well trained to rebel again, Sancho lay meditating on his wrongs till the dog-act was over, carefully abstaining from any further sign of interest in their tricks, and only giving a side-long glance at the two little poodles who came out of a basket to run up and down stairs on their forepaws, dance jigs on their hind legs, and play various pretty pranks to the great delight of all the children in the audience. If ever a dog expressed by look and attitude, phew! I could do much better than that, an astonishing wall, if I were only allowed to. That dog was Sancho, as he curled himself up and affected to turn his back on an unappreciative world. It's too bad when he knows more than all those chaps put together. I'd give anything if I could show him off as I used to. Folks always liked it, and I was ever so proud of him. He's mad now because I had to cuff him, and won't take any notice of me till I make up, said Ben, regretfully eyeing his offended friend, but not daring to beg pardon yet. More riding followed, and Bab was kept in a breathless state by the marvellous agility and skill of the gauzy lady who drove four horses at once, leaped through hoops, overbanners and bars, sprang off and on at full speed and seemed to enjoy it all so much it was impossible to believe that there could be any danger or exertion in it. Then two girls flew about on the trapeze and walked on a tightrope, causing Bab to feel that she had at last found her sphere. For young as she was, her mother often said, I really don't know what this child is fit for, except mischief like a monkey. I'll fix the clothesline when I get home and show Ma how nice it is. Then maybe she'd let me wear red and gold trousers and climb round like these girls, thought the busy little brain much excited by all it saw on the memorable day. Nothing short of a pyramid of elephants with a glittering gentleman and a turban and top boots on the summit would have made her forget this new and charming plan. But that astonishing spectacle, and the prospect of a cage of Bengal tigers with a man among them in imminent danger of being eaten before her eyes, entirely absorbed her thoughts till, just as the big animals went lumbering out, a peel of thunder caused considerable commotion in the audience. Men on the highest seats popped their heads through the openings in the tent cover and reported that a heavy shower was coming up. Anxious mothers began to collect their flocks of children as hens do their chickens at sunset. Timid people told cheerful stories of tents blown over in gales, cages upset and wild beasts let loose. Many left in haste and the performers hurried to finish as soon as possible. I'm going now before the crowd comes so I can get a lift home. I see two or three folks I know so I'm off and climbing hastily down, Sam vanished without further ceremony. Better wait till the shower is over, we can go and see the animals again and get home all dry, just as well as not, observed Ben encouragingly, as Billy looked anxiously at the billowing canvas over his head, the swaying posts before him and heard the quick patter of drops outside, not to mention the melancholy roar of the lion which sounded rather awful through the sudden gloom which filled the strange place. I wouldn't miss the tigers for anything. See, they are pulling in the cart now and the shiny man is already with his gun. Will he shoot any of them? Apprehension for the sharp crack of a rifle started her more than the loudest thunderclap she ever heard. Bless you, no child, it's only powder to make a noise and scare him. I wouldn't like to be in his place, though. Father says you can never trust tigers as you can lions, no matter how tame they are. Sly fellas, like cats, and when they scratch it's no joke, I tell you," answered Ben with a knowing wag of the head as the sides of the cage rattled down and the poor fierce creatures were seen leaping and snarling as if they resented this display of their captivity. Bab curled up her feet and winked fast with excitement as she watched the shiny man fondle the great cats, lie down among them, pull open their red mouths, and make them leap over him or crouch at his feet as he snapped the long whip. When he fired the gun and they all fell as if dead, she with difficulty suppressed a small scream and clapped her hands over her ears, but poor Billy never minded it a bit, for he was pale and quaking with the fear of heaven's artillery, thundering overhead, and as a bright flash of lightning seemed to run down the tall tent poles he hid his eyes and wished with all his heart that he was safe with mother. Afraid of thunder, Bill, asked Ben, trying to speak stoutly while a sense of his own responsibilities began to worry him, for how was Bab to be got home in such a pouring rain? It makes me sick, always did, wish I hadn't come, sighed Billy, feeling all too late that lemonade and lozenges were not the fittest food for man, or a stifling tent the best place to be in on a hot July day, especially in a thunderstorm. I didn't ask you to come, you asked me, so it isn't my fault, said Ben rather gruffly, as people crowded by without pausing to hear the comic song the clown was singing in spite of the confusion. Oh, I'm so tired, groaned Bab, getting up with a long stretch of arms and legs. You'll be tireder before you get home, I guess. Nobody asked you to come, anyway. And Ben gazed all fully round him, wishing he could serve familiar face or find a wiser head than his own to help him out of the scrape he was in. I said I wouldn't be a bother and I won't. I'll walk right home this minute. I ain't afraid of thunder and the rain won't hurt these old clothes. Come along," cried Bab bravely, bent on keeping her word, though it looked much harder after the fun was all over them before. My headaches like fury! Don't I wish old Jack was here to take me back? said Billy following his companions in misfortune with sudden energy, as a loud appeal them before rolled overhead. You might as well wish for litre and the covered wagon while you're about it, then we could all ride, answered Ben, leading the way to the outer tent, where many people were lingering in hopes of fair weather. Why, Billy Button, how in the world did you get here? cried a surprised voice as the crook of a cane caught the boy by the collar and jerked him face to face with the young farmer, who was pushing along, followed by his wife and two or three children. Oh, Uncle Ebbon, I'm so glad you found me. I walked over and it's raining, and I don't feel well. Let me go with you, can't I?" asked Billy, casting himself in all his woes upon the strong arm that had laid hold of him. Don't see what your mother was about to let you come so far alone, and you just over scarlet fever. We're as full as ever we can be, but we'll tuck you in somehow, said the pleasant-faced woman, bundling up her baby and bidding the two little lads, keep close to father. I didn't come alone. Sam got a ride. Can't you tuck Ben and Bab in, too? They ain't very big either of them, whispered Billy, anxious to serve his friends now that he was provided for himself. Can't do it anyway. Got to pick up mother at the corner, and that will be all I can carry. It's lifting a little. Hurry along, Lizzie, and let us get out of this as quick as possible," said Uncle Ebbon impatiently, for going to a circus with a young family is not an easy task, as everyone knows who has ever tried it. Ben, I'm really sorry there isn't room for you. I'll tell Bab's mother where she is. Maybe someone will come for you," said Billy hurriedly as he tore himself away, feeling rather mean to desert the others, though he could be of no use. Cut away and don't mind us. I'm all right, and Bab must do the best she can. Was all Ben had time to answer before his comrade was hustled away by the crowd, pressing round the entrance with much clashing of umbrellas and scrambling of boys and men, who rather enjoy the flurry. No use for us to get knocked about in that scrimmage. We'll wait a minute, and then go out easy. It's a regular rouser, and you'll be as wet as a sock before we get home. Hope you'll like that," added Ben, looking out at the heavy rain, pouring down as if it never meant to stop. Don't care a bit, said Bab, swinging on one of the ropes with a happy-go-lucky air, for her spirits were not extinguished yet, and she was bound to enjoy this exciting holiday to the very end. I like circuses so much. I wish I lived here all the time, and slept in a wagon as you did, and had these dear little culties to play with. It wouldn't be fun if you didn't have any folks to take care of you," began Ben, thoughtfully looking about the familiar place where the men were now feeding the animals, setting their refreshment tables, or lounging on the hay to get such rest as they could before the evening entertainment. Suddenly he started, gave a long look, then turned to Bab, and, thrusting Sancho's strap into her hand, said hastily, I see a fellow I used to know. Maybe he can tell me something about Father. Don't you stir till I come back. Then he was off like a shot. Bab saw him run after a man with a bucket, who had been watering the zebra. Sancho tried to follow, but was checked with an impatient, No, you can't go. What a plague you are, tagging round when people don't want you. Sancho might have answered, so are you, but, being a gentlemanly dog, he sat down with a resigned expression to watch the little cults, who were now awake and seemed ready for a game of bow-peat behind their mummers. Bab enjoyed their funny little frisk so much that she tied the wearer some strap to a post, and crept under the rope to pet the tiny mouse-coloured one, who came and talked to her with baby-winnies in confiding glances of its soft, dark eyes. Oh, luckless bab, why did you turn your back? Oh, too accomplished Sancho, why did you neatly untie that knot and trot away to confer with the disreputable bulldog who stood in the entrance beckoning with friendly wavings of an abbreviated tale? Oh, much afflicted Ben, why did you delay till it was too late to save your pet from the rough man who set his foot upon the trailing strap and led poor Sanch quickly out of sight among the crowd? It was Bascom, but he didn't know anything. Why, where's Sanch? said Ben returning. A breathless voice made Bab turn to see Ben looking about him with as much alarm in his hot face as if the dog had been a two-year child. I tied him. He's here somewhere, with the ponies, stammered Bab in sudden dismay, for no sign of a dog appeared as her eyes roved wildly to and fro. Ben whistled, called, and searched in vain to one of the lounging men, said lazily. If you were looking after the big poodle, you'd better go outside. I saw him trotting off with another dog. Away rushed Ben with Bab following, regardless of the rain, for both felt that a great misfortune had befallen them. But long before this, Sancho had vanished, and no one minded his indignant hows as he was driven off in a covered cart. If he is lost, I'll never forgive you, never, never, never. And Ben found it impossible to resist giving Bab several hard shakes which made her yellow braids fly up and down like pump handles. I'm dreadfully sorry. He'll come back, you said he always did, pleaded Bab, quite crushed by her own afflictions, and rather scared to see Ben look so fierce, for his seldom lost his temper, or was rough with the little girls. If he doesn't come back, don't you speak to me for a year. Now I'm going home. And feeling that words were powerless to express his emotions, Ben walked away, looking as grim as a small boy could. A more unhappy little lass is seldom to be found than Bab was, as she patted after him splashing recklessly through the puddles and getting as wet and muddy as possible as a sort of penance for her sins. For a mile or two she trudged stoutly along while Ben marched before her in solemn silence, which soon became both impressive and oppressive because so unusual, and such a proof of his deep displeasure. Penitent Bab longed for just one word, one sign of relenting, and when none came she began to wonder how she could possibly bear it if he kept his dreadful threat and did not speak to her for a whole year. But presently her own discomfort absorbed her, for her feet were wet and cold as well as very tired. Popcorn and peanuts were not particularly nourishing food, and hunger made her feel faint, excitement was a new thing, and now that it was over she longed to lie down and go to sleep. Then the long walk with a circus at the end seemed a very different affair from the homeward trip with a distracted mother awaiting her. The shower had subsided into a dreary drizzle, a chilly east wind blew up, the hilly road seemed to lengthen before the weary feet, and the mute blue flannel figure, going on so fast with never a look or sound, added the last touch to Bab's remorseful anguish. Wagons passed, but all were full, and no one offered a ride. Men and boys went by with rough jokes on the forlorn pair, for a rain soon made them look like young tramps. But there was no brave sancho to resent the impertinence, and this fact was sadly brought to both their minds by the appearance of a great Newfoundland dog who came trotting after a carriage. The good creature stopped to say a friendly word in his dumb fashion, looking up at Bab with benevolent eyes, and poking his nose into Ben's hand before he bounded away with his plumy tail curled over his back. Ben started as the cold nose touched his fingers, gave the soft, head a lingering pat, and watched the dog out of sight, through a thicker mist than any that rain made. But Bab broke down, for the wistful look of the creature's eyes reminded her of lost sancho, and she sobbed quietly as she glanced back, longing to see the dear old fellow jogging along in the rear. Ben heard the piteous sound, and took a sly peep over his shoulder, seeing such a mournful spectacle that he felt appeased, saying to himself, as if to excuse his late sternness, she is a naughty girl, but I guess she is about sorry enough now. When we get to that signpost I'll speak to her, only I won't forgive her till Sanch comes back. But he was better than his word, for just before the post was reached, Bab blinded by tears, tripped over the root of a tree, and rolling down the bank, landed in a bed of wet nettles. Ben had her out in a jiffy, and vainly tried to comfort her, but she was past any consolation he could offer, and roared dissonely as she rung her tingling hands, with great drops running over her cheeks, almost as fast as the muddy little rills ran down the road. Oh, dear, oh, dear, I'm all stinged up, and I want my supper, and my feed-ache, and I'm cold, and everything is so horrid. Well, the poor child lying on the grass, such a miserable little wet bunch that the sternest parent would have melted at the sight. Don't cry so, baby. I was real cross, and I'm sorry. I'll forgive you right away now, and never shake you any more. Ben cried, so full of pity for her tribulations that he forgot his own, like a generous little man. Shake me again if you want. I know I was very bad to tag and lose Sanch. I never will any more, and I'm sorry. I don't know what to do, answered Bab, completely bowed down by this magnanimity. Never mind. You just wipe up your face and come along, and we'll tell Ma all about it, and she'll fix us as nice as can be. But if Sanch got home now before we did, said Ben, cheering himself as well as her by the fond hope. I don't believe I ever shall. I'm so tired my legs won't go, and the water in my boots makes them feel dreadfully. I wish that boy would wheel me apiece. Don't you suppose he would? asked Bab, warily picking herself up as a tall lad trundling a burrow came out of a yard nearby. Hello Joslyn, said Ben, recognising the boy as one of the hill-fellows who came to town Saturday nights for play or business. Hello Brown, responded the other, arresting his squeaking progress with signs of surprise at the moist tableau before him. Where going? asked Ben with masculine berevity. Got to carry this home, hang the old thing. Where to? Bachelors down yonder, and the boy pointed to a farmhouse at the foot of the next hill. Go in that way, take it right along. What for? questioned the prudent youth, distrusting such unusual neighbourliness. She's tired, wants a ride, I'll leave it all right, true as I live and breathe. Explained Ben, half ashamed yet anxious to get his little responsibility home as soon as possible, for mishaps seem to thicken. Ho, you couldn't cart her all that way, she's most as heavy as a bag of meal! did the tall lad amused at the proposition. I'm stronger than most fellows of my size, try if I ain't. And Ben squared off in such scientific style that Joslyn responded with sudden amiability. All right, let's see you do it. Bab huddled into her new equipage without the least fear, and Ben trundled her off at a good pace while the boy retired to the shelter of a barn to watch their progress, glad to be rid of an irksome errand. At first all went well, for the way was downhill, and the wheels squeaked bristly round and round. Bab smiled greatly upon her bearer, and Ben went in on his muscle with a will, as he expressed it. But presently the road grew sandy, began to ascend, and the road seemed to grow heavier with every step. I'll get out now. It's real nice, but I guess I am too heavy," said Bab as the face before her got redder and redder, and the breath began to come in puffs. Sit still. He said I couldn't. I'm not going to give in with him looking on. Panted Ben, as he pushed gallantly up the rise, over the grassy lawn to the side gate of the bachelor's door-yard, with his head down, teeth set, and every muscle of his slender body braced to the task. Did ever you see the like of that now? Ah ha! The streets were so wide, and the lanes were so narrow, he brought his wife home on a little wheel-barry. Sung a voice with an accent which made Ben drop his load, and push back his hat to see Pat's red head looking over the fence. To have his enemy behold him then and there was the last bit of drop in poor Ben's cup of humiliation. A shrill approving whistle from the hill was some comfort, however, and gave him spirit to help Bab out with composure, though his hands were blistered and he had hardly breath enough to issue the command. Go along home and don't mind him. Nice chilled a year, running off this way, setting the women distracted, and me wasted me time coming after you when I'd be milk and airy so I'd get a bit of pleasure of the day. Grumbled Pat, coming up to untie the duke, whose Roman nose Ben had already recognised as well as the room he chased standing before the door. Did Billy tell you about us? asked Bab, gladly following toward this welcome refuge. Faith he did, and the squire sent me to fetch you home, quiet and easy. When you found me, I'd just stopped here to borrow your light for me pipe. Up with your boy, and not be wasted me time, strommelting after a spell-peen that I'd like to lay me whip over, said Pat gruffly as Ben came along, having left the barrel in the shed. Don't you wish you could? You needn't wait for me, I'll come when I'm ready," answered Ben, dodging round the chase, bound not to mind Pat if he spent the night by the roadside in consequence. But out and I won't, then. It's lively, ye are, but four legs is better than two, as you'll find this night me young man. With that he whipped up, and was off before Bab could say a word to persuade Ben to humble himself for the sake of a ride. She lamented, and Pat chuckled, both forgetting what an agile monkey the boy was, as neither looked back they were unaware Master Ben was hanging on behind, among the straps and springs, making derisive grimaces at his unconscious foe through the little glass in the leaven back. At the lodge-gate Ben jumped down to run before with whoops of naughty satisfaction which brought the anxious waiters to the door in a flock, so Pat could only shake his fist at the exulting little rascal as he drove away, leaving the wanderers to be welcomed as warmly as if they were a pair of model children. Mrs. Moss had not been very much troubled after all, for Psy had told her that Bab went after Ben, and Billy had lately reported her safe arrival among them, so mother-like she fed, dried, and warmed the runaways before she scolded them. Even then the lecture was a mild one, for when they tried to tell the adventures, which to them seemed so exciting, not to say tragical, the effect astonished them immensely, as their audience went into gales of laughter, especially at the Wheelbarrow episode which Pat insisted on telling with grateful minuteness to Ben's confusion. Thornie shouted, and even tender-hearted Betty forgot her tears over the lost dog to join in the familiar melody when Bab mimicked Pat's quotation from Mother Goose. We must not laugh any more, or these naughty children will think they have done something very clever in running away, said Miss Celia, when the fun subsided, adding soberly, I am displeased, but I will say nothing, for I think Ben has already punished enough. Guess I am, muttered Ben, with a choke in his voice as he glanced toward the empty mat where a dear curly bunch used to be, with a bright eye twinkling out of the middle of it. End of Somebody Gets Lost. Recording by Linda Ferguson. Chapter 15 of Under the Lilacs 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 Mary Ann. Under the Lilacs by Louisa May Alcott. Chapter 15. Ben's Ride Great was the morning for Sancho, because his talents and virtues made him universally admired and beloved. Miss Celia advertised. Thornie offered rewards, and even Surly Pat kept a sharp lookout for poodle dogs when he went to market. But no Sancho or any trace of him appeared. Ben was inconsolable, and sternly said it served Bab right when the dog would poison affected both face and hands. Poor Bab thought so too, and dared ask no sympathy from him. Though Thornie eagerly prescribed plantain leaves, and Betty kept her supplied with an endless succession of them steeped in cream and pitying tears. This treatment was so successful that the patient soon took her place in society as well as ever. But for Ben's affliction there was no cure, and the boy really suffered in his spirits. I don't think it's fair that I should have so much trouble first losing father and then Sanch. If it wasn't for Lita and Miss Celia, I don't believe I could stand it, he said one day, in a fit of despair, about a week after the sad event. Oh, come now. Don't give up so, old fellow. We'll find him if he's alive, and if he isn't, I'll try and get you another as good," answered Thornie, with a friendly slap on the shoulder, as Ben sat disconsolently among the beans he had been hoeing. As if there ever could be another half as good, cried Ben, indignant at the idea. Or as if I'd ever try to fill his place with the best and biggest dog that ever wagged a tail. No, sir. There's only one Sanch in all the world. If I can't have him, I'll never have a dog again. Try some other sort of pet, then. You may have any of mine you like. Have the peacocks. Do now, urged Thornie, full of boyish sympathy and goodwill. They are dreadful pretty, but I don't seem to care about them. Thank you," replied the mourner. Have the rabbits, all of them, which was a handsome offer on Thornie's part, for there were a dozen at least. They don't love a fellow as a dog does. All they care for is stuff to eat and dirt to burrow in. I'm sick of rabbits. And well he might be, for he had had the charge of them ever since they came, and any boy who has ever kept bunnies knows what a care they are. So am I. Guess we'll have an auction and sell out. Would Jack be a comfort to you? If he will you may have him. I'm so well now I can walk or ride anything," added Thornie, in a burst of generosity. Jack couldn't be with me always, as Sanch was, and I couldn't keep him if I had him. Ben tried to be grateful, but nothing short of Lita would have healed his wounded heart, and she was not Thornie's to give, or he probably would have offered her to his afflictive friend. Well, no, you couldn't take Jack to bed with you, or keep him up in your room, and I'm afraid he would never learn to do anything clever. I do wish I had something you wanted. I'd so love to give it to you. He spoke so heartily, and was so kind, that Ben looked up, feeling that he had given him one of the sweetest things in the world—friendship. He wanted to tell him so, but did not know how to do it, so he caught up his hoe and fell to work, saying, in a tone Thornie understood better than words. You're real good to me. Never mind. I won't worry about it. Only it seems extra hard coming so soon after the other. He stopped there, and a bright drop fell on the bean-leaves, to shine like dew till Ben saw clearly enough to bury it out of sight in a great flurry. Bye, Jove. I'll find that dog if he's out of the ground. Keep your spirits up, my lad, and we'll have the dear old fellow back yet. With which, cheering prophecy, Thornie went off to rack his brains as to what could be done about the matter. Half an hour afterward, the sound of a hand organ in the avenue roused him from the brown study into which he had fallen, as he lay in the newly mung grass of the lawn. Peeping over the wall, Thornie reconnoitred, and, finding the organ a good one, the man a pleasant-faced Italian, and the monkey a lively animal, he ordered them all in, as a delicate attention to Ben, for music and monkey together might suggest soothing memories of the past, and so be a comfort. In they came by way of the lodge, escorted by Bab and Betty, full of glee, for hand organs were rare in those parts, and the children delighted in them. Smiling till his white teeth shone, and his black eyes sparkled, the man played away while the monkey made his pathetic little boughs, and picked up the pennies Thornie threw him. It's warm, and you look tired. Sit down, and I'll get you some dinner," said the young master, pointing to the seat which now stood near the great gate. With thanks in broken English, the man gladly obeyed, and Ben begged to be allowed to make Jacko equally comfortable, explaining that he knew all about monkeys and what they liked. So the poor thing was freed from his cocked hat and uniform, fed with bread and milk, and allowed to curl himself up in the cool grass for a nap, looking so like a tired little old man in a fur coat that the children were never weary of watching him. Meanwhile Miss Celia had come out and was talking Italian to Giacomo in a way that delighted his homesick heart. She had been to Naples and could understand his longing for the lovely city of his birth. So they had a little chat in the language which is all music, and the good fellow was so grateful that he played for the children to dance till they were glad to stop, lingering afterward, as if he hated to set out again upon his lonely, dusty walk. I'd rather like to tramp around with him for a week or so, could make enough to live on as easy as not. If I only had Sanch to show off, said Ben, as he was coaxing Jacko into the suit which he detested. You go with me, yes? asked the man, nodding and smiling, well pleased at the prospect of company for his quick eye, and what the boys let fall in their talk showed him that Ben was not one of them. If I had my dog I'd love to, and was sad even as Ben told the tale of his loss, for the thought of it was never long out of his mind. I think I see droll dog like he, way off in New York. He duly took trick with letter, and dance, and go on his head, and many things to make laugh, said the man, when he had listened to a list of Sanch's beauties and accomplishments. Who had him? asked Thornie, full of interest at once. A man I not know, crossfellow, would beat him when he dough letters bad. Did he spell his name? cried Ben, breathlessly. No, that for why man beat him. He named Generale, and he go spell Sancho all times, and cry when whip fall on him. Ha, yes, that name true one, not Generale, and the man nodded, waved his hands and showed his teeth almost as much excited as the boys. It's Sanch, let's go, and get him now, right off! cried Ben, in a fever to be gone. A hundred miles away, and no clue but this man's story. We must wait a little, Ben, and be sure before we set out, said Miss Celia, ready to do almost anything, but not so certain as the boys. What sort of dog was it? a large, curly, white poodle with a queer tail, she asked of Giacomo. No, Signoria Mia, he no curly, no white, he black, smooth dog, lethal tail, small, so, and the man held up one round finger with a gesture which suggested a short, wagging tail. There, you see how mistaken we were. Dogs are often named Sancho, especially Spanish poodles, for the original Sancho was a Spaniard, you know. This dog is not ours, and I'm so sorry. The boys' faces had fallen dismally as their hope was destroyed, but Ben would not give up. For him there was and could only be one Sancho in the world, and his quick wits suggested an explanation which no one else thought of. It may be my dog. They color him as we used to paint over trick horses. I told you he was a valuable chap, and those that stole him, hiding that way. Now he'd be no use, don't you see, because we'd know him. But the black dog has no tail, began Thornie, longing to be convinced, but still doubtful. Ben shivered, as if the mere thought hurt him, as he said, in a grim tone. They might have cut Sancho's off. No, they mustn't! They wouldn't! How could anyone be so wicked? cried Bab and Betty, horrified at the suggestion. You don't know what such fellas would do to make all safe, so they could use a dog to earn their living form, said Ben, with mysterious significance, quite forgetting, in his wrath, that he had just proposed to get his own living in that way himself. He know your dog? Sorry I not find him for you. Adieu, signorina! Grazie, signor! Buongiorno! Buongiorno! And kissing his hand the Italian shouldered the organ, and monkey ready to go. Miss Celia detained him long enough to give him her address, and beg him to let her know if he met poor Sanch in any of his wanderings. For such itinerant showmen often cross each other's paths. Ben and Thorny walked to the school-corner with him, getting more exact information about the black dog and his owner, for they had no intention of giving it up so soon. That very evening, Thorny wrote to a boy-cousin in New York, giving all the particulars of the case, and begging him to hunt up the man, investigate the dog, and see that the police made sure that everything was right. Much relieved by this performance, the boys waited anxiously for a reply, and when it came found little comfort in it. Cousin Horace had done his duty like a man, but regretted that he could only report a failure. The owner of the black poodle was a suspicious character, but told a straight story, how he had bought the dog from a stranger, and exhibited him with success till he was stolen. Knew nothing of his history, and was very sorry to lose him, for he was a remarkably clever beast. I told my dog-man to look about for him, but he said that he's probably been killed with ever so many more, so there is an end of it, and I call it a mean shame. Good for Horace! I told you he'd do it up thoroughly, and see the end of it, said Thorny, as he read that paragraph in the deeply interesting letter. Maybe the end of that dog, but not of mine. Abedy ran away, and if it was Sanch, he'll come home. You see if he doesn't, cried Ben, refusing to believe that all was over. A hundred miles off. Oh, he couldn't find you without help, smart as he is, answered Thorny, incredulously. Ben looked discouraged, but Miss Celia cheered him up again by saying, Yes, he could. My father had a friend who left a little dog in Paris, and the creature found her in Milan and died of fatigue the next day. That was very wonderful, but true, and I've no doubt that if Sanch is alive he will come home. Let us hope so, and be happy while we wait. We will, said the boys, and day after day looked for the wanderer's return, kept a bone ready in the old place if he should arrive at night, and shook his mat to keep it soft for his weary bones when he came. But weeks passed, and still no Sanch. Something else happened, however, so absorbing that he was almost forgotten for a time, and Ben found a way to repay a part of all he owed his best friend. Miss Celia went off for a ride one afternoon, and an hour afterward, as Ben sat in the porch reading, Lita dashed into the yard with the rains dangling about her legs, the saddle turned round, and one side covered with black mud, showing that she had been down. For a minute Ben's heart stood still, then he flung away his book, ran to the horse, and saw at once by her heaving flanks, dilated nostrils and wet coat, that she must have come a long way, and at full speed. She has had a fall, but isn't heard of frightened, bought the boy, as the pretty creature rubbed her nose against his shoulder, pawed the ground, and chomped her bit, as if she tried to tell him all about the disaster whatever it was. Lita, where's Miss Celia, he asked, looking straight into the intelligent eyes, which were troubled but not wild. Lita threw up her head, and nade, loud and clear, as if she called her mistress, and, turning, would have gone again if Ben had not caught the rains and held her. All right, we'll find her, and pulling off the broken saddle, kicking away his shoes and ramming his hat firmly on, Ben was up like a flash, tingling all over with a sense of power as he felt the bear back between his knees, and caught the roll of Lita's eye as she looked round with an air of satisfaction. Hi there, Mrs. Moss. Something has happened to Miss Celia, and I'm going to find her. Thorny is asleep. Tell him easy, and I'll come back as soon as I can. Then, giving Lita her head, he was off before the startled woman had time to do more than wring her hands and cry out, Go for the squire! Oh, what shall we do? As if she knew exactly what was wanted of her, Lita went back the way she had come, as Ben could see by the fresh, irregular tracks that cut up the road where she had galloped for help. For a mile or more they went. Then she paused at a pair of bars, which were let down to allow the carts to pass into the wide hayfields beyond. On she went again, cantering across the newly moaned turf toward a brook, across which she had evidently taken the leap before, for on the further side, at a place where the cattle went to drink, the mud showed signs of a fall. You were a fool to try there, but where's Miss Celia? said Ben, who talked to animals as if they were people, and was understood much better than anyone not used to their companionship would imagine. Now Lita seemed at a loss, and put her head down, as if she expected to find her mistress where she had left her, somewhere on the ground. Ben called, but there was no answer, and he rode slowly along the brookside, looking far and wide with anxious eyes. Maybe she wasn't hurt, and has gone to that house to wait, thought the boy, pausing for a last survey of the great sunny field, which had no place of shelter in it but one rock on the other side of the little stream. As his eyes wandered over it, something dark seemed to blow out from behind it, as if the wind played in the folds of a shirt, or a human limb moved. Away went Lita, and in a moment Ben had found Miss Celia, lying in the shadow of the rock, so white and motionless he feared that she was dead. He leaped down, touched her, spoke to her, and, receiving no answer, rushed away to bring a little water in his leaky hat to sprinkle in her face, as he had seen them do when any of the riders got a fall in the circus, or fainted from exhaustion after they left the ring, where, do or die, was the motto all adopted. In a minute the blue eyes opened, and she recognized the anxious face bending over her, saying faintly as she touched it. My good little Ben, I knew you'd find me. I sent Lita for you. I'm so hurt. I couldn't come. Oh, where, what shall I do, had I better run up to the house? asked Ben, overjoyed to hear her speak, but much dismayed by her seeming helplessness, for he had seen bad falls and had them too. I feel bruised all over, and my arm is broken. I'm afraid. Lita tried not to hurt me. She slipped, and we went down. I came here into the shade, and the pain made me faint, I suppose. Call somebody, and get me home. Then she shut her eyes, and looked so white that Ben hurried away and burst upon old Mrs. Payne, placidly knitting at the end door, so suddenly that afterward she said, it's got her like a clap of thunder. Ain't a man nowhere's around. All down in the Big Better, gettin' in hay, was her reply to Ben's breathless demand for everybody to come and see to Miss Celia. He turned to mount, for he had flung himself off before Lita stopped, but the old lady caught his jacket and asked half a dozen questions in a breath. Who's your folks? What's broke? How'd she fall? Where is she? Why didn't she come right here? Is it sunstroke? As fast as words could tumble out of his mouth Ben answered and then tried to free himself, but the old lady held on while she gave her directions, expressed her sympathy and offered her hospitality with incoherent warmth. Sakes alive, poor dear, fetch her right in, litty, get out the campfire, and, Melissa, you haul down a bed to lay her on. Falls is dreadful uncertain things. Shouldn't wonder if her back was broke. Father's down yonder. He and Bija will see to her. You go call him, and I'll blow the horn to start him up. Tell her we'd be pleased to see her, and it won't make a might of trouble. Ben heard no more. For as Mrs. Payne turned to take down the tin horn he was up and away. Several long and dismal toots sent Lita galloping through the grassy path as the sound of the trumpet excites a warhorse and, Father and Bija, alarmed by the signal at that hour, leaned on their rakes to survey with wonder the distracted looking little horseman approaching like a whirlwind. Guess likely Grandpa's had another stroke. Told him to send over as soon as ever come, said the Father, calmly. Shouldn't wonder if something was a fire-summer's, conjectured the hired man, surveying the horizon for a cloud of smoke. Instead of advancing to meet the messenger, both stood like statues and blue overalls and red flannel shirts, till the boy arrived and told his tale. Show that's bad, said the farmer anxiously. That brook always was the darndest place, added Bija. Then both men bestured themselves helpfully, the former hurrying to Miss Celia, while the latter brought up the cart and made a bed of hay to lay her on. Now then, boy, you go for the doctor. My own folks will see to the lady, and she'd better keep quiet up yonder till we see what the matter is. Said the farmer, when the pale girl was lifted in as carefully as four strong arms could do it. Hold on, he added, as Ben made one leap to lead his back. You'll have to go to Bearville. Dr. Mills is a master hand for broken bones, and old Dr. Babcock ain't. He doesn't put about three miles from here to his house, and you'll fetch him for there's any harm done waiting. Don't kill Lita, called Miss Celia from the cart as it began to move. But Ben did not hear her, for he was off across the fields, riding as if life and death depended upon his speed. That boy will break his neck, said Mr. Payne, standing still to watch horse and rider go over the wall as if bent on instant destruction. No fear for Ben, he can ride anything, and Lita was trained to leap, answered Miss Celia. Falling back on the hay with a groan, for she had involuntarily raised her head to see her little squire dash away in gallant style. I should hope so, regular doggie that boy. Never seen anything like it out of a race ground. Then Farmer Payne strode on, still following with his eye the figures that went thundering over the bridge, up the hill, out of sight, leaving a cloud of dust behind. Now that his mistress was safe, Ben enjoyed that wild ride mightily, and so did the Bay Mare, for Lita had good blood in her, and proved it that day by doing her three miles in a wonderfully short time. People jogging along in wagons, and country's carioles, stared amazed as the reckless pair went by. Women, placidly doing their afternoon sewing at the front windows, dropped their needles to run out with exclamations of alarm, sure someone was being run away with. Children, playing by the roadside, scattered like chickens before a hawk, as Ben passed with a warning whoop, and baby carriages were scrambled into door-yards with perilous rapidity at his approach. But when he clattered into town, intense interest was felt in this barefooted boy on the foaming steed, and a dozen voices asked, Who's killed? as he pulled up at the doctor's gate. Just drove off that way, Mrs. Flynn's baby's in a fit, quite a stout lady from the piazza, never ceasing to rock, though several passers-by paused to hear the news, for she was a doctor's wife, and used to the arrival of excited messengers from all quarters at all hours of the day and night. Daining no reply to anyone, Ben wrote away, wishing he could leap a yawning gulf, scale a precipice, or forward a raging torrent to prove his devotion to Missilia, and his skill in horsemanship. But no dangers beset his path, and he found the doctor pausing to water his tired horse, at the very trough where Bab and Sancho had been discovered, on that ever memorable day. The story was quickly told, and promising to be there as soon as possible, Dr. Mills drove on to relieve Baby Flynn's inner man, a little disturbed by a bit of soap and several buttons upon which he had privately lunched while his mama was busy at the wash-tub. Ben thanked his stars, as he had already done more than once, that he knew how to take care of a horse, for he delayed by the watering-place long enough to wash out Lita's mouth with a handful of wet grass, to let her have one swallow to clear her dusty throat, and then went slowly back over the breezy hills, patting and praising the good creature for her intelligence and speed. She knew well enough that she had been a clever little mare, and tossed her head, arched her glossy neck, and ambled daintily along, as conscious and cuckedish as a pretty woman, looking round at her admiring rider to return his compliments by glance of affection, and caressing snips of a velvet nose at his bare feet. Miss Celia had been laid comfortably in a bed by the farmer's wife and daughter, and when the doctor arrived, bore the setting of her arm bravely. No other serious damage appeared, and bruises soon healed, so Ben was sent home to comfort Thornie with a good report, and asked the squire to drive up in his big carry-off for her the next day, if she was able to be moved. Mrs. Moss had been wise enough to say nothing, but quietly made what preparations she could, and waited for tidings. Bab and Betty were away burying, so no one had alarmed Thornie, as he had his afternoon nap in peace, an unusually long one owing to the stillness which prevailed in the absence of the children, and when he awoke he lay reading for a while before he began to wonder where everyone was. Lounging out to sea he found Ben and Leta reposing side by side in the fresh straw in the loose box, which had been made for her in the coach-house. By the pails, sponges, and curry-combs lying about, it was evident that she had been refreshed by careful washing and rubbing down, and my lady was now luxuriously resting after her labors, with her devoted groom half asleep close by. Well, of all the queer boys you are the quearest, to spend this hot afternoon fussing over Leta just for the fun of it, cried Thornie, looking at them with much amusement. If you knew what we'd been doing, you'd think I'd fuss over her, and both of us had a right to rest, answered Ben, rousing up as bright as a button, for he longed to tell his thrilling tale, and had with difficulty been restrained from bursting in on Thornie as soon as he arrived. He made short work of the story, but was quite satisfied with the sensation it produced, for his listener was startled, relieved, excited, and charmed in such rapid succession that he was obliged to sit upon the meal-chest and get his breath before he could exclaim with an empathetic demonstration of his heels against the bin. Ben Brown! I'll never forget what you've done for Celia this day, or say bow-legs again, as long as I live. George, I felt as if I had six legs when we were going the pace. We were all one piece, and had a jolly spin, didn't we, my beauty? And Ben chuckled as he took Leta's head in his lap, while she answered with a gusty sigh that nearly blew him away. Like the fellow that brought good news from Ghent to Aix, said Thornie, surveying the recumbent pair with great admiration. What follow? asked Ben, wondering if he didn't mean Sheridan, of whose ride he had heard. Don't you know that piece? I spoke it at school. Give it to you now, see if it isn't a rouser. And, glad to find a vent from his excitement, Thornie mounted the meal-chest to thunder out that stirring ballad with such spirit that Leta pricked up her ears and Ben gave a shrill, hooray, as the last verse ended. And all I remember is friends flocking round, as I sat with his head twixed by knees on the ground, and no voice but was praising this roll-end of mine, as I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, which, the burgesses voted by common consent, was no more than his due, who brought good news from Ghent. CHAPTER XVI. A few days later Miss Celia was able to go about with her arm in a sling, pale still and rather stiff, but so much better than anyone expected, that all agreed Mr. Payne was right in pronouncing Dr. Mills a master hand with broken bones. Two devoted little maids waited on her, two eager pages stood ready to run her errands, and friendly neighbors sent in delicacies enough to keep these four young persons busily employed in disposing of them. Every afternoon the great bamboo lounging chair was brought out, and the interesting invalid conducted to it by Stout Randa, who was head nurse, and followed by a train of shawl, cushion, footstool, and book bears, who buzzed about like swarming bees round a new queen. When all were well settled, the little maids soared and the pages read aloud, with much conversation, by the way, for one of the rules was that all should listen attentively, and, if anyone did not understand what was read, he or she should ask to have it explained on the spot. Whoever could answer was invited to do so, and at the end of the reading Miss Celia could ask any she liked, or add any explanations which seemed necessary. In this way much pleasure and profit was extracted from the tales Ben and Thorny read, and much unexpected knowledge as well as ignorance displayed, not to mention piles of neatly hem towels for which Bab and Betty were paid like regular sewing women. So vacation was not all play, and the girls found their picnics, berry parties, and, go on a visitant, all the more agreeable for the quiet hours spent with Miss Celia. Thorny had improved wonderfully, and was getting to be quite energetic, especially since his sister's accident, for while she was laid up, he was the head of the house, and much enjoyed his promotion. But Ben did not seem to flourish as he had done at first. The loss of Sancho prayed upon him sadly, and the longing to go and find his dog grew into such a strong temptation that he could hardly resist it. He said little about it, but now, and then, a word escaped him, which might have enlightened anyone who chanced to be watching him. No one was, just then, so he brooded over this fancy, day by day, in silence and solitude, for there was no riding and driving now. Thorny was busy with his sister trying to show her that he remembered how good she had been to him when he was ill, and the little girls had their own affairs. Miss Celia was the first to observe the change, having nothing to do but lie on the sofa and amuse herself by seeing others work or play. Ben was bright enough at the readings, because then he forgot his troubles, but when they were over and his various duties done, he went to his own room or sought consolation with Lita, being sober and quiet and quite unlike the merry monkey all knew and liked so well. Thorny, what is the matter with Ben? asked Miss Celia one day, when she and her brother were alone in the green parlor, as they called the lilac tree walk. fretting about Sanch, I suppose, I declare I wish that dog had never been born, losing him has just spoiled Ben, not a bit of fun left in him, and he won't have anything I offered to cheer him up. Thorny spoke impatiently, and knit his brows over the pressed flowers he was neatly gumming to his herbal. I wonder if he has anything on his mind? He acts as if he was hiding a trouble he didn't dare to tell. Have you talked with him about it? asked Miss Celia, looking as if she was hiding a trouble she did not like to tell. Oh yes, I poke him up now and then, but he gets peppery, so I let him alone. Maybe he is longing for his old circus again. Shouldn't blame him much if he was. It isn't very lively here, and he's used to excitement, you know. I hope it isn't that. Do you think he would slip away without telling us, and go back to the old life again? Don't believe you would. Ben isn't a bit of a sneak, that's why I like him. Have you ever found him sly, or untrue in any way? asked Miss Celia, lowering her voice. No, he's as fair and square a fellow as I ever saw, a little bit low now and then, but he doesn't mean it, and wants to be a gentleman. Only he never lived with one before, and it's all new to him. I'll get him polished up after a while. Oh thorny, there are three peacocks on the place, and you are the finest, laughed Miss Celia, as her brother spoke in his most condescending way, with a lift of the eyebrows very droll to see. And two donkeys, and Ben's the biggest, not to know when he is well often happy, retorted the gentleman, slapping a dried specimen on the page, as if he were pounding discontented Ben. Come here and let me tell you something which worries me. I would not breathe it to another soul, but I feel rather helpless, and I dare say you can manage the matter better than I. Looking mystified, thorny went and sat on the stool at his sister's feet, while she whispered confidentially into his ear. I've lost some money out of my drawer, and I'm so afraid Ben took it. But it's always locked up, and you keep the keys of the drawer and the little room. It's gone, nevertheless, and I've had my keys safe all the time. But why think it is he, any more than Randa, or Katie, or me? Because I trust you three as I do myself. I've known the girls for years, and you have no object in taking it since all I have is yours, dear. And all mine is yours, of course. But Celia, how could he do it? He can't pick locks, I know, for we fussed over my desk together, and had to break it after all. I really never thought it possible till today, when you were playing ball, and it went in at the upper window, and Ben climbed up the porch after it. You remember, you said, if it had gone in at the Garrett Gable, you couldn't have done that so well? And he answered, yes, I could. There isn't a spout I can't shin up, or a bit of this roof I haven't been over. So he did. But there is no spout near the little room window. There is a tree, and such an agile boy as Ben could swing in and out easily. Now, thorny, I hate to think this of him, but it has happened twice, and for his own sake I must stop it. If he is planning to run away, money is a good thing to have, and he may feel that it is his own, for you know he asked me to put his wages in the bank, and I did. He may not like to come to me for that, because he can give no good reason for wanting it. I'm so troubled, I really don't know what to do. She looked troubled, and thorny put his arms about her as if to keep all worries but his own away from her. Don't you fret, silly dear. You leave it to me, I'll fix him, ungrateful little scamp. That's not the way to begin. I'm afraid you will make him angry and hurt his feelings, and then we can do nothing. Bother his feelings. I shall just say, calmly and coolly, now look here, Ben, hand over that money you took out of my sister's drawer, and we'll let you off easy, or something like that. It won't do, thorny. His temper would be up in a minute, and away he would go before we could find out whether he was guilty or not. I wish I knew how to manage. Let me think. And thorny leaned his chin on the arm of the chair, staring hard at the knocker as if he expected the lion's mouth to open with words of counsel then and there. By Jove, I do believe Ben took it, he broke out suddenly, for when I went to his room this morning to see why he didn't come and do my boots, he shut the drawer in his bureau as quick as a flash and looked red and queer, for I didn't knock and sort of startled him. He wouldn't be likely to put stolen money there. Ben is too wise for that. He wouldn't keep it there, but he might be looking at it and pitch it in when I called. He's hardly spoken to me since, and when I asked him what his flag was at half-mast for, he wouldn't answer. Besides, you know in the reading this afternoon he didn't listen, and when you asked what he was thinking about, he colored up and muttered something about Sanch. I tell you Celia, it looks bad, very bad, and thorny shook his head with a wise air. It does, and yet we may be all wrong. Let us wait a little and give the poor boy a chance to clear himself before we speak. I'd rather lose my money than suspect him falsely. How much was it? Eleven dollars. A one went first, and I supposed I had miscalculated somewhere when I took some out, but when I missed a ten, I felt that I ought not let it pass. Look here, sister, you just put the case into my hands and let me work it up. I won't say anything to Ben till you give the word, but I'll watch him, and now that my eyes are open, it won't be easy to deceive me. Thorny was evidently pleased with the new play of detective, and intended to distinguish himself in that line. But when Miss Celia asked how he meant to begin, he could only respond with a blank expression. Don't know. You give me the keys and leave a bill or two in the drawer, and maybe I can find him out somehow. So the keys were given, and the little dressing room where the old secretary stood was closely watched for a day or two. Ben cheered up a trifle which looked as if he knew an eye was upon him, but otherwise he went on as usual, and Miss Celia, feeling a little guilty at even harboring a suspicion of him, was kind and patient with his moves. Thorny was very funny in the unnecessary mystery and fuss he made. His affectation of careless indifference to Ben's movements, and his clumsy attempts to watch every one of them, his dodgings up and downstairs, ostentatious clanking of keys, and the elaborate traps he set to catch his thief, such as throwing his ball in at the dressing room window and sending Ben up the tree to get it, which he did, thereby proving beyond a doubt that he alone could have taken the money, Thorny thought. Another deep discovery was that the old drawer was so shrunken that the lock could be pressed down by slipping a knife-blade between the hasp and socket. Now it is clear as day, and you'd better let me speak, he said, full of pride as well as regret at this triumphant success of his first attempt as a detective. Not yet, and you need do nothing more. I'm afraid it was a mistake of mine to let you do this, and if it had spoiled your friendship with Ben I shall be very sorry, for I do not think he is guilty, answered Miss Celia. Why not? And Thorny looked annoyed. I've watched also, and he doesn't act like a deceitful boy. Today I asked him if he wanted any money, or I should put what I owe him with the rest, and he looked me straight in the face with such honest, grateful eyes I could not doubt him when he said, Keep it, please. I don't need anything here. You are also good to me. Now, Celia, don't you be soft-hearted. He's a sly little dog, and knows my eye is on him. When I asked him what he saw in the dressing room after he brought out the ball and looked sharply at him, he laughed and said, Only a mouse, as saucy as you please. Do set the trap there. I heard the mouse nibbling last night, and he kept me awake. We must have a cat, or we shall be overrun. Well, shall I give Ben a good blowing up, or will you, asked Thorny, scorning such poor prey as mice, and bound to prove that he was in the right? I'll let you know what I have decided in the morning. Be kind to Ben, meantime, or I shall feel as if I had done you harm by letting you watch him. So it was left for that day, and by the next Miss Celia had made up her mind to speak to Ben. She was just going down to breakfast when the sound of loud voices made her pause and listen. It came from Ben's room, where the two boys seemed to be disputing about something. I hope Thorny has kept his promise, she thought, and hurried through the back entry, fearing a general explosion. Ben's chamber was at the end, and she could see and hear what was going on before she was near enough to interfere. Ben stood against the closet door, looking as fierce and red as a turkey cock. Thorny sternly confronted him, saying in an excited tone, and with a threatening gesture, you are hiding something in there, and you can't deny it. I don't. Better not, I insist on seeing it. Well, you won't. What have you been stealing now? I didn't steal it, used to be mine, I only took it when I wanted it. I know what that means, you better give it back or I'll make you. Stop! cried a third voice, as Thorny put out his arm to clutch Ben, who looked ready to defend himself to the last. Boys, I will settle this affair. Is there anything hidden in the closet, Ben? And the sealia came between the belligerent parties with her one hand up to part them. Thorny fell back at once, looking half ashamed of his heat, and Ben briefly answered with a gulp as if shame or anger made it hard to speak steadily. Yes, there is. Does it belong to you? Yes, it does. Where did you get it? Up to the squires. It's a lie, muttered Thorny to himself. Ben's eyes flashed, and his fists doubled up in spite of him, but he restrained himself out of respect for Miss Sealia, who looked puzzled as she asked another question, not sure how to proceed with the investigation. Is it money, Ben? No, it isn't. Then what can it be? Meow! answered a fourth voice in the closet. And as Ben flung the door open, a gray kitten walked out purring with satisfaction at her release. Miss Sealia fell into a chair and laughed till her eyes were full. Thorny looked foolish, and then folded his arms, curled up his nose, and regarded his accuser with calm defiance, while Pussy sat down to wash her face as if her morning toilette had been interrupted by her sudden abduction. That's all very well, but it doesn't mend matters much, so you needn't laugh, Sealia, began Thorny, recovering himself and stubbornly bent on sifting the case to the bottom, now he had begun. Well, it would if you let a feller alone. She said she wanted a cat, so I went and got the one they gave me when I was at the squires. I went early and took her without asking, and I had a right to, explained Ben, much aggrieved by having his surprise spoiled. It was very kind of you, and I'm glad to have this nice kitty. We will shut her up in my room to catch the mice that plague me, said Miss Sealia, picking up the little cat and wondering how she could get her two angry boys safely downstairs. The dressing room, she means, and you know the way, and you don't need the keys to get in, added Thorny, with such sarcastic emphasis that Ben felt some insult was intended and promptly resented it. You won't get me to climb any more trees after your balls, and my cat won't catch any of your mice, so you needn't ask me. Cats don't catch thieves, and they are what I'm after. What do you mean by that, fiercely demanded Ben? Sealia has lost some money out of her drawer, and you won't let me see what's in yours, so I thought perhaps you'd got it, flirted out Thorny, finding it hard to say the words, angry as he was, for the face opposite did not look like a guilty one. For a minute Ben did not seem to understand him, plainly as he spoke. Then he turned in angry scarlet, and, with a reproachful glance at his mistress, opened the little drawer so they could both see all that it contained. They ain't anything, but I'm fond of them, they are all I've got. I was afraid he'd laugh at me that time, so I wouldn't let him look. It was Father's birthday, and I felt bad about him and Sanch. Ben's indignant voice got more and more indistinct as he stumbled on, and broke down over the last words. He did not cry, however, but threw back his little treasures as if half their sacredness was gone, and, making a strong effort at self-control, faced around, asking of Miss Sealia with a grieved look. Did you think I'd steal anything of yours? I tried not to, Ben, but what could I do? It was gone, and you were the only stranger about the place. Wasn't there anyone to think bad of but me? He said so sorrowfully that Miss Sealia made up her mind on the spot that he was as innocent of the theft as the kitten now biting her buttons, no other refreshment being offered. Nobody, for I know my girls well. Yet, eleven dollars are gone, and I cannot imagine where or how, for both drawer and door are always locked, because my papers and valuables are in that room. What a lot! But how could I get it if it was locked up? And Ben looked as if that question was unanswerable. Folks that can climb in a window for a ball can go the same way for money, and get it easy enough when they've only to pry open an old lock. Thorny's look and tone seemed to make plain to Ben all that they had been suspecting, and, being innocent, he was too perplexed and unhappy to defend himself. His eye went from one to the other, and, seeing doubt in both faces, his boyish heart sank within him, for he could prove nothing, and his first impulse was to go away at once. I can't say anything, only that I didn't take the money. You won't believe it, so I better go back where I come from. They weren't so kind, but they trusted me, and knew I wouldn't steal a cent. You may keep my money, and the kitty too, I don't want them. And snatching up his hat, Ben would have gone straight away if Thorny had not barred his passage. Come now, don't be mad. Let's talk it over, and if I'm wrong, I'll take it all back and ask your pardon, he said, in a friendly tone, rather scared of the consequences of his first attempt, though as sure as ever that he was right. It would break my heart to have you go in that way, Ben. Stay at least till your innocence is proved, then no one can doubt what you say now. Don't see how it can be proved, answered Ben, appeased by her evident desire to trust him. We'll try as well as we know how, and the first thing we do is to give that old secretary a good rummage from top to bottom. I've done it once, but it is just possible that the bills may have slipped out of sight. Come, now, I can't rest till I've done all I can to comfort you and convince Thorny. Miss Celia rose as she spoke, and led the way to the dressing room, which had no outlet except through her chamber. Still holding his hat, Ben followed with a troubled face, and Thorny brought up the rear, doggedly determined to keep an eye on the little scamp, till the matter was satisfactorily cleared up. Miss Celia had made her proposal more to soothe the feelings of one boy and to employ the supply-flourish energies of the other than in the expectation of throwing any light upon the mystery, for she was sadly puzzled by Ben's manner, and much regretted that she had let her brother meddle in the matter. There, she said, unlocking the door with the key Thorny reluctantly gave up to her. This is the room, and that is the drawer on the right. The lower ones seldom have been opened since we came, and hold only some of Papa's old books. Those upper ones you may turn out and investigate as much as you, bless me, here's something in your trap. Thorny and Miss Celia gave a little skip, as she nearly trod on a long gray tail, which hung out of the bowl now filled by a plump mouse. But her brother was intent on more serious things, and merely pushed the trap aside as he pulled out the drawer with an excited gesture, which sent it and all its contents clattering to the floor. Confound the old thing, it always stuck so I had to give it a jerk. Now there it is, topsy-turvy, and Thorny looked much disgusted at his own awkwardness. No harm done, I left nothing of value in it. Look back there, Ben, and see if there was room for a paper to get worked over the top of the drawer. I felt quite a crack, but I don't believe it is possible for things to slip out. The place was never full enough to overflow in any way. Miss Celia spoke to Ben, who was kneeling down to pick up the scattered papers, among which were two marked dollar bills, Thorny's bait for the thief. Ben looked into the dusty recess, and then put in his hand, saying carelessly, There's nothing but a bit of red stuff. My old pen wiper, why, what is the matter, as Miss Celia, as Ben dropped the handful of what looked like rubbish? Something warm and wiggly inside of it, answered Ben, stopping to examine the contents of the little scarlet bundle. Baby mice, ain't they funny? Look just like mites of young pigs. We'll have to kill them if you've caught their mama, he said, forgetting his own trials and boyish curiosity about his find. Miss Celia stopped also, and gently poked the red cradle with her finger, for the tiny mice were nestling deeper into the fluff with small squeals of alarm. Suddenly she cried out, boys, boys, I found the thief. Look here, pull out these bits and see if they won't make up my lost bills. Down went the motherless babies as four ruthless hands pulled apart their cozy nest, and there, among the nibbled fragments, appeared enough finely printed greenish paper to piece out parts of two bank bills. A large cipher and a part of a figure one were visible, and that accounted for the ten, but though there were other bits, no figures could be found, and they were willing to take the other bill on trust. Now then, am I a thief and a liar, demanded Ben, pointing proudly to the tell-tale letters spread forth on the table, over which all three had been equally bending? No, I beg your pardon, and I'm very sorry that we didn't look more carefully before we spoke, than all should have been spared this pain. All right, old fellow, forgive and forget, I'll never think hard of you again, on my honour I won't. As they spoke, Miss Celia and her brother held out their hands frankly and heartily. Ben shook both, but with a difference, for he pressed the soft one gratefully, remembering that its owner had always been good to him, but the brown paw he gripped with a vengeful squeeze that made Thornie pull it away in a hurry, exclaiming good-naturely, in spite of both physical and mental discomfort. Come, Ben, don't you bear malice, for you've got the laugh on your side, and we feel pretty small. I do, anyway, for, after all my fidgets, all I've caught is a mouse. And her family, I'm so relieved I'm almost sorry the poor little mother is dead. She and her babies were so happy in the old pen wiper, said Miss Celia, hastening to speak merrily, for Ben still looked indignant, and she was much grieved at what had happened. A pretty expensive house, began Thornie, looking about for the interesting orphans who had been left on the floor while their paper pangings were examined. No further anxiety need be felt for them, however. Kitty had come upon the scene, and as judge, jury, and prisoner turned to find the little witnesses, they beheld the last pink mite going down Pussy's throat in one mouthful. I call that summary justice, the whole family executed on the spot. Give Kit the mouse also, and let us go to breakfast. I feel as if I had found my appetite, now this worry is off my mind, said Miss Celia, laughing so infectiously that Ben had to join in spite of himself, as she took his arm and led him away with a look which mutely asked his pardon over again. Rather lively for a funeral procession, said Thornie, following with the trap in his hand, and pussed his heels, adding to comfort his bride as a detective. Well, I said I'd catch the thief, and I have, though it is rather a small one. End of CHAPTER XVI. Celia, I have a notion that we ought to give Ben something, a sort of peace offering, you know, for he feels dreadfully hurt about our suspecting him, said Thornie at dinner that day. I see he does, though he tries to seem as bright and pleasant as ever. I do not wonder, and I've been thinking what I could do to soothe his feelings. Can you suggest anything? Cough buttons. I saw some jolly ones over at Berryville, oxidized silver with dog's heads on them, yellow eyes, and all as natural as could be. Those now would just suit him for his go-to-meeting white shirts, neat, appropriate, and in memoriam. Miss Celia could not help laughing. It was such a boyish suggestion, but she agreed to it, thinking Thornie knew best, and hoping the yellow-eyed dogs would be his balm to Ben's wounds. Well, dear, you may give those, and Lita shall give the little whip with a horse's foot for a handle, if it is not gone. I saw it at the harness-shop in town, and Ben admired it so much that I planned to give it to him on his birthday. That will tickle him immensely, and if you'd just let him put brown tops to my old boots and stick a cockade in his hat when he sits up behind the faton, he'd be a happy fellow, laughed Thornie, who had discovered that one of Ben's ambitions was to be a tip-top groom. No, thank you. Those things are out of place in America, and would be absurd in a small country place like this. His blue suit and straw hat please me better for a boy, though a nicer little groom in livery or out no one could desire, and you may tell him I said so. I will, and he'll look as proud as punch, for he thinks every word you say worth a dozen from any one else. But won't you give him something? Just some little trifle to show that we are both eating humble pie, feeling sorry about the mouse-money. I shall give him a set of school-books, and try to get him ready to begin when vacation is over. An education is the best present we can make him, and I want you to help me fit him to enter as well as he can. Bab and Betty began, little deers, lent him their books and taught all they knew, so Ben got a taste, and, with the right encouragement, would like to go on, I am sure. That's so like you, Celia. I'm always thinking of the best thing and doing it handsomely. I'll help like a house of fire if he will let me, but all day he's been as stiff as a poker, so I don't believe he forgives me a bit. He will in time, and if you are kind and patient, he will be glad to have you help him. I shall make it a sort of favor to me on his part, to let you see to his lessons now and then. It will be quite true, for I don't want you to touch your Latin or algebra till cool weather, teaching him will be played to you. Miss Celia's last words made her brother unbend his brows, for he longed to get at his books again, and the idea of being tutor to his manservant did not altogether suit him. I'll tool him along at a great pace if he will only go. Geography and arithmetic shall be my share, and you may have the writing and spelling. It gives me the fidgets to set copies, and here children make a mess of words. Shall I get the books when I buy the other things? Can I go this afternoon? Yes, here's the list Bab gave it to me. You can go if you will come home early and have your tooth filled. Gloom fell at once upon Thornie's beaming face, and he gave such a shrill whistle that his sister jumped in her chair as she added persuasively. It won't hurt a bit now, and the longer you leave it the worse it will be. Dr. Mann is ready at any time, and once over you will be at peace for months. Come, my hero, give your orders, and take one of the girls to support you in the trying hour. Have, Bab. She will enjoy it and amuse you with her chatter. As if I needed girls round for such a trifle as that, returned Thornie with a shrug, that we groaned inwardly at the prospect before him, as most of us do on such occasions. I wouldn't take Bab at any price. She'd only get into some scrape and upset the whole plan. Betty is the chicken for me, a real little lady, and as nice and purry as a kitten. Very well. Ask her mother and take good care of her. Let her tuck her dolly in, and she will be contented anywhere. There's a fine air, and the awning is on the fate, and so you won't feel the sun. Start about three, and drive carefully. Betty was charmed to go, for Thornie was a sort of prince in her eyes, and to be invited to such a grand expedition was an overwhelming honour. Bab was not surprised, for, since Sancho's loss, she had felt herself in disgrace, and but unusually meek. Ben led her severely alone, which much afflicted her, for he was her great admiration, and had been pleased to express his approbation of her agility and courage so often, that she was ready to attempt any foolhardy feat to recover his regard. But vainly did she risk her neck jumping off the highest beams in the barn, trying to keep her balance standing on the donkey's back, and leaping the lodge gate at a bound. Ben vouchsafed no reward by a look, a smile, a word of commendation, and Bab felt that nothing but Sancho's return would ever restore the broken friendship. Into faithful Betty's bosom did she pour forth her remorseful lamentations, often bursting out with the passionate exclamation, if I could only find Sancho and give him back to Ben, I wouldn't care if I tumbled down and broke all my legs right away. Such abandonment of woe made a deep impression on Betty, and she fell into the way of consoling her sister by cheerful prophecies, and a firm belief that the organ man would yet appear with the lost darling. I've got five cents of my berry money, and I'll buy you an orange if I see any," promised Betty, stepping to kiss Bab as the faton came to the door, and Thorny handed in a young lady whose white frock was so stiff with starch that it crackled like paper. Lemons will do if oranges are gone. I like them to suck with lots of sugar," answered Bab, feeling that the sour sadly predominated in her cup just now. Don't she look sweet, the dear, murmured Mrs. Moss, proudly surveying her youngest. She certainly did, sitting under the fringed canopy with Belinda all in her best upon her lap, as she turned to smile and nod with the face so bright and winsome under the little blue hat that it was no wonder mother and sister thought there never was such a perfect child as our Betty. Dr. Mann was busy when they arrived, but would be ready in an hour, so they did their shopping at once, having made sure of the whip as they came along. Thorny added some candy to Bab's lemon, and Belinda had a cake, which her mama obligingly ate for her. Betty thought that Aladdin's palace could not have been more splendid than the jeweler's shop where the canine cuff buttons were bought, but when they came to the bookstore she forgot gold, silver, and precious stones to revel in picture books, while Thorny selected Ben's modest school outfit. Seeing her delight and feeling particularly lavish with plenty of money in his pocket, the young gentleman completed the child's bliss by telling her to choose whichever one she liked best out of the pile of Walter Crane's toy books lying in bewildering colors before her. This one, Bab always wanted to see the dreadful cupboard but there's a picture of it here," answered Betty, clasping a gorgeous copy of Bluebeard to the little bosom, which still heaved with the rapture of looking at that delicious mixture of lovely Fatimas and pale azure gowns, pink sister-ands on the turret top, crimson tyrants, and yellow brothers with forests of plumage blowing wildly from their mushroom-shaped caps. Very good, there you are then. Now come on, for the fun is over and the grind begins, said Thorny, marching away to his doom with his tongue and his tooth and trepidation in his manly breast. While I shut my eyes and hold your head, Quaver devoted Betty, as they went up the stairs so many reluctant feet had mounted before them. Nonsense, child, never mind me. You look out of window and amuse yourself. We shall not be long, I guess. And in went Thorny, silently hoping that the dentist had been suddenly called away or some person with an excruciating toothache would be waiting to take either and so give our young man an excuse for postponing his job. But no, Dr. Mann was quiet at leisure and full of smiling interests awaited his victim, laying forth his unpleasant little tools with the exasperating alacrity of his kind. Glad to be released from any share in the operation, Betty retired to the back window to be as far away as possible, and for half an hour was so absorbed in her book that poor Thorny might have grown dismally without disturbing her. Done now directly, only a trifle of polishing off in a look round, said Dr. Mann at last, and Thorny with a yawn that nearly rent him asunder called out, Thank goodness, pack up, Bettykin. I'm all ready. With the book with the start, she slipped down from the easy chair in a great hurry. But looking round took time, and before the circuit of Thorny's mouth was satisfactorily made, Betty had become absorbed by a more interesting tale than even the immortal Bluebeard. A noise of children's voices in the narrow alleyway behind the house attracted her attention. The long window opened directly on the yard and the gate swung in the wind. Curious as Fatima, Betty went to look, but all she saw was a group of excited boys peeping between the bars of another gate further down. What's the matter?" she asked of two small girls who stood close by her, longing but not daring to approach the scene of action. Boys chasing a great black cat, I believe, answered one child. Want to come and see? added the other, politely extending the invitation to the stranger. The thought of a cat in trouble would have nerved Betty to face a dozen boys, so she followed it once, meeting several lads hurrying away on some important errand to judge from their anxious countenances. Hold tight, Jimmy, and let him peek He can't hurt anybody now, said one of the dusty huntsmen who sat on the wide coping of the wall, while two others held the gate as if a cat could only escape that way. You peek first, Susie, and see if it looks nice, said one little girl, boosting her friend so that she could look through the bars in the upper part of the gate. No, it's only an ugly old dog, responded Susie, losing all interest at once and descending with a bounce. He's mad, and Judd's gone to get his gun so we can shoot him, called out one mischievous boy, resenting the contempt expressed for their capture. Ain't neither, howled another lad from his perch. Mad dogs won't drink, and this one is lapping out of a tub of water. Well, he may be, and we don't know him, and he hasn't got any muzzle on, and the police will kill him if Judd don't, answered the sanguinary youth who had first started the chase after the poor animal, which had come limping into town, so evidently a lost dog that no one felt any hesitation in stoning him. We must go right home. My mother is dreadful afraid of mad dogs, said Susie, and having satisfied their curiosity, the young ladies prudently retired. But Betty had not had her peep and could not resist one look, for she had heard of these unhappy animals and thought Badd would like to know how they looked. So she stood on tiptoe and got a good view of a dusty brownish dog lying on the grass close by with his tongue hanging out while he panted as if exhausted by fatigue and fear, for he still cast apprehensive glances at the wall, which divided him from his tormentors. His eyes are just like Sancho's, said Betty to herself, unconscious that she spoke aloud, till she saw the creature prick up his ears in half-rise as if he had been called. He looks as if he knew me, but it is in our Sancho he was a lovely dog. Betty said that to the little boy peeping in beside her, but before he could make any reply the brown beast stood straight up with an inquiring bark, while his eyes shone like topaz and the short tail wagged excitedly. Why, that's just the way Sancho used to do, by the familiar ways of this unfamiliar looking dog. As if the repetition of his name settled his own doubts he leaped toward the gate and thrust a pink nose between the bars with a howl of recognition as Betty's face was more clearly seen. The boys tumbled precipitately from their perches and the little girl fell back alarmed, yet could not bear to run away and leave those imploring eyes pleading to her through the bars so eloquently. He acts just like our dog, but I don't see how it can be him. Sancho, Sancho, is it really you? Don't, Betty, at her wit's end, what to do? Oh, whoa, whoa! answered the well-known bark, and the little tail did all it could to emphasize the sound. While the eyes were so full of dumb love and joy the child could not refuse to believe that this ugly stray was their own Sancho strangely transformed. All of a sudden the thought rushed into her mind, how glad Ben would be and Babb would feel all happy again. I must carry him home. Never stopping to think of danger and forgetting all her doubts, Betty would settle out of Jimmy's grasp, exclaiming eagerly, Here's our dog, let me go in, I ain't afraid. Not till Judd comes back, he told us we mustn't, answered the astonished Jimmy, thinking the little girl as mad as the dog. With a confused idea that the unknown Judd had gone for a gun to shoot Sanch, Betty gave a desperate pull at the latch and ran into the yard, bent on saving her friend. That it was a friend there could be no further question, for though the creature rushed at her as if about to devour her at a mouthful, only to roll ecstatically at her feet, lick her hands and gaze into her face, trying to pant out the welcome which she could not utter. An older and more prudent person would have waited to make sure before venturing in, but confiding Betty knew little of the danger which she might have run. Her heart spoke more quickly than her head and, not stopping to have the truth proved, she took the brown dog on trust and found it was indeed dear Sanch. Sitting on the grass she hugged him close, careless of tumbled hat, dusty paws on her clean frock or a row of strange boys staring from the wall. Darling, doggie, where have you been so long? She cried, the great things sprawling across her lap as if he could not get near enough to his brave little protector. Did they make you black and beat you, dear? Oh, Sanch, where is your tail? Your pretty tail! A plaintive growl and a pathetic wag was all the answer he could make to these tender inquiries, for never would the story of his wrongs be known and never could the glory of his doggish beauty be restored. Betty was trying to comfort him with pats and praises when a new face appeared at the gate and Thorny's authoritative voice called out, Betty Moss, what on earth are you doing in there with that dirty beast? It's Sanch! It's Sanch! Oh, come and see! shrieked Betty, flying up to lead forth her prize. But the gate was held fast, for someone said the words, mad dog, and Thorny was very naturally alarmed because he had already seen one. Don't stay there another minute. Get up on that bench and I'll pull you over, directed Thorny, mounting the wall to rescue his charge in hot haste, for the dog did certainly behave queerly, limping hurriedly to and fro as if anxious to escape. No wonder when Sancho heard a voice he knew and recognized another face, yet did not meet as kind a welcome as before. I'm not coming out till he does. It is Sanch and I'm going to take him home to Ben, answered Betty decidedly, as she wet her handkerchief in the rainwater to bind up the swollen paw that had traveled many miles to rest in her little hand again. You're crazy, child! That is no more Ben's dog than I am. See if it isn't, cried Betty, perfectly unshaken in her faith, and recalling the words of command as well as she could, she tried to put Sancho through his little performance, as the surest proof that she was right. The poor fellow did his best, weary and foot sore though he was, but when it came to taking his tail in his mouth to waltz, he gave it up, and dropping down, hit his face in his paws, as he always did when any of his tricks failed. The act was almost pathetic now, for one of the paws was bandaged, and his whole attitude expressed the humiliation of a broken spirit. That touched Thorny, and quite convinced both of the dog's sanity and identity, he sprung down from the wall with Ben's own whistle, which gladdened Sancho's longing ear, as much as the boy's rough caresses comforted his homesick heart. Now let's carry him right home and surprise Ben. Won't he be pleased? said Betty, so in earnest that she tried to lift the big brute in spite of his protesting yelps. You are a little trump to find him out in spite of all the horrid things that have been done to him. We must have a rope to lead him, for he's got no collar and no muzzle. He has got friends though, and I'd like to see anyone touch him now. Out of the way there, boy! Looking as commanding as a drum major, Thorny cleared a passage, and with one arm about his neck, Betty proudly led her treasure, magnanimously ignoring his late foes, and keeping his eye fixed on the faithful friend whose tender little heart had known him in spite of all disguises. I'm glad who had been most eager for the shooting stepped forward to claim any reward that might be offered for the now-valuable victim. I kept him safe till she came, added the jailer Jimmy, speaking for himself. I said he wasn't mad, cried a third, feeling that his discrimination deserved approval. Judd ain't my brother, said the fourth, eager to clear his skirts from all offence. But all of you chased and stoned him, I suppose. You'd better look out, or you'll get reported to the society for the prevention of cruelty to animals. This awful and mysterious threat Thorny slammed the doctor's gate in the faces of the mercenary youths, nipping their hopes in the bud and teaching them a good lesson. After one astonished stare, Lita accepted Sancho without Demir, and they greeted one another cordially, nose-to-nose, instead of shaking hands. Then the dog nestled into his old place under the linen duster, with a grunt of intense content and soon fell fast asleep, quite worn out with fatigue. She never approached the eternal city feeling richer or prouder than did Miss Betty, as she rolled rapidly toward the little brown house, with the captive one by her own arms. Poor Belinda was forgotten in a corner. Bluebeard was thrust under the cushion, and the lovely lemon was squeezed before its time by being sat upon, for all the child could think of was Ben's delight, Bab's remorseful burden lifted off, Ma's surprise and Miss Celia's pleasure. She could hardly realize the happy fact, and kept peeping under the cover to be sure that the dear dingy bunch at her feet was truly there. I'll tell you how we'll do it, said Thornie, breaking along silence as Betty composed herself with an irrepressible wriggle of delight after one of these refreshing peeps. We'll keep Sanch hidden and smuggle him into Ben's old room at your house. Then I'll drive on to the barn and not say a word, but send Ben to get something out of that room. You just let him in to see what he'll do. I'll bet you a dollar he won't know his own dog. I don't believe I can keep from screaming right out when I see him, but I'll try. Oh, won't it be fun? And Betty clapped her hands in joyful anticipation of that exciting moment. A nice little plan, but Master Thornie forgot the keen senses of the amiable animal snoring peacefully among his boots, and when they stopped at the lodge he had barely time to say in a whisper, Ben's coming. Cover Sanch and let me get him in quick. Before the dog was out of the fate like a bombshell, and the approaching boy went down as if shot, for Sancho gave one leap and the two rolled over and over with a shout and a bark of rapturous recognition. Who is hurt? asked Mrs. Moss, running out with flowery hands uplifted in alarm. Is it a bear? cried Bab, rushing after her beater in hand, for a dancing bear was the delight of her heart. Sancho's found! Sancho's found! shouted Thornie, throwing up his hat like a lunatic. Found, found, found! echoed Betty, dancing wildly about as if she too had lost her little wits. Where? How? When? Who did it? asked Mrs. Moss, clapping her dusty lips delightedly. It isn't! It's an old dirty brown thing! stammered Bab, as the dog came uppermost for a minute, and then rooted into Ben's jacket, as if he smelt a woodchuck, and was bound to have him out directly. Then Thornie, with many interruptions from Betty, poured forth the wondrous tale to which Bab and her mother listened breathlessly, while the muffins burned as black as a coal and nobody cared a bit. My precious lamb! How did you dare to do such a thing? exclaimed Mrs., hugging the small heroine with mingled admiration and alarm. I'd have dared and slapped those horrid boys too! I wish I'd gone! And Bab felt that she had forever lost the chance of distinguishing herself. Who cut his tail off? demanded Ben in a menacing tone, as he came uppermost in his turn, dusty, red, and breathless, but radiant. The wretch who stole him, I suppose, and he deserves to be hung, answered Thornie hotly. If I ever catch him up, I'll cut his nose off, roared Ben, with such a vengeful glare that Saunch barked fiercely, and it was well that the unknown wretch was not there, for it would have gone hardly with him, since even gentle Betty found, while Bab brandished the egg-beater menacingly, and their mother indignantly declared that it was too bad. Relieved by this general outburst, they composed their outraged feelings, and while the returned wanderer went from one to another to receive a tender welcome from each, the story of his recovery was more calmly told. And with his eye devouring the injured dog, and when Thornie paused, he turned to the little heroine, saying solemnly as he laid her hand with his own on Saunch's head, Betty Moss, I'll never forget what you did. From this minute, half of Saunch is your truly own, and if I die you shall have the whole of him, and Ben sealed the precious gift with a sounding kiss on either chubby cheek. Betty was so deeply touched by this noble bequest that the blue eyes filled and would have overflowed if Saunch had not politely offered his tongue like a red pocket handkerchief, and so made her laugh the drops away, while Bab set the rest off by saying gloomily I mean to play with all the mad dogs I can find, then folks will think I'm smart and give me nice things. Poor old Bab, I'll forgive you now, and lend you my half whenever you want it, said Ben, feeling at peace now with all mankind, including girls who tagged. Come and show him to seal you, beg Thornie, eager to fight his battles over again. Better wash him up first, he's a sight to see, poor thing, suggested Mrs. Moss, as she ran in suddenly remembering her muffins. It will take a lot of washings to get that brown stuff off. See, his pretty pink skin is all stained with it. We'll bleach him out, and his curls will grow, and he'll be as good as ever, all but Ben could not finish, and a general wail went up for the departed tassel that would never wave proudly in the breeze again. I'll buy him a new one, now form the procession and let us go in style, said Thornie cheerily, as he swung Betty to his shoulder and marched away whistling, hail the conquering hero comes, while Ben and his bow-wile followed arm in arm, and Bab brought up the rear, banging on a milk-pan with the egg-beater. CHAPTER XVIII. OF UNDER THE LIELACS. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit orc. Recording by Angela. Under the lilacs by Louisa May Alcott. CHAPTER XVIII. BOWS AND ARROWS. If Sancho's abduction made a stir, one may easily imagine with what warmth and interest he was welcomed back when his wrongs and wanderings were known. For several days he held regular levees that curious boys and sympathizing girls might see and pity at the changed and curtailed dog. Sancho behaved with dignified affability when he first met in the coach-house, pensively eyeing his guests and patiently submitting to their caresses, while Ben and Thorne took turns to tell a few tragical facts which were not shrouded in the deepest mystery. If the interesting sufferer could only have spoken, what thrilling adventures and hair-bread escapes he might have related. But alas, he was dumb, and the secrets of that memorable month never were revealed. The lame paws soon healed. The dingy-colors slowly yielded to and began to knot up into little curls. A new collar, handsomely marked, made him a respectable dog, and Sancho was himself again. But it was evident that his sufferings were not forgotten. His once sweet temper was a trifle soured, and with a few exceptions he had lost his faith in mankind. Before he had been the most benevolent and hospitable of dogs. Now he eyed all strangers suspiciously, and the sight of a shabby man made him growl and bristle up, as if the memory of his wrongs was wildly within him. Fortunately, his gratitude was stronger than his resentment, and he never seemed to forget that he owed his life to Betty, running to meet her whenever she appeared, instantly obeying her commands, and suffering no one to molest her when he walked watchfully beside her, with her hand upon his neck, as they had walked out of the almost fatal backyard together, faithful friends forever. Miss Celia called them little Yuna and her lion and read the pretty story to the children when they wondered what she meant. The great pains taught the dog to spell Betty and surprised her with the display of this new accomplishment, which gratified her so much that she was never tired of seeing Sanch paw the five red letters into place, then come and lay his nose in her hand, as if he added, That's the name of my dear mistress. Of course, Bab was glad to have everything pleasant and friendly again, but in a little dark corner of her heart there was a drop of envy and a desperate desire to do something which would make everyone in her small world like and praise her well-being. Trying to be as good and gentle did not satisfy her. She must do something brave or surprising and no chance for distinguishing herself in that way seemed likely to appear. Betty was as fond as ever and the boys were very kind to her, but she felt that they both liked little Betsynda, as they called her best, because she found Sanch and never seemed to know that she had done anything brave in defending him against all odds. Bab did not tell anyone how she felt, but endeavored to be amiable while waiting for them, and, when it did arrive, made the most of it, though there was nothing heroic to add a charm. Miss Celia's arm had been doing very well but would of course be useless for some time longer. Finding that the afternoon readings amused herself as much as they did the children, she kept them up and brought out all her old favourites, enjoying a double pleasure in seeing that her young audience relished them as much as she did when a child, for to all but thorny they were brand new. Out of one of these stories came much amusement for all for one of the party. Celia, did you bring her old bows? Asked her brother eagerly, as she put down the book from which she had been reading Miss Edwards' capital story of waste not want not, or two strings to your bow. Yes, I brought all the playthings we left stored away in Uncle's Garret when we went abroad. The bows are in the long box where you found the mallets, fishing rods, and bats. The old quivers and a few arrows are there also, I believe. What is the idea now? Asked Miss Celia in her turn, as thorny bounced up in the tree. I'm going to teach Ben to shoot. Grandfun this hot weather, and by and by we'll have an archery meeting, and you can give a surprise. Come on, Ben, I've got plenty of whipcord to rig up the bows, and then we'll show the ladies some first-class shooting. I can't. Never had a decent bow in my life. The little guilt when I used to wave round when I was a cupid wasn't worth a cent to go, answered Ben, feeling as if that painted prodigy must have been a very distant connection of the respectable young person now walking off arm in arm with the Lord of the West. I used to be a capital shop, but I don't believe I could hit anything but a barn door now," answered thorny encouragingly. As the boys vanished with much tramping of boots and banging of doors, Bab observed in the young ladyish tone she was apt to use when she composed her active little mind and body to the feminine task of needlework. We used to make bows of whalebone when we were little girls, but we are too old to play so now. I'd like to, but Bab won't, because she's most eleven years old, said Honest Betty, placidly rubbing her needle in her sister, as she called the family Emery Bag. Grown people enjoy archery, as bow and arrow shooting is called, especially in England. I was reading about it the other day and saw a picture of Queen Victoria with her bow, so you needn't be ashamed of it, Bab, said Miss Celia, rummaging among the books and papers in her sofa corner to find the magazine she wanted, thinking a new play would be as good for the girls as for the big boys. A queen, just think! And Betty looked much impressed by the fact, as well as uplifted by the knowledge that her friend did not agree in thinking her silly, because she preferred playing with a harmless homemade toy to firing stones or snapping a pop gun. In old times bows and arrows were used to fight great battles with, and we read how the English archers shot so well that the air was dark with arrows and many men were killed. So did the Indians have them, and I've got some stone arrowheads found by the river in the dirt, cried Bab, waking up for battles interested her more than queens. While you finish your stints I'll tell you a little about Miss Celia, lying back on her cushions while the needles began to go again, for the prospect of a story could not be resisted. A century or more ago in a small settlement on the banks of the Connecticut, which means the long river of pines, there lived a little girl called Maddie Kilburn. On a hill stood the fort where the people ran for protection in any danger, for the country was new and wild, and more than once the Indians had come down the river in their canoes and burned the houses, killed men and carried away women and children. Maddie lived but felt quite safe in the log house, for he was never far away. One afternoon as the farmers were all busy in their fields the bell rang suddenly, a sign that there was danger near, and dropping their rakes or axes the men hurried to their houses to save wives and babies and such few treasures as they could. Mr. Kilburn caught up his gun with one hand and his little girl with the other and ran as fast as he could toward the fort, but before he could reach it he heard a yell and saw the red men coming up from the river. Then he knew it would be in vain to try to get in, so he looked out for a safe place to hide Maddie till he could come for her. He was a brave man and could fight, so he had no thought of hiding while his neighbors needed help, but the dear little daughter must be cared for first. In the corner of the lonely pasture which they dared not cross stood a big hollow elm, and there the farmer hastily hid Maddie, dropping her down into the dim nook round the mouth of which young shoots had grown so that no one would have suspected any hole was there. Why still, child, till I come say your prayers and wait for father said the man and he parted the leaves for a last glance at the small frightened face looking up at him. Come soon, whispered Maddie, and tried to smile bravely as a stout settler's girl should. Mr. Kilburn went away and was taken prisoner in the fight, carried off, and for years no one knew whether he was alive or dead. People missed Maddie, but supposed she was with her father and never expected to see her again. A great while afterward the poor man came back, having escaped and made his way through the wilderness to his old home. His first question was for Maddie, but no one had seen her, and when he told them where he had left her they shook their heads as if they thought he was crazy. But they went to look that he might be satisfied, and he was, for they found some little bones, some faded bits of cloth, and two rusty silver buckles marked with Maddie's name in what had once been her shoes. An Indian arrow lay there too, showing why she had never cried for help, but waited patiently so long for father to come and find her. If Miss Celia expected to see the last bit of hem done when her story ended she was disappointed, for not a dozen stitches had been taken. Maddie was using her crash towel for a handkerchief, and Babs lay on the ground as she listened with snapping eyes to the little tragedy. Is it true? asked Maddie, hoping to find relief in being told that it was not. Yes, I have seen the tree, and the mound where the fort was, and the rusty buckles in an old farmhouse where other kill-burns live, near the spot where it all happened, answered Miss Celia, looking out the picture of Victoria to console her auditors. We'll play that in the old apple tree. Betty can scrooge down and I'll be the father and put leaves on her and then I'll be a great engine and fire at her. I can make arrows and it will be fun, won't it? cried Bab, charmed with the new drama in which she could act the leading parts. No, it won't. I don't like to go in a cobwebby hole and have you play kill me. I'll make a nice fort of hay and be all safe, and you can put Dinah down there for Maddie. I don't love her anymore, now her last eye has tumbled out, and you may shoot her just as much as you like. Before Bab could agree to this satisfactory arrangement, Thorney appeared, singing, as he aimed at a fat robin whose red waistcoat looked rather warm and winterish that August day. So he took up his bow and he feathered his arrow and said, I will shoot this little cock sparrow. But he didn't jerk the robin flying away with the contemptuous flirt of his rusty black tail. That is exactly what you must promise not to do, boys. Fire away at your targets as much as you like, but do not harm any living creature, said Miss Celia, as Ben followed, armed and equipped with her own long unused accoutrements. Of course we won't if you say so, but with a little practice I could bring down a bird as well as that fellow you read to me about with his woodpeckers and larks and herons, answered Thorney, who had much enjoyed the article, while his sister lamented over the destruction of the innocent birds. You'd do well to borrow the squire's old stuffed owl for a target. There would be some chance of your hitting him, he is so big, said his sister, who always made fun of the boy when he began to brag. Thorney's only reply was to send his arrow straight up so far out of sight that it was a long while coming down again to stick quivering in the ground nearby when Sancho brought it in his mouth, evidently highly approving of a game in which he could join. Not bad for a beginning. Now, Ben, fire away! But Ben's experience with Bose was small, and in spite of his praiseworthy efforts to imitate his great exemplar, the arrow only turned a feeble sort of somersault and descended perilously near Bab's uplifted nose. If you endanger other people's life and liberty in your pursuit of happiness, I shall have to confiscate your arms, boys. Take the orchard for your archer-ground. That is safe, and we can see you as we sit here. I wish I had two hands so that I could paint you a fine gay target. And Miss Celia looked regretfully at the injured arm, which as yet was of little use. I wish you could shoot, too. You used to beat all the girls and I was proud of you," answered Thorney, with the air of a fond elder brother, though at the time he alluded to he was about twelve and hardly up to his sister's shoulder. I am happy to give my place to Bab and Betty. If you will make them some bows and arrows, they could not use those long ones. The young gentleman did not take the hint as quickly as Miss Celia hoped they would. In fact, both looked rather blank at the suggestion, as boys generally do when it is proposed that girls, especially small ones, shall join in any game they are playing. Perhaps it would be too much trouble, began Betty and her winning little voice. I can make my own," declared Bab with an independent toss of the head. I can make you the jolliest small bow that ever was, Belinda," Thorney hastened to say, softened by the appealing glance of the little maid. You can use mine, Bab. You've got such a strong fist, I guess you could pull it," added Ben, remembering that it would not be a mist to have a comrade who shot worse than he did, for he felt very inferior to Thorney in many ways, and being used to praise had missed it very much since he retired to private life. I will be umpire and brighten up the silver arrow I sometimes pin my hair with for a prize, unless we can find something to redeem it. Proposed Miss Celia. Glad to see that question settled, and every prospect of the new play being a pleasant amusement for the hot weather. It was astonishing how soon Artury became the fashion of that town, for the boys disgusted enthusiastically all that evening formed the William Tell Club next day, with Bab and Betty as honorary members, and before the week was out nearly every lad was seen, like young Norville, with bended bow and quiver full of arrows, shooting away with a charming disregard of the safety of their authorities to secluded spots, the members of the club set up their targets and practiced indefatigably, especially Ben, who soon discovered that his early gymnastics had given him a sinewy arm and a true eye, and, taking Sanchin to partnership as a picker-up, he got more shots out of an hour than those who had to run to and fro. Thorny easily recovered most of his former skill, but his strength had not fully returned and he soon grew tired. Bab, on the contrary, threw herself into the contest's heart and soul and tugged away at the new bow Miss Celia gave her, for Ben's was too heavy. No other girls were admitted, so the outsiders got up a club of their own and called it the Victoria, the name being suggested by the magazine article, which went the rounds as a general guide and reference book. Bab and Betty belonged to this club and duly reported the doings of the boys, with whom they had a right to shoot if they chose, but soon waved the right, plainly seeing that their absence would be regarded in the light of a favour. The archery fever raged as fiercely as the baseball epidemic had done before it, and not only did the magazine circulate freely, but Miss Edgeworth's story, which was eagerly read, and so much admired that the girls at once mounted green ribbons, and the boys kept yards of whip-cord in their pockets like the provident Benjamin of the tale. Everyone enjoyed the new play very much, and something grew out of it which was a lasting pleasure to many, long after the bows and arrows were forgotten. Seeing how glad the children were to get a new story, Miss Celia was moved to send a box of books, old and new, to the town library, which was but scantily supplied as county libraries are apt to be. This donation produced a good effect, for other people hunted up all the volumes they could spare for the same purpose, and the dusty shelves in the little room behind the post office filled up amazingly. Coming in vacation time they were hailed with the light, and ancient books of travel as well as modern tales were feasted upon by happy young folks with plenty of time to enjoy them in peace. The success of her first attempt at being a public benefactor pleased Miss Celia very much, and suggested other ways in which she might serve the quiet town where she seemed to feel that work was waiting for her to do. She said little to anyone but the friend over the sea, yet various plans were made then that blossomed beautifully by and by.