CHAPTER XI.

THE RUNAWAY RINGS.--FLAXIE'S STORY.

"Oh, dear, the old man is out! Why, grandma, don't you know what I mean? I mean the rain-man! He always comes out of that little weather-house on the mantel, and looks around, you know, before it begins to rain.

"And there, just see, it's pouring this minute, and there are lots of people going by with umbrellas. It makes me think of that time last winter, when it rained so hard, and I lost those rings. Do you want to hear about it? Well, you just lie still and I'll tell you, and we'll have a beautiful time. Isn't it a perfect state of bliss to think I've got home, and can take care of you?

"But I did like to be at Washington. It didn't seem like winter, with the rain a-raining, and the sun a-shining, and no snow hardly ever, and the streets as clean as a floor.

"Besides, you know how I love Miss Pike; she's my favorite friend. And a hotel is splendid, there are so many children in it. Only they're not all alike. Some are ever so nice, and some _would_ be nice if they didn't have temper.

"Now, there was Cora Garland, Kittyleen's cousin. She had a temper like this: see me walk across the floor, grandma, with my head thrown back,--so. _That_ was the kind of temper _she_ had. But she didn't have it very often, and she was good to Ethel and Kittyleen and Phil. I liked Cora; I mean, almost always I did. And I never saw a girl with so many rings and earrings and gold bracelets and things. Did you ever see an honest, true diamond, grammy, hard enough to scratch on the window-pane, and bright enough to put your eyes out--almost? Well, one of Cora's rings was a diamond. I suppose it came out of a mine. And one of her rings was red; I forget the name of it; fiery, rosy red, and all of a twinkle, with a row of pearls around it, like little white currants.

"Well, I used to borrow Cora's rings and bracelets sometimes, and she used to borrow these old silver bangles. I don't see what she wanted of _them_. You see they are just bands of silver, with five-cent pieces dangling down! But mamma didn't approve of my wearing Cora's things.

"'Little Mary, I don't approve of borrowed finery,' said she.

"So she wanted me to take them back. And I always did take them back; but sometimes I forgot, and borrowed them over again. I don't remember now how I happened to forget.

"Oh, I _thought_ I wasn't telling the story right. We lived up, up, up, away up on the fourth floor! Did _you_ ever go up in an elevator? You wouldn't like it, but I did. Our room was large and ever so pretty, with two windows in it, where you could look right out on the avenue. And there was a fireman, who used to come in and fix the fire in the grate.

"I slept with Miss Pike, and sometimes I wouldn't wake in the morning till ever so late, and she would go down to breakfast without me. But she didn't care; she said she didn't expect me to get up when I was asleep, for how could I, you know? And by and by she always came back and curled my hair, and let me go down to breakfast with Ethel and Kittyleen and Phil and Cora.

"But before I'd go down, and before Miss Pike would come back, and while I'd be asleep, the fireman would come in with his bucket and fix the fire. I ought to tell about this, so you'll understand better when I get to the rings. You never knew whether there was coal-dust on the fireman's face or not, for he was always as black as could be, and couldn't be any blacker. His name was Lijar, just as if he came out of the Bible and had been fed by ravens; but somehow I didn't think he was very pious. No, I seemed to think he was rather _un_-pious, because he rolled his eyes around so much, and kept laughing to himself.

"And there I'd be fast asleep on the bed; but sometimes I'd just peep out under my eyelashes, and he'd be taking down some of the pretty things from the mantel and looking at them and laughing to himself. I thought it was very impolite. He oughtn't to have touched a single thing, now ought he, with his hands so black and dirty? But I never once thought of his stealing,--_not then_.

"Well, one night, after I'd borrowed those rings back again,--the diamond ring and the red one with white currants round it,--I put both the rings in a blue box, or I thought I did, and set the box on the bureau right under the looking-glass. And Lena stood at the door and saw me.

"Why, I forgot to tell you about Lena! She was the chambermaid, that went around all day with a pink handkerchief tied on her head, and a broom, and a pail. She was French. She always walked into my room before I was up, same as Lijar did. And she laughed, and shook the feather-duster at me sometimes. I suppose she wished I wasn't there on the bed, for she wanted to take off the sheets. She didn't know how to talk the American language very well, and I didn't blame her; for of course French people have to learn to talk, just like babies. But she was a pretty girl, and I supposed she was a great deal better than Lijar. She told me one day she could say her prayers in French, and so I never once thought of her stealing,--_not then_.

"That night--the night I lost the rings--she was there in the hall, and I was coming along, waltzing a waltz. She set down her broom and pail, and took those rings and put them on her little finger. I let her do it. And she said, 'Oh, _wee, wee_,' and kept smiling.

"I remember it was in the evening, and I had just come up from playing in the public parlor, and I had on my crushed-strawberry dress and an orange in my hand, and Lena said I was as pretty as her little sister, and I asked if her little sister wore curls. And she said, 'No, she don't ever does.' That was the best Lena could talk.

"Then she gave me back the rings, and I was going right to bed, so I put them in the box on the bureau,--or I thought I did,--and Lena stood at the door and looked at me the whole time. I remember there was pink cotton in the box, and the sweetest picture on the cover. It was Miss Pike's box; she has got it now.

"Then I went to bed, and Miss Pike set up the screen between me and the gas-light, and she read, and I went to sleep. How I did sleep! I'd been playing blind-man's-buff, and was so tired; and I never woke up next morning till after Lijar had been in to fix the fire, and Lena had been in to bring the clean towels. The first thing I knew I opened my eyes, and there were Miss Pike and Cora and Kittyleen all laughing at me.

"'Come, you little sleepy girl,' said Miss Pike; and she kissed me on both cheeks. I never once thought about the rings, but got up and let her curl my hair. She said it was Washington's birthday, and curled a curl and laughed, but I knew Kittyleen and Cora were very hungry waiting.

"After breakfast they came up with me, and so did Ethel and Phil. And I remember how it rained, harder than it does now, ever so much. And we stood by that beautiful window, and looked out to see the soldiers parade.

"They didn't mind the rain, dripping on their pretty caps and uniforms and white gloves. First they put out one foot, and then they put out the other foot, and at the same time, to the music. Cora said it was like wooden dolls, with joints in their knees.

"She didn't see that I hadn't any rings on my fingers, and I didn't see it myself. We were watching the soldiers on the street, and the people on the pavement following on after the soldiers. The people all had umbrellas. You couldn't see their heads; all you could see was umbrellas.

"The children wanted to dress up their dolls like soldiers. They were girl dolls, with Kate Greenaway dresses, but Miss Pike said they could be woman's-rights soldiers, why not? And she is so kind! She made some shiny black soldier-caps, and we tucked up the dolls' curls; and so cunning and brave as they looked!

"Afterwards I remember Miss Pike went to the next room to read to Mrs. Garland, and I waited for her; and the children went down to lunch with mamma. But oh, when they were all gone, then I thought of those rings, and went to the box on the bureau. But just think, grandma, they weren't there! There was the pink cotton in the box, but not a ring to be seen!

"A perfectly awful feeling went over me. I know I must have turned pale, for I had to pour my handkerchief wringing wet with cologne. Why, just you think! Did you ever have anything so terrible happen to _you_? Why, those rings cost more money than I had in this world! And Cora's grandfather gave her the red ring, that died!

"I hunted and hunted, under the bed and under the rugs, and pulled the things out of the drawers. And I knew papa would have to pay for them, and he'd think I was very expensive! He would have to cure ever so many sick people for it, and ride in the night for days and days to pay for those rings! 'Specially the beautiful red one with white currants round it. And she thinking so much of her grandpa that died! I knew she'd never forgive me, but always go around with her head thrown back; and how I should feel!

"I wished then I'd obeyed mamma, and not borrowed what didn't belong to me. It was just awful to have mamma and Miss Pike know it. I wished I needn't be obliged to tell."