CHAPTER IV.

WEEZY'S PICKLE.

"If Weezy is going to be in the habit of running away, I think we'd better let people know where she belongs," said Mr. Rowe one morning, after the child had been brought back by the policeman.

Accordingly he went to his writing-desk, and printed on a correspondence-card, in big, black letters:--

MR. EDWIN H. ROWE, No. 6 Oak Street.

He pinned the card to the back of Weezy's dress, right between the shoulders; and after that, as long as the warm weather lasted, it was pinned there every day. Weezy was rather proud of the badge. Kirke called it "Weezy's guideboard."

She did not run away again that fall; for no better reason, it is to be feared, than that she could not turn the new button that her papa had put on the gate. When it grew too cold to play in the yard, she became so restless and mischievous that even Lovisa lost patience.

"I've always said I liked _live_ children, Mrs. Rowe," cried she, bursting into the sitting-room one day, half-scolding, half-laughing; "but when it comes to their crawling into my flour-barrel, they're too lively for me."

"I isn't _lively_ little dirl, mamma: I wanted to be _white_ little dirl, just like _Coopid_," sneezed Weezy, capering behind Lovisa, powdered with flour to her waist.

"O Weezy, Weezy!" cried mamma, trying not to smile at the white little image, which certainly did resemble the marble Cupid in the library.

She did not feel in the least like smiling when it came to brushing the flour from the child's hair; neither did Weezy, for the process was long and tedious, hardly finished by dinner-time.

"The little rogue will wear you all out, Mary," said Mr. Rowe, after laughing heartily over Weezy's prank. "You really need a nurse-girl."

"If we could find some child to amuse Weezy while Molly and Kirke are at school, it would be a great relief," said Mrs. Rowe. "I have been wondering whether it would do to trust Ellen Nolan."

"Ah, I understand," returned Mr. Rowe playfully: "you want to help yourself a little by helping Ellen a great deal! That is just your way. Well, why not take Ellen a week on trial?"

"Would you?" asked Mrs. Rowe. "Perhaps I'd better."

Ellen came the very next Monday, and proved so useful about amusing Weezy that Mrs. Rowe was glad to have her come every day during the winter, to remain from eight o'clock until four.

She was still with the Rowes, when the first of March arrived, bringing the Rev. Mr. Cutler's birthday.

"We have invited Mr. Cutler to dine with us to-day, Ellen," Mrs. Rowe said to her that morning, "and I want the dining-room kept tidy. You and Weezy can play in the sitting-room; but remember, you must not go into the dining-room."

"No'm," replied Ellen rather crossly. "If the minister is coming, they'll have out the new pink china dishes, and them pretty silver spoons with gold inside of 'em," she was thinking to herself. "And I say it's real mean of Mrs. Rowe not to let me go in and see the table _sut_."

Of course, this was wrong, besides being silly; but Ellen dearly loved fine things, and she had handled so very, very few of them!

As she built block houses for Weezy, it drove her nearly wild to hear the rattling of the dinner-service; and by and by, when she knew Lovisa had gone into the kitchen to see about the pudding, she opened the dining-room door,--"the least crack," you know,--and peeped in.

Weezy always did what Ellen did: so she peeped too.

"Weezy mustn't go in," said Ellen, with a longing look at the silver fruit-stand on the sideboard.

"Yes, yes; her _must_," cried little Weezy, who had not thought of going in till Ellen spoke, as the crafty nurse-girl very well knew.

"Her _must_ go," repeated Weezy, stamping her foot.

"Well, then, hush. Don't make a teenty-tonty speck of noise," whispered Ellen, throwing the door wide open.

"Her mother doesn't want her to cry, and get her eyes and nose all red when there's company coming, now, does she?" reasoned Ellen. "If Mrs. Rowe should happen to catch us in here, I could say I couldn't make Miss Weezy stay in the sitting-room best I could do."

But, dear me! Ellen didn't have a bit of a good time after she crossed that forbidden threshold. While she stopped to examine the little silver owl that was really a pepper-box, Weezy tipped over the silver cat that sprinkled salt through its head. And she had hardly brushed the tablecloth clean before Weezy was in the closet, dipping her fingers into the pickle-jar. Worse than that, in the second of time it took to replace the cover of the jar, Weezy seized the best silver teapot, and ran away with it.

"Oh, give it back to me, Weezy; do give it back to me!" begged Ellen, following in great distress. She dared not snatch the teapot, lest it might be injured; besides, Weezy would scream, and that would bring her mamma, who was up in her room dressing for dinner.

Weezy turned her back upon Ellen, and played with the nose of the teapot. "I's making tea," said she roguishly, "nice tea for papa."

[Illustration: "WEEZY TURNED HER BACK UPON ELLEN, AND PLAYED WITH THE NOSE OF THE TEAPOT.]

"Weezy Rowe, you horrid, provoking little wretch!" muttered Ellen, at her wits' end.

Hark! Mrs. Rowe was leaving her chamber. She would come right down and find them in the dining-room, and she would know Weezy couldn't have turned the door-knob herself. Oh! oh!

Such a state of mind as Ellen was in at that moment! It is impossible to say what she would have done if Mr. Cutler had not just then walked up the path, and attracted Weezy's attention.

The little rogue dropped the teapot in a hurry, and darted to the long window that opened on the front piazza, exclaiming,--

"The _goody_ man has come. I must go see the goody man."

Ellen whisked the teapot into the closet, and Weezy out of the window, before Mr. Cutler had mounted the steps; and she had closed the window and opened the front-door in the time that he was saying,--

"Well, and how does little Miss Weezy do?"

And she was demurely taking the minister's hat when Mrs. Rowe descended the stairs.

"There, didn't I get out of that fix well?" mused Ellen, hurrying Weezy back to her blocks. "Nobody in the house will know that I didn't mind Mrs. Rowe."

Sly, foolish Ellen! Before dinner was over everybody in the house, from grave Mr. Cutler to frolicsome little Kirke, knew all about it. It was the teapot that told.

The pudding had been served, and Mrs. Rowe had asked Mr. Cutler whether he preferred tea or coffee.

"I'll take a cup of tea, if you please," he replied; and then he went on talking to Molly about her school.

Mrs. Rowe tipped the teapot, but no tea came out of the spout.

"What can this mean?" thought she. "There certainly must be tea enough, or the teapot would not be so heavy."

She kept tipping it more and more. Suddenly a dark object flew out, followed by a deluge of tea. The object was about as large as Kirke's little finger. It flew right into the minister's plate, and there it lay,--a wee cucumber pickle.

Mrs. Rowe was too mortified to speak; but Weezy clapped her hands, crying,--

"See Weezy's stopper. _Weezy_ put it in, all nice."

"I suppose the funny stopper must be a present to me," laughed the minister; while shamefaced little Ellen brought him a clean plate, and Lovisa took away the soiled tray-cloth.

"The teapot was in order at breakfast-time, and how Weezy has found a chance to meddle with it is a mystery," said Mrs. Rowe, trying to laugh. "She couldn't have done it since Ellen came at nine o'clock, for I charged Ellen not to let her go into the dining-room."

Mr. Cutler did not say a word. He purposely fixed his eyes on Lovisa, just then bringing in fresh tea in an earthen teapot. But Ellen knew that he knew of her disobedience, and she was so ashamed that she began to cry; and after that everybody understood the story of the teapot.