Part 8

This was greeted with shouts of laughter, in which the performers themselves joined as they disappeared; and after the applause had subsided, the four heads on the top of the bins set themselves to guess the word.

"I think it's affected lady," said Carrie.

"I don't. I think it is cat or dog," said Lily. "You know this is only the first syllable, Carrie, so it couldn't be affected lady."

"Oh, to be sure," said Carrie. "Bessie, what do you think it is?"

"I think it is pet," said Bessie. "Did you not hear how often they said 'pet'? 'Pet' dog and 'pet' cat?"

"Yes, so they did," said Lily. "Bessie, you are right. Oh, isn't it fun?"

The performers were not long in making their preparations for the next syllable; and the only change in the outward arrangements was that various bottles, a saw, some chisels, awls, and other tools were brought out, and placed upon the table.

"These are doctors' instruments," Maggie explained before retiring.

Presently she reappeared, buttoned up in an overcoat which reached to her feet, a man's hat coming down over her eyes, a cane in her hand, and bustled round among the bottles. From this occupation the doctor was roused by a knock at the door, and there entered two other overcoated figures, limping and groaning in a distressful manner.

"We've been in a railroad accident, and all our bones are broken, doctor," piped one of the sufferers.

The unfeeling surgeon hustled them each into a chair, and with great roughness proceeded to wrap and bandage, tying a great many knots with much unnecessary vigor, accompanied with shrieks and groans from his patients.

"Ow--ow--ow, doctor," cried one of them, as the doctor pulled hard upon a knot in the handkerchief he was tying on a broken arm, "you do hurt more than any doctor I ever knew. You _tie_ so hard."

"Well," growled the doctor, "when you come to me with two broken arms, and two broken legs, and a broken back, and your eyes put out, and your head smashed up, do you expect to be mended without being hurt? Here, let me _tie_ your head."

The patients, being well _tied_ up, at last departed, followed by the doctor; and the audience unanimously agreed that _tie_ was the second syllable.

"Pet--tie," said Bessie. "I just b'lieve it's petticoat."

"So it is," said Carrie; while Lily, recalled to the recollection of her unfortunate petticoat, was struck dumb by what she considered a remarkable coincidence.

The performance of the third syllable was not quite as interesting as the other two had been, the _coats_ which had been worn by the doctor and his patients being brought out and beaten with sticks with a great bustle and fuss, but without a single spoken word. After this it scarcely needed the performance of the whole word to establish the fact that it was petticoat; but, the chairs and table being removed, it was gone through with by three young ladies, very much dressed, taking a walk on a muddy day, and greatly disturbed for the fate of their petticoats, as they splashed and waded through imaginary pools and puddles.

"Petticoat! Petticoat! Petticoat!" resounded from the top of the bins, accompanied by violent clapping and stamping, and other tokens of the pleasure which had been afforded by the representation.

And now the audience came down from their perch, and resigned it to the late performers, with whom they were to change parts; at least, Belle and Nellie were to do so, for Maggie was, as I have said, the moving spirit, and all the others played under her orders. She was the most ingenious in choosing and arranging the words, and it was believed that no charade went off well unless she took part in it.

This arrangement only left two spectators, it is true; but Maggie said she needed all the others, and no objection was made.

The chairs and table were now brought back to their old places. After the necessary dressing up had been done, Bessie appeared with a handkerchief tied over her sunny curls, a white apron coming down to her feet, and followed by Carrie as a servant, bearing dishes. These--a doll's dinner set--were arranged upon the table with much noise and rattle, the little landlady bustling about, and calling upon her maid to make haste.

"For I keep a very good _inn_, servant," she said; "but when some people come to _inns_, they make a great fuss, and give a great deal of trouble; and I heard of a gentleman who is coming to my _inn_, and he is very cross, and a great scolder, so I don't want to give him any reason to complain, and we must have every thing very nice in my _inn_."

"Yes, ma'am, we'll have the _inn_ very fine for him," answered the maid.

The fears of the landlady were not unfounded, as it proved; for presently appeared Sir Percy in the character of a cross old gentleman, supported and dragged along with much difficulty by his wife and daughters. He was attired in a man's hat and great-coat, the sleeves of the latter coming down some distance below his--h'm--hands; but this was a convenience, as they could be flapped about in wild gesticulation, as he stormed and scolded at the _in_conveniences of the _inn_. A more ill-tempered old gentleman was never seen; and a hard time did his attendants have of it. He laid about him in the most ferocious manner, and was not to be pacified by all the attentions that were lavished upon him; until the little landlady declared that "if that old gentleman was going to stay a great while in her _inn_, she would not keep an _inn_ any longer."

"Inn, inn," was called, not only from the bins, but also from the other side of the room, as the old man was at last carried away, still growling, and wildly slapping the air with his coat-cuffs.

The children turned, and Sir Percy tumbled heavily to the floor, as Maggie loosened her hold of him, struck dumb by the sight of three pairs of eyes peering above the side of the staircase.

"Now, that's too bad," cried Lily. "You boys can just go 'way. You'll laugh at us."

"Indeed, we won't," said Tom. "We came up just a few moments ago, and we thought we wouldn't interrupt you by passing through, but wait until you had finished, and that was capitally done. But I'm afraid you'll hurt yourselves with Sir Percy. He is too heavy for you to lug about, and Maggie's toes barely escaped just now."

"O Tom!" said Lily; "why, half the fun would be spoiled if we didn't have Sir Percy."

"Well, be careful then," said Tom, as he passed on with Harry into the store-room.

But Fred lingered.

"I say, Midge," he said, "let a fellow stay and see the rest of your charade, will you? It's jolly."

Maggie looked blank, but all she said was, "O Fred!"

"No, you can't," said Lily, unmindful of the duties of hospitality in her own attic; "you just can't, 'cause you'll laugh, and make fun of us."

"Now come on, Fred, and let them alone," called Tom from within the room. "I promised them they should not be teased if we came up here."

"I'm not going to tease them," said Fred. "I want to see the charade, really and truly. The little chaps do it first-rate, and I like it. Let me stay, girls."

Maggie and Bessie, especially the latter, had strong objections to being called "chaps," but Fred never could remember that. However, they passed it by; and Fred won a rather reluctant consent to his remaining as a spectator. He was put upon his good behavior, and with a run and a jump speedily landed himself beside Belle and Carrie, where he kept his word, and conducted himself as a well-behaved spectator should do.

The next syllable presented a lady writing, her maid sewing. In rushes a gardener, tree in hand, represented by a large feather dust-brush; and with much Irish brogue and great excitement, accuses the lady's son of cutting down a young peach-tree. Son denies, and is believed by his mother, who sternly tells the gardener that her son has never told a lie, and whatever he says is "_true_, _true_, _true_."

Gardener declares that "indade, an' he is thrue; an' if the missis will but make Master George Washington hould up the hand that's behint him, she'll see the hatchet he did it with."

Mother demands the hatchet, son rebels, still keeping his hand behind him, but mother, chasing round and round, presently discovers it; whereupon she clasps her hands frantically, cries she thought he was _true_, falls fainting to the ground, and is carried off by son, gardener, and maid.

This new version of an old and familiar story was received with tremendous applause, to which Fred's boots added not a little.

Next appeared Sir Percy once more, this time without any outward adornments. He was laid upon the floor, and in his mouth was thrust a pointed stick, bearing a paper, on which was written in Maggie's largest, roundest hand, these words:--

"This is a disagreeable smelling dead cat."

About and around the dead cat walked five young ladies, uttering exclamations of disgust, wondering where the smell could come from, but strangely blind to the offensive animal which lay before them.

"Ow! how horrid!" cried one.

"Ugh! disgusting!" exclaimed another.

"What an awful smell!" said the third.

"Ugh! it's that dead cat!" said the fourth. "Let's _shun_ it, let's _shun_ it!"

And with loud cries of "_Shun_ it, _shun_ it," the five young ladies scamper into the store-room, from which the sound of smothered laughter had now and then mingled with the public applause without.

It was not difficult now to guess the word; nevertheless the whole charade must be played out before it was even hinted at to the performers.

"In-tru-sion," was carried out by two of the aforesaid young ladies, who rang violently at a front-door bell, and were denied admittance by a dainty, little sunny-haired maid, who declared that her mistress was very much engaged.

The visitors persisted in their desire to see her, and forced their way in, to be fiercely attacked by the indignant lady of the mansion, who was engaged with her lover, Sir Percy, and who sternly demanded, "Whence this _intrusion_?"

"No intrusion at all, ma'am," says one of the visitors.

"Yes, _intrusion_, ma'am," replies the hostess; and contradiction followed free and fast, until stopped by the shouts of "Intrusion! Intrusion!" from the reserved seats.

XI.

_A SAD ACCIDENT._

"That's capital!" exclaimed Fred. "Give us another, Midge, will you?"

Fred had conducted himself with such becoming propriety, and his applause had been so hearty, that Maggie felt not only quite reconciled to his presence, but also ready to indulge him; and she answered,--

"Yes, I have one more, and it is to be instructive as well as amusing, Fred, because it is an historical charade."

"Go ahead!" said Fred, scrambling back into his seat, which he had left to help carry Sir Percy into retirement.

The preparations for the first syllable of the historical charade were very imposing. Two chairs were placed face to face; upon these was mounted the table, turned upside down, with its legs in the air; to one of the legs was tied a large feather dust-brush,--the whole arrangement supposed to represent an oak-tree, as Maggie explained.

Maggie, Nellie, Lily, and Belle were the performers on this occasion; and in due time they all entered, escorting Sir Percy, now in the character of King Charles, in full kingly costume, the red table-cloth doing duty for his robes, and a crown, a "real crown" of tinsel paper adorning his majesty's brows. He was held with some difficulty upon his horse,--another chair turned down for the purpose,--and again Tom's warning voice came from the store-room.

"You'd better look out with that old hobby. You'll hurt yourselves some time, lugging him about that fashion."

But the suggestion was treated with disdain.

An old hobby indeed! King Charles an "old hobby"!

The horse--that is, the chair horse--paused beneath the tree, and then, relieved of his burden, galloped off, led by Belle; while the other three prepared to hoist his cumbersome majesty into the tree, he not being agile enough to perform that office for himself.

Maggie had proposed that two of the children should be his enemies in pursuit; but no one was willing to take that character. Staunch little royalists they were, every one, and not to be reckoned among the persecutors of the unfortunate king. So this little diversion from the true historical facts had been permitted to suit the occasion, all the more readily as it was feared that it would take the united strength of the whole four to raise him to the necessary height. Still Maggie had not been quite satisfied with such a very great departure from reality; and, hearing the difficulty as they worked at the carpenter's bench, Tom and Harry had good-naturedly offered to take upon themselves the obnoxious part of the king's enemies, and as soon as he was safely hidden in the tree to rush forth in search of him, and feign total unconsciousness as they passed beneath his place of shelter.

This being settled, and Belle, having disposed of her horse, and returned to give a hand to the lifting process, the royal fugitive was, by the united exertions of his four devoted adherents, raised to his hiding-place. But he proved too heavy for the slight construction; and feather duster, chair, and table toppled over together, carrying King Charles with them.

Maggie and Lily held fast, one on either side, but the other two had left their hold. Fred, seeing the danger, sprang like a shot from his seat, and his hand but just touched the old hobby-horse as it rolled over, not soon enough to prevent its fall, but in time to turn the heavy thing a little aside. It fell, carrying Lily back with it; and the two came together to the floor, jarring the whole house. Tom and Harry rushed out, not, alas! in the play in which they had offered to join, but in sad and alarmed earnest; and Nora flew from her work.

Tom had Lily in his arms in an instant, but the poor little girl was a sorry sight. Sir Percy's head had struck against hers as they fell together, and blood was already streaming from an ugly wound just above her temple. But for Fred's timely touch, which turned the weight of the hobby-horse a little to one side, the child's head must have been crushed, and she killed.

Oh, was not Maggie thankful that she had allowed her good-nature to triumph over her fear of being laughed at, and had consented to let Fred join in their fun!

Ah! the fun and frolic were changed now,--changed to distress and alarm. Lily lay half stunned, gasping and death-like, while the cries and shrieks of the other children rang through the house, and speedily brought her mother to the spot.

It was indeed a sad ending to the merry afternoon, and for a few moments the children could scarcely believe that Lily was not killed, or at least dying, so white and quiet did she lie. Never did piteous cry carry more relief to a mother's heart than that which at last broke from the pale, trembling lips; for Mrs. Norris too had feared that her darling was dangerously, if not fatally injured. It must have been so indeed but for the care of the kind Father who had watched over her, and sent Fred's timely help to turn aside a portion of the threatening danger.

"Go for the doctor," said Mrs. Norris.

But Fred, with a thoughtfulness which he sometimes showed, had already asked Tom if he should not do this, and had started off with his direction.

The grass never grew beneath Fred's nimble feet at any time; and now, when he believed there was need for speed, he almost flew over the ground, and, happily finding the doctor at home, brought him back with him at once.

Lily had been carried downstairs and laid upon her little bed, where her mother was doing for her all that she could, though that was not much, until the doctor came.

A group of frightened and distressed little faces met the good old physician's eye as he passed through the hall. He spoke a few cheering words as he went by, but as he did not yet know how much Lily was hurt, he did not put much heart into his young hearers. Still it was a comfort to know that he had come, and it always did one good to see Dr. Banks' kind, helpful face.

Before the doctor arrived, Lily had opened her eyes, and smiled at her mother with a bewildered look; but when she saw the blood which was streaming from the wound in her head, she was frightened, and began to cry again.

But the dear old doctor soon quieted her fears, and those of her anxious mother; and the good news presently spread through the house that he did not think her dangerously hurt. There was a deep, ugly cut on her head just above the temple, it was true, and her eye was already swelling and blackening; but he had no fears that her injuries were serious, and with some care and quiet she would soon be well again.

But Lily had had a very merciful escape, and Maggie could not be sufficiently glad and thankful that she had been kind and obliging, and allowed Fred "to come to the charades," when she heard every one saying that but for the thrust from his hand which had turned aside the weight of the old hobby-horse, the heavy thing must have crushed the dear little head of her young playmate.

"It was quite a mountain of mercy out of a mole-hill of kindness," quaintly said dear Maggie, as she wiped from her eyes the tears of joy and gratitude.

Hearing that Lily must be kept quiet, the thoughtful Harry carried away his sisters, and all the other little visitors, as soon as they were assured that there was no cause for alarm, and saw them all safely to their separate homes.

Lily lay patient and gentle under the doctor's handling, as he felt the poor little bruised head, and tenderly cut away the hair from the wound, and bound it up; but every now and then she put up her hand, with a piteous, anxious expression, to the eye which was swelling and closing so fast.

"Does it pain you so, darling?" her mother would ask.

"Not so very much, mamma," she would answer, "but"--and here her words always came to an end.

But when the doctor was through, and the aching head laid carefully on a soft pillow, the trouble that was weighing on her mind broke forth.

"Doctor," she asked wistfully, "is my eye going out?"

"Going out? No, indeed," answered the doctor, cheerily. "I rather think it is going in, my Lily-bud. It is shutting up pretty tight now, it is true; but we'll take the swelling down in a day or two, and it will soon be as useful and bright as ever."

"By Monday, Doctor?" questioned Lily, anxiously.

"Ho, no, indeed, my little woman! You will not have much use of this peeper for a week or ten days to come. Even if you could see out of it, you must keep quite quiet, lie here on the bed or on the sofa, and be petted and nursed for a few days, or this little head may give you some trouble."

Lily looked as if something was giving her a good deal of trouble now; for as the doctor spoke, her face grew longer and longer, and now she burst into tears again, as she sobbed out,--

"My petticoat! O mamma, my orphan petticoat!"

"Hallo!" said the doctor, "what is that, I should like to know? I have heard of a good many kinds of petticoats, but I never heard of an orphan petticoat before. But this will not do, my child. You _must_ lie down and keep quiet."

"Do not trouble yourself about the petticoat now, darling," said her mother, gently laying her back upon the pillow, from which she had started up in her distress, "I will arrange that."

"But, mamma," said Lily, piteously, "you know you said--you said that you could not let Nora finish it for me, and--and--oh, dear!--you couldn't break your word, you know, and my orphan child won't have any petticoat, and it was all my old Pro, and so what can I do? Oh, if I only didn't have Pro! I b'lieve he's my worst enemy."

"What is all this about petticoats and pro's, Mrs. Norris?" said the doctor. "Put her mind at rest if you can, or we shall be having headache and fever."

"Lily, darling," said her mother, "you must set your mind at rest about the petticoat. You certainly cannot finish it now; but I shall not let the little orphan suffer. By and by I will see what is best to do, but now you must talk and think no more about it. Mamma will arrange it all for you, and you will make yourself worse if you fret."

"Dear mamma," said Lily, "I should think you would want to arrange not to have such a bothering little thing as me for your own little girl; only I don't s'pose you do. I b'lieve mammas generally don't."

"Hush, hush, my darling," said her mother, whose own heart was swelling with gratitude that a Higher Hand had "arranged" that her dear "little bothering thing," as Lily called herself, was not to be taken from her, but that she was still spared to be the joy of all who loved her, the "sunbeam" of the home that would have seemed so dark without her.

Lily obeyed the soothing touch of her mother's hand, and, confident that she would find some way to help her out of her trouble, said no more of the unfinished task. But it was upon her mind for all that, as was proved when the evening wore away, and the fever and light-headedness the doctor had feared came on. A very slight illness was enough to make Lily light-headed, and the blow she had received was by no means a slight one. So it was not strange that it should have that effect. And she talked pretty wildly about petticoats and puppies, work-boxes and rocking-horses, and had many bitter words for her enemy Pro; and all her mother could say would not soothe her.

But at last she grew more quiet, and the poor little bruised head ceased to wander, and she fell asleep; and when she awoke in the morning, her mind was as bright and clear as ever.

But her face was sadly disfigured, and one eye was quite closed up, so that it was plainly to be seen that Lily would not have much use of it for some days to come. All this would pass away in time, however; swelling and discoloration would disappear by and by; and, happily, the cut upon her head came where the scar would be hidden by her hair.

Somewhat to Mrs. Norris' surprise, Lily said no word of the petticoat all the next day; but she was very glad that it was so, and took pains to avoid any thing that might turn her thoughts that way. Lily did think of it, however, although she said nothing; and she could not but wonder now and then how her mother would contrive to help her without breaking her word. But she felt languid and ill, and it was a trouble to talk, so she let it go for the present, believing as usual that it would come right somehow.

But on Monday morning, when Nora was dressing her, the nurse said,--

"Miss Lily, darling, I am just going to ask your mamma to let me finish your petticoat for you. I think she'll excuse you this once, since you cannot do it for yourself."

"No," said Lily earnestly, "you must not ask mamma, Nora, 'cause it would only give her the uncomfortableness of saying no. She told me she would not let the little orphan suffer for my fault, and she will find a way to make it right, though I don't know what it is, and I am too ashamed to ask her. But you know she said very surely and pos-i-tive-ly, Nora, that she would not let you finish it, if it was not done through my putting off; and that was the reason it was not done on Saturday morning, as it ought to have been. I know I cannot do it now myself, but I could have done it before; and mamma can not break her word."

Lily concluded with a sigh, for she really did not know what plan her mother could have for helping her, and she was very anxious, though, as she said, too much ashamed to ask any more.