Little Men: Life at Plumfield with Jo’s Boys
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Nat was very fond of Mrs. Bhaer, but found something even more attractive in the good professor, who took fatherly care of the shy feeble boy, who had barely escaped with his life from the rough sea on which his little boat had been tossing rudderless for twelve years. Some good angel must have been watching over him, for, though his body had suffered, his soul seemed to have taken little harm, and came ashore as innocent as a shipwrecked baby. Perhaps his love of music kept it sweet in spite of the discord all about him; Mr. Laurie said so, and he ought to know. However that might be, Father Bhaer took pleasure in fostering poor Nat’s virtues, and in curing his faults, finding his new pupil as docile and affectionate as a girl. He often called Nat his “daughter” when speaking of him to Mrs. Jo, and she used to laugh at his fancy, for Madame liked manly boys, and thought Nat amiable but weak, though you never would have guessed it, for she petted him as she did Daisy, and he thought her a very delightful woman.
One fault of Nat’s gave the Bhaers much anxiety, although they saw how it had been strengthened by fear and ignorance. I regret to say that Nat sometimes told lies. Not very black ones, seldom getting deeper than gray, and often the mildest of white fibs; but that did not matter, a lie is a lie, and though we all tell many polite untruths in this queer world of ours, it is not right, and everybody knows it.
“You cannot be too careful; watch your tongue, and eyes, and hands, for it is easy to tell, and look, and act untruth,” said Mr. Bhaer, in one of the talks he had with Nat about his chief temptation.
“I know it, and I don’t mean to, but it’s so much easier to get along if you ain’t very fussy about being exactly true. I used to tell ’em because I was afraid of father and Nicolo, and now I do sometimes because the boys laugh at me. I know it’s bad, but I forget,” and Nat looked much depressed by his sins.
“When I was a little lad I used to tell lies! Ach! what fibs they were, and my old grandmother cured me of it how, do you think? My parents had talked, and cried, and punished, but still did I forget as you. Then said the dear old grandmother, ‘I shall help you to remember, and put a check on this unruly part,’ with that she drew out my tongue and snipped the end with her scissors till the blood ran. That was terrible, you may believe, but it did me much good, because it was sore for days, and every word I said came so slowly that I had time to think. After that I was more careful, and got on better, for I feared the big scissors. Yet the dear grandmother was most kind to me in all things, and when she lay dying far away in Nuremberg, she prayed that little Fritz might love God and tell the truth.”
“I never had any grandmothers, but if you think it will cure me, I’ll let you snip my tongue,” said Nat, heroically, for he dreaded pain, yet did wish to stop fibbing.
Mr. Bhaer smiled, but shook his head.
“I have a better way than that, I tried it once before and it worked well. See now, when you tell a lie I will not punish you, but you shall punish me.”
“How?” asked Nat, startled at the idea.
“You shall ferule me in the good old-fashioned way; I seldom do it myself, but it may make you remember better to give me pain than to feel it yourself.”
“Strike you? Oh, I couldn’t!” cried Nat.
“Then mind that tripping tongue of thine. I have no wish to be hurt, but I would gladly bear much pain to cure this fault.”
This suggestion made such an impression on Nat, that for a long time he set a watch upon his lips, and was desperately accurate, for Mr. Bhaer judged rightly, that love of him would be more powerful with Nat that fear for himself. But alas! one sad day Nat was off his guard, and when peppery Emil threatened to thrash him, if it was he who had run over his garden and broken down his best hills of corn, Nat declared he didn’t, and then was ashamed to own up that he did do it, when Jack was chasing him the night before.
He thought no one would find it out, but Tommy happened to see him, and when Emil spoke of it a day or two later, Tommy gave his evidence, and Mr. Bhaer heard it. School was over, and they were all standing about in the hall, and Mr. Bhaer had just set down on the straw settee to enjoy his frolic with Teddy; but when he heard Tommy and saw Nat turn scarlet, and look at him with a frightened face, he put the little boy down, saying, “Go to thy mother, bubchen, I will come soon,” and taking Nat by the hand led him into the school and shut the door.
The boys looked at one another in silence for a minute, then Tommy slipped out and peeping in at the half-closed blinds, beheld a sight that quite bewildered him. Mr. Bhaer had just taken down the long rule that hung over his desk, so seldom used that it was covered with dust.
“My eye! He’s going to come down heavy on Nat this time. Wish I hadn’t told,” thought good-natured Tommy, for to be feruled was the deepest disgrace at this school.
“You remember what I told you last time?” said Mr. Bhaer, sorrowfully, not angrily.
“Yes; but please don’t make me, I can’t bear it,” cried Nat, backing up against the door with both hands behind him, and a face full of distress.
“Why don’t he up and take it like a man? I would,” thought Tommy, though his heart beat fast at the sight.
“I shall keep my word, and you must remember to tell the truth. Obey me, Nat, take this and give me six good strokes.”
Tommy was so staggered by this last speech that he nearly tumbled down the bank, but saved himself, and hung onto the window ledge, staring in with eyes as round as the stuffed owl’s on the chimney-piece.
Nat took the rule, for when Mr. Bhaer spoke in that tone everyone obeyed him, and, looking as scared and guilty as if about to stab his master, he gave two feeble blows on the broad hand held out to him. Then he stopped and looked up half-blind with tears, but Mr. Bhaer said steadily:
“Go on, and strike harder.”
As if seeing that it must be done, and eager to have the hard task soon over, Nat drew his sleeve across his eyes and gave two more quick hard strokes that reddened the hand, yet hurt the giver more.
“Isn’t that enough?” he asked in a breathless sort of tone.
“Two more,” was all the answer, and he gave them, hardly seeing where they fell, then threw the rule all across the room, and hugging the kind hand in both his own, laid his face down on it sobbing out in a passion of love, and shame, and penitence:
“I will remember! Oh! I will!”
Then Mr. Bhaer put an arm about him, and said in a tone as compassionate as it had just now been firm:
“I think you will. Ask the dear God to help you, and try to spare us both another scene like this.”
Tommy saw no more, for he crept back to the hall, looking so excited and sober that the boys crowded round him to ask what was being done to Nat.
In a most impressive whisper Tommy told them, and they looked as if the sky was about to fall, for this reversing the order of things almost took their breath away.
“He made me do the same thing once,” said Emil, as if confessing a crime of the deepest dye.
“And you hit him? Dear old Father Bhaer? By thunder, I’d just like to see you do it now!” said Ned, collaring Emil in a fit of righteous wrath.
“It was ever so long ago. I’d rather have my head cut off than do it now,” and Emil mildly laid Ned on his back instead of cuffing him, as he would have felt it his duty to do on any less solemn occasion.
“How could you?” said Demi, appalled at the idea.
“I was hopping mad at the time, and thought I shouldn’t mind a bit, rather like it perhaps. But when I’d hit uncle one good crack, everything he had ever done for me came into my head all at once somehow, and I couldn’t go on. No sir! If he’d laid me down and walked on me, I wouldn’t have minded, I felt so mean,” and Emil gave himself a good thump in the chest to express his sense of remorse for the past.
“Nat’s crying like anything, and feels no end sorry, so don’t let’s say a word about it; will we?” said tender-hearted Tommy.
“Of course we won’t, but it’s awful to tell lies,” and Demi looked as if he found the awfulness much increased when the punishment fell not upon the sinner, but his best Uncle Fritz.
“Suppose we all clear out, so Nat can cut upstairs if he wants to,” proposed Franz, and led the way to the barn, their refuge in troublous times.
Nat did not come to dinner, but Mrs. Jo took some up to him, and said a tender word, which did him good, though he could not look at her. By and by the lads playing outside heard the violin, and said among themselves: “He’s all right now.” He was all right, but felt shy about going down, till opening his door to slip away into the woods, he found Daisy sitting on the stairs with neither work nor doll, only her little handkerchief in her hand, as if she had been mourning for her captive friend.
“I’m going to walk; want to come?” asked Nat, trying to look as if nothing was the matter, yet feeling very grateful for her silent sympathy, because he fancied everyone must look upon him as a wretch.
“Oh yes!” and Daisy ran for her hat, proud to be chosen as a companion by one of the big boys.
The others saw them go, but no one followed, for boys have a great deal more delicacy than they get credit for, and the lads instinctively felt that, when in disgrace, gentle little Daisy was their most congenial friend.
The walk did Nat good, and he came home quieter than usual, but looking cheerful again, and hung all over with daisy-chains made by his little playmate while he lay on the grass and told her stories.
No one said a word about the scene of the morning, but its effect was all the more lasting for that reason, perhaps. Nat tried his very best, and found much help, not only from the earnest little prayers he prayed to his Friend in heaven, but also in the patient care of the earthly friend whose kind hand he never touched without remembering that it had willingly borne pain for his sake.
CHAPTER 5
Pattypans
“What’s the matter, Daisy?”
“The boys won’t let me play with them.”
“Why not?”
“They say girls can’t play football.”
“They can, for I’ve done it!” and Mrs. Bhaer laughed at the remembrance of certain youthful frolics.
“I know I can play; Demi and I used to, and have nice times, but he won’t let me now because the other boys laugh at him,” and Daisy looked deeply grieved at her brother’s hardness of heart.
“On the whole, I think he is right, deary. It’s all very well when you two are alone, but it is too rough a game for you with a dozen boys; so I’d find some nice little play for myself.”
“I’m tired of playing alone!” and Daisy’s tone was very mournful.
“I’ll play with you by and by, but just now I must fly about and get things ready for a trip into town. You shall go with me and see mamma, and if you like you can stay with her.”
“I should like to go and see her and Baby Josy, but I’d rather come back, please. Demi would miss me, and I love to be here, Aunty.”
“You can’t get on without your Demi, can you?” and Aunt Jo looked as if she quite understood the love of the little girl for her only brother.
“’Course I can’t; we’re twins, and so we love each other more than other people,” answered Daisy, with a brightening face, for she considered being a twin one of the highest honors she could ever receive.
“Now, what will you do with your little self while I fly around?” asked Mrs. Bhaer, who was whisking piles of linen into a wardrobe with great rapidity.
“I don’t know, I’m tired of dolls and things; I wish you’d make up a new play for me, Aunty Jo,” said Daisy, swinging listlessly on the door.
“I shall have to think of a brand new one, and it will take me some time; so suppose you go down and see what Asia has got for your lunch,” suggested Mrs. Bhaer, thinking that would be a good way in which to dispose of the little hindrance for a time.
“Yes, I think I’d like that, if she isn’t cross,” and Daisy slowly departed to the kitchen, where Asia, the black cook, reigned undisturbed.
In five minutes, Daisy was back again, with a wide-awake face, a bit of dough in her hand and a dab of flour on her little nose.
“Oh Aunty! Please could I go and make gingersnaps and things? Asia isn’t cross, and she says I may, and it would be such fun, please do,” cried Daisy, all in one breath.
“Just the thing, go and welcome, make what you like, and stay as long as you please,” answered Mrs. Bhaer, much relieved, for sometimes the one little girl was harder to amuse than the dozen boys.
Daisy ran off, and while she worked, Aunt Jo racked her brain for a new play. All of a sudden she seemed to have an idea, for she smiled to herself, slammed the doors of the wardrobe, and walked briskly away, saying, “I’ll do it, if it’s a possible thing!”
What it was no one found out that day, but Aunt Jo’s eyes twinkled so when she told Daisy she had thought of a new play, and was going to buy it, that Daisy was much excited and asked questions all the way into town, without getting answers that told her anything. She was left at home to play with the new baby, and delight her mother’s eyes, while Aunt Jo went off shopping. When she came back with all sorts of queer parcels in corners of the carry-all, Daisy was so full of curiosity that she wanted to go back to Plumfield at once. But her aunt would not be hurried, and made a long call in mamma’s room, sitting on the floor with baby in her lap, making Mrs. Brooke laugh at the pranks of the boys, and all sorts of droll nonsense.
How her aunt told the secret Daisy could not imagine, but her mother evidently knew it, for she said, as she tied on the little bonnet and kissed the rosy little face inside, “Be a good child, my Daisy, and learn the nice new play aunty has got for you. It’s a most useful and interesting one, and it is very kind of her to play it with you, because she does not like it very well herself.”
This last speech made the two ladies laugh heartily, and increased Daisy’s bewilderment. As they drove away something rattled in the back of the carriage.
“What’s that?” asked Daisy, pricking up her ears.
“The new play,” answered Mrs. Jo, solemnly.
“What is it made of?” cried Daisy.
“Iron, tin, wood, brass, sugar, salt, coal, and a hundred other things.”
“How strange! What color is it?”
“All sorts of colors.”
“Is it large?”
“Part of it is, and a part isn’t.”
“Did I ever see one?”
“Ever so many, but never one so nice as this.”
“Oh! what can it be? I can’t wait. When shall I see it?” and Daisy bounced up and down with impatience.
“To-morrow morning, after lessons.”
“Is it for the boys, too?”
“No, all for you and Bess. The boys will like to see it, and want to play one part of it. But you can do as you like about letting them.”
“I’ll let Demi, if he wants to.”
“No fear that they won’t all want to, especially Stuffy,” and Mrs. Bhaer’s eyes twinkled more than ever as she patted a queer knobby bundle in her lap.
“Let me feel just once,” prayed Daisy.
“Not a feel; you’d guess in a minute and spoil the fun.”
Daisy groaned and then smiled all over her face, for through a little hole in the paper she caught a glimpse of something bright.
“How can I wait so long? Couldn’t I see it today?”
“Oh dear, no! It has got to be arranged, and ever so many parts fixed in their places. I promised Uncle Teddy that you shouldn’t see it till it was all in apple-pie order.”
“If uncle knows about it then it must be splendid!” cried Daisy, clapping her hands; for this kind, rich, jolly uncle of hers was as good as a fairy godmother to the children, and was always planning merry surprises, pretty gifts, and droll amusements for them.
“Yes; Teddy went and bought it with me, and we had such fun in the shop choosing the different parts. He would have everything fine and large, and my little plan got regularly splendid when he took hold. You must give him your very best kiss when he comes, for he is the kindest uncle that ever went and bought a charming little coo—Bless me! I nearly told you what it was!” and Mrs. Bhaer cut that most interesting word short off in the middle, and began to look over her bills, as if afraid she would let the cat out of the bag if she talked any more. Daisy folded her hands with an air of resignation, and sat quite still trying to think what play had a “coo” in it.
When they got home she eyed every bundle that was taken out, and one large heavy one, which Franz took straight upstairs and hid in the nursery, filled her with amazement and curiosity. Something very mysterious went on up there that afternoon, for Franz was hammering, and Asia trotting up and down, and Aunt Jo flying around like a will-o’-the-wisp, with all sort of things under her apron, while little Ted, who was the only child admitted, because he couldn’t talk plain, babbled and laughed, and tried to tell what the “sumpin pitty” was.
All this made Daisy half-wild, and her excitement spread among the boys, who quite overwhelmed Mother Bhaer with offers of assistance, which she declined by quoting their own words to Daisy:
“Girls can’t play with boys. This is for Daisy, and Bess, and me, so we don’t want you.” Whereupon the young gentlemen meekly retired, and invited Daisy to a game of marbles, horse, football, anything she liked, with a sudden warmth and politeness which astonished her innocent little soul.
Thanks to these attentions, she got through the afternoon, went early to bed, and next morning did her lessons with an energy which made Uncle Fritz wish that a new game could be invented every day. Quite a thrill pervaded the school-room when Daisy was dismissed at eleven o’clock, for everyone knew that now she was going to have the new and mysterious play.
Many eyes followed her as she ran away, and Demi’s mind was so distracted by this event that when Franz asked him where the desert of Sahara was, he mournfully replied, “In the nursery,” and the whole school laughed at him.
“Aunt Jo, I’ve done all my lessons, and I can’t wait one single minute more!” cried Daisy, flying into Mrs. Bhaer’s room.
“It’s all ready, come on;” and tucking Ted under one arm, and her workbasket under the other, Aunt Jo promptly led the way upstairs.
“I don’t see anything,” said Daisy, staring about her as she got inside the nursery door.
“Do you hear anything?” asked Aunt Jo, catching Ted back by his little frock as he was making straight for one side of the room.
Daisy did hear an odd crackling, and then a purry little sound as of a kettle singing. These noises came from behind a curtain drawn before a deep bay window. Daisy snatched it back, gave one joyful, “Oh!” and then stood gazing with delight at what do you think?
A wide seat ran round the three sides of the window; on one side hung and stood all sorts of little pots and pans, gridirons and skillets; on the other side a small dinner and tea set; and on the middle part a cooking-stove. Not a tin one, that was of no use, but a real iron stove, big enough to cook for a large family of very hungry dolls. But the best of it was that a real fire burned in it, real steam came out of the nose of the little tea-kettle, and the lid of the little boiler actually danced a jig, the water inside bubbled so hard. A pane of glass had been taken out and replaced by a sheet of tin, with a hole for the small funnel, and real smoke went sailing away outside so naturally, that it did one’s heart good to see it. The box of wood with a hod of charcoal stood near by; just above hung dust-pan, brush and broom; a little market basket was on the low table at which Daisy used to play, and over the back of her little chair hung a white apron with a bib, and a droll mob cap. The sun shone in as if he enjoyed the fun, the little stove roared beautifully, the kettle steamed, the new tins sparkled on the walls, the pretty china stood in tempting rows, and it was altogether as cheery and complete a kitchen as any child could desire.
Daisy stood quite still after the first glad “Oh!” but her eyes went quickly from one charming object to another, brightening as they looked, till they came to Aunt Jo’s merry face; there they stopped as the happy little girl hugged her, saying gratefully:
“Oh Aunty, it’s a splendid new play! Can I really cook at the dear stove, and have parties and mess, and sweep, and make fires that truly burn? I like it so much! What made you think of it?”
“Your liking to make gingersnaps with Asia made me think of it,” said Mrs. Bhaer, holding Daisy, who frisked as if she would fly. “I knew Asia wouldn’t let you mess in her kitchen very often, and it wouldn’t be safe at this fire up here, so I thought I’d see if I could find a little stove for you, and teach you to cook; that would be fun, and useful too. So I travelled round among the toy shops, but everything large cost too much and I was thinking I should have to give it up, when I met Uncle Teddy. As soon as he knew what I was about, he said he wanted to help, and insisted on buying the biggest toy stove we could find. I scolded, but he only laughed, and teased me about my cooking when we were young, and said I must teach Bess as well as you, and went on buying all sorts of nice little things for my ‘cooking class’ as he called it.”
“I’m so glad you met him!” said Daisy, as Mrs. Jo stopped to laugh at the memory of the funny time she had with Uncle Teddy.
“You must study hard and learn to make all kinds of things, for he says he shall come out to tea very often, and expects something uncommonly nice.”
“It’s the sweetest, dearest kitchen in the world, and I’d rather study with it than do anything else. Can’t I learn pies, and cake, and macaroni, and everything?” cried Daisy, dancing round the room with a new saucepan in one hand and the tiny poker in the other.
“All in good time. This is to be a useful play, I am to help you, and you are to be my cook, so I shall tell you what to do, and show you how. Then we shall have things fit to eat, and you will be really learning how to cook on a small scale. I’ll call you Sally, and say you are a new girl just come,” added Mrs. Jo, settling down to work, while Teddy sat on the floor sucking his thumb, and staring at the stove as if it was a live thing, whose appearance deeply interested him.
“That will be so lovely! What shall I do first?” asked Sally, with such a happy face and willing air that Aunt Jo wished all new cooks were half as pretty and pleasant.
“First of all, put on this clean cap and apron. I am rather old-fashioned, and I like my cook to be very tidy.”
Sally tucked her curly hair into the round cap, and put on the apron without a murmur, though usually she rebelled against bibs.
“Now, you can put things in order, and wash up the new china. The old set needs washing also, for my last girl was apt to leave it in a sad state after a party.”
Aunt Jo spoke quite soberly, but Sally laughed, for she knew who the untidy girl was who had left the cups sticky. Then she turned up her cuffs, and with a sigh of satisfaction began to stir about her kitchen, having little raptures now and then over the “sweet rolling pin,” the “darling dish-tub,” or the “cunning pepper-pot.”
“Now, Sally, take your basket and go to market; here is the list of things I want for dinner,” said Mrs. Jo, giving her a bit of paper when the dishes were all in order.
“Where is the market?” asked Daisy, thinking that the new play got more and more interesting every minute.
“Asia is the market.”
Away went Sally, causing another stir in the schoolroom as she passed the door in her new costume, and whispered to Demi, with a face full of delight, “It’s a perfectly splendid play!”
Old Asia enjoyed the joke as much as Daisy, and laughed jollily as the little girl came flying into the room with her cap all on one side, the lids of her basket rattling like castanets and looking like a very crazy little cook.