by Anonymous
Produced by Al Haines.
Cover art]
'KITTY SAT AT THE WINDOW.'--_Page_ 7.]
KITTY'S PICNIC
And other Stories
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS_
EDINBURGH & LONDON OLIPHANT ANDERSON & FERRIER
headpiece to Contents]
*CONTENTS.*
Kitty's PicnicEllen's LetterThat Dear DuckLittle Miss MuffleA New Red Riding-HoodLilla's Doll ShowSelina and her Doll
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headpiece to Kitty's Picnic]
*Kitty's Picnic.*
It was a fine spring morning, and Kitty sat at the window looking out atthe green fields and the trees with their young leaves, and far, farbeyond these to some towers that looked small in the distance, but whenyou came close to them you found that they belonged to a grand oldcastle in ruins.
This castle Kitty had long wished to see, for she had heard so muchabout it; and to-day she was thinking very much about it, for she knewthat there was going to be a great picnic, to which her cousins weregoing, and Kitty wished she were going also, but she had not beeninvited. As she gazed out of the window she saw several carriages fullof people on their way to the picnic. Then the tears came into Kitty'seyes, and she dropped the book she was holding in her hand, and openedthe window so that she might see the carriages more clearly. They weregoing very quickly, and Kitty could hear the people laughing and talkingas she watched them out of sight.
She gave a great sigh.
'How much I should like to go!' she said, half aloud.
Just then the door opened, and her Uncle George walked into the room.
'Why, Uncle George, where have you come from?' said Kitty, jumping up.'I thought you were not coming home till next week.'
'I came home last night,' said Uncle George, 'but I did not expect tofind you here. I thought you would be going to the picnic.'
'I should like to go,' said Kitty, 'but I was not invited. I do notknow Mrs. Somers.'
'Neither do I,' said Uncle George; 'but suppose we have a little picnicof our own, Kitty? I have got my dog-cart at the door, and there isroom in the castle grounds for a dozen picnic parties; and we should nottake up much room.'
Kitty clapped her hands.
'Put on your hat, then, and we will go,' said Uncle George. 'My littleKitty shall see the castle, and climb the ruins.'
'Oh, Uncle George, how good you are!' said Kitty, as they drove along.'I never thought I should be so happy as I am to-day.'
'But, Kitty,' said Uncle George very gravely, 'I am afraid it can't bequite a picnic, for we have brought nothing to eat with us. What shallwe do?'
'I shan't mind,' said Kitty; 'but I am afraid that you will be hungry,Uncle George.'
Uncle George smiled.
'Well, we won't be starved, Kitty; there is a nice little country innclose by, where I put up my horse, and I daresay we shall manage to getsomething there.'
And so they did; and Kitty saw the old castle, and when she drove homeshe said it was the happiest day she had ever spent.
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headpiece to Ellen's Letter]
*Ellen's Letter.*
'You must be sure to write it all down, Jessy,' said Ellen, looking overher sister's shoulder: 'you must tell how naughty Bob was, and how hethrew your doll on the fire, and all the wax melted, and that he brokemy doll's arms and legs, so that I have had to sew them all over to keepthe bran from running out.'
'YOU MUST BE SURE TO WRITE IT ALL DOWN.']
'Yes--and how he trampled on our gardens, and broke down my rose-bushand all my pinks. I don't think I shall have room for all the thingsthere are to tell mamma about him. There never was such a naughty boy!When he gets one of his tempers he does not seem to know what he isdoing.'
And Ellen leaned down on the table, and went on writing.
Just then the door opened, and Bob himself came in. He was a fat, rosylittle boy, and he did not look very fierce now; indeed, he looked quitemeek and gentle. He came up to his sisters, and said, 'Bob is sorry; hewon't spoil dolls and gardens again.'
'Ah! it is too late now, Bob,' said Ellen; 'you have spoiled everything;and I am telling mamma all about it in my letter, so she won't bring youthe baker's cart and the whip that you wanted.'
You are a very naughty boy, Bob,' said Jessy, 'and I am not going toplay with you again.'
Bob went very red.
'Take care; he's going into a temper again,' said Ellen, as Bob made asnatch at the letter she was writing. She held it out of his reach, andthen he gave a loud scream and began crying with all his might.
'I'll go to nurse!' he cried, rushing out of the room, shouting as loudas he could.
'He is the worst boy that ever lived!' said Jessy.
'Now we'll get on with the letter,' said Ellen.
But just then they heard another scream--which was not Bob--and then abumping noise on the stairs.
'He's fallen down-stairs. Perhaps he's killed,' said Jessy, turningpale. And the two girls ran to see what was the matter.
Yes, Bob, in his passion, did not see where he was going, and heslipped, and fell from the top of the stairs to the bottom.
'Oh, nurse, is he much hurt?' cried Ellen, for nurse and the rest of theservants were there.
It was a long time before Bob came to himself.
The doctor was sent for, and he found that Bob's arm was broken; andpoor Bob had to suffer a great deal of pain in having it set.
'Poor Bob!' said Ellen to Jessy; 'we won't send our letter to mamma.'
'No,' said Jessy; 'it will be a great trouble to mamma to find poor Bobso ill. We will not give her any more trouble.' And she tore up theletter.
But another letter was written to mamma to tell her what had happened,and she came at once.
Bob was lying quite still, muttering something to himself, but only loudenough for Ellen and Jessy to hear the word 'Naughty, naughty.'
'But we did not think you would fall down-stairs, Bob,' said Jessy.
Bob looked up at Jessy, and said, 'No, no; naughty Bob, not naughtyJessy.'
tailpiece to Ellen's Letter]
headpiece to That Dear Duck]
*That Dear Duck.*
'Yes,' said Farmer Jones, looking down at them over the top bar of thegate, 'you may come and play in the field for a bit; only mind, there isto be no chasing the sheep or hens, or throwing stones at the ducks, orit will be the last time you children get leave to come into my fields.'
'We won't do any mischief, sir,' said Peggy earnestly, as she tried tomake the bundle she carried sit upright, and look something like a baby,instead of cuddling up like a shapeless lump on her shoulder.
'Very well, then, in you go.'
The farmer held the gate open till the five children and two babies hadfiled sedately through; then he dropped the bar into the socket, andtramped away down the dusty lane.
The sheep were away at the far side, and did not take the trouble toglance up at the intruders. The hens were clucking busily on a piece ofbare ground beyond the barn. Down in the lowest corner of the field wasa shallow pond, where a plump mother duck and half a dozen downyducklings were sailing placidly about. They were new-comerscomparatively, and the children greeted them with shouts of approval.
'Why can't babies swim about and do things, instead of always crying andgoing to sleep?' asked Tommy, eyeing his small twin brothers with greatdissatisfaction, as they sat in a row on a fallen tree-t
runk. 'I'drather have young ducks any day; they've twice as much sense.'
'See that one eating up my bread and butter!' cried Jack; 'he'ssomething like a duck. I wish Farmer Jones would give him to me.'
'I'm quite sure he wouldn't,' said Peggy sharply; 'ducks are dreadfullydear things: mother's said so lots of times.'
Jack didn't answer; he was leaning over the tree trunk, throwing tinybits of crusts to the duckling, who was doing his best to choke himselfwith them. Soon after, the duckling came round in front of the trunkwhere they were sitting; and it was the funniest little object, with itsstumpy wings, and a big yellow bill that opened and shut like a pair ofscissors.
'IT WAS THE FUNNIEST LITTLE OBJECT.']
There were five more swimming about beside their mother; there might bedozens more in the farmyard, while they had nothing of their own. Asharp little duck like that would be as good as a dog to play with.Jack had watched it with longing eyes; he was certain the farmer wouldnever miss it, if he were to take it home for a little while--only alittle while; he could easily bring it back again, and it wouldn't beone bit the worse.
The others played on with the daisies and the butterflies; the babiessucked their thumbs and fell asleep in their small nurses' arms; thelittle duck forgot his mother and his brothers and sisters, and strayedfarther and farther away after the crumbs, till presently two smallbrown hands pounced down, and he found himself a prisoner.
'Quack! quack!' called the mother duck, missing the wanderer.
'Quack! quack!' cried the little duck.
Peggy and Bessy looked round.
'Why, what are you doing, Jack? Didn't Farmer Jones say you weren't totease the ducks?'
'Who is teasing the ducks?' demanded Jack, in a tone of injuredinnocence. 'I'm going to take it home for a bit, and teach it a lot oftricks.'
'You'd better leave it alone!' cried Peggy, in alarm; 'it would bestealing.'
'It would be nothing of the kind. I'm not going to keep the duck.Girls haven't a bit of sense; they're just made to go telling tales.'
'I don't ever tell tales,' returned Peggy, with dignity. 'Did I evertell who it was left the gate open when the pigs got in that day?'
'Well, don't tell tales this time either,' was Jack's onlyacknowledgment. 'We'd better be going now, before anybody comes.'
Jack was the biggest boy, and liked his own way. Moreover, he generallymade the rest like it too. Peggy and Bessy uneasily got up from theirseat, and back the procession went across the green grass and daisies,Jack carrying the duck inside his jacket, where it quacked loudly, andmade the company look round anxiously, for fear of stray listeners.
'What will mother say when she sees it?' suggested Tommy, as they slunkalong the lane.
'Mother is not going to see it,' returned Jack; 'it's going into thewood-shed. I'll make it a nice house there, all to itself--better thanit had at the farm by a long way.'
So instead of going straight into the house, the party repaired to thewood-shed at the end of the garden, where the duck was carefully fencedin behind some boards, and supplied with the remainder of the crusts forsupper.
'He'll go off to sleep in a bit,' said Jack, with a sigh of relief. 'Nowwe'll go in; and mind, you're not to say anything about it.'
It was easy for Jack to say that, but it wasn't by any means so easy todo it. Every minute or two somebody would begin to say somethingbearing upon the subject, and break off short in sudden alarm. Everytime there was a moment's silence, they would be listening for faintquacks from the wood-shed, and somehow it befell that there came nofurther opportunity of visiting the prisoner that evening; for it wasSaturday,--the great festival of the bath-tub,--and by the time thewhole seven had gone through the performance, it was too late foranything but bed.
Never mind; to-morrow would be Sunday, and Jack promised himself alovely time with his dear cluck. He would slip a piece of bread intohis pocket at breakfast; there was a noble ditch not very far off, wherenobody ever went, and he would take it there for a swim. Jack took alast look through the curtainless window at the shed roof, and went tobed brimful of plans for to-morrow and the duck.
Ah, if that duck had but known or understood the joys that lay beforehim! But he didn't; he was only a poor solitary baby duck, taken awayfrom his mother and his home, and left all alone in a cold, strangeplace, and the night was very long and very bleak, and his little bodyached with cold and hunger, and he quacked and quacked till his throatgrew sore, and the quacks wouldn't come any longer, and at last, just asit was beginning to grow grey morning, he feebly curled up his yellowtoes, and rolled over on his back--and died!
'Tommy, come down the garden, and mind nobody sees you,' whispered Jack,after breakfast. 'We'll take that duck to the ditch, and have some fun.Hurry up!'
The two raced down to the wood-shed; all was quiet enough inside. Jacklooked round in some astonishment. 'He must be fast asleep yet; Ithought he'd have been quacking like anything for some food.'
Tommy was peering into the corner. He got up suddenly with a startledface.
'Jack,' he said solemnly, 'I do believe he's gone and died! See howhe's lying.'
Jack had him up in his arms in an instant. He did not know much aboutdead ducks, but the first touch of the little body, that had been sosoft and warm the night before, sent a cold chill right through him. Helooked down at it for a minute in speechless dismay, and then he burstout into a perfect storm of sobs.
'Let's go and tell mother,' said Tommy, beginning to cry too; and offthey went.
But even mother could not bring the little duck back to life. Shequietly put it into a basket, and told Jack to take it up to FarmerJones, and tell him all about his wrong-doing.
Tommy went with him for company, and the pair felt exactly as if theywere going to a funeral; and certainly no funeral they had ever seenwent half so slowly, and with so many halts and pauses. Sooner orlater, however, they _had_ to get there, and Jack had to falter out hisconfession as best he might.
'It was because it was such a dear little duck that Jack wanted it,'explained Tommy valiantly, when Jack got to the end. 'We didn't mean tohurt it.'
The farmer listened in grim silence. 'Perhaps not,' he said; 'but Ican't have you in my fields again: you'll have to be content with thelane for the rest of the summer, so I'm thinking you'll find it's been adear duck for you more ways than one.'
'Mother was quite right,' said Jack, as they trudged back down thatdusty lane; 'ducks _are_ dreadfully dear things!'
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headpiece to Little Miss Muffle]
*Little Miss Muffle.*
Little Miss Muffle was sitting waiting. She had on her new winter coatand her new winter bonnet, and she sat as still as a mouse.
'LITTLE MISS MUFFLE WAS SITTING WAITING.']
'Why is little Miss Muffle so gay,In her winter coat and bonnet to-day?Because she is going with mother awayFor a drive in a carriage and pair,'
said Uncle George, coming into the room. He always called his nieceMiss Muffle, though her real name was Annette.
'Yes,' said Miss Muffle, 'I am going with my mother, and I shall not bea bit cold. I am never cold in the winter; my mother keeps me so warm.'
'Yes,' said Uncle George; 'your father and mother are rich, and can givetheir little girl all she wants. I wonder if Miss Muffle would like togo and see some little girls who have no warm coats or shoes andstockings?'
Miss Muffle looked up at Uncle George.
'I should like to see those little girls, Uncle George. Will you takeme to see them?'
So Uncle George went in the carriage with Miss Muffle and her mother.And as they were driving along he told the coachman to stop at some poorcottages near the road. He lifted Miss Muffle out of the carriage, andtold her mother they would not be long, if she would not mind waiting.Uncle George knocked at the door of the first cottage.
Miss Muffle gave a little shiver, for there was no fire, and s
ittingclose together on the floor were three little children, trying to getwarm under an old shawl of their mother's.
'And how are the children getting on at school?' said Uncle George.
'Only Ben has gone,' said the mother, 'for the others have on shoes,except a pair of slippers that they wear in turn on fine days, but suchweather as this they would be wet through at once.'
'Have they had their dinner?' asked Uncle George.
'They have each had a piece of dry bread; that is all I can give them,for the father is out of work.'
The tears were in Miss Muffle's eyes.
Uncle George slipped out of the door, and presently came back with agreat basket, which he opened, and gave each of the children a largesandwich, at sight of which their eyes gleamed with joy. How hungrythey were!
'And you must get some coal at once, Mrs. Trotter,' said Uncle George,putting some money on the table, and at the same time taking out of thebasket tea, sugar, bread, cheese, bacon, and all sorts of food. 'Andyou must have a good meal for your husband and the children, and we willsee about shoes and stockings in a day or two.'
'Uncle George,' said Miss Muffle, when they returned to the carriage, 'Iwill give them all the money I have, and father and mother will givesome, and we will buy clothes and shoes and stockings for the poorlittle children.
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headpiece to A New Red Riding-hood]
*A New Red Riding-hood.*