Holiday Stories for Young People Part 10

"Dear me! There come Uncle Josh and Aunt Jane, and not a bed in the house is made!" Mrs. Upton glanced nervously at the clock--then about to strike eleven--surveyed with dismay the disordered kitchen, looked through the open door into the dining-room, where the unwashed breakfast dishes were yet standing, took her hands out of the dough and ran to wash them at the faucet.

"Maria, Maria, stir around. See what you can pick up while they're getting out of the cab. Isn't it always just so?"

Maria, the daughter of fifteen, hastily laid aside her novel and did her best to remove the cups and saucers from the breakfast table, not omitting to break one in her hurry. Meanwhile her mother closed the kitchen door, caught up from the dining-room sofa a promiscuous pile of hats, coats, rubbers and shawls, threw them into a convenient closet, placed the colored cloth on the table and hastened to open the front door to admit her guests.

"Come in! Come in! I'm ever so glad to see you, but you must take us just as we are. Did you come on the train?"

"Yes, and got Jenkins to bring us up from the station. He's to take us back at three o'clock this afternoon. We can't make a long visit, but we're going to take dinner with you, if it's perfectly convenient."

"Oh, yes! of course. It's always convenient to have you. We don't make strangers of you at all."

While Mrs. Upton spoke these hospitable words her heart sank within her at the remembrance of her unbaked bread and her neglect to order meat for dinner.

"Here, Maria, just help Aunt Jane to take off her wraps, I'll be right back."

Mrs. Upton darted up-stairs, carrying with her a pair of trousers which she had been over an hour in mending. For want of them Charlie had been unable to go to school that morning. He was reading in his room.

"Here, Charlie! Put these on and run down to the butcher's and get some steak, and stop at the baker's and get some rolls and a pie, and tell them I'll pay them to-morrow. I don't know where my pocketbook is now."

"Ma," drawled Charlie in reply, "I haven't my shoes up here, only my slippers and rubbers."

"Well, wear them then and keep out of the mud. I don't want you sick to-night. Be sure to come in the back way so that Uncle Josh won't see you. He'll think we're always behindhand."

If Uncle Josh had thought so he would have been near the truth. Mrs.

Upton was one of those unfortunate persons who seem to be always hard at work and always in the drag. She had the undesirable faculty of taking hold of things wrong end first.

As water does not rise higher than its level, so children are not apt to have better habits than their parents. Charlie and Maria and the rest of the family lived in a state of constant confusion.

At noon Mr. Upton came to dinner. It was not unusual for him to be forced to wait, and he had learned to be resigned; so he sat down patiently to talk with the visitors. Soon three children came in from school, all eager to eat and return. What with their clamorous demands, and the necessity for preparing extra vegetables and side-dishes, and anxiety to please all around, and to prevent her bread from growing sour, Mrs. Upton was nearly distracted. Yet Maria tried to help, and Aunt Jane invariably looked upon matters with the kindly eye of charity.

Things were not so bad as they might have been, and dinner was ready at last.

After the meal was over the two visitors found a corner in which to hold a conference.

"Wife," said Uncle Josh, "Charlie's too bright a young fellow to be left to grow up in this way. Suppose we take him home with us for a while?"

"There's nothing I would like better," responded Aunt Jane, whose motherly heart was yet sore with grief for her own little Charlie, who had been laid in the church-yard years before.

When Mrs. Upton again emerged from the depths of the kitchen they repeated the proposal to her, and gained her a.s.sent at once.

Charlie was next to be informed, but that was not an easy matter. The boy could nowhere be found.

"Perhaps he's gone to school," suggested Aunt Jane.

"No, I told him that since he had to be absent this morning he might as well be absent all day. He's somewhere about."

A prolonged search ended in the barn, where Charlie at last was found, trying to whittle a ruler out of a piece of kindling-wood. He wished to draw maps and had mislaid or lost most of the articles necessary for the work.

"Charlie!" exclaimed his mother, "Uncle Josh and Aunt Jane want to take you home with them for a long visit. We've been looking all over for you. I've been putting your best clothes in a bag, but you'll have to be careful about holding it shut, because I can't find the key. Now hurry and dress yourself if you want to go."

Charlie gave a loud whistle of delight and hastened to the house to arrange his toilet. He washed his face and hands, brushed his hair, put on a clean collar, and then went to the kitchen to blacken his shoes. He expected to find them on his feet, but lo! there were only the slippers and rubbers, donned in the forenoon and forgotten until now.

"Ma! where are my shoes?" he called in stentorian tones. Mrs. Upton replied from above stairs, where she was putting a st.i.tch in her son's cap: "I don't know--haven't seen them."

"Well, I left them in the kitchen last night. Here, Maria, help a fellow, won't you? I can't find my shoes and it's nearly train time.

There's Jenkins at the door now."

The united efforts of all present resulted in finding the shoes entangled in an afghan which Mrs. Upton had unintentionally placed in the heap in the closet when she relieved the sofa of its burden.

"Here they are at last. Bravo!" shouted Charlie. Yet his joy was short lived. One shoe wouldn't go on. He had slipped it off on the previous night without unfastening. There were several knots in the string, and all were unmanageable. He struggled breathlessly while Uncle Josh and Aunt Jane were getting into the cab, then broke the string in desperation just as Jenkins, hearing the car-whistle, drove off to reach the train.

"Very sorry! Can't wait another instant!" called out Uncle Josh.

Charlie, having repaired damages as best he could, reached the front door in time to see the back of the carriage away down the street.

"Time and tide wait for no man," observed his mother exasperatingly.

Perhaps her quotation of the proverb carried with it the weight of her experience. Perhaps she thought it her duty to give moral lessons to her son, regardless of ill.u.s.trations.

Charlie's disappointment was rendered bitterer still, when the following week there came a letter from Uncle Josh saying that he and Aunt Jane were about taking a trip to the West.

"Tell Charlie," said the letter, "that if we only had him with us we should certainly take him along."

"Isn't it too bad," said Charlie, "to think I've missed so much, and all through the want of a shoe-string?"

Uncle Giles' Paint Brush.

BY MARY JOANNA PORTER.

It was a rainy day in summer. A chilly wind swept about the house and bent the branches of the trees, and reminded every one who encountered it that autumn, with its gales, would return as promptly as ever.

A bright fire was blazing in the sitting-room, and near it were Mrs.

Strong with her two little girls, and also Aunt Martha Bates, whom they were visiting. Rufus Strong, aged fourteen, stood by a closed window, listlessly drumming on a pane.

He was tired of reading, and tired of watching the ladies sew, and tired of building toy houses for his sisters.

"I guess I'll go out to the barn and find Uncle Giles," said he at length.

Mrs. Strong, who had found the music on the window pane rather monotonous, quickly responded in favor of the plan.

"Just the one I want to see!" exclaimed Uncle Giles, as Rufus made his appearance at the barn door. "I'm getting my tools in order, and now you can turn the grind-stone while I sharpen this scythe."

Rufus cheerfully agreed to this proposal, and performed his part with a hearty good will.

"Do you always put your tools in order on rainy days?" he asked.

"Well, yes; I always look over them and see if they need attention. Then when I want them they are ready for use. Now, since this job is done, suppose you undertake another. Wouldn't this be a good time to paint those boxes for Aunt Martha's flowers? You know you promised to paint them for her, and if you do it now, they'll be good and dry when she wants to pot her plants in September?"