Aunt Madge's Story Part 14

"Do eat, child," said the man.

"I didn't tell you, sir," I sobbed, "that the railroad ran off with my purse,--cousin Lydia, I mean,--and I haven't the leastest thing to pay you with!"

I drew out my handkerchief in a great hurry, and out flew the pancake.

Peter and Harriet looked at it and smiled, and I hid my face in shame.

"Never you worry your little head about money," said Peter, kindly. "I know young ladies about your size ain't in the habit of travelling with their pockets full of rocks----let alone doughnuts."

O, what a kind man! And how I had mistaken him! I forgave him at once for calling me poor sissy.

"If you've done your supper, Peter, I motion you take her out and show her the sheep and lambs."

Peter did so, besides beguiling me with pleasant talk; but pleasantest of all was the remark,--

"Don't be a bit concerned about your ticket; I'll make that all right to-morrow."

And this was the man I had been so afraid of, only because he was rough-looking, and liked to make jokes.

He told me his name was Peter n.o.ble, and Harr'et was his sister, and kept house for him; and I actually told him in confidence that I meant to go to Italy when I grew to be a lady; for we became close friends in a few minutes, and I felt that he could be trusted.

It was almost dark when we went back to the kitchen; but there was Harriet, laughing.

"Whose kitty?" said she.

And it was Silvertoes, lapping milk out of a saucer by the stove. She was very hungry, and I suppose came to that house because it was so near the depot. I felt as happy as Robinson Crusoe when he found Friday. My trials were now nearly over.

I remember little more, except Peter's taking me into a car next day in his arms, and Harriet's giving me my kitty through the window. I hope I thanked them, but am not sure. That was the last I saw of them; but I carried the marks of Harriet's "try-cake" while my frock lasted, for soap took out the color.

The "driver" treated me with marked politeness, and when we reached Willowbrook Corner, put me into the yellow stage, with as much care as if I had been a china tea-set.

There was a shout when I got home, for all the family were at the gate.

CHAPTER XII.

BETTER THAN KITTENS.

Yes, they seemed just as glad to see me as if I was the Queen of England, and had been gone all the days of my life. Father, especially, looked really overjoyed.

"How they must have missed me!" thought I, springing out of the coach and falling headlong over old Towser. "O, please catch that kitten."

Ned seized the empty basket and whirled it over his head.

"Who cares for such trash? We've got something in the house that's better than sixteen kittens."

"Rabbits?"

"Come and see," said 'Ria, giving me one hand, while she stroked Silvertoes with the other.

"O, I don't believe it's anything. Is it wax beads? You haven't asked where I came from, nor whose house I staid to. There was a woman with gold beads, and he called her Harret, and--"

"Yes, I knew they'd take good care of you," said cousin Lydia.

"And where d'you s'pose I found my kitty?" But no one seemed to hear.

I had expected to be pelted with questions as to my eating, drinking, and sleeping, and to be pitied for the late distress of my mind. But no one showed the slightest curiosity; they all seemed in a great hurry to get into the house.

I stopped talking, and walked along with all the dignity of an offended pea-chicken. There might or might not be something worth going to see; but I was resolved to keep perfectly cool. Up stairs?

Well, up stairs then, or up in the attic, or out on the roof,--it made no difference to me. I could keep from asking questions as long as they could, if not longer.

O, mother's room, was it? Well, I'd been wondering all the while where mother was, only I wouldn't ask. Dear me, was she sick? "So glad to see little Madge," she said, kissing me over and over again. "And what a hard time I had had."

There, _she_ knew how I'd been suffering, and was just going to ask me some questions, when that troublesome Ned whisked me right up in his arms, and whirled me round towards the fireplace.

"If you've got any eyes, Maggie, look there."

My eyes were good enough, if that was all; but what was that woman sitting there for? I thought she had a heap of woollen clothes in her lap.

Father took it.

"Come here, Totty-wax."

I put out my hands, and felt something as soft as kittens.

"Presto, change!" cried Ned, and pulled down the top of the blanket.

There lay a little, wrinkled, rosy face, a baby's face, and over it was moving a little wrinkled hand.

I jumped, and then I screamed; and then I ran out of the room and back again.

"O, O, O! Stop her! Hold her!" said Ned.

But they couldn't do it. I rushed up to the baby, who cried in my face.

"What IS that?" said I; and then I burst into tears.

"Your little sister," said father.

"It isn't," sobbed I, and broke out laughing.

Everybody else laughed, too.

"Say that again," said I.

"Your little sister," repeated father.

"Does Fel know it? And it _isn't_ Ned's brother?" seizing father by the whiskers. "And he can't set her on the wood-pile! Came down from heaven. What'm I crying for? Came down particular purpose for me."