Black-Eyed Susan Part 14

She took both strings in her hand to look them over, and to the delight of the children she touched both of the charmed b.u.t.tons.

"Touch! Touch!" they cried, capering about like wild Indians. "You touched the 'touch b.u.t.ton.' You owe us one now."

"So I do," said Mrs. Vane, laughing. "I had forgotten all about 'touch b.u.t.tons.' I shall be more careful after this. You won't catch me again.

Now, Phil, there are your refreshments, so draw up to the table whenever you are ready. I must go look for b.u.t.tons to pay my debt!"

Mrs. Vane, still laughing, took the tray and went downstairs.

Susan and Phil found themselves ready for the refreshments and made haste to set the little table with the green-and-white china tea-set.

The dinner plates were quite large enough to hold the sponge cakes, and if the tea-cups seemed a trifle small, think how many more times the br.i.m.m.i.n.g pitcher of lemonade would go round.

Phil set out four plates instead of two.

"We will each ask one company to come to the table," said he. "I want the rocking-horse, he looks so thirsty, and your grandfather always stops to give Nero a drink when we go riding."

And Phil dragged his steed over to the table, where he rocked back and forth for a moment b.u.mping his nose against the edge of the table each time. Indeed, with his open jaws and bright red nostrils, he looked as if a whole trough of lemonade would be needed to slake his thirst.

"I'll take the bunny because he has only one ear," said tender-hearted Susan.

As she stooped to pick up the rabbit, she uttered a scream and sent poor bun flying half-way across the room. A small brown object, far more frightened than Susan, sped like a streak of lightning along the wall, and disappeared into the big closet where Phil kept his toys.

"What is it? What is it?" cried Phil, for Susan was jumping up and down with her hands over her ears.

"It's on me! It's on me!" cried Susan, shuddering and shaking. "It's a mouse! It's a mouse!"

"It isn't on you," said Phil. "Don't cry, Susan. I saw him go in the closet. I'll fix him, you see."

With a bravery worthy of a better cause Phil opened the closet door, struck one of his precious matches, threw it into the closet after the mouse, and firmly shut the door.

"There now," said he. "I fixed him."

"What did you do?" quavered Susan, opening one eye. "Are you sure he isn't on me? Look."

"I killed him," returned Phil briefly.

"How?"

"I burned him up," answered Phil in a deep voice.

"Really?" said Susan, awed. "But won't it set the house on fire?"

"No," said Phil stoutly. "It won't. I mean I don't think it will. Maybe we had better look and see. You look, Susan."

On the floor of the closet stood an open Jack-in-the-box, and it was upon poor Jack's hat that the match had alighted. Jack had bushy white hair, and an equally bushy beard, and he was blazing merrily, grinning like a hero all the while, when Susan opened the door.

Susan's heart stood still. Oh, if Mrs. Vane were only there!

"Run, Phil!" she called. "Run for your mother!"

And then with a presence of mind that, when he heard the tale, Grandfather considered remarkable, she picked up the pitcher of lemonade and emptied it over the blaze.

Phil ran screaming downstairs.

"The house is on fire and the mouse is burned up! Mamma, Mamma, come quick! The mouse is on fire and the house is burned up!"

When Mrs. Vane reached the nursery, she found the fire out, the closet floor covered with lemonade, Jack-in-the-box burned to a crisp, and Susan, with s.h.i.+ning eyes, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, but able after a moment to tell her story.

"But, child," said Mrs. Vane, when she had made sure that the fire was completely out and that the only article damaged was the unfortunate Jack-in-the-box, "which one of you had matches, and what has become of Phil? Who had the match, Susan?"

Ah, that was the question that Phil dared not face, and that had caused him to hide himself securely behind the big sofa in the parlor where no one went in cold weather except for a special reason.

But at last he was found, and, standing before his mother, listened with drooping head to the truths his own conscience had already told him.

"I think you have found out for yourself, Phil, why a little boy should never touch matches," said Mrs. Vane soberly. "If it hadn't been for Susan, our house might have been burned to the ground. I'm sure I don't know what your father would say if he were here."

Phil's eyes grew gla.s.sy at the very thought, but he said nothing.

Indeed, there was nothing he could say in excuse.

"You have spoiled your party, and ruined your Jack-in-the-box," went on his mother. "And, now, after hiding so long in that chilly room, you will have to go straight to bed so that you won't take cold."

At this Phil's tears burst forth, and Susan was moved to pity.

"Oh, dear," said she, with an arm about Phil's heaving shoulders, "he will never touch the matches again, will you, Philly? Tell your mother you won't."

"N-n-no," blubbered Phil dismally.

Mrs. Vane smiled down at the small sinner's comforter.

"It seems too bad that Susan shouldn't have her refreshments," she remarked,-"especially since she put out the fire."

And in a very few moments Susan was sitting on the edge of Phil's bed, and both were drinking hot chocolate and eating the party sponge cakes.

"Hadn't you better thank Susan for putting out the fire and saving our house from burning down?" asked Mrs. Vane, as, a little later, she helped Susan into her waterproof. She wanted to drive the lesson home, and impress upon Phil's mind the danger they had so narrowly escaped.

"Thank you, Susan," returned Phil obediently. "But I'm going to do something nice for you to-morrow," he added. "I'm going to give you my 'touch b.u.t.ton,' you see."

CHAPTER X-THE VISIT

Grandfather and Susan were going on a visit to the Town of Banbury.

They were to stay at the house of Grandfather's friend, Mr. Spargo, and Susan was delighted at the thought, for once Mr. Spargo had spent a whole week at Featherbed Lane and with him had come his little daughter Letty, just Susan's age.

Susan remembered the good times they had had together, and now she could scarcely wait for the day to come when she would see Letty Spargo again.