CHAPTER XI
JACK AND JILL
David was tempted to go for a second visit to his Lady of the Roses,but something he could not define held him back. The lady was in hismind almost constantly, however; and very vivid to him was the pictureof the garden, though always it was as he had seen it last with thehush and shadow of twilight, and with the lady's face gloomily turnedtoward the sunless pool. David could not forget that for her there wereno hours to count; she had said it herself. He could not understand howthis could be so; and the thought filled him with vague unrest and pain.
Perhaps it was this restlessness that drove David to explore even morepersistently the village itself, sending him into new streets in searchof something strange and interesting. One day the sound of shouts andlaughter drew him to an open lot back of the church where some boyswere at play.
David still knew very little of boys. In his mountain home he had neverhad them for playmates, and he had not seen much of them when he wentwith his father to the mountain village for supplies. There had been,it is true, the boy who frequently brought milk and eggs to the cabin;but he had been very quiet and shy, appearing always afraid and anxiousto get away, as if he had been told not to stay. More recently, sinceDavid had been at the Holly farmhouse, his experience with boys hadbeen even less satisfying. The boys--with the exception of blindJoe--had very clearly let it be understood that they had little use fora youth who could find nothing better to do than to tramp through thewoods and the streets with a fiddle under his arm.
To-day, however, there came a change. Perhaps they were more used tohim; or perhaps they had decided suddenly that it might be good fun tosatisfy their curiosity, anyway, regardless of consequences. Whateverit was, the lads hailed his appearance with wild shouts of glee.
"Golly, boys, look! Here's the fiddlin' kid," yelled one; and theothers joined in the "Hurrah!" he gave.
David smiled delightedly; once more he had found some one who wantedhim--and it was so nice to be wanted! Truth to tell, David had felt nota little hurt at the persistent avoidance of all those boys and girlsof his own age.
"How--how do you do?" he said diffidently, but still with that beamingsmile.
Again the boys shouted gleefully as they hurried forward. Several hadshort sticks in their hands. One had an old tomato can with a stringtied to it. The tallest boy had something that he was trying to holdbeneath his coat.
"'H--how do you do?'" they mimicked. "How do you do, fiddlin' kid?"
"I'm David; my name is David." The reminder was graciously given, witha smile.
"David! David! His name is David," chanted the boys, as if they were acomic-opera chorus.
David laughed outright.
"Oh, sing it again, sing it again!" he crowed. "That sounded fine!"
The boys stared, then sniffed disdainfully, and cast derisive glancesinto each other's eyes--it appeared that this little sissy tramp boydid not even know enough to discover when he was being laughed at!
"David! David! His name is David," they jeered into his face again."Come on, tune her up! We want ter dance."
"Play? Of course I'll play," cried David joyously, raising his violinand testing a string for its tone.
"Here, hold on," yelled the tallest boy. "The Queen o' the Ballet ain'tready". And he cautiously pulled from beneath his coat a strugglingkitten with a perforated bag tied over its head.
"Sure! We want her in the middle," grinned the boy with the tin can."Hold on till I get her train tied to her," he finished, trying tocapture the swishing, fluffy tail of the frightened little cat.
David had begun to play, but he stopped his music with a discordantstroke of the bow.
"What are you doing? What is the matter with that cat?" he demanded.
"'Matter'!" called a derisive voice. "Sure, nothin' 's the matter withher. She's the Queen o' the Ballet--she is!"
"What do you mean?" cried David. At that moment the string bit hardinto the captured tail, and the kitten cried out with the pain. "Lookout! You're hurting her," cautioned David sharply.
Only a laugh and a jeering word answered. Then the kitten, with the bagon its head and the tin can tied to its tail, was let warily to theground, the tall boy still holding its back with both hands.
"Ready, now! Come on, play," he ordered; "then we'll set her dancing."
David's eyes flashed.
"I will not play--for that."
The boys stopped laughing suddenly.
"Eh? What?" They could scarcely have been more surprised if the kittenitself had said the words.
"I say I won't play--I can't play--unless you let that cat go."
"Hoity-toity! Won't ye hear that now?" laughed a mocking voice. "Andwhat if we say we won't let her go, eh?"
"Then I'll make you," vowed David, aflame with a newborn something thatseemed to have sprung full-grown into being.
"Yow!" hooted the tallest boy, removing both hands from the captivekitten.
The kitten, released, began to back frantically. The can, dangling atits heels, rattled and banged and thumped, until the frightened littlecreature, crazed with terror, became nothing but a whirling mass ofmisery. The boys, formed now into a crowing circle of delight, kept thekitten within bounds, and flouted David mercilessly.
"Ah, ha!--stop us, will ye? Why don't ye stop us?" they gibed.
For a moment David stood without movement, his eyes staring. The nextinstant he turned and ran. The jeers became a chorus of triumphantshouts then--but not for long. David had only hurried to the woodpileto lay down his violin. He came back then, on the run--and before thetallest boy could catch his breath he was felled by a stinging blow onthe jaw.
Over by the church a small girl, red-haired and red-eyed, clamberedhastily over the fence behind which for long minutes she had beencrying and wringing her hands.
"He'll be killed, he'll be killed," she moaned. "And it's my fault,'cause it's my kitty--it's my kitty," she sobbed, straining her eyes tocatch a glimpse of the kitten's protector in the squirming mass of legsand arms.
The kitten, unheeded now by the boys, was pursuing its backward whirlto destruction some distance away, and very soon the little girldiscovered her. With a bound and a choking cry she reached the kitten,removed the bag and unbound the cruel string. Then, sitting on theground, a safe distance away, she soothed the palpitating little bunchof gray fur, and watched with fearful eyes the fight.
And what a fight it was! There was no question, of course, as to itsfinal outcome, with six against one; but meanwhile the one was givingthe six the surprise of their lives in the shape of well-dealt blowsand skillful twists and turns that caused their own strength and weightto react upon themselves in a most astonishing fashion. The oneunmistakably was getting the worst of it, however, when the littlegirl, after a hurried dash to the street, brought back with her to therescue a tall, smooth-shaven young man whom she had hailed from afar as"Jack."
Jack put a stop to things at once. With vigorous jerks and pulls heunsnarled the writhing mass, boy by boy, each one of whom, uponcatching sight of his face, slunk hurriedly away, as if glad to escapeso lightly. There was left finally upon the ground only David alone.But when David did at last appear, the little girl burst into tearsanew.
"Oh, Jack, he's killed--I know he's killed," she wailed. "And he was sonice and--and pretty. And now--look at him! Ain't he a sight?"
David was not killed, but he was--a sight. His blouse was torn, his tiewas gone, and his face and hands were covered with dirt and blood.Above one eye was an ugly-looking lump, and below the other was a redbruise. Somewhat dazedly he responded to the man's helpful hand, pulledhimself upright, and looked about him. He did not see the little girlbehind him.
"Where's the cat?" he asked anxiously.
The unexpected happened then. With a sobbing cry the little girl flungherself upon him, cat and all.
"Here, right here," she choked. "And it was you who saved her--myJuliette! And I'll love you, love you, love you always for it!"
r /> "There, there, Jill," interposed the man a little hurriedly. "Supposewe first show our gratitude by seeing if we can't do something to makeour young warrior here more comfortable." And he began to brush offwith his handkerchief some of the accumulated dirt.
"Why can't we take him home, Jack, and clean him up 'fore other folkssee him?" suggested the girl.
The boy turned quickly.
"Did you call him 'Jack'?"
"Yes."
"And he called you, Jill'?"
"Yes."
"The real 'Jack and Jill' that 'went up the hill'?" The man and thegirl laughed; but the girl shook her head as she answered,--
"Not really--though we do go up a hill, all right, every day. But thosearen't even our own names. We just call each other that for fun. Don'tYOU ever call things--for fun?"
David's face lighted up in spite of the dirt, the lump, and the bruise.
"Oh, do you do that?" he breathed. "Say, I just know I'd like to playto you! You'd understand!"
"Oh, yes, and he plays, too," explained the little girl, turning to theman rapturously. "On a fiddle, you know, like you."
She had not finished her sentence before David was away, hurrying alittle unsteadily across the lot for his violin. When he came back theman was looking at him with an anxious frown.
"Suppose you come home with us, boy," he said. "It isn't far--throughthe hill pasture, 'cross lots,--and we'll look you over a bit. Thatlump over your eye needs attention."
"Thank you," beamed David. "I'd like to go, and--I'm glad you want me!"He spoke to the man, but he looked at the little red-headed girl, whostill held the gray kitten in her arms.