Chapter 9

IN THE WOODS.

The party walked leisurely along till they came to a log church, which Mr. Parlin paused to admire. It was in harmony, he said, with the roughness of the landscape.

"I should like to attend service here by moonlight; I think it would be very sweet and solemn in such a lonely place. There would be no sound outside; and as you looked through the open door, you would only see a few quiet trees listening to the words of praise."

"The evenings here must seem like something holy," said Mrs. Clifford, "'the nun-like evenings, telling dew-beads as they go.'"

"O, my shole!" cried Katie, dancing before the church door, and clapping her hands; "that's the bear's house, the _bear's_ house! Little boy went in there, drank some of the old bear's podge, so _sour_ he couldn't drink it." Here she looked disgusted, but added with a honeyed smile, "Then bimeby drank some o' _little_ bear's podge, and '_twas_ so sweet he drank it aw--all up!"

Everybody laughed, it was so absurd to think of looking for bears and porridge in a building where people met to worship. Dotty had just been saying to herself, "How strange that God is in this mizzable house out West, just as if it was in Portland!" But Katie had rudely broken in upon her meditations.

"O, what a Flyaway!" said she; "you don't do any good."

"Yes, I does."

"Well, what?"

"O, I tell 'tories."

"Is that all?"

"I p'ay with little goorls; and then I p'ay some more; and I wash de dishes. I'll tell _you_ a 'tory," added she, balancing herself on a stump, and making wild gestures with her arms, somewhat as she had seen Horace do.

"'Woe to de Dotties and sons 'o men, Woe to 'em all when I yoam again!'"

One wee forefinger pointed up to the sky; the right hand, doubled to a threatening little fist, was shaken at Dotty, while the young orator's face was so wrinkled with scowls that Dotty laughed outright.

"Do speak that again," she said. "You are the cunningest baby!"

'"Woe to de Dotties--!' No, I can't tell it 'thout I have sumpin to stan' on!" sighed Miss Flyaway, falling off the stump directly against Dotty.

"I believe you've broken me," cried Dotty; for, though Katie was small, her weight pressed heavily.

"Well, Fibby's broke sumpin too," replied she, calmly. "What does lamps wear?"

"I s'pose you mean chimneys."

"Yes, Fibby has did it; she's broke a chimley."

"Look up here, little Ruffleneck; you're an honor to the state," said brother Horace, proudly. "You don't find such a 'cute child as this in Yankee land, Dotty Dimple."

"You musn't call me a Yankee," said Dotty, who never liked Horace's tone when he used the word. "I'm not a Yankee; I'm a 'Publican!"

"Hurrah for you!" shouted Horace, swinging his hat; "hurrah for Miss Parlin Number Three!"

"Dear, dear! what have I said now? I don't want him to hurrah for me," thought Dotty.

Horace returned to his manners.

"She's such a firebrand that I like to make her eyes flash; but we must be polite to visitors; so here goes."

"Cousin Dotty," said he aloud, dropping his mocking tones, and speaking very respectfully, "if you are a true Republican, I honor you as such, and I'll never call you a Yankee again."

"Well, I _am_ a 'Publican to the white bone!"

What Dotty meant by the "white bone" was rather uncertain, it being one of those little figures of speech which will not bear criticism.

"Then you believe in universal suffering?"

"O, yes," answered Dotty, quickly.

"And the black walnut bureau?"

Dotty hesitated.

"If the 'Publicans do, and my father does."

"O, yes; everybody believes in the black walnut bureau--that ever saw one."

Dotty glanced at Horace stealthily; but his face was so serious that she was sure he could not be making sport of her. They were walking a little in advance of the others, Horace dragging Flyaway, who was intent upon digging her little heels into the ground.

"This place is sometimes called Goblin Valley," said the boy. "A goblin means a sort of ghost; but nobody but simpletons believe in such things," added he, quickly, for he was too high-minded to wish to frighten his little cousin.

"O, I'm not at all afraid of such things," said Dotty quietly; "I've got all over it. I know what ghosts are now; they are pumpkins."

"Excuse my smiling," said Horace, laughing uproariously.

"You may laugh, cousin Horace, but I've seen them. They have a candle inside; and that's why my father brought me out West, because the doctor said it frightened me so. Why, they had to pour water over me and drown me almost to death, or I'd have died!"

"I wonder!"

"Yes, 'twas Johnny Eastman; but his mamma gave me a beautiful little tea-set, with _golder_ rims than the one that was burnt up; and Johnny and Percy both felt dreadfully."

"Wanted the tea-set themselves--did they?"

"O, no; _they_ never play tea. That isn't why they feel dreadfully; it's because, if they ever frighten me again, the Mayor'll have them put in the _penitential_, and they know it."

"They were mean fellows; that's a fact," said Horace, with genuine indignation. "I used to be full of mischief when I was small; but I never frightened a little girl in my life; and no boy would do it that thinks anything of himself."

Dotty looked up admiringly at the youth of twelve years, liking him all the better for his chivalry, as any of you little girls would have done.

"Boy-cousins are not always alike," said she, as if the idea was quite new; "some are good, and some are naugh--"

The word was cut in two by a scream. A large and very handsome snake was gliding gracefully across her path. The like of it for size and brilliancy, she had never seen before.

"O, how boo-ful!" cried Katie, darting after it. Horace held her back. Dotty trembled violently.

"Kill it," she screamed; "throw stones at it; take me away! take me away!"

"Poh, Dotty; nothing but an innocent snake; he's more afraid of you than you are of him."

"You told him take you away two times," exclaimed Katie, "and he didn't, and he didn't."

"I never knew you had such awful things out West," said Dotty shuddering. "And I don't think _now_ there's _any_ difference in boy-cousins! They never take you away, nor do anything you ask 'em to--so there!"

"Why, Dotty, he was hurrying as fast as he could to get out of our sight; there was no need of taking you away."

"She needn't be 'fraid," observed Flyaway, soothingly; "if I had a sidders, I could ha' cutted him in two."

By this time the rest of the party had arrived. Grace and Cassy walked together very confidentially under the same umbrella which had sheltered them years ago--a black one marked with white paint, "Stolen from H.S. Clifford." "Bold thieves" Horace called them; but they deigned no notice of his remark.

"I'll get an answer," murmured Horace, repeating aloud,--

"'Hey for the apple and ho for the pear, But give me the girl with the red hair.'"

At this Grace turned around sharply, and shook her bare head, which gleamed in the sun like burnt gold.

"Panoria Swan has red hair," said she,--"fire-red; but mine is auburn."

"O, I only wanted to make you speak, Grace; that will do."

"Here we are at the woods," said Mr. Clifford. He had once owned a neighboring lot, and his pecan trees had been fenced around to protect them from the impertinent swine; but now the party were going into the heart of the forest.

The pecan trees were tall, somewhat like maples, with the nuts growing on them in shucks, after the manner of walnuts. These shucks, if left till the coming of frost, would have opened of themselves, and scattered the nuts to the ground; but our friends preferred to gather a few bushels before they were perfectly ripened, rather than lose them altogether.

As the easiest method, Mr. Clifford said they might as well fell a tree, for he had a right to do so. He had brought an axe in his carriage; and Mr. Parlin, whose good right arm had never been injured in the war, soon brought a noble tree to the ground.

Then there was a scrambling to see which should break off the most shucks. Dotty sat down on a log, half afraid there might be a snake lurking under it, and picked with all her might.

"We don't have any pecans at Deering's Oaks," she thought, "and nothing but shells at the Islands. I only wish Prudy was here. Prudy would think I had a little temper at Horace just now; I wonder if he did. I will show him I am sorry; for he _is_ a good boy, and a great deal more 'style' and polite than Percy."

"What makes our little darling look so dismal?" said Cassy, taking a seat beside Dotty Dimple.

"O, I was thinking a great _many_ things! I'm so far off, Cassy! When I think of that, I want to scream right out. Prudy's at home, and I'm here! I don't want to be so far off".

"But only think, dear, how much you will have to tell when you get home; and in such a little while too."

Dotty was instantly consoled, for a crowd of recollections rushed into her mind of wonderful events which had occurred since she parted from Prudy. The "far off" feeling left her as she thought of the stories she should have to tell to admiring listeners one of these days.

When it was time for dinner, Mrs. Clifford spread a table-cloth on the ground, and covered it with the nice food she had brought. It was a delightful entertainment. Flyaway was so nearly wild with the new experience of eating in the woods, among the toads and squirrels, that she required constant watching to keep her within bounds. She wanted to run after all the little creeping things she saw, and give them part of her dinner. Horace gladly assumed the care of her. He did not mean that his mother should regret having brought little Topknot.