Under the Lilacs

by Louisa May Alcott

  CHAPTER VIII

  MISS CELIA'S MAN

  Ben was not too tired, and the clearing-up began that very night. Nonetoo soon, for in a day or two things arrived, to the great delight ofthe children, who considered moving a most interesting play. First camethe phaeton, which Ben spent all his leisure moments in admiring;wondering with secret envy what happy boy would ride in the little seatup behind, and beguiling his tasks by planning how, when he got rich, hewould pass his time driving about in just such an equipage, and invitingall the boys he met to have a ride.

  Then a load of furniture came creaking in at the lodge gate, and thegirls had raptures over a cottage piano, several small chairs, and alittle low table, which they pronounced just the thing for them to playat. The live stock appeared next, creating a great stir in theneighborhood, for peacocks were rare birds there; the donkey's braystartled the cattle and convulsed the people with laughter; the rabbitswere continually getting out to burrow in the newly made garden; andChevalita scandalized old Duke by dancing about the stable which he hadinhabited for years in stately solitude.

  Last but by no means least, Miss Celia, her young brother, and two maidsarrived one evening so late that only Mrs. Moss went over to help themsettle. The children were much disappointed, but were appeased by apromise that they should all go to pay their respects in the morning.

  They were up so early, and were so impatient to be off, that Mrs. Mosslet them go with the warning that they would find only the servantsastir. She was mistaken, however, for, as the procession approached, avoice from the porch called out, "Good-morning little neighbors!" sounexpectedly, that Bab nearly spilt the new milk she carried, Betty gavesuch a start that the fresh-laid eggs quite skipped in the dish, andBen's face broke into a broad grin over the armful of clover which hebrought for the bunnies, as he bobbed his head, saying briskly,--

  "She's all right, miss, Lita is; and I can bring her over any minute yousay."

  "I shall want her at four o'clock. Thorny will be too tired to drive,but I must hear from the post-office, rain or shine;" and Miss Celia'spretty color brightened as she spoke, either from some happy thought orbecause she was bashful, for the honest young faces before her plainlyshowed their admiration of the white-gowned lady under the honeysuckles.

  The appearance of Miranda, the maid, reminded the children of theirerrand; and having delivered their offerings, they were about to retirein some confusion, when Miss Celia said pleasantly,--

  "I want to thank you for helping put things in such nice order. I seesigns of busy hands and feet both inside the house and all about thegrounds, and I am very much obliged."

  "I raked the beds," said Ben, proudly eying the neat ovals and circles.

  "I swept all the paths," added Bab, with a reproachful glance at severalgreen sprigs fallen from the load of clover on the smooth walk.

  "I cleared up the porch," and Betty's clean pinafore rose and fell witha long sigh, as she surveyed the late summer residence of her exiledfamily. Miss Celia guessed the meaning of that sigh, and made haste toturn it into a smile by asking anxiously,--

  "What has become of the playthings? I don't see them anywhere."

  "Ma said you wouldn't want our duds round, so we took them all home,"answered Betty, with a wistful face.

  "But I do want them round. I like dolls and toys almost as much asever, and quite miss the little 'duds' from porch and path. Suppose youcome to tea with me to-night and bring some of them back? I should bevery sorry to rob you of your pleasant play-place."

  "Oh, yes, 'm, we'd love to come! and we'll bring our best things."

  "Ma always lets us have our shiny pitchers and the china poodle when wego visiting or have company at home," said Bab and Betty, both speakingat once.

  "Bring what you like, and I'll hunt up my toys, too. Ben is to comealso, and his poodle is especially invited," added Miss Celia, as Sanchocame and begged before her, feeling that some agreeable project wasunder discussion.

  "Thank you, miss. I told them you'd be willing they should comesometimes. They like this place ever so much, and so do I," said Ben,feeling that few spots combined so many advantages in the way ofclimbable trees, arched gates, half-a-dozen gables, and other charmssuited to the taste of an aspiring youth who had been a flying Cupid atthe age of seven.

  "So do I," echoed Miss Celia, heartily. "Ten years ago I came here alittle girl, and made lilac chains under these very bushes, and pickedchickweed over there for my bird, and rode Thorny in his baby-wagon upand down these paths. Grandpa lived here then, and we had fine times;but now they are all gone except us two."

  "We haven't got any father, either," said Bab, for something in MissCelia's face made her feel as if a cloud had come over the sun.

  "I have a first-rate father, if I only knew where he'd gone to," saidBen, looking down the path as eagerly as if one waited for him behindthe locked gate.

  "You are a rich boy, and you are happy little girls to have so good amother; I've found that out already," and the sun shone again as theyoung lady nodded to the neat, rosy children before her.

  "You may have a piece of her if you want to, 'cause you haven't got anyof your own," said Betty with a pitiful look which made her blue eyes assweet as two wet violets.

  "So I will! and you shall be my little sisters. I never had any, andI'd love to try how it seems;" and Celia took both the chubby hands inhers, feeling ready to love every one this first bright morning in thenew home, which she hoped to make a very happy one.

  Bab gave a satisfied nod, and fell to examining the rings upon the whitehand that held her own. But Betty put her arms about the new friend'sneck, and kissed her so softly that the hungry feeling in Miss Celia'sheart felt better directly; for this was the food it wanted, and Thornyhad not learned yet to return one half of the affection he received.Holding the child close, she played with the yellow braids while shetold them about the little German girls in their funny black-silk caps,short-waisted gowns, and wooden shoes, whom she used to see wateringlong webs of linen bleaching on the grass, watching great flocks ofgeese, or driving pigs to market, knitting or spinning as they went.

  Presently "Randa," as she called her stout maid, came to tell her that"Master Thorny couldn't wait another minute;" and she went in tobreakfast with a good appetite, while the children raced home to bouncein upon Mrs. Moss, talking all at once like little lunatics.

  "The phaeton at four,--so sweet in a beautiful white gown,--going totea, and Sancho and all the baby things invited. Can't we wear ourSunday frocks? A splendid new net for Lita. And she likes dolls. Goody,goody, won't it be fun!"

  With much difficulty their mother got a clear account of the approachingfestivity out of the eager mouths, and with still more difficulty, gotbreakfast into them, for the children had few pleasures, and thisbrilliant prospect rather turned their heads.

  Bab and Betty thought the day would never end, and cheered the longhours by expatiating on the pleasures in store for them, till theirplaymates were much afflicted because they were not going also. At noontheir mother kept them from running over to the old house lest theyshould be in the way; so they consoled themselves by going to thesyringa bush at the corner and sniffing the savory odors which came fromthe kitchen, where Katy, the cook, was evidently making nice things fortea.

  Ben worked as if for a wager till four; then stood over Pat while hecurried Lita till her coat shone like satin, then drove her gently downto the coach-house, where he had the satisfaction of harnessing her "allhis own self".

  "Shall I go round to the great gate and wait for you there, miss?" heasked, when all was ready, looking up at the porch, where the young ladystood watching him as she put on her gloves.

  "No, Ben, the great gate is not to be opened till next October. I shallgo in and out by the lodge, and leave the avenue to grass anddandelions, meantime," answered Miss Celia, as she stepped in and tookthe reins, with a sudden smile.

  But she did not start, even when Ben had shaken out the new duster and
laid it neatly over her knees.

  "Isn't it all right now?" asked the boy, anxiously.

  "Not quite; I need one thing more. Can't you guess what it is?" andMiss Celia watched his anxious face as his eyes wandered from the tipsof Lita's ears to the hind-wheel of the phaeton, trying to discover whathad been omitted.

  "No, miss, I don't see--" he began, much mortified to think he hadforgotten any thing.

  "Wouldn't a little groom up behind improve the appearance of myturnout?" she said, with a look which left no doubt in his mind that hewas to be the happy boy to occupy that proud perch.

  He grew red with pleasure, but stammered, as he hesitated, looking downat his bare feet and blue shirt,--

  "I ain't fit, miss; and I haven't got any other clothes."

  Miss Celia only smiled again more kindly than before, and answered, in atone which he understood better than her words,--"A great man said hiscoat-of-arms was a pair of shirt-sleeves, and a sweet poet sang about abarefooted boy; so I need not be too proud to ride with one. Up withyou, Ben, my man, and let us be off, or we shall be late for our party."

  With one bound the new groom was in his place, sitting very erect, withhis legs stiff, arms folded, and nose in the air, as he had seen realgrooms sit behind their masters in fine dog-carts or carriages. Mrs.Moss nodded as they drove past the lodge, and Ben touched his tornhat-brim in the most dignified manner, though he could not suppress abroad grin of delight, which deepened into a chuckle when Lita went offat a brisk trot along the smooth road toward town.

  It takes so little to make a child happy, it is a pity grown people donot oftener remember it and scatter little bits of pleasure before thesmall people, as they throw crumbs to the hungry sparrows. Miss Celiaknew the boy was pleased, but he had no words in which to express hisgratitude for the great contentment she had given him. He could onlybeam at all he met, smile when the floating ends of the gray veil blewagainst his face, and long in his heart to give the new friend a boyishhug, as he used to do his dear 'Melia when she was very good to him.

  School was just out as they passed; and it was a spectacle, I assureyou, to see the boys and girls stare at Ben up aloft in such state; alsoto see the superb indifference with which that young man regarded thevulgar herd who went afoot. He couldn't resist an affable nod to Bab andBetty, for they stood under the maple-tree, and the memory of theircirculating library made him forget his dignity in his gratitude.

  "We will take them next time, but now I want to talk to you," began MissCelia, as Lita climbed the hill. "My brother has been ill, and I havebrought him here to get well. I want to do all sorts of things to amusehim, and I think you can help me in many ways. Would you like to workfor me instead of the Squire?

  "I guess I would!" ejaculated Ben, so heartily that no furtherassurances were needed, and Miss Celia went on, well pleased:--

  "You see, poor Thorny is weak and fretful, and does not like to exerthimself, though he ought to be out a great deal, and kept from thinkingof his little troubles. He cannot walk much yet, so I have a wheeledchair to push him in; and the paths are so hard, it will be easy to rollhim about. That will be one thing you can do. Another is to take care ofhis pets till he is able to do it himself. Then you can tell him youradventures, and talk to him as only a boy can talk to a boy. That willamuse him when I want to write or go out; but I never leave him long,and hope he will soon be running about as well as the rest of us. Howdoes that sort of work look to you?"

  "First-rate! I'll take real good care of the little feller, and do everything I know to please him, and so will Sanch; he's fond of children,"answered Ben, heartily, for the new place looked very inviting to him.Miss Celia laughed, and rather damped his ardor by her next words.

  "I don't know what Thorny would say to hear you call him 'little.' Heis fourteen, and appears to get taller and taller every day. He seemslike a child to me, because I am nearly ten years older than he is; butyou needn't be afraid of his long legs and big eyes, he is too feeble todo any harm; only you mustn't mind if he orders you about."

  "I'm used to that. I don't mind it if he won't call me a 'spalpeen,' andfire things at me," said Ben, thinking of his late trials with Pat.

  "I can promise that; and I am sure Thorny will like you, for I told himyour story, and he is anxious to see 'the circus boy' as he called you.Squire Allen says I may trust you, and I am glad to do so, for it savesme much trouble to find what I want all ready for me. You shall be wellfed and clothed, kindly treated and honestly paid, if you like to staywith me."

  "I know I shall like it--till father comes, anyway. Squire wrote toSmithers right off, but hasn't got any answer yet. I know they are onthe go now, so may be we won't hear for ever so long," answered Ben,feeling less impatient to be off than before this fine proposal was madeto him.

  "I dare say; meantime, we will see how we get on together, and perhapsyour father will be willing leave you for the summer if he is away. Nowshow me the baker's, the candy-shop, and the post-office," said MissCelia, as they rattled down the main street of the village.

  Ben made himself useful; and when all the other errands were done,received his reward in the shape of a new pair of shoes and a straw hatwith a streaming blue ribbon, on the ends of which shone silveryanchors. He was also allowed to drive home, while his new mistress readher letters. One particularly long one, with a queer stamp on theenvelope, she read twice, never speaking a word till they got back. ThenBen was sent off with Lita and the Squire's letters, promising to gethis chores done in time for tea.