Little Friend Lydia
Page 3
CHAPTER III--The New Home
The next two days were the most exciting days Lydia had ever known.First of all she told the good news over and over to Miss Martin, andMary Ellen, and Nurse Norrie, and Sammy, and all the rest of them. MissMartin wasn't a bit surprised. She almost acted as if she had known itall along.
"The saints bless us! It's no trouble you'll be making any one, the wayyou keep yourself clean," was all Nurse Norrie said.
But Mary Ellen and Polly and Sammy were as excited and interested asLydia could wish. Their tongues flew and their heads wagged up and down,and if Lydia couldn't answer all the questions they asked her, theyanswered them themselves.
"Do you think you will have ice cream every day for dinner, Lydia?"asked Polly.
Lydia didn't know what to think, but Mary Ellen answered for her.
"Of course," said Mary Ellen emphatically, "and perhaps pie, too. Andalways griddle cakes for breakfast."
"Oh, I wish some one would take me," said Polly longingly. "If I wasprettier maybe they would." And Polly sighed as she wistfully felt ofher little snub nose.
"Pooh!" said Sammy with a defiant air, "I don't care! I'm going to livewith a cowboy out West and ride three horses at once, I am. Maybe I'llshoot Indians, too. I don't care!"
But they all looked at Lydia as if they thought her a fortunate littlegirl, and indeed Lydia herself thought so, too.
"Perhaps you will come and see me sometimes," said she, giving whatcomfort she could, "and we will have more of those good little cakes."
This happy suggestion made them all feel better. And when Mrs. Blakecame to take Lydia away, there were only smiling faces and cheerfulgood-byes; for the last thing Mrs. Blake said was:
"Lydia is going to have a party some day very soon and she wants you allto come. Don't you, Lydia?"
Lydia, smiling, nodded. "I told you so," to her friends, and held tightto Mrs. Blake's hand as they went down the street. Every now and thenshe gave a skip, but only a very little one, for she carried Lucy Locketin her arms. Mrs. Blake was as happy as Lydia, and you had only to lookat the smile on her lips and in her eyes to know it.
"Did I tell you there is a doll carriage at home for Lucy Locket?" saidshe, looking down at the little figure hopping at her side.
Lydia's eyes sparkled.
"I never had a carriage before," was her answer. Her heart seemed fullto overflowing with happiness and love. Then Lydia stood still on thestreet.
"Please, do I call you Mother right away?" said she, looking up into thekind face that already wore a look like that of the mother Lydia did notremember.
"Oh, yes, indeed, Lydia," answered Mrs. Blake, "this very minute if youlike."
"And Father, too?"
"And Father, too, as soon as he comes home to-night."
"Do you hear, Lucy Locket?" whispered Lydia. "My Mother and Father, myMother and Father, my Father and Mother, my Father and Mother."
It made a nice little song, and Lydia was singing it to herself as theywent up the steps of the little brick house that was to be her home.
Once inside, Mrs. Blake led the way down the hall and opened the door.
_"THIS IS YOUR BEDROOM, LYDIA"_]
"This is your bedroom, Lydia," said she, watching the brown eyes growbigger and bigger as they gazed. Lydia looked round the room, and thenshe looked up at her new mother, and then she looked round the roomagain. It was hard to believe that this was all for her. For she saw alittle white bed, and beside it a white cradle just big enough for LucyLocket. There was a little bureau and a book-case full of picture-books.On a low table stood a work-basket, and near by a little rocking-chairheld out its arms as if saying, "Come and sit in me." And over in thecorner was the doll carriage, only waiting to give Lucy Locket a ride.
But Lydia was walking slowly around the room, for halfway up the wallthere were pictures, pictures of people Lydia knew very well.
"There's Red Riding Hood," said she, "and her mother with the basket.And here she meets the wolf, and here is grandmother's house with thewolf in bed. And here are the Three Bears and Goldilocks, and there shegoes running home to her mother. And here is Chicken Little, and HennyPenny, and all of them. Mean Foxy Loxy!" said Lydia.
Lydia's pleasure in the room was so keen that Mrs. Blake felt wellrepaid for her effort in making it ready for the little girl. She smiledat Lydia's raptures, and opened the little closet door.
"You might put your hat and coat away," said she, "and then perhaps LucyLocket wants to go riding or to sleep in the cradle."
"I think she wants a ride," said Lydia.
But when she peeped under the blue-and-white cover, there was some onealready taking a nap in Lucy Locket's carriage. Who but Miss PussWhitetoes who opened her eyes sleepily at Lydia and shut them tightagain. Then she wiggled her little pink nose. That meant, "I'm sleepy."She winked one ear. That meant, "Go away." So Lydia tucked the coverabout her, and put Lucy Locket to bed in the new cradle. Lucy was a goodchild and soon fell fast asleep, and then Lydia rode the sleeping MissPuss up and down the hall until she woke, and, springing out of thecarriage, whisked upstairs like a flash.
Lydia followed, and found Mother at work in the kitchen, briskly beatingeggs in a big yellow bowl and taking peeps now and then into the ovenwhich gave out savory smells whenever the door was opened.
"Will it be pie and ice cream to-night, Mother?" asked Lydia,remembering the words of Mary Ellen.
"No," said Mrs. Blake with a laugh; "Indian pudding to-night."
"That's what Sammy would like," said Lydia, sniffing hungrily. "He'sgoing to shoot Indians or be an Indian chief when he grows up. Hedoesn't know which."
In the studio a fire was blazing and crackling, and Lydia lay down onthe rug to watch it and wait for Father to come home. Her head waswhirling with all the pleasant happenings of the day. Even the flamesseemed to have merry faces that smiled and nodded to her as they roseand fell.
"Red and orange and yellow fairies, and little blue ones too," thoughtLydia. "And they dance and they dance and they never stop. I wonder ifthey ever go to bed?" And with that Lydia shut her eyes and sailed offto sleep herself.
Miss Puss jumped down from the window-sill and sat before the fire towash her face. But though she was busy she kept her eyes wide open, andevery now and then she changed her place, because the fire was cracklingharder than ever, and little yellow sparks were flying about. Suddenlyan extra big spark lighted on the rug close beside Lydia. The littleyellow light grew larger and larger, and soon it began to creep closerand closer to the sleeping little girl.
And what did wise Miss Puss do then?
Out into the kitchen she ran where Mother was making the Indian pudding.
"Meow! Meow!" said Miss Puss, pulling at Mrs. Blake's apron with herpaw. "Me-o-ow!"
"What is it, Miss Puss?" said Mother. "I never heard you cry like thatbefore."
"Meow!" answered Miss Puss, and back she ran into the studio. Mrs. Blakefollowed, and just in time, for the corner of the rug was blazingmerrily, and Lydia was still sound, sound asleep.
It took only a moment to lift Lydia out of danger and to stamp down theflame, and luckily Mr. Blake came home in time to help. Lydia wasneither frightened nor hurt, and indeed rather enjoyed the excitement,while every one was so proud of Miss Puss that they couldn't praise andpet her too much.
After dinner, Mother, and Father, with Lydia on his lap, sat watchingMiss Puss enjoy, as a reward, a saucer of cream for her supper.
"We must give her some fish to-morrow," said Mr. Blake. "That's whatpussies like to eat, eh, Lydia?"
"Every time I see that hole in the rug I shall remember what Miss Pussdid the very first night Lydia came to us," said Mother, leaning forwardto give Lydia's hair an affectionate smooth.
"We'll write a poem about it," said Mr. Blake.
"This hole is to remind the Blakes That for their own and Lydia's sakes, Miss Puss must dine on richest cream And little silver canned sardine."
"That's lovely!" interrupted Lydia, clapping her hands, "and here's somemore:
"Because she saved me from burning up, She is better than any doggy pup."
"Well," said Mr. Blake, holding the satisfied Lydia off at arm's lengthto look at her, "why didn't you tell me before that you were a poetess?You've given me a shock." And to her delight he fanned himself as ifquite overcome.
"I didn't know it myself until just this minute," said Lydia, trying tobe modest under this praise. She settled back in his arms and reachedout for Mrs. Blake's hand.
"Isn't it nice?" said she happily, looking from one face to the other."Aren't we going to have good times? I am. I know I am. They've begunnow."
"I feel sure you are right, Lydia," answered Mrs. Blake promptly. "Nowthat you've come, I know we shall all have the very best times we'veever had in our lives. Just wait and see."