Chapter 3

"And I must say you are old enough to know better, Tom," said my aunt, looking at me reproachfully over the tops of her spectacles; "and as a punishment, you must get all the soap off the window before you have any dinner. The children had better go home."

But now, what do you think that darling of a Nelly, and Jimmy did? They declared I shouldn't do it all alone by myself, but they would stay and help me; so, after Aunt Elsie had been coaxed to let us, we filled our dishes again, and went to work as busy as bees. It was pretty hard work getting the soap off, but we made a joke of it, and by the time the windows were fairly polished up, as bright as new pins, we were in a perfect frolic. I expect Nelly's bright eyes had something to do with it, for Aunt Elsie, after we had finished, and come shouting to her with our faces as red as fire, and considerable brown soap on us in spots, said, "we were famous workpeople," and gave us New Year's cookies, and almonds, and raisins for lunch. I had a Philopoena among my nuts, which I ate with Nelly; and pretty soon after they went home.

I did hope she would catch me on the Philopoena, because I had something that I meant to give her all along; and this would be a famous chance. It was a nest of little boxes, made of plaid papier-maché, about a dozen, one inside the other; and when you came to the very last, and had opened that, there was a gold thimble and scissors, and a little gold bodkin, a needlecase full of tiny needles, and a puncher, just big enough for the queen of the fairies; I won it at a raffle on Christmas Eve, and kept it to give to some little girl, for, of course, it wasn't any use to me; what could I do with a thimble and needles? Sure enough, when I looked out of the back parlor window next morning, Neighbor Nelly looked out of _her_ window, said with a saucy smile, "Good morning, Mr. Tom--Philopoena!" and popped back again.

"Good!" I said. So, after breakfast, I asked Aunt Elsie for a nice sheet of paper and a new pen, and then I ran up to my own room, and sat down to write a little note to my neighbor. I'm sure, that showed how much I liked her, if anything could, for I'd rather do a sum in compound fractions, or a French exercise, than write a note. It quite gives me the toothache; but at last I wrote something very pretty, as, I'm sure, you will say when I repeat it to you. This is what I said:

"MY DEAR MISS NELLY:

"I hope you will accept the little present I send you for a Philopoena, because I like you very much. I am real glad you caught me, for perhaps this will remind you of me when I go back to school. I hope the needles will sew all the holes in your clothes, that the thimble will keep you from pricking your pretty little finger, and that

"If you loves I as I loves you, The scissors won't cut our love in two.

"Good-by. "From your affectionate friend "TOM."

Then I packed up the boxes and the letter in nice white paper, and coaxed Mary to take it in right away; and you can't tell how many pretty, smiling thanks I had in return.

But you think I am making my story too long, Neighbor Oldbird? Well, perhaps I am, but there seems to be so much to tell about Nelly, and the nice times we had together, that I don't know when to stop. I am 'most through now.

The day I sent her the Philopoena present was the last of my stay in town; and after I had packed up my clothes ready to start (with a gorgeous plum cake and two jars of raspberry jam in a box, which my dear old Friskies gave me,--they always do make everything of me, in spite of their lectures), I went to Uncle Herbert's room to bid him good-by, for I knew I should not see him again before I started, and he made me the best present of all. It was a dear little watch and chain; for he said, as I was nearly fifteen, I was quite old enough to take care of one. Wasn't that kind of him?

Well, dear me, I don't want to say good-by a bit, and I did not then; but, of course, it had to come, and I shook hands with my dear little friends, only wishing to goodness that I lived in New York.

We promised about twenty-five times apiece always to be friends; and then I kissed Aunt Elsie and Aunt Ruth, pulled Poddles' ears for good-by, and pranced off all alone; of course, boys that have watches are plenty big enough to go from New York to White Plains by themselves. I suppose we always shall stay there, for papa is abominably fond of the country; but just wait until I am a man, and see if I don't come to live in New York, and marry Neighbor Nelly, if she will have me. Mind you keep that last remark a secret, now, Neighbor Oldbird! That's all there is about it.

THE FAT GENTLEMAN'S STORY.

I'M in love with Neighbor Nelly, Though I know she's only ten; While I am five and forty, And the _married-est_ of men. I've a wife as fat as butter, And a baby--such a boy! With the plumpest cheeks and shoulders, Who's his father's dearest joy.

Though a Square toes and a Buffer, Still I've sunshine in my heart; Still I'm fond of tops and marbles Can appreciate a tart. I can love my Neighbor Nelly, Just as though I were a boy, And would hand her cakes and apples, From my depths of corduroy.

She is tall, and growing taller; She is vigorous of limb; (You should see her playing soldiers With her little brother Jim!) She has eyes as blue as damsons; She has pounds of auburn curls; She regrets the game of leapfrog Is prohibited to girls.

I adore my Neighbor Nelly, I invite her in to tea, And I let her nurse the baby Her delightful ways to see. Such a darling bud of woman! Yet remote from any teens; I have learnt from Neighbor Nelly What the girls' doll instinct means.

Oh! to see her with the baby! (He adores her more than I); How she choruses his crowing, How she hushes every cry! How she loves to pit his dimples With her light forefinger deep; How she boasts, as one in triumph, When she gets him off to sleep!

We must part, my Neighbor Nelly, For the summers quickly flee; And the middle-aged admirer Must, too soon, supplanted be. Yet, as jealous as a mother, A suspicious, cankered churl, I look vainly for the setting, To be worthy such a pearl!

NOTE.--This charming little gem is not original, being gleaned from the pages of Putnam's Magazine. As it was there published anonymously, the author is unable to make any further acknowledgment.

POSTSCRIPT TO THE THREE STORIES.

BY THE OLD BACHELOR.

WHEN I had finished copying out the stories of the Big Boy and the Fat Gentleman last summer, the thought struck me that, as I had been in town all the warm bright June weather, it would do my health a great deal of good to take a trip to Long Branch. Of course, it was not to see Neighbor Nelly--certainly not.

So, the very next Saturday afternoon I dusted up my valise, and put some nice cool summer clothes in it, and a great paper of candy, which I meant for my little neighbors, in case I should see them by accident! Somebody had told me that the Mansion House was the best hotel to stop at. Shall I tell you why? Because there was a party there, of a papa and mamma, a dear little girl and boy, and a remarkably nice little toy terrier, which would put me in mind very much of some friends of mine called Lawson. In fact, this family was called Lawson, too, and the younger members were christened Nelly and Jimmy! Comical, wasn't it?

If you have never been to Long Branch, you can't think what a pleasant sail it is down the Bay in the "Thomas Collyer," and how much I enjoyed my trip. The pleasant shores of Long and Staten Islands (_I_ used to live on Staten Island, and had some comical times there, which I mean to write out one of these days) looked as verdant and beautiful as ever; the sea was as blue as a bluebottle fly, and the sun as light as a cork! As I looked at the great, rolling waves, I laughed to myself, thinking what nice times we were going to have in bathing; ducking under them, when they came roaring along the shore after us, as if they meant to gobble us up, and bouncing out again when they had passed, all dripping and laughing, and ready for the next one to play the same trick on us. Sometimes, to be sure, the waves play too rough, and knock you off your feet without "by your leave;" or a little crab will walk up and bite your toes, just by way of welcoming you to Long Branch; but nobody minds it. Bless you!--that only makes it more fun to go in bathing!

Well, the boat stopped at the pier, which extends a quarter of a mile from the shore, putting one in mind of a long crab's claw stuck out for "shake hands" by old Neptune; and I jumped into the cars and was bounced and rattled along to Long Branch. As it was Saturday afternoon, a great crowd of people were going there with me, and, deary me! when _I_ came to the Mansion House, there wasn't any room left for me! Wasn't it too bad? Just when I had fixed to have such a nice time with my dear little friends! It would never do to go away, however, so I said: "Well, never mind, Mr. Mansion House--that is, Mr. Neighbor Nelly--dear me!--Mr. Laird, I can do without a room; and at night you can put me to sleep in the pigeon house, or the hen coop, or under the counter of the office, or up the chimney, I don't care which; but go away I can't!"

Now, I expect, Mr. Laird must have known I had come to see Neighbor Nelly, and what a disappointment it would be not to get in; for after a consultation with his bookkeeper, he told me he could give me a room after all! and I was so glad, that I offered him my snuff box immediately, which is a favor I only grant to very nice people!

So up stairs I hurried, to get ready for tea, in high good humor, and, would you believe it, when I came down again, whose table should I be put to sit at, but Neighbor Nelly's? Oh, how surprised and pleased she was to see me! and Jimmy and his father and mother were just as glad. There was famous "clam chowder" for tea, and such great big blackberries, that we really had to make two bites of them! not to mention the quantities of other good things; and after tea we strolled out on the bluff, which overlooks the ocean. There are three pretty little summer houses before the Mansion House, and in one of these we took our seats. Gipsey had come scampering up to me in delighted recognition as we left the dining room, barking and wagging his tail, until I should think both his tail and his bark would have been quite out of joint.

"Oh, Neighbor Oldbird, I'm so glad you have come," began Nelly, eagerly; "we have been having such fun, and, now you are here, it will be nicer than ever."

"Do you and Jimmy go in bathing?" I asked.

"I guess we do!" cried Jimmy. "We rush into the water first of anybody, and go out real deep, when we have hold of the ropes. Some great big boys are as afraid as anything! But we like to have the waves go over our heads."

"Talking about big boys," said I, looking wonderfully sly, "I made the acquaintance of a big boy in our street, not long ago, who knows a certain little lady very well; and likes her very well, too!"

"Oh, I know!" chimed both the children; "it's Tom Halstead. Isn't it?"

"Yes; he told me something funny about you, too; I did not know you could wash windows before, Neighbor Nelly."

My little neighbor laughed and blushed comically when I said that, and then Jimmy said:

"He's a first rate fellow, I tell you. He sent us a letter the other day, and what do you think? he's coming here!"

"Coming here!" I exclaimed; "my stars! I shall be quite thrown in the shade when such a nice friend makes his appearance. I think I shall have to go home again Monday, and I did mean to stay till Wednesday," and I made up a dismal face, and pretended to be quite heart-broken.

"No, indeed, Neighbor Oldbird! we shall always like you the best!" cried Nelly, catching both my hands in hers. "He is a very nice boy, to be sure, but we like _you_ just as much as if you were our bachelor uncle."

"Then I move to be called Uncle Josiah directly!" I said, laughing; "so, my dear niece and nephew, don't you think it would be a good plan for us to go down on that nice yellow sand there, and look at the waves?"

The children were delighted with this plan, so we all three walked to the steep wooden steps that lead from the bluff to the beach below, and were soon on the sands. Gipsey came racing after as usual, and in his haste to join us, ran so fast down the steps, that he couldn't stop himself, but had to bring up on the sand past the water mark, looking comically astonished. To put a finishing touch to his misfortunes, a great big wave came tumbling in just then, and over poor Gipsey it went! sousing him head and ears! It frightened him so much that he rushed dripping wet to Neighbor Nelly, and jumped into her lap, squealing dismally. Such a perfect shower-bath of cold salt water as rained all over her pretty muslin dress, and trim little gaiters and stockings! We had to shake her well, and put Gipsey to bed on a sandhill near us, where he went to sleep, and, I hope, forgot his miseries.

Perhaps you don't know it, but the sand is a famous place to write your name. You go as near the retreating wave as you dare, and then, with a walking stick or an umbrella, or your finger, if nothing better is to be had, write your name, or draw a hideous spook on the wet sand. You have to be quick about it, too; for just as you are putting the finishing touches to the work, another great billow is sure to come tearing at you, with a wide, deep hollow of emerald green, and foaming crest, looking like molten silver in the moonlight. Crash! it falls on the beach; and a long rush of foam slides up the sand as you scamper out of reach, not always without a wet shoe or two. Now the water has all run back, but where is the writing? The sand is smooth once more, and ready, like a great blackboard, to be marked on anew. So the sea is always clearing your writing book for you, and giving you a chance to begin again and see how long it will last!

I should think we wrote "Nelly," "Jimmy," and "Neighbor Oldbird," about fifty times each on the sand, with my walking stick; and then we "hung Jeff. Davis on a sour apple tree," and depicted him with Old Spookey coming after him, and told the Atlantic Ocean, "We like blue fish," and "We're going in bathing Monday," and never succeeded in keeping one of our achievements more than half a minute.

We stayed down on the delightful beach until nearly half-past nine; and, dear me, what a heap of sand we got in our shoes! It was quite wonderful how it contrived to work its way in; but there it was, making us lift up our feet as heavily as though we had cannon balls tied to our ankles.

But it was getting late, and high time for small people to be off to bed; so, with a shake of the hand from one of my little neighbors, and a "good kiss" from the other, I don't say _which_, Gipsey was waked up, and they all trotted off together.

Next morning was Sunday, and a beautiful sunshiny day. The first thing I did when I woke up, was to pop my head out of the window and take a look at the ocean. There it was, as beautiful as ever, and now I found out a funny thing about Long Branch that I hadn't noticed the evening before. "Why," said I, "is it possible I am in the country? Where are the trees?" They were nowhere to be seen, not so much as a bush; while the flowers were represented by everybody's bathing dresses hanging over all the fences, and on ever so many clothes-lines besides, to dry. The fact is, that the Atlantic Ocean is determined to let nothing be admired but itself; so it will not permit a tree to grow any nearer its shores than half a mile. So all the foliage there consists of the direful old bathing dresses, flapping in the wind and looking like so many scarecrows put up to frighten off the fishhawks.

In the morning we went to the cunning little Episcopal church, and listened to the earnest teachings of the noble young rector, who is working so bravely in his Master's cause with such poor earthly reward. That he is laying up treasure where "neither moth nor rust doth corrupt," we cannot but believe. We did not like to leave the quiet little church for the great noisy hotels, in one of which, as we passed it, they were _playing billiards_. Oh! what an occupation for God's holy day! I cannot believe they were Christians who were playing, but I know I wanted to go and beg them to stop.

In the afternoon it clouded up, and began to rain very hard; so we could not go to church, and as it was very little like Sunday in the crowded hall and parlor, Mrs. Lawson proposed we should all come and sit in her room, which opened on one of the upper piazzas. So we established ourselves here, where it was quiet and cool, very glad to escape from the bustle down stairs.

"Suppose you were to repeat that pretty German hymn I gave you the other day," said her mother to Nelly. "Perhaps Mr. Oldbird would like to hear it."

"Yes, that I should," I said; so Nelly began the beautiful verses called--

"ALL THERE."

"Nothing is lost; the treasures which the ocean Hath taken to itself in ages fled, The lives that rest beneath its ceaseless motion Until 'the sea shall render up its dead:'

"The dew drops that the warm bright sunshine drieth, The cloud that melts away in summer air, The bud that lifteth its sweet head--and dieth, They are not lost--God keeps them in his care.

"Nothing is lost; the anguish of the mourner, And bitter tears that fall like solemn rain, Are safely stored within the heavenly garner, Till Christ shall come unto his own again.

"And our beloved ones that Death doth gather To their calm, dreamless sleep beneath the tomb, Like tender flowers, are cherished by the Father In the celestial fields of Heaven to bloom.

"Nothing is lost; oh, let the promise cheer us; By God himself to weary mortals given; Our darling ones shall soon again be near us, Our hopes shall bloom, unfadingly, in Heaven."

"I think that is the best hymn I know," added Nelly, when she had finished. "Now, what shall we do?"

"Let's play church!" suggested Jimmy.

"Oh yes! that's the very thing!" said Nelly. "Suppose we ask Kitty and Robby Morris to come in."

So Kitty and Robby were found, and consented to join the play, which straightway began; mamma and I looking on, though we made believe not to be taking notice, for fear of disturbing the little visitors.

Robby, who was a dear little fellow, only five years old, with long golden curls and great blue eyes, was the minister, at his own special request. The children dressed him in a long white sack of Mrs. Lawson's by way of a gown, and gave him a small table for a pulpit. The others, with Gipsey, and a large gray cat, the property of Robby and Kitty, which marched in after them, were the congregation, sitting on the edge of the bed, to be like the long church pew. The minister took for his text, "Little children, love one another," and his sermon was such a dear, funny little discourse, that I must write it down for you.

"Now, my dear peoples," he said, "I hope, whenever you feel like karrelling,[A] or being as cross as bears, you will 'member what the Bible says 'bout loving one another. Gipsey fighted my tat to-day, and pulled some of her fur out; but he's only a dog, and I readed in my Dr. Watts--

"Let dogs delight to bark and bite, For God has made 'em so; Let bears and lions growl and fight, For 'tis their nature too. But, children, _you_ s'ould _never_ let Your angry _pass'ons_ rise! Your little hands were _never_ made To sc'atch each other's eyes."

----so I was not mad at him, 'cause he didn't _know_ he ought to love pussy.

"I _s'apped_ nurse the other day, 'cause she made me come out of the water before I wanted to, and _that_ was _very_ naughty; I begged her pardon, though, and gave her a piece of my _tandy_, that papa had brought me. Now, my dear peoples, I think that is long enough. S'pose we sing, 'I want to be an angel.'"

Wasn't that a cunning little sermon? It put me in mind of how I used to play church in my childhood, long ago; when my young brother, dear little Davy, would stand on a chair, while I sat on my stool at his feet, and preach a sermon something like Robby's. Darling Davy! I fancied I could see his sweet face and earnest eyes looking down at me, from his happy home in heaven that Sunday afternoon; for he closed those dark eyes on this weary earth many long years since, and I never think of him now but as standing on the chair in our father's study (with, perhaps, mother looking in, unknown to him), and preaching from some simple text that we knew and loved, in quaint, yet childish words. Ah, well! perhaps it was better so, than that he should have lived to be a gray-headed old bachelor like "brother Jose!"

So the children all sang the hymn, and that was the end of church. We passed the rest of the afternoon telling Bible stories, and repeating hymns, and after tea it was clear once more, and dry enough to go out on the bluff.

You may be sure, we were all in famous spirits Monday morning, and ready for any sort of a frolic. Who could help being good humored with such company as my little neighbors? Mr. Lawson left us in the first train for the city; but, to make up, who should have come down in the early morning boat, but Tom Halstead and Miss Elsie Bluejay--or Brandlaw, I ought to say, since I know her name now; and they drove straight up to the Mansion House, of course--who wouldn't, when Neighbor Nelly was there? The children received Tom with shouts of joy; and he looked so handsome and happy, and his great black eyes sparkled so with good humor and fun, that I felt quite ready to admit him into my circle of little people that I knew and loved. Neighbor Nelly and he were an admirable contrast in point of appearance, and I shouldn't be surprised if the last remark made to me in strict confidence, by my friend Tom in his account of her, should come true some day.

I wish I could sketch a little picture of our party as we clustered together on the piazza, to show what manner of people we were then; and another, of our appearance in the water afterward. Ten o'clock was the hour for bathing that morning; so we each armed ourselves with our bathing clothes and a prodigious towel, like the main sail of a fishing smack, and rushed down to the beach; that is, the younger members; Aunt Elsie, Mrs. Lawson, and I walked soberly along. Then we popped into separate bathing houses, still looking like respectable and responsible members of society, and popped out five minutes afterward--scarecrows! spooks! animated rag-bags! with the last vestige of our gentility and good looks departed.