CHAPTER IX.
THE NEW HOME.
"Prudy," said Dotty, "you needn't say that word 'wherrying' to me anymore. Mamma said there mus'n't anybody tease me about that, becauseI've--I've repented it all up."
"O, I'm so glad!" replied Prudy.
"I'll never take another bird into the window," continued Dotty; "it'salmost as bad as a ghost."
"You never saw a ghost, Dotty. Nobody ever did."
"Yes, indeed; Angeline has seen 'em as thick as spatter! They come whenyou're asleep, and there don't anybody know it. I shouldn't dare openmy eyes in the night. They're wrapped in a sheet, all white, and theireyes snap like fire. Angeline says they do."
"I don't believe it," said Prudy, stoutly; "my mother told me 'twasn'ttrue."
"P'r'aps mamma doesn't wake up in the night," said Dotty, "and p'r'apsthe ghosts never come where she is. Why, Prudy, they're made out o'nothing! If you stick a knife into 'em it goes right through, and don'ttouch their blood, for they haven't got any blood. They don't care forknives--they're just like bubbles."
"I don't believe it," replied Prudy, again. "I think it's wicked. Mymother wouldn't like it if she knew how much you sat in Angeline's lapand talked about ghosts. _I_ don't want to see any or hear any."
"I do, though!" cried Dotty. "I shouldn't be afraid--the leastestspeck. I'd go right up to 'em, and, said I, 'How do you do, sir?' Andthen they would melt like a wink. It blows 'em right out the moment youspeak."
"Does it, though?" said Johnny, who had been listening at the door. "Youdon't say so! Call me when you see your ghostses, and let me talk to 'emtoo."
"And _me_! What _is_ um?" said wee Katie, toddling in with her mouthfull of candy.
"There, there!" cried Dotty Dimple, "you've been a-listening, JohnnyEastman."
"Don't care! 'Tisn't so bad as being a tell-tale, Miss!" said Johnny,ending the sentence in a naughty tone.
"Why, Johnny, you mus'n't say that!"
"Why, Johnny," echoed Katie, "you _musser_ say _that_!"
"Say what?"
"Say _Miss_."
The children all laughed at this.
"Come, little ones," said Mr. Parlin, appearing at the door, "put onyour hats; we are ready to start."
Prudy clapped her hands--an action which cousin Percy did not considervery polite.
"It shows," said he, "how glad you are to leave us."
"O, but we are going _home_, you know, Percy! Only think of having ahome to go to!"
"It isn't the burnt one, though," remarked Dotty, as she danced off thedoor-step; "and I 'spect I'll never see that darling little tea-set anymore."
The new house was not in the least like the old one. Susy was alwaysbewailing the contrast. She did not like the wallpaper; the carpetswere homely; the rooms were, some of them, too large, and the door-yard,certainly, too small.
"But it's better than nothing," said Prudy, who, for one, was heartilytired of visiting.
"I think," said Mrs. Parlin, smiling, "this is a very good opportunityfor my little daughters to learn to make the best of everything. Wecannot have the old house, so we will try not to long for it. We neverwish for the moon, you know."
"Katie does," laughed Susy.
"We cannot have the old home again, so we will make the new one as happyas we can. Isn't that the best way?"
"Of course it is, mamma," replied all the children.
"'Course, indeed, it is!" said Katie, trying to pull up the carpet inher search for a lost three-cent piece.
"I'm glad father's dressing-gown and slippers didn't get scorched," saidPrudy; "and the piano sounds as sweetly as ever it did. It sounds to mejust as if there was a family in there, living inside."
"Like what?"
"O, you know there are four parts playing at once, and it seems as if itwas a man and his wife, and two children, all singing together!"
"I'm glad we brought so many flowers from aunt Eastman's," said Susy,brightening; "now we'll trim all the rooms."
"That is right," said Mrs. Parlin. "This is the first night in the newhouse: let us make it as cheerful as we can for dear papa. Susy, you mayas well practise that new tune he likes so well."
"O, mamma," said Prudy, "I'll tell you what I'll do! I'll make somevinegar candy!--if you'll boil it, you know, and pull it."
"A very brilliant idea, my daughter. Your part will be the looking on, Isuppose."
"And what'll _I_ do?" queried Dotty, twisting the inevitable lock offront hair; "if papa would only give me some money, I'd go and buy him apresent."
"The wisest thing you can do just now, dear, is to wash that berry-stainoff your lips; then you may bring me a fresh ruffle to baste in the neckof this dress."
Dotty obeyed at once. She was always glad to wear that white delainewith the scarlet spots.
The whole family were so very busy during the afternoon, that theyforgot to feel any regrets for the old home. The furniture had beenbrought and arranged some time before, and the most Mrs. Parlin expectedto do to-day was to make the house as pleasant as possible. Susy wasallowed to attend to the flowers; the three others looked on, andwatched Mrs. Parlin, while she made vinegar candy, filled some tartswith jelly, and helped Norah set the supper-table.
"How nice!" said Prudy, rubbing her hands. "Sometimes I don't much careif our house was burnt up."
"Nor I either," said Dotty. "This house has got a good deal the bestplaces to hide in."
Mrs. Parlin smiled, in her sweet, contented way. She was thinking howmany blessings we can all find in our lot if we only look for them. Notthat she would ever have known about the "nice places to hide in" if thechildren had not mentioned them.
"Dotty," said she, "you may run up and ask grandmother if she will daredrink any coffee to-night."
Prudy and Dotty tripped up the broad staircase, which wound about somuch that Prudy said it twisted her like a string. Katie ran after them,catching her breath.
There sat the dear grandmamma, knitting some winter stockings for Prudy.There were no curtains at the windows, and the August sunshine fell onher calm face, bathing it with warm light. The carpet had not been putdown yet, and the children's feet made a hollow sound on the bare floor.
"Why, grandma," said Prudy, "it wouldn't be nice here a bit, only theroom has got _you_ in it!"
"Bless thy little heart, Prudence! It will be nice enough here to-morrownight. I wouldn't have thy mother touch it to-day."
"I've got a gamma to my house," said Katie, passing her little fingersover Mrs. Read's white kerchief; "but um don't have hang-fiss on umneck."
"Yes," said Mrs. Read, in reply to the children's question, "tell yourmother I will take some coffee to-night, and she is very kind toinquire."
On the whole, the supper that evening was quite a success. Mr. Parlinhad come home from business, tired and sad. It was not pleasant for himto turn his steps towards that part of the town: he missed his old homemore than ever. But when he entered the strange house, the lonely lookleft his face; for there in the hall stood his wife and children,awaiting him with smiles of welcome.
"O, papa!" said Dotty, springing into his arms, while her sisters seizedhim by the coat-sleeves, "you ought to have a birthday to-night, we'vegot such a splendid supper!"
"Sthop!" cried Katie. "_I_'s talking. Cake, and verjerves, and f'owers,and butter!"
"And Susy's been practising the 'Blue Violet's Carol,'" said Prudy.
"Yes, her packus, uncle Ed'ard!"
"And I'll read the paper to you if your eyes ache," went on Prudy; "andwe are going to be just as happy, papa!"
"An' vindegar canny," struck in Katie.
"O, hush, now!" whispered Dotty, covering the child's mouth with herhandkerchief.
The whole house was fragrant with flowers, and had such a festiveappearance, that Mr. Parlin kept exclaiming, "Ah, indeed!" and strokinghis beard. Prudy said she always knew when papa was pleased, for then healways "patted his whiskers."
The table was very attractive, and everybody had a fi
ne appetite. AfterMr. Parlin had drank a cup of delicious coffee, he no longer rememberedthat he was tired. He looked upon the merry group around him, and saidto his wife,--
"I see, my dear, you are disposed to make the best of our misfortunes.But, after all, you are not quite as meek as one old lady I heard ofonce."
"Please tell it, if it's a story, papa," said the children.
"Not much of a story; only there were two old women who lived bythemselves, and were so very poor that they had nothing in the world toeat but potatoes and salt. One day a friend went to see them, and whenhe sat down to their humble meal of roasted potatoes, he was moved withpity, and told them he was very sorry to see them so poor.
"Then one of the old ladies rolled up her eyes, and said, 'I was justa-thinkin', neighbor, that this meal is altogether too good for us,we're _so_ unworthy! I only wish the potatoes was froze!'"
The children laughed.
"But I shouldn't like that old lady, though. I know how she looked: itwas just this way," said Prudy, drawing down her mouth, and lookingcross-eyed.
"She didn't want the potatoes frozed," added Dotty; "for if she did,she might have laid 'em out doors all night, and they'd have freezed ashard as a stick."
Grandma Read had a thought just then, though she did not express it. Shewas thinking what a contrast this cheerful family presented to another"burnt-out" family, who had this very day moved into a house across thestreet. The mother she had seen from the window, and she lookedperfectly discouraged. The children were fretful, and it seemed as ifthey were all trying, with one accord, to see which could do most tomake the new home disagreeable.
"I should say they freeze their potatoes," thought Mrs. Read.
She meant that, instead of trying to improve matters, they only madethem worse.
After supper, just as the Parlins were sitting down for a quietevening, the door-bell rang furiously, and shook for a minuteafterwards, as if it were in an ague-fit. Who had come to break up thefamily harmony?
I will tell you in the next chapter.