CHAPTER X
COMPANY FOR SUPPER
"Cherry, do you know it's 'most night, and those girls aren't at homeyet? They said they'd sure be here by four o'clock, and here 'tis fiveand they haven't come." Peace was plainly worried, and with ahalf-impatient sigh, Cherry closed her fascinating story book and joinedher sister watching at the window for the belated girls who had gone intown with Mrs. Grinnell that morning.
"P'r'aps the horse run away," suggested Allee.
"They were coming back on the car, 'cause Mrs. Grinnell was to stay allnight with her relations."
"Then maybe the car run off the track."
"That's just what I've been thinking. S'posing they don't come hometonight! What will we do for supper?"
"Hope will get some when she comes home from Edwards'."
"This is the day she stays so late. She won't get home until Mr. Edwardsbrings her, at almost bedtime."
"Can't we help ourselves?"
"'Course, if we wanted to, but that won't be supper for Gail and Faithwhen they get home all tired out."
"Well, then, can't we _cook_ a supper?"
"What?"
"Why--potatoes and--"
"Eggs, I s'pose you'll say. I'm tired of eggs. If we don't stop havingthem so often, we will all turn into Humpty-Dumpties. S'posing we wereeggs and had to walk and act _so_ careful or else get smashed.'Twouldn't take long to finish me, would it? I don't want eggs forsupper. Let's have rice."
"Is there any?"
"A whole sackful."
"Do you know how to cook it?"
"Why, in water, of course, just like mush or oatmeal, only it takeslonger to get soft."
"Then maybe we better put it on to boil now. How much shall we cook?"
"I don't know as I ever saw Gail measure it She just guesses at it; butI think we could each eat a big cupful, don't you?"
"I'm hungry enough to eat two cupsful," said Allee.
"P'r'aps 'twould be better to cook two for each of us. It's good cold,s'posing we shouldn't eat it all tonight."
"Maybe that would be best," conceded Cherry; and the three embryo cooksrepaired to the kitchen to get supper ready.
"There is the rice and here is a cup. Hold the pan,Cherry, while I measure it out.One--two--three--four--five--six--seven--eight--nine--that makes a bighole in that bagful, doesn't it? Maybe nine will be enough. Do you thinkso?"
"Yes," hesitated Cherry; "and besides, Hope won't be here for supper."
"That's right! Then nine will be enough. Now we'll pour in thewater,--lots, 'cause it boils away in cooking."
"If Gail doesn't get here soon, how will we get any milk for our rice?"asked Allee, watching them. "Bossy hasn't been milked yet."
Peace paused on her way to the stove with the heavy saucepan. "Whydidn't we think of that before? Rice isn't good without plenty of milkand sugar. I don't like molasses on it."
"Nor I," shivered Cherry.
"Let's milk the cow ourselves," suggested the daring spirit.
"We don't know how," protested the cautious one.
"Oh, that's easy! I've watched Gail lots of times, and all she does ispull hard like the janitor pulls the rope that rings the church bell.We've both of us rung that bell, Cherry. I'll do it if you are afraid."
"I'm not afraid," Cherry declared, "but I don't think I know how. I'llwatch you and see how you do it first."
"Come on, then!"
Away to the barn they hurried, and the process of milking began, withPeace astride the stool. But somehow Bossy resented being pulled like abell-rope and the milk didn't come.
"I don't see what is the matter," cried Peace impatiently, after a fewmoments' struggle. "Bossy never acts so with Gail. She has kicked metwice already, and here we are clear out of her stall. Allee, you holdher tail, she has slapped me in the face with it till I'm tired. Whoa,Boss, stand still! Maybe I don't jerk hard enough."
Peace settled herself once more on the stool, righted the pail and gavea tremendous pull at two of the teats. There was a surprised moo fromBossy, her heels flew into the air, Peace was thrown backward from herseat, the pail whirled across the floor, and Bossy rushed out of thebarn door, dragging little, tenacious Allee after her. Cherry screamed,Peace scrambled to her feet and raced madly after the terrified beast,shouting at the top of her lungs, "Let go, Allee! Whoa, Bossy!"
Allee let go, but Bossy did not whoa until, with a wild plunge, shelurched against the stone watering trough, groaned and lay down with oneleg doubled under her.
"Oh, she's broken her leg!" yelled Cherry, dancing up and down infright. "What shall we do, what shall we do?"
"Go into the house and see that the rice doesn't burn while I'm gone,"commanded Peace, after a hasty look at poor Bossy's leg, to make sure itwas really broken; and away she flew up the street toward the village,muttering to herself, "Maybe he has closed his shop, though it isn'tquite time, but I hope not. No, he hasn't, for there comes the doctorout of the door. Oh, Mr. Jones, what will you give for a cow, abroken-legged cow? I didn't stick her, 'cause I wasn't sure just how todo it, but her leg is just freshly broken, so she is good for meat. Youbought Mr. Hartman's heifer when she broke her neck. Bossy's an awfulnice cow, and we hate to lose her, but of course we'll have to kill hernow. Bring your butcher knife and run! I don't want her to feel bad anylonger'n she has to."
"Hold your horses, Whirlwind, hold your horses a bit," cried the amazedbutcher. "Now tell me what has happened."
"You grab that knife and come along!" she shouted, almost frantic withgrief and fear. "That cow can't be left with a broken leg." And seizinghim by the hand she dragged him toward the door. The sight of thechild's great distress touched the big man, and pausing only long enoughto close his shop, he followed her flying feet down the road to thelittle brown house where poor Bossy lay.
"There she is! Ain't her leg broken?"
"Yes, and a bad break, too. She will have to go, kidlet. It's a shame,for she's a mighty fine looking critter. I'll give you fifteen dollarsfor her. Where is your oldest sister?"
"In Martindale. Oh, don't wait for her to come back! I can't bear tohave Bossy look at me like that! I broke her leg trying to milk her.She's worth a lot more'n fifteen dollars alive, but as meat I s'posewe'll have to let her go cheap. You can have her. Gail would say so too,if she was here. Give me the money and then stick her as soon as I getinside the house."
The butcher hesitated, then counted out fifteen dollars in bills andhanded them to the trembling, grief-stricken Peace, saying, "Youcouldn't get any more for her in the city, under the circumstances, Iknow. Butchers don't ordinarily buy milch cows for beef, and I shouldn'ttake her if she wasn't in first-class condition. If Gail ain'tsatisfied, send her up to the shop."
Peace snatched the bills with shaking hands and disappeared up the path,calling back over her shoulder, "Stick her easy, Mr. Jones, and quick!I'm going upstairs and cry."
But she didn't carry out her intention, for as she flung open thekitchen door, the pungent odor of something burning greeted hernostrils, and there stood Cherry beside the red-hot stove, dipping ricefrom one big saucepan into other kettles which Allee was bringing out ofthe pantry for her.
"Oh, Peace," she cried in relief, "I don't know what we will ever dowith all this rice! It's sticking faster than I can scratch it up, it'sboiled over the stove three times, and I've filled up four pans already.Give me another, Allee!"
"It needs some more water," said Peace, catching up a dipper of coldwater and pouring it into one sizzling pot. "Mercy, how it has grownsince we put it on to cook! That kettleful won't burn now."
"But it has turned yellow and smells dreadfully smoky," answered Cherry,sniffing at the discolored, unappetizing mess in the pan.
Peace examined it critically, tasted it, made a wry face, and finallyannounced, "It's spoiled, I guess. Never mind, there is plenty of goodrice left--"
"Oh, Peace!" yelled Allee excitedly, dancing in the chair, where shestood trying to stir the heavy contents of another p
an. "Something elseis burning, sure! See the black smoke!"
There was a knock at the door, but Peace was frantically tugging at thebig kettle stuck fast to the stove cover, and without pausing in hertask, she called crossly, "You will have to wait till we can get thisrice 'tended to before we can see what you want, whoever you are. We areall busy in here."
There was an audible chuckle from without, the knob turned, Cherryscreamed, and a gray-haired, shabby, old man stood smiling at them fromthe steps. Peace scarcely looked at him as she succeeded in freeing thepanful of smoking, blackened rice from the cover, but that quick glancehad told her the visitor was a tramp, and she snapped sharply, "I s'poseyou want a bite to eat. Well, I don't see how you are going to get ithere! I've just killed the cow, and the rice has burned up. Cherry, stopstirring that mess and take it off! Can't you see it's smoking like a_chimbly_?"
The tramp strode across the room, grabbed the teakettle and poured theboiling water into the pan, over which Allee had mounted guard, andwhich fortunately was on the back of the stove so it had not yet arrivedat the burning point. He caught up one other, dumped about half itscontents into a clean saucepan on the hearth, saturated it with water,threw in some salt, and set it back on the stove, at the same timeremoving a third kettle of burning rice and carrying it out of doors.
"There!" he said, entering the kitchen again. "All the rice isn'tspoiled. Now we will open the windows and let out this smoke, and we areall right. How did you come to cook so much?"
"We were hungry, and thought we could eat a lot--"
"But rice swells--"
"We have found that out for ourselves," said Peace, blushing furiouslyat his quizzical grin. "It's the first time we ever cooked it alone."
"Where are the sisters?"
"Gail and Faith are in the city, and Hope hasn't come home from Edwards'house yet."
"And you are hungry? Well, now, that is too bad. I'll tell you what Iwill do. You show me where you keep things and I will get supper, if youwill permit me to share it with you. Tramps have to work here, youknow--"
"Oh, Mr. Tramp! You are my tramp that broke the raw egg all over yourpotato, aren't you?" cried Peace with undisguised joy. "And you neverstole that cake, did you?"
"What cake, child?"
"The one Faith was baking the morning you ate breakfast here 'bout ayear ago."
"I never stole a cake in my life,--or anything else."
"There, I knew it! I told them so at the time. Was it--have you lost anymoney around here?"
"Money?" he echoed, his face the picture of innocence, as he deftly setthe table and beat up an omelette. "I should say not! Why?"
"'Cause we found some on the gatepost the night you were here, and Ithought maybe you had lost it. No, I didn't think so, either. Gailthought you might have lost it." Into his ears she poured the wholestory of the long, hard year.
"And so you thought,--or Gail thought I had lost the money you found onthe gatepost! Well, don't you think it would be a funny tramp who wouldhave all that money with him!"
Peace's face fell, and she slowly admitted, "Yes, I s'pose it would, butI thought maybe you might be a story-book prince. Those things _always_happen in books. But Gail won't use the money, 'cause she says someonemight come along and claim it some day. When mamma was a little girlthere was a queer old man lived in her town that people called crazy. Heused to give pretty things to the children and then months later he'd goaround and c'llect them and give them to someone else. Maybe that's thekind of a man who leaves the money on the gatepost. It has happenedtwice there, and once in the barn. Gail says we can't tell, and 'twouldbe terrible embracing"--she meant embarrassing--"if he should try toc'llect after we had spent the money."
"That's a fact," agreed the tramp, "but I think she could spend themoney without any such fears, because I think the fairies brought it."
"Do you b'lieve in fairies?" cried Peace in shocked surprise.
"Oh, yes, and I always shall. I don't think the fairies fly around likebutterflies, the way they are pictured in books. I believe they live inthe hearts of men."
"Then how could they bring money and pin it to the gatepost and grainsacks? They use sure-enough, every-day pins."
"Oh, maybe they whisper to some good friend that a little extra moneywould make things easier at the brown house, or the green one, or thegray one, and this friend, who has lots of money to spare--"
"That's just the way I thought it all out," interrupted Peace eagerly."But Mr. Strong hasn't lots of spare money. He is a minister, and theynever have enough for themselves. Besides, he crossed his heart that hedidn't know who put it there. The Dunbars aren't rich. Miss Truesdalecan't afford it. Even Mrs. Grinnell couldn't do it. Judge Abbott haslots of money, but folks have to work for what they get out of him, andold Skinflint is so stingy that he _borrows_ the city papers so's hewon't have to buy them himself. Hec Abbott told me so. I can't think ofa single soul who would give us the money."
"Maybe this is a friend whom you don't know."
"That's it, I guess. But I'd _like_ awfully well to know them, and'specially whether we can really use the money for ourselves. Now thatBossy is gone, I don't know what we are going to do for milk. Mr. Jonespaid fifteen dollars for her, but that won't buy a whole new one."
"I think I know where you can get a fine cow for fifteen dollars. If youwill give me the money I will call around by the place and have the manbring it to you the first thing in the morning. It is quite a piece fromhere, and maybe he wouldn't sell it to _you_ for that price, but I knowhe would to _me_."
Peace sat lost in thought, a bit of bread poised half way to her mouth.
"Is it a good cow?" asked Allee, timidly.
"The very best."
"Gentle, like Bossy?" Cherry questioned.
"Gentle as a lamb."
"Does she give four gallons of milk a day?" Peace interrupted.
"More, sometimes."
"Is she pretty?"
"Handsome as a picture."
"Does she give good milk, with lots of cream? We make our own butter,you know."
"She's a splendid butter cow."
"Has she got brown eyes, like mine, and a curly tail, and two goodhorns--not too sharp? Will she eat sugar out of your hand and not drivefolks out of the stall when they try to pet her?"
"She is the finest cow I ever saw--"
"Then it's funny the man will sell her for; fifteen dollars," declaredPeace, with sudden suspicion, studying the old man opposite her, butseeing only a sandy, untrimmed beard, a strong, honest face, with squarejaws, and a pair of the kindest eyes she had ever looked into.
"Not at all," said the man, chuckling to himself at the trap she hadlaid for him. "He wants to get rid of his herd, but doesn't need themoney; though, of course, he wouldn't care to give the cows away."
"Well," hesitated the brown-eyed girl, "I guess--I will have you orderthe cow for us. Gail won't feel so bad about losing Bossy if we can getanother just as good. Here is the money. Do you have to go so soon? Iwould like to have you stay until the girls get here. Now, don't youforget about the cow!"
"She will be here early tomorrow morning. Good-night, and many thanksfor the supper." Out into the spring night walked the tramp, with theprecious fifteen dollars in his pocket, and again the three childrentook up their vigil at the window, watching for the sisters from town.
When at last Gail and Faith reached home, expecting to be met by tearsand reproaches from three hungry maids, they were surprised to findsupper spread on the table awaiting their coming, and to hear a strangetale of mishap and adventure that would have done credit to the age ofMother Goose or Robinson Crusoe.
"Doesn't that sound like a fairy prince?" asked Peace, when the recitalwas ended. "But he says he isn't one."
"I should say it sounded like a plain robber story," said Faithbitterly, while Gail sat white-faced and silent with despair. "What didyou give him that money for! It's the last we will ever see of it. Youare worse than _Jack and the Bean-Stal
k_. You haven't even a handful ofbean blossoms to show."
"I've got a curl from Bossy's tail," said Peace indignantly, and thenburst into tears, unable to bear the sight of Gail's drawn face anylonger.
"Yes, and a robber on our trail. Supposing he comes tonight for the restof the money you told him about. No, Cherry, I don't want any supper.Come and help me bolt the windows and fix things for the night. I wishHope was here now."
The supper remained untouched, the dishes were cleared away in silence,and as soon as Hope arrived the unhappy little household climbedwearily, fearfully upstairs to bed, where Peace sobbed herself to sleep,with faithful Allee's arms about her neck. But no robber came to disturbthe brown house and at length even Gail and Faith drifted away toslumberland, in spite of this added trouble.
In the dusk of early morning, while the world was still asleep, a heavywagon drew up at the gate of the Greenfield cottage, unloaded itsprecious burden and drove rapidly away again; while Peace, in herrestless tossing, dreamed that a gentle, brown-eyed cow stood in Bossy'sstall, lowing for some breakfast. She awoke with a start, to hear afamiliar, persistent mooing, and the tinkle of a bell in the barnyard,and, leaping out of bed, she rushed to the window with wildly beatingheart. There in the yard, tied to the old watering-trough, stood aplump, pretty Jersey cow! Peace rubbed her eyes, pinched her arm tomake sure she was not still dreaming, and then startled the whole houseawake with a whoop of joy: "She has come, she has come! The cow hascome! My tramp isn't a robber or a beanstalk at all!"
At the Little Brown House Page 10
