Read the book: «Lily Norris' Enemy», page 6

"I'll astonish Miss Ashton by letting her see how well I have learned it," she said to herself; and she remained at the piano, playing over and over again the lively little waltz, until her mother's voice at the door recalled her to her neglected duty.

"Lily," it said, "you have been practising more than half an hour, dear."

"Yes, mamma," said Lily, glancing over at the clock again; "more than three quarters; but my new music is so very pretty, and I want Miss Ashton to be quite surprised with my knowing it so well."

"I am afraid Miss Ashton may have a less agreeable surprise if you do not take care, my darling," said Mrs. Norris gravely.

"Oh, you mean about the petticoat, mamma; but there's lots and lots of time. I b'lieve Pro has had hold of me this morning," said Lily, jumping down from the piano stool, "and I'll come right away; but you see I was so very sure about having time enough to-day, mamma, that it did not make so much difference. There's a good deal of time yet to-day, and I have Monday too."

"Put away your music, Lily," said her mother; and she stood waiting while Lily laid in its place the music she would have left scattered over the piano. Perhaps Mrs. Norris thought it just as well not to lose sight again of her heedless little daughter until she had her settled at her work.

"Bring your work-box to my room," said Mrs. Norris. "I have something to do there, and we will have a nice, cosey time."

Lily ran for the box, and was back with it in a moment, for as she went she said to herself, —

"I b'lieve I've let Pro steal a good many little thefts already this morning; now I'll just send him off right away. I have plenty of time yet, but now I really must make haste."

Lily's work-box was of rather formidable dimensions; indeed, some people thought it but one stage removed from a small trunk. It had been presented to her by an old lady with whom she was a great pet, and although it was extremely inconvenient in regard to size and weight, it was very handsomely fitted up with mother-of-pearl and silver, and contained every implement which could be needed by the most accomplished needle-woman. Upon the lid was a silver plate, with "For an industrious little girl" engraved upon it.

Now as we know, our Lily was by no means an industrious little girl; nevertheless she took great pride and delight in this "ark," as Tom privately called it; and, although she had two or three other work-boxes and baskets much more suitable and convenient in point of size, she made use of this one whenever she could do so.

"It held so much," she said, and indeed it did; and here the petticoat had reposed in the intervals when she was not busy with it; that is, when Lily had put it away in a proper manner.

She followed her mother with this ponderous treasure clasped in both arms; and, when she reached mamma's room, brought her little chair, and opened the box.

"Why," she said, when she had removed the upper tray which held all the dainty implements, and looked into the empty space beneath, "why, where is my petticoat? Somebody has gone and taken it out. Mamma, did you take it?"

"No, dear, I have not touched it," said Mrs. Norris. "Did you put it away yesterday?"

"Yes, mamma, you know I always put it in here. I'll ask Nora;" and away ran Lily to the nursery.

"Nora, did you take my orphan petticoat out of my work-box?" she asked.

"No, indeed, dear; and why would I touch it, unless you wanted some help with it?" answered Nora.

Back went Lily to her mamma's room, troubled and indignant.

"Mamma, some one has taken it. I never knew any thing so mean. Nora don't know any thing about it."

"Who would take it, Lily? I certainly did not, and you say Nora did not. Papa or Tom could have no reason for touching it. I will tell you what I think."

"What mamma?" asked Lily, anxiously.

"That you could not have put it away yesterday when you stopped sewing upon it. Think a moment, my daughter; can you distinctly recollect putting it away in your box?"

Lily stood considering one moment; then dismay and shame gradually overspread her face.

"No, mamma, I just believe I did not. When I was going to put away my petticoat in the box, I heard papa come in, and I wanted to know why he had come home so early; so I thought I would just wait one moment, and put it away when I had asked him, and I dropped it on the floor and ran to papa. And you know he had come to take us to see those pictures, and I never thought another thing about the petticoat. I quite forgot I had not put it away when I told you I had. I will go and look in the sitting-room where I was sewing yesterday."

But her search proved fruitless, although she certainly did look thoroughly through every part of the room. Nora was called, and took her part, but all in vain; and at last mamma came. Mrs. Norris rather felt that she should let Lily be at all the trouble of finding the petticoat for herself; but the child seemed so grieved that she could not bear to punish her in that way. But mamma was not more successful than her little daughter and the nurse had been, although in the end every servant was questioned, and every room searched.

"It is very strange. Are you quite sure you have not seen it, Hannah?" asked Mrs. Norris of her chambermaid, a rather dull girl, who had been but a short time in the house. "Have you seen nothing of the kind lying about in the sitting-room, or did you not touch Miss Lily's box?"

"Miss Lily's harnsum box, is it, ma'am? Sure, and I did see that a sittin' on the floor, where I thought you'd not be plased to see it at all at all, so I just lifted it to the table where I seen it sittin' before; but ne'er a thing I seen beside it. It wouldn't be Miss Lily's work what I found the puppy a pullin' round the ary, ma'am, – the mischavous baste that he is, my heart's most broke with him, – an' I didn't take heed what it was, but seein' it that dirty, I just put it in the basket with the siled clothes."

Away went Lily, Nora after her; and, sure enough, the latter soon fished out the unfortunate little petticoat from the soiled-clothes basket. Now, indeed, Lily was distressed, and cried bitterly, for the thing was in no state to be touched until it had been washed. It was easy to imagine how it had happened. The puppy, who was growing very mischievous, and who, like many another young thing, was fond of a forbidden plaything, had probably found the petticoat lying where Lily had heedlessly dropped it upon the floor; and, watching his opportunity, had dragged it from the room, down stairs, and out into the back area, where Hannah had rescued it, happily before it was torn and chewed to bits, but not before it was sadly blackened and soiled.

"Now don't you cry, honey Miss Lily, and I'll just wash it right out for you, and have it back as clane as a new pin," said the good-natured Hannah. "If I'd known it yesterday, sure I'd a done it then; but niver a wurd did I think of its bein' your work, and it in that state. Och, what a crathur it is, that botherin' little baste!" she added, as she went off with the melancholy looking petticoat in her hand.

"Will she have it washed and dried and ironed in time for me to finish it before the children come, mamma?" asked the sobbing Lily, burying her head in her mother's lap.

"I am afraid not, dear," answered her mother, with a tender, pitying touch upon the thoughtless little head which brought so much trouble upon itself, "so much time has been lost in hunting for your work, and it is now nearly eleven o'clock."

"If I'd only gone to my sewing at first as you advised me, then I'd have found out sooner what that horrid little old hateful puppy had done, and Hannah might have washed the petticoat for me in time," moaned Lily. "I wish Tom never had the puppy."

"I do not think we must blame the puppy, my darling," said her mamma. "He only acted according to his nature; and he found the skirt, you know, where it should not have been."

"Yes," said Lily, "poor little cunning fellow; it wasn't his fault. It was all horrid old me, with my putting off that I never shall cure myself of; no, never, never. It is too mean that I cannot finish that tiresome petticoat this morning."

"Happily, dear, the consequences of your fault are not yet without remedy, and you may still make up for lost time, unless something should happen which we do not foresee; but you have only this one more chance, Lily. Take care that you do not neglect it, or be tempted to procrastinate again."

X
SATURDAY AFTERNOON'S PLAY

Mrs. Norris was right; for although Hannah did her best, she found it impossible to have the petticoat dry enough to iron so that Lily might have some time to sew upon it before her young friends arrived.

As soon as she had at all recovered her spirits, the little girl relieved her mind in some degree by making frequent rushes to the head of the back stairs to see if Hannah were coming with the petticoat; and once she persuaded her mother to let her go to the laundry that she might "be encouraged by seeing how much Hannah had done."

But she did not receive much encouragement from the sight of the still dripping garment, which Hannah had hung before the fire that it might dry the more quickly. Hannah took a cheerful view of the subject, saying she would have it ready very soon, and there was "lots of time afore Tuesday mornin'." But Lily was at last learning the folly of believing in "lots of time" to come; and she shook her head in a melancholy manner, and bade Hannah "take a lesson of her misfortunes, and never procrastinate."

She returned to the nursery in a very low state of mind, when Nora told her she would dress her at once if she chose, so that if she had any time to spare she might employ it on the skirt when it was dry.

Lily gratefully accepted the offer, but it proved of no use as far as the petticoat was concerned, for she had bade her little friends to "be sure and come by twelve o'clock," and her mamma having seconded the invitation, they had been allowed to do so; and soon after twelve, Maggie, Bessie, Belle, and Mabel arrived, just as Hannah brought up the petticoat, fairly smoking from her hot irons, and five minutes after, the rest of the young party made their appearance.

The clouds passed from Lily's face and mind at the sight of all these "sunbeams," and, consoling herself with the recollection that after all she still had Monday afternoon, she was presently as merry and full of spirits as usual.

Happily not one of the other children thought of asking her if the petticoat were finished, so that she was spared the mortification of confessing that it was not.

It was proposed that they should all amuse themselves downstairs until the early dinner, which had been ordered for them at one o'clock; after which they would go to the grand play-room in the attic, Maggie having provided herself with some fresh proverbs and charades, which they were to play.

"Harry and Fred are coming over this afternoon, and we want to make a ship in the lumber-room. You won't mind, will you?" asked Tom, who was taking his lunch at the little girls' dinner.

Doubtful looks were exchanged between some of them. Maggie's looks were not at all doubtful; her face was one of blank dismay at the proposal. Playing charades and proverbs was all very well when there were only those of her own age to look on; doing it before these big boys was quite another thing.

"Not if you don't like it, Maggie," said Tom, noticing her annoyance; "but we wouldn't disturb you, and anyhow I am sure you need not mind having us see you. We'll be busy at the carpenter's bench and tool-chest, and you need not heed us if we do see."

"I'm – I'm afraid you'll – you'll laugh at us," hesitated Maggie, coloring.

"If we laugh, it will be with you, not at you," said Tom. "But never mind; if you don't like it, we'll keep out of your way."

Then Maggie felt self-reproached, and, like the generous little girl she was, determined that her bashfulness should not get the upper hand of her readiness to oblige.

"I don't mind it so very much," she said; "at least I'll try not to, and you can come if the others say so. I suppose you won't take notice of us if you are building a ship, would you, Tom?" she added wistfully.

"No one shall disturb or trouble you in any way, you may believe that," said Tom; and Maggie knew that he would keep his word, and so declared her willingness that the boys should share the privileges of the lumber-room.

Away to the attic scampered the seven pairs of little feet the moment dinner was over; and Nora, following, opened the trunks for them, then left them to their own devices. That is to say, she brought her sewing, and went to sit in one of the rooms which opened out of the great gallery, where she might be within call if the children needed her, and at hand to keep them from mischief. That she provided for her own amusement by leaving the door so that she could see and hear, none of them, not even shy Maggie, noticed or cared.

Maggie of course was always chief spirit and prime manager of these entertainments; and she now divided the party, taking Belle and Nellie with herself as performers in the first charade, and assigning the part of spectators to Bessie, Lily, Carrie, and Mabel.

The audience speedily accommodated themselves and their children – that is their dolls – with seats upon the top of the bins, scrambling thereto by the help of chairs, and amusing themselves with lively conversation while waiting.

Maggie and Nellie brought forth from the store-room a small table and three chairs, which were suitably placed; Sir Percy was brought from his place of repose and laid upon the floor beside them; after which the young ladies retired again into privacy.

"The charade has begun, and Sir Percy is a great big dog this time," said Maggie, suddenly popping out her head once more, and then withdrawing it.

After some moments she reappeared, this time gorgeously arrayed in a flowing train, formed of an old red table-cloth, bordered with gold, a wreath of artificial flowers on her head, ribbons of all colors pinned and tied about her, and an enormous fan in her hand, with which she fanned herself affectedly, mincing and prinking as she walked to a chair, where she seated herself, taking good care to keep her face turned from Sir Percy, whom she pretended not to observe. The audience were spell-bound with interest and the wish to guess the word.

"Tell your mistress – er – that er – Madam Jones – er – is here – er," drawled the lady, addressing an imaginary servant, closing her eyes as if quite exhausted, and putting on all the airs and graces conceivable.

Presently entered the hostess, attired with similar magnificence, but with rather a bluff and off-hand manner, which contrasted very strikingly with that of her visitor. Meanwhile, from behind the door of the store-room came a piteous mewing, which soon attracted the attention of the second lady, who peered about her in great surprise, and exclaimed, —

"That must be a cat mewing, and I never allow a cat in my house, never!"

"Oh – er," drawled Mrs. Jones, "it is only my sweet pussy, my lovely pet, my only donly pet; such a dear pet, oh, such! Wouldn't you like to see her, Mrs. Smith?"

"No, oh, no!" cries Mrs. Smith, lifting up her hands in horror; "I hate cats, and so does my lovely pet, Bombastes Furioso. Here, Bomby, Bomby, Bomby, come and speak to Mrs. Jones, my darling pet."

Upon which Mrs. Jones affected to see for the first time the great dog Bombastes Furioso, and to be filled with alarm at the sight.

"Don't call him, pr-r-r-ay, don't!" she cried. "Is it possible that you like canine dogs, Mrs. Smith? How can you have such a pet? Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!"

Hereupon entered Belle on all fours, covered with a white flossy mat which had been brought up from the hall for the purpose, and ran mewing about her mistress.

"I'd rather like canine dogs than canine cats," wrathfully cries Mrs. Smith; "and, ma'am, I tell you I won't have cats in my house! S'cat, s'cat, s'cat!"

"Ma'am," cries Mrs. Jones, indignantly, "if you turn out my pet, you turn out me, and I'll never visit you again, ma'am, nor be acquainted with you any more. I cut you, ma'am, I cut you!"

"And I cut you, ma'am. Bringing cats in my house, indeed! Here, Bombastes Furioso, s-s-s-s!" and the indignant and inhospitable Mrs. Smith tried to urge her dog to seize Mrs. Jones' kitty. Bombastes, however, being a dog of a lazy turn of mind, contented himself with deep, hoarse growls whenever Mrs. Jones was speaking. He was silent when it was necessary for his mistress to speak; and Mrs. Smith found herself obliged to drag her lumbering pet onwards by his two remaining hoofs – I beg his pardon, I should have said paws.

This was the sole objection to the accommodating Sir Percy, that he was so unwieldy and cumbersome to move when circumstances required that he should do so. This being the case, Mrs. Jones, whose airs and graces were all put to flight by this attack upon her, had time to scuttle off with her pet before Bombastes Furioso had advanced more than a step or two.

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 inconveniences 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.