Part 8

Adele sat down with the kitten in her lap. “Jessie Loomis, I think you are the dearest girl that ever lived,” she said earnestly, “and I should love to come over there and hug you, but I won’t, because I must be good. No, I won’t let you give me even half the kitten, but I do love to have him come over for a visit. See, he is sleepy. Shall I put him back in the basket and let him have a nap?”

“He has just had a big saucer of milk,” said Jessie, “but he is very playful most of the time. You might let him have a little nap, and I will find something else to send over to you.”

“No, let me send something this time; you have done it all,” said Adele. “I’ll go up to the house in a minute and get something. Would you mind if I took Cloudy to show to Aunt Betty and Miss Eloise? I won’t let anything happen to him and I’ll bring him right back.”

“Of course you may take him,” Jessie consented generously. And carrying the basket steadily, Adele sped away.

She was not gone very long and when she came back she brought a small paper bag of cakes and another of candies which were promptly despatched across the watery way to Jessie; but as Cloudy was asleep in the basket the little bags themselves were tied on the pole and were transported in that way.

“Aunt Betty said Cloudy was lovely,” said Adele, “and he behaved beautifully. I told her how generous you offered to be, and she sent her love to you.”

“What did Miss Eloise say?”

“She wasn’t there. Aunt Betty said she had gone somewhere, but she didn’t say where. I asked Aunt Betty if she thought papa would bring me a kitten from the city, and she said he was going to bring me a big dog in place of Dapple Gray. I’d love a big dog.”

“But where is Dapple Gray?” asked Jessie.

“He’s been sent away,” said Adele in a low voice. “Papa said as long as I couldn’t be trusted that I couldn’t have him to drive till I was old enough to have common sense, and so he has sent him to my cousin till my sense grows enough for me to have him again. Do you suppose common sense does grow?”

“I think it must,” returned Jessie thoughtfully, “for all grown people have it.”

“I don’t believe they do,” said Adele, “for I have heard papa say ever so many times that So-and-So had not a grain of common sense, and So-and-So would be a big man, too.”

“Well, maybe they get it and then lose it,” replied Jessie, “like some persons do their hair. Some persons have a great deal, and others are quite bald, you know, like Dr. Sadtler.”

This seemed a reasonable conclusion and Adele accepted it. “Well,” she said, “I hope if I ever do get my common sense that it will be nice and thick and long like Miss Eloise’s hair.”

“Is your cousin a little girl?” asked Jessie returning to her thoughts of Dapple Gray.

“No, he is a little boy, and he has been very ill, so papa said it would be a great comfort to him to have a little pony like that.”

“Is he a big boy?” asked Jessie.

“About as big as your brother Max.”

“He will hate to give Dapple Gray up?” said Jessie.

“Maybe he will be strong and well again by the time my common sense gets here,” said Adele. “I hope that won’t be so very long.”

“I hope so, too,” replied Jessie, thinking more of Dapple Gray than of Adele’s development.

“Cloudy is waking up,” said Adele. “I’d better send him back to you.”

“Tie the basket on very strongly,” said Jessie, “so it can’t fall in the water.”

But though Adele tied the basket securely enough, she was not quite so certain of her own footing, her useless arm causing her to lose her balance, and in regaining it she allowed the pole to drop so far that the basket was dipped into the water, though fortunately not so far that Cloudy received more wetting than gave him two dripping paws.

“Oh, dear, I am so relieved,” said Adele. “I thought he was drowned. Why am I always doing such dreadful things?”

“You couldn’t help it,” Jessie assured her. “You have only one arm, you see, and it was very hard to manage that long pole.” She dried Cloudy’s paws on her handkerchief and then cuddled him under her jacket. “I think I shall have to carry him up to the house,” she said, “for he might take cold. Besides, I am sure it must be nearly dinner time.”

“We have had a perfectly lovely time,” returned Adele. “I was so miserable last night when I went to bed, and I cried myself to sleep.”

“What made you so miserable?”

“Why, you see Dapple Gray went away yesterday afternoon, and I felt so lonely when I thought I couldn’t have you or him either. I am so glad you came down to the brook this morning. Will you come again this afternoon?”

“If mother says I may.”

“Are you going to tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“That you have been playing with me all the morning.”

“Of course I shall tell her. I tell her everything, and you know we have minded exactly, for neither one of us has crossed the brook. Mother never said I couldn’t talk to you; she only said I was not to go over to your place.”

“And Aunt Betty said I mustn’t go to your place, so we really have minded them, haven’t we?”

“I should think we had,” replied Jessie. “Good-bye.”

“Good-bye,” responded Adele. And both little girls went off feeling very virtuous.

Jessie did not delay in telling her mother all about the morning’s meeting. “Do you mind, mother?” she asked.

“No,” answered her mother. “I don’t think I do in the least. I see that you both meant to be obedient, and I think the hard lesson Adele has had promises to do her a great deal of good.”

“I feel so sorry for her, oh, so sorry,” said Jessie thoughtfully. “She cried herself to sleep last night because she was so lonely. If she had had you, mother, to tuck her up and kiss her good-night and to make her feel comfortable inside, as you do me after I have been naughty, she wouldn’t have felt so.”

“Poor little child,” said Mrs. Loomis compassionately.

“I think she loves me very much,” said Jessie, “and she did just as I told her was right this morning. She never said one word about Polly or Peter Pan, either. Don’t you think I can be friends with her again, mother?”

“I think you can, for I am sure that you can do a great deal for her. It is evident that she has never been used to giving her confidences to her aunt, and so far, Miss Eloise has not been able to win them. I think Miss Eloise will in time, and meanwhile we must do all we can. Miss Eloise was here this morning, dearie.”

“Was she? Then that is why she was not at home when Adele took Cloudy up to show her. What did she say, mother?”

“She said a great many things, and some things she said made me decide to let you begin your lessons again, but I would rather you did not spend too much time at the yellow house. If you go there in the morning, that will be enough, and in the afternoon it will be better for Adele to come here to play with you. I think it is getting too cold to play by the brook, but there is the attic where you can be perfectly safe. I will have one end cleared for you, and you can have all your playthings up there.” Jessie threw her arms around her mother’s neck. “You are just the dearest mother in the world,” she cried. “I wish Adele had one exactly like you. May I just go down to the brook a few minutes this afternoon and tell her, and may I bring her back with me?”

Mrs. Loomis smiled down at the eager face as she gave her consent.

“Just one thing more,” said Jessie. “Do you mind if I stay long enough to shut up Peter Pan’s house for the winter? It won’t take long.”

“No, Miss Wendy, I don’t mind, if you will promise to mind the tree tops.”

Jessie laughed, and felt very thankful that she had such a mother.

_CHAPTER XI_

_Who Took the Spoons?_

_CHAPTER XI_

_Who Took the Spoons?_

Lessons began again the next day, and this time continued without interruption until the holidays. It would not be quite true to say that there were never any more tantrums, but it is a fact that they were less violent, and occurred less frequently. Adele really was trying to improve, and if Jessie herself once in a while had what Adele called “the pouts” and always mocked and made fun of her, Jessie was ashamed to continue them for very long, for she hated to be made fun of. The two had their little quarrels, to be sure, and sometimes did not speak for as much as a whole day, but night usually brought regret and the next morning each would be eager to make up.

One day Jessie coming home from school found her mother counting the silver. “Jessie,” she said, “do you remember taking any of these small teaspoons at any time?”

“Why no, mother,” returned Jessie. “I always have a kitchen spoon, you know, and I haven’t had one of those for a long time, not since that day I had the marmalade down by the brook.”

“I don’t see where they can have gone,” said Mrs. Loomis. “There are two missing, and I am sure they were all here last week. Minerva is very careful and I don’t think she could possibly have thrown them out. You are quite sure that you and Adele have not had them up in the attic?”

“I am quite sure,” returned Jessie, “but I will go and look.”

“I wish you would,” said her mother.

Jessie trudged up to the attic and searched among the playthings, but there were no spoons to be seen. She went back to her mother. “They are not there,” she said. “Adele and I haven’t had anything but dolls’ parties up there, and then we used the spoons that belong to the play tea-set.”

“I cannot think where they can be,” repeated Mrs. Loomis.

“Perhaps the boys had them down at the barn or somewhere,” suggested Jessie.

“But I have counted them since they went back to school, and they were all here. I have looked everywhere I can think of, and so has Minerva. They are never taken to the kitchen except to be washed, and the only person who has been along is that old peddler who comes with tins sometimes. I have always thought him an honest old soul, as peddlers go, but I can think of no one else.”

“I don’t believe it was the peddler,” said Jessie. “He has been coming here for a long time, and he is always very nice and kind. He gave me a ring with a blue set in it one day because he said he liked little girls, and that he once had a little daughter about my age who died. I am sure it couldn’t be the peddler.”

“It doesn’t seem to me so either,” returned Mrs. Loomis, “but where are the spoons?”

Jessie shook her head, and the loss remained a mystery, for no amount of searching brought them to light. It even became more and more mystifying, for in a few days a little coffee-spoon was missing. It was a souvenir spoon which had been sent to Mrs. Loomis by her sister, and had been left on Mrs. Loomis’s dressing bureau after the box containing it was opened.

“This is more and more perplexing,” said Mrs. Loomis, “for I know positively that I left it in my room, and who in the world could go up there without my knowledge?”

This was the last spoon taken, and although the matter was not forgotten it was after a while dropped, all concluding that in some unexplained way the spoons had fallen behind the surbase or through a crack in the floor. This might explain the disappearance of the teaspoons, for there was a large crack in the kitchen floor near the fireplace, but it could not account for the coffee-spoon. “I’ll have that board in the kitchen taken up in the spring,” said Mr. Loomis. “We don’t want to take the stove down now, and no doubt you will find the other in your room somewhere when the spring cleaning is done.” So the matter rested.

When Jessie told Adele about the loss she declared that Playmate Polly had taken them. It was her way to charge Playmate Polly with all sorts of evil traits, and the two little girls quarreled upon this subject oftener than any other, absurd as it was. If Adele wanted to tease Jessie she had but to say something disagreeable about Playmate Polly, and Jessie’s anger would rise, so that it finally became as a red rag to a bull, and the more Adele teased the more Jessie resented it.

They seldom played by the brook now, but the attic was a great source of pleasure. It was well heated by a register, so there was no danger that the children should take cold. A set of shelves on one side made a fine playhouse, and Sam had made a low table of just the proper height. It was a rough sort of affair, but served its purpose. The legs of two old chairs were sawed down to suit the children and a bit of old carpet was spread upon the floor, so they considered that the playroom was finely furnished. Minerva put up a little white curtain at the window, and would always remember them on baking days with a little pie, a pan of tiny rolls, or some small cakes, so that Saturday was feast day as well as holiday.

One Saturday the two children were sitting at the table coloring some pictures in a couple of old magazines. Mr. Hallett had brought them each a small paint box the night before and they took this first opportunity of trying their powers. Cloudy, attired in the long white frock belonging to Jessie’s baby doll, was asleep in an improvised crib made of a small stool turned upside down. He seemed perfectly satisfied and was having a good nap. Charity sat by his side in the character of nurse, and Peter Pan was sitting in a swing which hung from the rafters.

“I think I shall put a red frock on my lady,” Adele said.

“I tried red,” said Jessie, “but it doesn’t go very well. It is kind of thick and messy looking. I believe I will try this yellow.” They worked away for a few moments, very much absorbed in their painting, but they were interrupted by a faint mew from the crib. “The baby is waking up,” said Jessie, “and he can’t walk about very well in that long frock. I shall have to take it off, I suppose, so he can run about.”

“But he does look so cunning in it,” said Adele admiringly.

“I know he does, and I can put it on again after a while, but mother says I have no right to make him uncomfortable, and to keep him from playing when he wants to, so it will have to come off, and when he gets sleepy I can put it on again. Oh, what’s that?”

Adele ran to the window and drew aside the curtain. “Why, it’s Eb,” she exclaimed. “He is pecking at the window. He wants to come in. Shall I open the window, Jessie?”

“Why, yes. It won’t do any harm to let him stay with us. I wonder how he found his way. You might leave the window open, Adele. It is real warm to-day and then he can go out when he wants to.”

“I see how he came,” said Adele looking out the window.

“He couldn’t fly as high as this with his wings clipped.”

“No, but he could fly as high as the smokehouse door. It is open, you see, and then he could fly on the roof, and from there to the branch of that big tree. He could walk along the branch, you see, and get up here.”

“So he could, quite easily, and I suppose that is the way he came. It is the first time he has found us. See how pleased he is,” for Eb was walking about in the most insinuating manner, dipping and curtseying and making enticing little sounds. “Don’t let him drink the paint water, Adele; it might make him ill. No, Eb, you can’t have that,” for Eb, attracted by the bright colors in the box, was trying to peck at them. Jessie shut her box, and Adele did likewise. Then Eb spied the kitten and sidled up to him. The girls watched the two in their funny antics until they heard Minerva calling at the foot of the stairs.

Jessie ran down to her, and presently came back with a little apple pie which she set on the table. “Doesn’t it look good?” she said. “Shall we eat it now?”

“We might as well,” returned Adele.

“I brought up some milk for the kitten,” said Jessie, “so he can sit on one side the table and Eb on the other. I have a stale crust up here that I will soak in the milk and give to Eb. He will like that.” So the funny company sat down together, the kitten perched on a high box with a small saucer of milk before him, Eb with his soaked crust on a piece of pasteboard, and the two girls, each with half a pie. Eb was the first to finish his meal and then he flew down to see what other entertainment the place afforded. He went prying around for a few minutes before he spied Adele’s paint brush which she had neglected to put away. The piece of bright metal at one end attracted him and in a moment he was upon the window sill with the brush in his beak. Jessie spied him just as he was about to take flight.

“Oh, see what Eb has!” she cried. “Shut the window quick!”

Adele, who was nearest, jumped up, but Eb was too quick for her and was beyond reach before she could get to him. “He’s gone,” she cried. “He has gone off with my brush. How shall we get it?”

“You stay here and watch him,” said Jessie, “and I will go down and see if I can grab him before he gets away with it.”

She ran downstairs while Adele watched from the window. Still carrying the brush, Eb walked across the roof to the limb of the tree which overhung one side of the house. He took a short flight to the limb, walked along it, flew to the smokehouse and stood there. The door, however, was shut by now, and he was not sure that he could venture to fly down from the roof. Now was Jessie’s time. She ran to the kitchen.

“Give me some dough or corn bread, or something, quick, Minerva,” she said.

Minerva picked up a piece of corn bread from a plate and gave it to her. “What in the world is the matter with the child?” she said as Jessie scurried out. She followed the little girl to where she stood crumbling the corn bread into one palm. “Well, I declare,” she said. “What has he got now?”

“Adele’s paint brush,” Jessie told her. “Come, Eb. Come get some nice supper.”

Eb cocked his head to one side, and regarded the outstretched hand for a moment, then he dropped the paint brush and flew down to Jessie’s shoulder. The paint brush rolled down from the roof to the ground. Scattering the crumbs before him, Jessie set Eb down, and ran back, stopping under the window from which Adele was looking and calling up to her, “Here it is. I made him drop it.”

“I’ll come down and get it,” replied Adele.

“Bring Cloudy with you,” Jessie called back.

In a few minutes Adele appeared with Cloudy in her arms. “I shut the window,” she said. “It is getting dark up there, and I suppose I shall have Angelina coming for me in a few minutes. I am glad you were able to make Eb give up the brush. What do you suppose he was going to do with it? Isn’t he getting to be a thief?”

“He certainly is,” said Jessie. “I suppose he was going to hide it somewhere.”

“I wonder where?”

“I’m sure I don’t know. Where do you suppose he would hide things, Minerva?”

“Bless me, I’m sure I can’t tell. Well, there, I shouldn’t be the least surprised if he was the one that stole those spoons. It is a wonder none of us thought of that. It’s only lately he’s taken to carrying off things, though. He tried to get my thimble off my finger yesterday.”

“I’m going right in to tell mother about him,” said Jessie, “and maybe we can find the spoons if he has hidden them.”

Minerva followed the two children into the sitting-room, where Mrs. Loomis was told of the suspicion which rested upon Eb. “Well, I declare,” she said. “I verily believe he is the thief. We must watch him, and see where he goes. Keep your eyes open, children, and perhaps we can trace him.”

However, Eb was much too sly to be discovered at once, and despite all their efforts they could not find out where he made a hiding-place for his treasures. He was even given the chance to carry away certain articles, but as soon as he saw that he was followed he would drop what he carried and would fly off with a caw of derision. “He is the cleverest creature I ever saw,” declared Minerva. “There is no catching him napping. I let him carry off a piece of my red worsted this morning, and would you believe it, he dropped it on the step as soon as I opened the door.”

“We’ll catch him unawares some time,” said Sam.

But as if he knew himself suspected, Eb continued to behave with such secrecy that no one could say that he was really the thief, and finally Jessie declared that she didn’t believe he was guilty at all, and she told Adele so.

“No, I don’t believe it is he,” Adele answered with a gleam of mischief in her eye. “I have always believed it is Polly. I saw Eb sitting on her head whispering things in her ear one day, when I was coming to your house, so maybe he puts her up to it.”

“You are so silly, Adele,” returned Jessie impatiently, and turning away.

Adele ran after. “Don’t get mad, Jessie. Please don’t. I was only fooling, but it is such fun to pretend things about Polly. If you won’t get mad, I will tell you a secret; a very great secret. Say you aren’t mad.”

“I’m not so very mad,” Jessie answered, the prospect of a secret being more than she could withstand.