Part 7

Then came an arrangement which to Eleanor, particularly, was a most delightful one. Since it would be some time before either of the two little girls could go to school again, Eleanor's mother proposed that Florence should go home with them and that they should have lessons there. "For," said Mrs. Dallas, "what do you think, daughter? Miss Reese has the whooping-cough; not very badly, but some one has to take her place in the school. Now, don't you think it would be a good plan to ask her to come for two or three hours a day to teach you and Florence?"

"Fine," replied Eleanor.

"How should you like to take this boy, too?" asked Uncle Heath, putting his hand on Rock's shoulder. "I find that I have to take another long trip and I'd like to have Dora go with me, but we don't want to send Rock back to boarding-school again, since he had such a sorry experience the last time, but if you could take him in with your young folks it would relieve our minds, besides being a good thing for him, Miss Reese is a very competent teacher, I judge."

"She is an excellent teacher," his brother assured him. And the matter was considered settled.

"Does Cousin Ellen know you are coming home, mamma?" Eleanor asked.

"Yes, she knows, and she has taken a little house on the other side of town."

"Oh!" Eleanor's face was a sight to see, between her desire to seem pleased and her real feeling of disappointment.

Her mother hugged her tightly and said: "Never mind Cousin Ellen, now you have your mother."

Eleanor gave a great sigh of content and rested her head against her mother's arm. "Dearest mamma, the next time you go away I shall get into one of the trunks rather than be left behind. You don't know, you never will know, how horrid Cousin Ellen can be."

"Don't I? Perhaps I do. At all events, my darling, she will not be near enough to bother you."

"No, and now I am rather glad I am not to go back to school, for then I should have to see Olive all the time, and she does try to set the girls against me. Am I a very bad child, mamma?"

"You are not perfect, sweetheart, but I don't believe you are as naughty as Cousin Ellen would have us think."

In a few days they started for home, a merry party, Eleanor, her father and mother, Florence, Rock and Bubbles. As they came near the house Eleanor glanced up at the window where poor Ada had hung so helplessly. She looked over at the little playhouse, then she turned to Rock. "Oh, Rock," she said, "I am so glad you are not Don."

Sylvy, smiling and neat, met them at the door, and before twenty-four hours all was as it had been before Cousin Ellen had come. Yet, it took Eleanor a little while to adjust herself to the belief that there were no hard words nor cold looks to greet her, and once or twice she cried out in the night so pitifully as to bring her mother to her side to awaken her from a nightmare in which she said she thought Cousin Ellen was holding her while Don stuck pins in her.

One of the first visitors was Dr. Sullivan, who greeted Eleanor with: "Heigho, little girl! back again? Plenty of fresh air, remember. Another patient is this, Miss Florence? A comrade in misery. Well, keep out of doors all you can."

And then came Miss Reese for sympathy, as she said, and she seemed so glad to see Eleanor that the child felt that here was one person, at least, who believed in her. "I'm so glad you can come and teach us, Miss Reese," she told her. "I think it will be a dear little school. We are to study in the library, mamma says, and I think it will be great fun."

Mrs. Dallas had just come in from a walk. "What do you think, daughter? Cousin Ellen wants to know if I will let Don and Olive and Jessie join our little class."

Eleanor looked horror-stricken and her mother laughed as she asked, "What did you say, mamma?"

"I said no, and I said it very emphatically. Cousin Ellen says the three older children have had the whooping-cough and she fears it for none of them but Alma. I said: 'I do not think the arrangement would be at all a satisfactory one, Cousin Ellen, and we will not consider it.'"

Just here Bubbles came in saying: "Miss Dimple, Mr. Snyder out hyah."

"Oh!" Eleanor jumped up. "Please 'scuse me, Miss Reese, I must see my dear butterman. Come, Florence, come, Rock." And she ran out to greet her old friend, who shook both her hands and said: "Mrs. Snyder heard you was comin' home and she wants to know if you won't come out some day with your cousins and the little colored girl. Some Saturday. If you take the electric cars to Brookside it will be just a little walk across the fields. Mrs. Snyder wants to hear all about what has been happening and I've got a little colt to show you; one of the finest in the land. Come next Saturday, if it ain't too cold," he said as he drove away.

"They were so good to me, you will let us go, won't you, mamma?" Eleanor asked when she went into her mother.

"Of course, dear, you may go. I am more than grateful to Mr. and Mrs. Snyder for their kindness to you, and I would not refuse to have you accept their invitation for anything."

"And you'll take butter from them again?"

"Most certainly. Now run along, Miss Reese and I have some matters we want to talk over."

"I can't find the key to the playhouse," said Eleanor, coming back in a minute.

"Can't you? Well, never mind, wait till to-morrow before you go there. Suppose you get Bubbles to help you and Florence to put your clothing neatly in the bureau drawers."

"And then shall we help Rock to put his away?"

"Yes."

But upon being consulted, Rock said, "I did that myself."

Eleanor looked at him admiringly and Florence said, "I didn't know boys ever did such things; my brother doesn't."

"Because somebody does it for him, I suppose, but my mother says there's no reason why a boy shouldn't be as smart as a girl about finding things and keeping them in order."

"I wish my mother would say that to Lee," returned Florence; "he always throws his things anywhere and we girls have to find them for him and put them away."

"Well," said Rock, "I wouldn't let a girl do that for me."

Eleanor was sitting on the floor hugging her knees, her eyes roving around the room. Presently she jumped up and began a frantic dance. "What is the matter?" asked Florence in wonder.

"I'm glad, just so glad that I can't help it," Eleanor told her. "When I think it is Rock and not Don who is in the little room, and that you are here instead of Olive, I could scream with joy."

"We haven't been to the playhouse yet," said Florence.

"No, mamma said to wait till to-morrow."

"Why?"

"I don't know. She just said so. I don't suppose there is any reason."

"I believe there is," said Florence mysteriously.

"Oh, why?"

"Because I saw your papa come out of there with a man."

"Oh, well, we'll see to-morrow. I'm not going to guess about it. Let us go downstairs. There comes Doctor Sullivan again, oh, and Miss Reese is going. She will be here to-morrow to begin lessons. Doctor Sullivan is not coming in. Miss Reese is going with him in the buggy."

The next day did solve the mystery of the playhouse, for it appeared that the place had been repaired and put in perfect order. The man, whom Florence saw, had been putting in a pane of glass which Don had broken. "It looks nicer than ever," said Eleanor admiringly. "I am so glad papa had it made so new and clean, I feel as if all the Don of it were gone now." The words were hardly out of her mouth before Don's form appeared in the doorway. Eleanor drew herself up stiffly. "Well?" she said.

Don looked rather sheepish, but he said: "I just thought I would come over."

Eleanor said nothing.

"Say, I left my knife out here," began Don.

"When?"

"Oh, a long time ago. I want to come in and look for it."

"You can't come in. I will look for it. I don't believe it is here though, for it's been ever and ever so long since you were in here."

"I don't care, I'm coming in. I'd like to see any girl keep me out."

At this Rock came forward. He had been sitting in a corner where Don could not see him. "Then perhaps, a boy can keep you out," he said calmly. "This is Eleanor's house and she has a right to do as she chooses about it. If you have left anything here, go up to the house and tell Mrs. Dallas, or Mr. Dallas either. They will see that you get it."

Don stood for a moment irresolute and then walked away, but a few minutes later they heard a sharp cry of pain and they all rushed out to see Bubbles sitting on the ground sobbing and holding her wounded arm.

"Oh, Bubbles, Bubbles," cried Eleanor, running up to her, "what is it?"

"Dat Don he come an' gimme a lick 'fore I knowed he was anywhere about, and he knocked me over and hurt mah arm, he did."

Rock's eyes snapped. "I'll get even with him," he muttered, "the little bully."

"Does your arm hurt you very much?" asked Florence anxiously. "Come, let's go to the doctor right away."

"We'll tell mamma first," said Eleanor. This done, Mrs. Dallas did decide that the doctor would best be seen and they set out at once for his office, fortunately finding him at home. He found nothing serious had happened, but he frowned when told of the sudden and uncalled-for attack upon Bubbles, and shook his head, looking sharply at Rock as if he might be suspected of being at fault in the matter, so that Eleanor spoke up and said, "Rock sent him off, doctor, and I suppose that's what made him mad. Uncle Heath said he didn't think that Don was really a bad boy, but I think he is a very bad boy."

The doctor smiled at her emphatic way of speaking and said that he would call in the morning and see if Bubbles were all right. Indeed, it seemed that he generally found his way to the house every day, and about the time that Miss Reese took her leave after lesson hours.

Saturday proved to be as fine a day as could be expected in January, and the four children, Bubbles included, started for Mr. Snyder's. Florence and Rock had never been there before, and were delighted to go whizzing along through the country which was really very beautiful, even in winter, for it is not alone when trees are green, that hills and dales are fair to see.

They had been traveling for some time when Eleanor said, "You told the conductor to let us off at Brookside, didn't you, Rock? That place we just passed looked like it, but I am not sure if it is the place."

"I told him," returned Rock, "but maybe he forgot. I'll ask him." This he did to find that they had passed the place and were told that it wasn't very far and they could walk back.

"I call that pretty cool," said Rock as they scrambled down from the car, "but we've got to make the best of it, I suppose."

They trudged along for a little distance when suddenly they came to a high trestle before which Eleanor stood aghast. "I never can go over that," she declared.

"Oh, yes, you can," said Rock. "I'll walk ahead and take your two hands," but Eleanor shrank from such a proceeding.

"I couldn't! I couldn't," she insisted, "it makes me sick to think of it, and then suppose a car should come along."

"No, they only come every half hour, and it is a single track so the down car doesn't start till the up car gets to the terminus, the conductor told me, so that's all right," Rock tried to reassure her by saying.

But Eleanor was firm and at last clambered down the embankment and discovered a place narrow enough for her to cross the little stream running below. Bubbles fearfully followed, and they managed to scramble up the bank, reaching the other side almost as soon as Rock and Florence. But this was not the end of their adventures.

_CHAPTER XI_

_Don and a Pony_

The day was unusually pleasant for the season, and the children as they journeyed along saw that they were not the only ones who had sought the country. Ahead of them were three boys who were going in the direction of Mr. Snyder's.

"One of those boys looks like Don," said Florence; "I wonder what he is doing out here. Do you know who the others are, Dimple?"

"No, I don't believe I do, though one of them looks like Joe Forrester."

"Is he the brother of the girl you told me about?"

"Yes, but I don't know him. See, they are turning off here and that is Mr. Snyder's house over there."

"I hope those boys aren't going there."

"I don't believe they are; the boys from town go wandering all about in the woods and places about here. I don't believe Don would want to go to Mr. Snyder's."

But in this she was mistaken, for, after they had spent a pleasant hour with Mrs. Snyder and had eaten a hearty and good dinner, they heard a great commotion outside whither Mr. Snyder had gone to bring up his pretty little colt to show the children.

"Mr. Snyder thinks as much of that colt as if it were a baby," Mrs. Snyder told them, "and it is a pretty creature. The land's sake! What's all that to do?"

They all ran out on the porch to see Mr. Snyder with a squirming boy firmly held by the collar, while Lem was leading off the colt which was limping and seemed in some way hurt.

"Ben, Ben, what's the matter?" cried Mrs. Snyder running down the steps.

"Matter enough," he answered, "just wait till I get this youngster settled and I'll tell you."

The children peeping over the balustrade of the porch, saw a very wrathful countenance, yet Eleanor's sympathies were about to go out to the captured boy when suddenly she exclaimed: "Oh, Florence! Oh, Rock! It is Don."

Sure enough, Don it was, and the angry man who held him prisoner brought the boy up on the porch saying: "Here's a fine fellow for you. He'll cost me a pretty penny, but I'll make him suffer."

"Why, Ben, what has he done?" inquired Mrs. Snyder.

"Done? Done enough. Him and a couple of other rascals that's got away, worse luck, have come near ruining my colt and have played havoc with your frames out there, mother."

"Not my violet frames?"

"Yes, that's right. You see, I let Dandy out into the back lot for a run, seeing that it was such a fine day, and them fellows thought it would be great fun to scare him to see him run, so they crept under the fence and shied something at him, and he ran and jumped the fence, or tried to, for he caught himself on that wire fence by the garden and after struggling a while he got loose and went crashing through the frames. I don't know how bad the colt's hurt, but I know how bad the boy's going to be." He gave Don a shake and the boy, white with terror, began to beg for mercy.

For all the wrongs she had suffered at Don's hands were still fresh in Eleanor's memory, she began to feel very sorry for the culprit, and she said softly, "Maybe it wasn't Don that did it, Mr. Snyder. Maybe it was one of the other boys, the ones who ran away."

"Don? Is that this fellow's name? Do you know him?"

"Why, yes, he is Donald Murdoch. Don't you remember Cousin Ellen Murdoch, who lived in our house? He is her son."

"Yes, yes," Mr. Snyder slightly loosened his grip upon Donald and appeared to be considering the matter. After a moment's pause he spoke again. "This is the youngster then, who caused you so much trouble I suppose."

"Ye-es," Eleanor answered reluctantly.

"Pestered the little darky so she had to leave and was the cause of her getting a broken arm?" He gave Donald a shake that made the boy's teeth chatter.

"Yes," spoke up Florence, for Eleanor was silent, "and he tried to hurt Bubbles again just a day or two ago." Mr. Snyder's grip on the boy's shoulder made the boy wince.

"Told lies about you; took your playhouse and helped himself to anything he wanted without so much as a 'by your leave,' didn't he?" Mr. Snyder kept up his remarks to Eleanor.

"Oh, yes," Eleanor found her voice again, "but his mother would feel so dreadfully about it if you send him to jail."

Mr. Snyder's face relaxed some of its grimness. "Come in here, all of you," he said, "and we'll have a little trial by jury. Here, boy, stand there. Don't you dare to budge one inch or it will be the worse for you. You and your companions have trespassed on my property, and have injured a valuable colt for me besides doing other damage. I am going to sift the matter to the very bottom, and if you don't tell the truth you'll get such a whipping as you never had. Now, sir, speak up; let's hear your story. Did you or didn't you throw stones at the colt?"

Don glanced around. He saw a set of stern faces, only in Eleanor's eyes was a pitying look. He began to cry softly and she took a step forward but Mr. Snyder waved her back. "Wait a minute. Tell me, boy, did you throw the stone that hit the colt?"

"The other fellows did, too," replied Don.

"Never mind about them. We'll settle their hash later on. I am dealing with you now. Did you?"

"Yes," Don admitted reluctantly.

"Well then, you are liable to one-third damages, supposing the others are equally guilty."

"Oh," Eleanor exclaimed, "Mr. Snyder, will it be a great deal?"

"A matter of fifty dollars without the colt; if he's not seriously hurt, but I'm afraid that, at the best, he is so scratched that he wouldn't bring the price I might have got for him. Now then, boy, I'm inclined to trounce you well. You need a whipping the worst kind."

Donald cried woefully, and Eleanor looked ready to cry, herself. "Oh, please, Mr. Snyder," she began.

He looked at her and smiled. "Then, Don, down on your knees and beg this young lady's pardon for treating her like a cub. Here before us all, down with you."

Donald did not hesitate, but began to mumble something. "Oh, no, no, please," Eleanor interrupted him, feeling the shame of it tingling to her very ears. "Never mind, now, Mr. Snyder. I don't care. It is all over and past and, please, never mind."

"All right. Get up, boy, you've Dimple to thank for being let off from a thrashing, but I'll march you to your mother and you will tell a straight story before her or I'll know the reason why." And Donald, cowed and miserable, was taken directly back to town, and was marched into his mother's presence.

Mr. Snyder told his tale curtly. "I've plenty of witnesses," he said, "and I know what I'm talking about. I've got to have this made right or I'll go to law about it."

"I am sure my boy never had a hand in it," returned Mrs. Murdoch stiffly.

"Your boy did, by his own confession. Here, sir, tell your mother all about it." And Mrs. Murdoch was an unwilling listener to an account of the disaster.

"I never would have believed it," she said in a distressed tone, "but Mr. Snyder, I am sure he didn't mean to hurt your horse, and besides those other boys led him on, I am sure."

"He threw the first stone and he was the ring-leader," persisted Mr. Snyder. "I've three witnesses to prove it."

"I know who they are," said Don, feeling safe under the shelter of his mother's wing; "it was Florence and Eleanor and that boy they call Rock."

"Oh," Mrs. Murdoch said significantly, "if they were concerned in it, the whole tale is probably a fabrication."

"Which it isn't," Mr. Snyder declared. "They never one of them saw it, all of them being in my house behind closed doors when it happened. The ones who saw it were two of my neighbors and my man, Lem Hawkins who shouted to them to stop and couldn't get there in time to prevent mischief. Ain't you a pretty sneaking little cur?" he said turning to Don. "I'd like to know who it was that begged you off. Tell your mother how it comes that you escaped a sound whipping. And that brings up another thing, ma'am. My wife and I are mighty fond of that little gal, Dimple Dallas, and we don't mean to stand by and have her blamed for others' bad actions. Just out with it, boy, and tell your mother how you plagued the life out of her and that little Bubbles, and don't forget to put in how she begged you off to-day. No shirking; a plain, straightforward story." He shook his head in a terrifying manner at Don who spluttered and stammered out a confession which satisfied his stern judge, but which his mother would fain have had left unsaid, for finally she stopped him with "That will do, Donald. I am sure you had some provocation. I don't excuse you altogether, of course, but there are always two sides to a question."

"Just so," said Mr. Snyder, "and it won't be my fault if every one doesn't hear both. Now, ma'am, are you ready to pay me twenty dollars for the damage this boy has caused? I'm letting you off easy at that."

Mrs. Murdoch looked aghast. "Pay twenty dollars! Why, I couldn't think of it. I am in very straitened circumstances, and oh, Mr. Snyder, you surely will not press such a claim for a mere piece of fun. Boys will be boys."

"And law's law. I'm going to have that made good."

"You'll not go to law about it."

"Perhaps."

Mrs. Murdoch was so evidently distressed that finally Mr. Snyder who was too good-hearted to insist upon ready money, made a proposition that Donald should work out the amount. "I have a pretty good patch of berries every year," he said, "and I always have to hire a few pickers. Now, I'll be easy with you, but it is only right that the boy should be made to do something about this, and I shall expect him to work out every dollar." This arrangement was finally agreed upon, for Donald thought he would rather enjoy a free time among the strawberry beds, and he was so relieved at getting off thus easily that he was ready to give Eleanor credit for all her influence in his behalf. So that Mrs. Murdoch began to think that, after all, she might have misjudged Eleanor.

This was the end of any trouble with Don, so far as Eleanor was concerned, and indeed, so far as it affected others, for he needed just such a lesson and after many days of wearisome, back-breaking work among the strawberry beds, work which Mr. Snyder made in no way easy for him, he realized that one must respect the property of others, and that in this world a person cannot be allowed his own way without regard to the rights of others.

But the rest of the winter passed happily enough. In the spring came Grandpa and Grandma Dallas, and thinking that his little granddaughter looked rather thin and pale, grandpa consulted his son with the result that Eleanor was told that her grandfather meant to buy her a little Shetland pony that she might spend the greater part of her time out in the fresh air without getting too tired.

"Do you hear? Oh, Rock! Oh, Florence, do you hear?" cried Eleanor, upon being told the news. "Oh, grandpa, when will you get it?"

"As soon as we can find one that is gentle and well-trained," he answered smiling. "Do you know of any one who has such a pony for sale?"

"No, not now. I did know a darling of a pony; it was Zula's, that little gipsy girl's. Oh, if the gipsies were here, perhaps they would have one to sell. They had one and Zula wanted me to buy it."

"I am afraid they would be rather unreliable people to buy from," her grandfather said.

"Oh, but they are really not so bad. Zula loved her brother dearly and her pony too, and they were very good to Bubbles."

"Oh, yes, Bubbles, to be sure. Bring her in and let us hear what she has to say of them. Perhaps they will be coming this way after a while and we can see what they have to sell. It must be about time for them to be getting up this way from the south."

"Yass, suh, dey fust-rate to me," said Bubbles, upon being questioned. "Dey had a mess o' hosses, an' a teenty little pony like de one Miss Dimple tell you-all about. Hit were a good one, too, 'cause I heered dat Marco, dey call him, when he fetch de pony in, an' he say to de little gal: 'I got a pony mos' as good as yo'n,' an' she say she don't believe it, an' he say 'sho.'"

"Well," said grandpa, "I'll look about and see what we can find, and if the gipsies come this way we'll hunt them up, and find out what they have."