A Sweet Little Maid by Amy Ella Blanchard (best historical fiction books of all time txt) 📕

"Finely. Can you throw it so I can catch it?"

"I don't know. Maybe I could if I tied a stone to it. Don't let it hit you, Florence."

After several attempts the rope was landed, and when the dolls were fastened to it, they were drawn safely up, and then Dimple made her ascent successfully.

"It is nice," she declared. "Isn't it fun to be here, where no one can see us? I wonder if that window will open." She gave the shutters a little shake and lo! they offered no resistance, but opened easily, and, the latch being out of order, the window, too, yielded to their efforts, and before they knew it, they were inside.68

"Now we're here, we might as well go through the house," said Florence. "And you can show me the portrait."

They proceeded stealthily through rooms whose furniture was swathed in sheets to keep away the dust. It all looked rather bare and desolate upstairs in the dim rooms, but it was better below, especially in the dining-room, where a big bay window let in a flood of light when the inside shutters were opened.

"Let's pretend it's our house, and keep house really," Florence exclaimed. "Here is a broom and a duster. I'll sweep and you can dust. Then if we can find some dishes, we'll set the table. I wish we had brought something to eat. Oh, Dimple, you haven't shown me the portrait yet; where is it?"

"In the library. Come, we'll go there now."

"My, but it's dark in here!" Florence exclaimed, as they entered the room. "Let us open the shutters a little so we can see the picture."

This they managed to do, shutting the window carefully.

"It seems dark still," Dimple remarked. "I wonder what makes this such a dark room." Just69 then they heard a mighty crash and both started, then clung to each other, whispering, "What's that?"

"It is thunder," said Dimple, when a second peal was heard. "Oh, how dark it is. Come, Florence; we must hurry. Open the window and shut the shutters as quick as you can and I'll go to the dining-room. We must leave everything as we found it."

"Don't leave me," Florence implored. "I can't bear to be alone when the lightning flashes so." And together they fastened the shutters and the windows, then ran to the porch, where they had left their dolls.

An angry gust was blowing the dust about furiously. The trees swayed and creaked, lashing their branches about in a very terrifying way. The thunder growled and muttered, while sharp flashes of lightning zigzagged across the sky almost incessantly.

"We would never dare to go down the tree while it is blowing so," said Florence, after they had surveyed the scene for a moment in silence.

"But it is beginning to rain. Oh, dear! What shall we do? It's coming down a perfect torrent.70 Come back, Florence; we'll have to go inside," cried Dimple. And snatching up their dolls, they retreated into the house in no enviable state of mind, between fear of the tempest and alarm at being obliged to stay alone where they were.

"We might as well make ourselves comfortable," Florence said at last. "Suppose we go down to the library or the dining-room. We can open the inside shutters, and it won't seem so gloomy. I'd rather see the lightning than stay up here in the dark."

"Oh, dear! I wish we hadn't come at all," sighed Dimple. "I wish we were safe at home. Mamma will be so worried, for she won't know where we are. I do wish we hadn't come."

Florence was very uncomfortable, but she tried to brave it out. "Anyhow," she said, "it's a great deal better than to be out in the storm. I am sure auntie will be very glad when she knows we were safe here, and it isn't as if you had come to a perfectly strange house. The Atkinsons are your friends, and they won't mind a bit our coming here for shelter. I know they won't. They'd be very hard-hearted if they did mind."71

"Yes, I s'pose so," returned Dimple, somewhat comforted.

"Very likely your mamma isn't bothering at all about us," Florence went on. "She probably hasn't gone home herself, on account of the storm."

They had been conversing together at the top of the stairs, and now made their way to the dining-room, where, after opening the shutters, they stood looking out at the rain. The peals of thunder had died away into distant mutterings, but it was still raining hard.

"Somehow we always get into trouble when it rains," Dimple remarked.

"Don't let's talk about that," returned Florence. "See how the raindrops dance up and down. Little water fairies they are. Don't they look as if they were having a good time?"

"Yes; but I'm getting hungry. I wonder if it isn't most dinner time. Do you suppose it will rain all afternoon, Florence?"

"I don't know. If it holds up we'll have to run between the drops."

"But how can we get out? We could never climb down that sopping wet tree, and we would72 be very wicked to leave any part of the house down here unfastened. Some one might see us and try to get in."

They lapsed into a grave silence which was presently broken by a startled "What's that?" from Dimple. She heard a sound like the click of a key turning in a latch. They listened fearfully, as the sound was followed by the shutting of a door, and the noise of footsteps along the hall. The two girls looked at each other. "Let's hide," whispered Florence, but before they had decided what to do, a man was seen standing in the doorway. It was Mr. Atkinson.

"Well, well, well," he exclaimed, "where did you little girls come from? You came in out of the rain, I suppose, but how did you manage it? Why, Eleanor, is it you? I declare, I didn't know you. It is fortunate you managed to escape the storm; it was a hard one."

Dimple stood very much confused, her color coming and going, and her eyes very bright. But she summoned up courage to make the confession: "We did come in out of the rain, Mr. Atkinson, but no one let us in, and we didn't happen to come here on account of the storm."73

"You didn't! Come here, then, and tell me about it." He drew her to his side and looked down at her very kindly.

She dropped her eyes and hung her head in confusion, but she went on, "We,—we thought it was so pretty here, and—and we thought you wouldn't mind if we came and brought our dolls and sat on the porch a little while; we didn't think you'd care if we were very good and didn't touch anything. Then it was so easy to climb the tree and get on the other porch, and when we got there,—why I wanted to show Florence the portrait of your little girl, and we did not have to force the shutter at all; it opened just as easy, and so did the window; and we went downstairs, and while we were looking at the portrait the storm came up and we were afraid to climb down the tree; it was blowing about so, and we didn't like to go out any other way and leave the windows downstairs unfastened. So—we stayed."

Mr. Atkinson listened quietly. "So you were housebreakers. Don't you know that's a prison offence? Burglary is a pretty serious crime." He looked very serious, and Dimple did not see74 the twinkle in his eyes. Her own grew round with horror.

"Oh!" she gasped. "Oh! we didn't mean—" The tears began to gather, and the child's lips quivered. She was overcome with dismay. "I am so sorry, so dreadfully sorry," she quavered.

Mr. Atkinson put his hand on her sunny head. "There, dear, never mind," he said, "you were a very innocent pair of housebreakers, and you are a very brave and honest little girl to tell me the truth about it, when you might easily have allowed me to think it happened another way. Of course, on general principles, it isn't right to break into any one's house, but I think you may have done me a good turn by letting me know about that weak place upstairs, and you may have prevented a real thief from breaking in. You see, I come down from the city every Saturday to look after things while my wife and son are away, and I am glad I happened to be here just now. Let us forget all about the unpleasant part of this, and make ourselves comfortable. You are my guests. Who is your little friend?"

"My cousin Florence."75

"Ah, yes. I am glad to see you, Florence. Now don't you think it would be wise, Eleanor, if I were to speak to your father over the 'phone, and let him know you are safe?"

"Oh, yes, thank you. Is there a telephone in the house?"

"Yes, and I can call up your father at his office. You can speak to him yourself, if you like. What time does he go home to dinner?"

"About half-past one o'clock."

Mr. Atkinson consulted his watch. "We shall catch him, I think." And in a few minutes Dimple, listening, heard her father's voice in reply to Mr. Atkinson's "Hallo! is that you, Dallas?"

"Don't you want to speak to him yourself?" asked Mr. Atkinson, when he had told Mr. Dallas that Dimple and her cousin were safely housed. He lifted the little girl up so she could call her father. "I'm safe here, papa, and so is Florence," she said; "please tell mamma."

The answer came, "I will, daughter; I'm glad you are in good hands. I'll tell mamma to send Bubbles for you when it has stopped raining."

"Let them stay till I take them home," spoke up Mr. Atkinson. "I can take care of them,76 and it will be a great pleasure to have them here."

"Very well, if you like. I shall be satisfied to have them in such safe hands. Good-bye," came Mr. Dallas's parting words.

"Good-bye," and Mr. Atkinson hung up the receiver, and turned to his guests. "Now, young ladies, I suspect you are hungry. I am, for one. Suppose we see what we can find to eat." He took out his keys and unlocked the pantry door. The girls looked at each other. There were delightful possibilities before them.

"I'll forage in here," continued Mr. Atkinson, "while you set the table. You'll find dishes in there." And he pointed to a china-closet.

This was such an unexpected outcome of the morning's affair, that the two little girls retired behind the door and hugged each other, and then briskly went to work to set the table, upon which Mr. Atkinson placed various articles.

"I keep a lot of such truck in here," he told them. "So, in case I get hungry, I can find a bite to eat. Do you like sardines or canned salmon best?"

"Sardines!" exclaimed both the girls.77

"That settles it. We haven't any ice, or we could have some lemonade. We'd better have chocolate. What do you say?"

"It would be very nice, but we have no fire."

"Fire enough. See here." He turned on the gas, and lighted a little stove over which the chocolate was made, condensed milk being at hand for use.

"Now, let me see. I've some ginger-snaps somewhere, and some marmalade. This is rather a mixed meal, I am thinking, but it will keep us from starving."

"I should think so," said Florence, surveying the table. "I think it is fine."

"And we can wash the dishes afterward. Will you let us?" asked Dimple.

"I shall be charmed to have you," Mr. Atkinson assured her. "It was one of the points upon which I felt uncertain. I confess to disliking, very much, that part of the business; and now you relieve my anxiety."

They made a merry meal of it, and became very well acquainted with their host before it was over. He told them funny stories and kept them laughing so that they were a long time78 getting their appetites satisfied, and as it had become much cooler, Bubbles appeared with wraps for them before they had finished with the dishes.

"We have had such a lovely, lovely time," said Dimple, as she raised a beaming face to Mr. Atkinson. "You know just what to do to make little girls have a good time, don't you?"

He stooped and kissed her. "I had a little girl once," he replied, gravely.

Dimple put her two arms closely around his neck. She felt