Chapter XXVIII: Ben Decides the Matter for Himself (5)

"Hullo! Where be ye goin'?" the occupant of the wagon yelled out, as the little woman ran suddenly almost into the face of the old white horse, who, recognizing an obstacle, gladly stood still in his tracks without the sharp twitch on the reins to pull him up.

"Now how yer goin' ter git by, an' what be yer runnin' so fur anyway, Mis' Hansell?" exclaimed the old man, all in one impatient breath.

The little widow drew a long sigh and glanced about her on either side. The hard, frozen wall seemed to oppress her, and she set her gaze on the old face under the fur cap, but pressed her thin lips together without a word.

"Well, ye're there an' ye can't git back," said the old man, twitching one rein violently in an effort to turn the wagon out an inch or two. "Shin up the bank, Mis' Hansell, shin up the bank, and then gimme yer hand, an' you can hop in here,"--he jerked his sharp chin over his shoulder,--"an' set on them bags, bein's th' seat's full." As indeed it was, a collection of various articles, going to the farmers' wives, occupying all the leather cushion not filled with the driver. "Ye've got to; I can't move a mite further," as the little woman hung back.

Her thin lips fell apart. "Are you going anywhere near Harrison road, Mr. Bramble?"

"Hey--Harrison road? Eh, yes, after a spell. I'm goin' first to the Potterses, an' th' Timmenses, an'--Land o' Goshen, I clean forgot,--I'm goin' to your house, Mis' Hansell, I clar to gracious, I am!" He clapped his knee with his big woollen mitten. "There, you hop in an' set on them bags, an' I'll take you home."

"But I'm not going home," said little Mrs. Hansell, creeping as closely to the wall of frozen snow as possible, in her endeavor to get by the team. "And if you've got to go to the Potterses and the Timmenses, I won't ride. Thank you kindly, Mr. Bramble."

She made another attempt to crowd by over the rough, jagged edges of the ice, lost her footing, and fell with her face against the wheel.

"Sho!" ejaculated Mr. Bramble, in great distress, "now ye've hurt ye! Couldn't ye have done as I said? But women have no sense no more'n hens; they must bunt up ag'in' sunthin', blind-headed. Get in, can't ye? Ye'll have to ride a piece anyway, till I get where I can turn round."

"It's no matter," said the little widow, wiping off a few drops of blood that trickled down her cheek, as she got in, being pulled up over the step by the firm grip of the knotted fingers in the woollen mitten, and sat down on the bags of grain, as bidden.

"That 'ere is your box," said Mr. Bramble, when he had seen her comfortably adjusted, and pointing with one mitten over his shoulder.

"Hey?" said little Mrs. Hansell, lost in thought that seemed to be very mournful, for she sighed deeply, and picked at the edge of her shawl where the fringe had been.

"Yes, 'tis yours, I say, your box." Mr. Bramble kept reiterating it, each time giving a fierce nod to the old fur cap that finally settled it well over his eyes. "It come yesterday over to the deepo at Purdy's, but I couldn't get here, th' goin's so bad."

The little widow said nothing. Having never received a box, conversation in regard to one couldn't possibly interest her, so she had failed to hear any reference to herself. And at last old Mr. Bramble, having got the white horse safely past the narrowest part of the road, whirled around on his seat and stared at her.

"Sakes alive, Mis' Hansell, are you deef?" he roared. "_You've got a box._"

"I?" said the little widow, turning a bewildered gaze up at him. "I--what _do_ you mean, Mr. Bramble?"

"You've got a box; _box_, I said." The expressman roared it at her so that the old white horse jerked up his tired head and took two rapid steps forward, positively by his own accord.

This wholly unsettling the dilapidated bonnet on the little widow's head so that it slid down her neck, with difficulty being recovered from flying out of the wagon altogether, and the shock of the announcement of the box occurring at the same moment, she was speechless again.

"Well, if I ever!" ejaculated Mr. Bramble, when he recovered from the astonishment into which his steed's burst of energy had plunged him. And giving his travelling companion up as a bad job so far as conversation was concerned, he relapsed into a sullen silence, neither of them speaking till a good half mile was slowly traversed.

And then he felt a timid twitch at the end of the old woollen scarf hanging over his back.

"Mr. Bramble, is that true?" and he glanced over his shoulder to see the thin face of the little widow working convulsively, while her faded eyes gleamed with excitement.

"Oh, ye've waked up, hev ye?" cried Mr. Bramble. "Yes, 'tis true, true as gospel writ, Mis' Hansell," he averred solemnly.

"True?" She had only breath to repeat the one word, and she hung on the answer.

"Sure as shootin'," declared the express driver. He clapped his knee smartly to enforce his words. "There 'tis now," he added suddenly, and pointing with his thumb over his shoulder; "you're a-settin' ag'inst it this blessed minute, Mis' Hansell."

Little Mrs. Hansell turned convulsively, gave one look at the big box looming up behind her, then covered her face with her thin hands, and rocked back and forth on the grain bags.

"Oh, I don't believe it; I can't. I hain't never had a box. 'Tain't mine."

"Well, I'm a-goin' to dump it at your house, anyway," declared Mr. Bramble, "for it's got your name on it."

"'Tain't mine, an' I must git out an' go to Harrison road an' tell Mr. Shuggs that he can come and take us all to the poorhouse, for--"

"Land!" exclaimed Mr. Bramble, in a mighty shout that puffed out his red cheeks like small bellows, "'tain't so bad as that, is it? Thunder an' lightnin', an' that was where ye were goin'?" He was taken with a sudden fit of coughing and he blew his nose violently, wiped his eyes with the back of his mitten, and glanced off at the towering mountains as if he had never seen them before.

"O dear, dear, dear!" The little woman huddled on the grain bags was now in such a bad state at having told her secret that he whirled around to look after her.

"I must whip up Billy an' git there quick, or she'll be out over the wheel with her didoes, like enough," and he slapped the back of the old white horse with the doubled-up end of the reins so effectively that in due time the wagon jounced over the icy ruts of the winding road, and drew up in front of the little cabin nestling at the foot of the hill, the express driver mumbling within his straggly beard: "Well, I am busted, who'd 'a' thought she an' them children was struck so hard!"

Instantly the door burst open and a brood of children, six in number, the baby being left to sprawl on the kitchen floor, plunged out, trooping over the frozen ground, some of them running on the crust of the polished snow lying high in banks--any way to get there the quicker.

To see their mother riding in state in Mr. Bramble's express wagon was a supreme event, and they clambered over the wheels and fairly swarmed around her, as she tremblingly tried to get down.

"Easy, easy there; sho now, can't you let her get down?" Mr. Bramble roared at them, pretending to be very much put out. But they paid not the slightest attention to him.

"Oh, Mammy!" they cried, surrounding her tumultuously.

"You've got hurt," exclaimed one of the big boys, seeing her cheek, and, "Oh, I'm so hungry," said Jane, the youngest, who, since her mother had really returned, thought it just as well to mention a fact she had been steadily reiterating all the morning.

"Hush up!" shouted Mr. Bramble, "and look here, Mat, an' you too, Mark and Luke, tumble out that box. Step lively now." Again his thumb came into service over his shoulder.

"Oh, bless my buttons, I never see such a dull lot," as the whole collection of children, big boys and all, stared open-mouthed at him, without offering to stir from their tracks. "I'll pitch it out myself." And with many grunts, for his legs were rheumatic, he slowly hitched himself off his seat, and laid hold of the box.

"Give us a grip, Mat," he sang out to the oldest boy. "This box has got to go into your house, an' I know _I_ ain't a-goin' to carry it. Come on!"

And instantly the whole swarm of children, wild with excitement, deserted their mother to crowd around Mr. Bramble and the boys.

"The baby's comin' out," screamed Elvira, with one hasty glance back at the cabin door, as she ran to the centre of attraction with the others.

The little widow turned where she had been left alone and sped frantically up to the broken steps, where little Susan, spatting her fat hands on the floor as she crawled along to see what the noise was all about, had just decided to tumble down. But instead of landing on the hard, frozen ruts, she was gathered up to her mother's thin breast and hugged and coddled.

"Oh, baby, baby." She sank down on the steps and rocked back and forth, Susan now spatting her thin cheeks and struggling to get away to where all that delightful noise was coming from. "Oh, good Lord, I can't believe it. We've got a box, Susan; we have, Susan, he says so, but I know he's made a mistake. And p'raps there's somethin' to eat in it, and I won't have to go to the selectmen an' tell 'em we'll go to the poorhouse. But 'tain't ours, I know 'tain't. _O Lord, they're bringin' it in!_"

And in another minute the little widow, hanging to Susan, was off the steps, the box was dragged over them by the united efforts of the three boys, their progress very much impeded by the crowding up of the girls, who were afraid they would miss something of the progress, Mr. Bramble looking on in great satisfaction. Then he climbed into his wagon, stared at the little cabin for another minute, where they had all disappeared, and drove off, blowing his nose violently, his eyes seeming to need a great deal of attention from the back of his gray woollen mitten.

Down went the big box with a thud in the very middle of the kitchen floor.

"Get the hammer," screamed Elvira, capering wildly, her black braids, tied with bits of string, flying out from either side of her head. "I'm goin' to get it myself," with a leap toward the corner.

"No such thing," Matthew roared at her. "I'll get it. Come back, Viry."

"The axe,"--Mark shouted it high above the din, as he rushed to get that necessary implement,--"that's better'n the hammer."

"Oo--Oo--Scree!" Susan, in dreadful distress at being bound in mother's arms, let her feelings have free vent in a wail that soared high above the crackling of the box cover as it splintered under the effort of both hammer and axe.

"And we can keep warm now." The little widow's eyes glistened at the pile of splintered boards tumbling down on the kitchen floor. "Oh, Susan," and she drew near, the whole cover being off now.

There was an awful pause, every one staring at the smooth layer of brown paper. The supreme importance of the event swept them all into silence.

"I'm goin' to peek first," announced Elvira, finding her tongue.

This unloosed all the others. "She shan't; Elviry's always a-pushin' first."

"Mammy, mayn't I?"

"No, let me." It was a babel in a minute.

"You be still." It was Matthew who commanded silence. "Mother's goin' to look first; it's _her_ box," he added convincingly.

The little widow would much rather have allowed this privilege to one of her brood, but it was difficult to choose between the five; so she put out her hand tremblingly, then drew it back.

"We'll let Susan do it," she said; "she couldn't go out to the wagon with the rest of you."

"Oh, yes, let baby do it," cried the others, easily pleased, and in a dreadful twitter to begin operations. "Yes, let baby," echoed Elvira, dashing away from the box to hug Susan, who, delighted at the opportunity, seized one of the black braids in her fat little hands, with a crow that disclosed the few teeth she possessed.

"Ow! Let me go!" screamed Elvira, very red in the face and twisting violently. "Moth_er_, Susan's got my _hair_! Slap her."

"Oh, no, no," said the little widow, getting the small, triumphant hands within her thin ones; "we wouldn't slap baby for anything. There, there, Susan mustn't. Naughty--naughty!"

Susan looked up in her mother's face to see if she really meant it, and concluding that she did, the black braid slid out of her hands, the string flying off to the floor.

"There, see what she's done! My hair's all untied," cried Elvira, in great vexation, and picking up the old white string; "she ought to be slapped," she added, bobbing her head decidedly, her black eyes flashing.

"Oh, no, no," said her mother again; "why, we couldn't slap our baby, Elviry, ever in all this world," and she pressed her closely to her breast. "Well, come, children, now Susan's going to pull up the paper."

"Wait!" screamed Elvira, the string between her teeth, and doubling over in great distress, "till I tie my braid. Oh, wait, Mammy."

"Oh, never mind! Viry, hurry up!" cried all the boys together. And the other children, capering around the big box, with many dashes and pickings from impatient fingers, made Mrs. Hansell say, "Stop, children; there now, hurry, Elviry. Yes, yes, Susan, you're going to do it," until at last the great moment had arrived, and the whole family was drawn up around the centre of operations, each one scarcely daring to breathe.

"Now, baby," said the little widow, grasping Susan's fat hand in one of her thin ones, "you must take hold of one end of the paper; there, see," and she folded the little one's fingers over it. But Susan preferred to spat the smooth surface, and to crow loudly. So it was really Mother Hansell after all that lifted the veil and opened up fairyland to view.

XIV

THE CHILDREN IN THE MOUNTAIN CABIN

"Heaven bless me!" exclaimed the little widow. Then she put Susan on the floor, and fell on her knees.

"Mammy, Mammy, look!" the children were hopping wildly around the big box, clutching the sides, each attempting to get hold of their mother's head as it sank between her trembling hands, while she rocked herself to and fro. At last Elvira, unable to keep her hold of the box-edge, the others were crowding her so, and at the same time to attract her mother's attention, stamped her foot violently and howled, "_Look!_" way up above all the rest of the voices.

"Oh, 'tisn't for us; 'tisn't for us. It's got to go back," moaned Mrs. Hansell, shivering down further between her hands.

At the mention of the box going back, dire alarm struck all the group into sudden silence, and they stared into each other's faces in the greatest distress.

"It shan't," screamed Elvira; "it's ours," and she plunged into the box with both hands, pulling out bundles, which she dropped to the floor, in order to dive for more.

"You hold on," cried Matthew and Mark, seizing her little brown hands.

"You lemme be!" cried Elvira, in a fury.

"No, we ain't a-goin' to let you be," cried Jane. The other girl, who had picked up Susan, who was sprawling in everybody's way, and run over to a corner to barricade her with a big chair turned upside down, now came hurrying back, determination in every line of her thin little face.

"An' I say you ain't a-goin' to either, Elviry Hansell," she declared; "that box ain't yours."

Elvira had no time to retort, "An' 'tain't yours either, Matilda," for she was struggling so with the boys that she had too scant breath to waste in replies. But she whirled a red face over to her sister for a second, while she twisted her wiry little arms in frantic endeavors to get free from the stronger grips upon them.

"Come on," said Matilda, coolly, to Jane, and to Luke, who never would take part in any family quarrel against Elvira, "and we'll pull her petticoat and tickle her legs. Then she'll let go."

"That's not fair," said Luke, glowering at her.

"Huh, I don't care."

"An' 'tis, too," cried Matilda, gleefully. "Come on, Jane, you tickle one leg, and I'll tickle the other, and then she's got to let go."

"Ow," cried Elvira, who knew quite well what to expect from the tickling process, and tucking up first one leg, then the other. "Go 'way, I'll kick dreadful!"

"She will," said Jane, fearfully, who also knew what to expect, as she and Matilda crouched on the floor, with fingers all ready for the attack.

"Huh! S'posin' she does? 'Fraid-cat," said Matilda, scornfully, "can't you scrouge back?"

"No, I can't," said Jane, truthfully, "not in time."

"Then, I tell you." Matilda slid off on the old floor, holding Jane's calico apron-end. "I'll tell you; you tickle first, an' when she's kicking you, I'll tickle the other leg, and she can't--"

"You tickle first," said Jane, interrupting.

"All right, I will," promised Matilda; "only you're so afraid, you won't tickle in time."

"Yes, I will," said Jane; "as long as she ain't kickin' me, I don't care."

"Well, come on," and Matilda slid cautiously up behind the ragged little shoes that ended Elvira's legs, and, understanding through long experience how to bide her time, she bestowed such stinging little nips on the nearest red woollen stocking, that Elvira sent it out with a spiteful kick, just too short to reach the attacking party, who took a long slide back on the floor. And having the same attention now being paid to her other woollen leg, and her two hands full with the boys, it was easy to see that Elvira would soon be pushed quite away from her vantage ground by the big box.

Meantime Susan had crawled over her barricade, with mind intent on joining the family party again around the big box, but, meeting a large wad of paper, she changed her plan, and sat placidly still, chewing it into bits, which she spit out of her mouth with happy little crows.

And now, with four good pairs of hands busy at unpacking, why, it is needless to say that the big box was soon to be quite empty. Elvira ran around and around the sides, trying to crowd herself in somewhere. But they wouldn't let her in, nor Luke either, who they quite well knew would give her up his place as soon as he got it.

"I don't care a single bit," at last cried Elvira, finding all her efforts useless; "I'll take the bundles an' open 'em, so there!" with a dash at the nearest one on the floor.

"No--sir--ee!" exclaimed Matthew, flying away from the big box to pursue her; "we're goin' to open 'em all together. Drop that, now, Viry Hansell!"

But easier said than done. Elvira, clutching the big bundle, raced around and around the kitchen, Matthew after her, till, in an unwary moment, she turned too suddenly; over she went, coming flat down on Susan, with her big wad of paper in her mouth.

"Now, then," cried Matthew, angrily, "see what you've done!" And stopping first to pick up the baby, it gave Elvira just the time she wanted. But where should she fly?

Just then a gust of wind answered her. It blew the crazy old door, always loose on its hinges, free, and with a whoop she pushed it wide, and flew out with her prize.

"All right. Now you won't come in again," declared Matthew, decidedly, who had set Susan in her mother's lap, and slamming the door, he pushed an old nail into the hole over the latch. "That fixes you, Miss Elviry Hansell," and back he went to the interrupted scene of his operations.

"Where's Elviry?" asked Luke, anxiously, as the bustle went on.

"Outdoors," said Matthew, concisely.

"Outdoors?" repeated Luke. "It's cold there."

"Well, she can run and keep warm. I'm goin' to let her in, in a minute. Now, then, we've everythin' out," peering into the box-depth.

"Let's get into a ring round Mammy an' open 'em one at a time," said Mark.

"All right," said Matthew, approvingly. "Come on, move the bundles. All hands now. Take hold, Luke."

But Luke stood quite still. "She can't keep warm a-runnin'," he said.

"Yes, she can; and besides, she's a naughty girl. She's always a naughty girl," said Matthew. "Come ahead, Luke, I'll take care of Elviry, an' let her in, in a minute, I tell you."

But Luke preferred to see to the matter himself. So, in the midst of the bustle attendant upon getting ready to open the bundles, he slid out, with Mrs. Hansell's old black shawl, and scampered around the corner of the house.

"Where be you, Elviry?" he cried, under his breath, and wishing he could put the old shawl around himself.

"Here," said a voice, and looking off, he jumped, for there on a high snowbank, back of the old pump, was a boy in a big overcoat with a red woollen tippet tied around his head.

Luke took one good look, then sprang for the house.

"Oh, you silly thing," cried Elvira's voice, "it's me! Come here, Luke!"

It was so unmistakably Elvira's voice that Luke stared again, and, rubbing his eyes at every step, he stumbled up, putting the old shawl under his arm.

"What you got on?" he gasped, staring wildly at her.

"Hee-hee-hee!" giggled Elvira, drumming her old shoes against the rutty snowbank. "Come up here, an' I'll tell you."

As Luke wouldn't be told until he got up there, he lost no time in doing so, and was soon beside her, with the whites of his eyes showing generously in a prolonged stare at the overcoat and red woollen tippet.

"What _you_ got?" demanded Elvira, feeling quite elegant and sociable, and smoothing down the overcoat front with contented fingers.

"Mammy's shawl--for you," said Luke.

"I don't want it," said Elvira, picking at the end of the woollen tippet with her little finger quirked up elegantly. "Put it on yourself," which Luke was only too glad to do.

"Where'd you get 'em?" gasped Luke, forgetting in his worry over Elvira's being out in the cold, any big bundle she might have had in possession at the time of her departure and laying fearful fingers on the magnificent coat-sleeve.

"O dear, hee-hee-hee!" Elvira went off into a giggle again. And she swung her feet smartly back and forth. "Why, see there, Luke Hansell!" She flapped the coat collar back suddenly. "See there!" she repeated.

"Where?" said Luke, stupidly.

"Why, there, you silly thing, see that paper! 'For Biggest Boy.' I know. I've spelled it all out."

"Well, I don't see," began Luke, blankly, huddling up in the old shawl and wishing it was bigger.

"Oh, you, I'd like to shake you, Luke!" cried Elvira, twisting her hands together nervously; "it's just as bad as it can be to be so stupid. I _ought_ to shake you."

"You may," said Luke, humbly, who had given that answer many times to Elvira, but had never yet received the shaking.

"'Twouldn't be any use, you'd be just as stupid," she said with a sigh. "Well, Matthew's our biggest boy, ain't he?"

"Yes," said Luke, "he is."

"Well, an' so this coat an' tippet's meant for him," said Elvira, composedly, and drawing her cold fingers well up within the thick sleeves.

"_That coat for Matthew!_" cried Luke, slipping off from his snowy perch; "_an' that tippet, too!_" With that he lost his head completely, and, getting entangled in the ragged fringe of the shawl, over he went, rolling down against the frozen pump.

Meantime the heads of all the children remaining in the old kitchen, except that of Susan, who had squirmed out of her mother's lap to the delight of her paper-chewing again, were pushed tight up over Matthew's shoulder, as he laboriously spelled out a letter found in the midst of the bundle-opening.

"'Mrs. Hansell'--that's Mother," explained Matthew.

"Yes, yes, we know," said Matilda, scornfully; "go on."

"Well, stop pinching me," demanded Matthew, dropping his hand with the letter in his lap to turn a pair of indignant black eyes upon her.

"I didn't," said Matilda, but she ducked nevertheless; "it was Jane."

"Oh, what a story; I didn't neither," said Jane, with round eyes at her.

"Well, do you get right straight down, Matilda Hansell. You ain't goin' to look over, now."

"I won't get down. And I will look too," declared Matilda, savagely.

"Let's see you." With that Matthew shifted his seat on the floor; seeing which, Jane nimbly slipped into Matilda's place.

"Oh, now, that's my place, Jane Hansell," cried Matilda, with a very red face and blazing eyes.

"No, 'tain't," said Matthew, "that's Jane's. Now you keep still, or I'll put you out along with Elviry."

"I'll tell Mother you put Elviry out," said Matilda, with venom.

"Well, you needn't," said Matthew, composedly; "an' she ain't cold, 'cause Luke's took her out Mammy's big shawl. I seen him."

"'Mrs. Hansell,'" and he fell to reading the letter again. "'I re-mem, m-e-m,'--yes, that's it,--'ber, b-e-r--remember you did my wash--washing last summer. You a-p-p-e-a-r-e-d--'" Matthew scratched his head, looked sideways at the word, then full in front, with great determination, then gave it up as a bad job, and slid over it, hoping the children wouldn't notice it.

"Elviry'd read that," said Matilda, "as quick's anythin'."

"'To have a g-r-e-a-t great many c-h-i-l-d-r-e-n, so I t-h-o-u-g-h-t,'"--again Matthew scratched his head and gave great diligence to the word, but was forced to relinquish it also, plunging on,--"'I would send you a box.'" That was plain enough, especially as the box was there before them. "'Some of the a-r-t-i-c-l-e-s--' What in the world is that?" cried Matthew, in despair.

"Go on," cried Matilda; "p'raps the rest will tell."

So Matthew hastened on, "'are s-e-l-e-c-t-e-d--'" Here Matthew felt obliged to omit two lines. "'The o-v-e-r-c-o-a-t,'"--somehow Matthew knew by intuition what that spelt,--"'and the red t-i-p-p-e-t are for your biggest boy--'" Down went the letter to the floor, to be pounced on by Matilda's greedy fingers. Matthew, regardless of this, swept Jane aside, and pawing each bundle this way and that, twitched the strings off, making havoc generally in the piles of presents.

"'Tain't here; she's forgotten to send it," he howled, and, "biggest boy" though he was, he threw himself flat on the floor and cried as hard as he could. Everybody stopped in dismay to hear him.

"Hee-hee-hee!" giggled a voice close to the broken window-pane. Elvira flapped up both arms in the overcoat sleeves, and bobbed her head, tied up in the red tippet.

"Oh!" screamed all the children in such a voice that Matthew raised his head a minute. The next he was flinging wide the crazy old door.

"Don't you wish you may get 'em?" screamed Elvira, making quick time off up the bank, and flapping the coat sleeves derisively.

"That's mine, that coat and tippet!" screamed Matthew, flying after her; "mine--_mine_!"

XV

THE MINISTER LOOKS AFTER HIS PARISHIONERS

Matilda, clutching the precious letter in her greedy fingers, said quite importantly, "Now, children, you can come and look over me while I read it."

"Children!" snorted Mark, in a fury. "I'm twice as big as you. Give that letter here, Tilly Hansell," making a dash for it.

"I ain't a-goin' to, ain't, ain't," screamed Matilda, in a fright, and commencing a mad rush around the kitchen. Then, seeing Mark gaining on her, and Jane running to head her off and deliver her up to him, she turned suddenly and flung the letter into the little widow's lap, where she still crouched on the floor.

"It's Mammy's letter, anyway; 'tain't yours," she cried triumphantly.

"Mammy, can't I read it?" cried Mark, throwing himself down by her side, and spreading his red, chapped hand over the letter.

"Read what?" said Mrs. Hansell, lifting her dazed face.

"Your letter. 'Twas in the box," said Mark, clapping his other hand on it, too, and keeping a sharp lookout for Matilda's next move.

"Mayn't I? I had it before he did, Mammy." Matilda flung herself down by the little woman's side. "Mark's awful mean--he's always pickin' and grabbin'."

"I don't know what you mean, children," said the little widow, turning perplexed eyes from one to the other.

"Well, I'll tell you," cried Mark. "Now keep still, Matilda. You've got a letter, Mammy, in the box, and mayn't I read it?"

"I've got a letter?" repeated little Mrs. Hansell, in a bewildered way.

"Yes, yes," cried Matilda, impatiently. "Now, Mark Hansell, it's mine; I had it first." With that she slapped his red hands with her two little fists. "Anyhow, I'll keep mine on top of yours," suiting the action to the words.

"You won't get the letter," said Mark, with a grin, flattening his hands tightly over it. "Mammy, mayn't I read it? Do hurry an' say yes. Tilly's actin' just awful."

"I've got a letter?" repeated Mrs. Hansell, looking around the old kitchen. When her glance reached the big box, and pile of bundles scattered about, she clasped her hands and burst into tears. "It's too good to be true," she cried; "I can't believe it."

"Why, the box is there. See it," and Mark unguardedly hopped to his feet, ran up to it, and slapped it triumphantly with a resounding thwack.

"There--Mark Hansell, I've got it!" He turned to see Matilda, too excited to keep still, waving the letter, and hopping from one foot to the other. When she saw Mark coming, she wisely took refuge under her mother's arm, within which she tucked the letter, gripped fast in her hand.

Mrs. Hansell sat up suddenly. "Did you say there was a letter come in that box?" she demanded, unwonted energy coming into her pale, tired eyes.

"Yes, I've been a-tellin' you so for ever so long," said Mark, in great chagrin, "an' now Tilly's grabbed it away from me."

"I didn't; I had it before," said Matilda, squirming up tightly to her mother.

"Give me that letter," said her mother.

Matilda, with anxious eyes on Mark, set the letter, now much wrinkled, in her mother's thin hand, and held her breath in suspense.

"Well, as Matthew ain't here," casting a glance around the kitchen, "you're the next biggest, Mark, so you may read it," at last said Mrs. Hansell.

"Ow!" grumbled Matilda, very much discomfited.

Mark, too jubilant to get the letter, wasted no time in his triumph, but, sitting down on the floor in front of his mother, spread it out, and began his attempt to find out what it said. Jane came up and planted herself by his side.

"'Mrs. Hansell,'" read Mark, quite fluently.

"Matthew read that," said Matilda, sourly.

"You stop," said Mark, without looking at her; "I'm reading this to Mammy. 'Mrs. Hansell, I remember you did my washing last summer.'"

"Hoh! He ain't readin'; he's only sayin' what Matthew read, Mammy. Mammy, Matthew's read all that." Matilda got up to her knees and hugged her mother around the throat.

"Sit down," said Mrs. Hansell. The conviction that she really had a box had been slow in growing, but now that she was sure of it, it was quite time to set up authority equal to such magnificence.

Matilda slid down meekly, her arms falling away in amazement to her lap.

"'You a-p-p-e-a-r-e-d--'" Mark stuck fast on the word that had floored Matthew, and helplessly shook his head.

"What is it?" demanded his mother. Since she really had a letter, she was going to have every word of it.

So Mark began again, but it was no use. Flounder and guess as he might, it was impossible to say what that dreadful assortment of letters might mean.

"Oh, well, if you can't read it, Mark," said Mrs. Hansell, coolly, "I must get some one who can."

"Let me try, Mammy, let me," begged Matilda, with two eager little hands thrust out.

"I can read the next words," declared Mark, hanging on to the letter like grim death.

"No, the next ones won't do. I must have the whole of the letter," said Mrs. Hansell, with great dignity. "Yes, you can try now, Matilda," and she picked the sheet from Mark's hand, to be hungrily seized by Matilda.

"She can't read any better'n a pig," said Mark in great scorn. "Now, what is it, Matilda Hansell?"

Matilda turned her shoulders on him, and spelled backward and forward, up and down, with the greatest vigor, but all to no purpose. Her face was red as fire, and she had all she could do to keep from crying, but still she struggled on.

"No, that won't do. You can't read it either," said Mrs. Hansell at length, in the midst of Mark's "What did I tell you, Mammy? Ho! Ho!"

"Now, children, it's just this way," she continued, "some one has got to read that letter, 'cause it explains th' whole thing,--th' box an' all,--so one of you may take it down to the minister an' ask him to please read it for me."

"Oh, let me, Mammy, let me," cried Matilda, seizing her mother's arm.

"No, me; I'm goin'; I'm the biggest," said Mark, having no relish that Matilda should see the inside of the parson's house before he did. Besides, on that important errand!

"Yes, I'm not sure but you ought to go, seem' Matthew ain't here," said Mrs. Hansell.

"O dear!" Matilda flung herself flat on the floor with such wails that Susan crept up, her mouth full of chewed paper, to see what it was all about.

"Hush making such a noise! Well, you may go, too," said their mother. "Oh, mercy me, what you been a-eatin', Susan? Spit it right out this minute," as she gathered her up in her arms.

"An' I'm a-goin' to carry th' letter," declared Matilda, racing up with her tattered old hood and the remnant of a black cloak, "so there!" bobbing her head at Mark.

"No such thing. I shall carry it; I'm the biggest," said Mark, decidedly.

"So you always say," cried Matilda, fretfully, and taking out a pin from her mouth, she brought the two sides of the hood together in a fashion that kept it on at least.

"Well, an' I am," said Mark, "so I always shall say it."

"Mammy, can't I carry the letter part way to the minister's?" begged Matilda, running over to her mother.

"You're not goin' to," declared Mark, stiffly, and marching off to the door.

"What is it?" asked Mrs. Hansell, poking out with her finger the chewed wads of paper that appeared to be the last packed away in Susan's mouth. "Dear me, it's a wonder you ain't choked to death. What'd you say? Oh, yes, you may carry it part way. There, there!" as she set the squirming baby straight on her lap.

"There, Mammy says I can," Matilda shouted triumphantly, and spinning around on one set of toes, till the old hood slipped away from the pin and fell to the floor.

"Did you, Mammy?" cried Mark, running back to Mrs. Hansell.

"Did I what?" asked his mother. "Dear me, I wonder how much this child has swallowed."

"Say Matilda could carry the letter part way?"

"Yes, I did. Now hurry along an' behave, both of you. An' be quick, or I'll send Jane after all, and keep you to home."

This would be so much worse than giving up the letter for half the distance, that Mark took himself off without delay. Matilda scuttled after and slammed the old door as tight as it would shut.

It was certainly an hour by the old clock that wheezed crazily in the corner, and struck whatever time it chose, when steps were heard coming up the frozen path. The door burst open, and in rushed Matilda and Mark, and after them, at a slower pace, as befitted his calling, Mr. St. John, the minister of the mountain parish. The rest of the family sat in gloomy or impatient silence around the big box. All but Matthew; he was radiant in an overcoat, that, had anybody attempted to fit to him, certainly couldn't have been more of a success. And all around his neck was tied a thick, red woollen tippet that seemed to possess no end, so much was left that was wound generously around his head. He was strutting up and down the old kitchen floor, patting his shaggy sleeves, and feeling the thickness of the overcoat skirts, and saying "Ah!" in a tone of the greatest satisfaction.

Luke, unable to take his eyes from him, followed every movement silently, while Elvira, nearly bursting with impatience, sat on the floor, alternately drumming on the side of the big box and bullying Jane, when unfortunate enough to get in her way.

"There! Now let's open the bundles," screamed Elvira, hopping to her feet. "Mark and Tilly have come!"

"For shame, Elviry," reproved her mother, sharply, who now came in from the bedroom, after seeing that Susan was really asleep, and not in convulsions over a diet of paper wads. "Can't you see the minister comin'? Oh, good day, sir!" She dropped him what was meant for a courtesy, and, wiping off a chair with her blue checked apron, she looked around on all her little group for their best behavior.

"I thought it better to come myself, my good woman," said the minister. He was quite young, this being his first parish, and only regarded as a sort of missionary effort to get his hand in after the theological seminary. "Ah--I quite forget your name, madam, as you are so seldom at church."

"Hansell, sir," said the little widow, with another effort at a courtesy. "An' I live so far, sir, from the church, it's not easy gettin' there, if you please." She did not add, "And how can I, without anything to wear?"

"Ah, yes, no doubt," answered the Rev. Mr. St. John, reassuringly. "Well, I considered it best to come and read the letter to you myself, as it contains important directions. I will do so now," and he spread it open on one hand, all the family coming up, even Matthew, losing sight for a moment of his new splendor.

"'Mrs. Hansell,'" read the minister, clearing his throat, "'I remember you did my washing last summer. You appeared to have a great many children, so I thought I would send you a box. Some of the articles are selected with reference to the ages of the members of your family. For instance, the overcoat and the red tippet are for your biggest boy.'"

"I know it," cried Matthew, unable to keep still, and beginning to strut again. "I've got it on."

The minister looked and nodded at him. This unloosed Matthew's tongue, who, before that, had been afraid of him. "I tell you what, it's bully!" he declared, peering out from the folds of the red tippet; "an' this, too," patting his head.

"So 'tis," said the Rev. Mr. St. John, with a little laugh.

"'There are some jackets and trousers for the other boys.'"

"_Ow!_" Mark and Luke both gave a howl together and darted off toward the pile of bundles.

"Come back this minute," demanded the little widow, sharply. "And, oh, sir, would you mind reading real smart like," she said to the minister, "'cause we can't wait much longer to see what's in them bundles." She was twisting her apron-end now with nervous fingers, and a red spot mounted to either thin cheek.

"Indeed, I will," said the young man, obligingly. "Well, let me see, where was I? Oh,--'The other things you will know quite well how to dispose of.

"'Now I wish you to allow me to have three of your children--your two oldest boys and one girl--to stay a few weeks at my house. This will help you, and I do not doubt that I shall get some amusement out of it. The girl will make the boys behave, I feel quite sure. You may choose which daughter; it makes no difference to me. Ask Mr. St. John, the minister, you know, to put them on the train under the care of the conductor, and then to telegraph me. I enclose a check for all expenses. And I wish you all a Merry Christmas.

"'HENRIETTA VAN RUYPEN,'

"Well, well, well." The Rev. Mr. St. John spread the letter on his knee, then fell to stroking his chin, where he was fondly expecting a beard some fine day. "To think of that old money bags," he was going to say, but pulled himself up in time.

"I did do her washing," the little widow was standing in front of him, still twitching her apron-end, "and she was awful cross, and--"

"Well, something has happened to change her," said the minister, "there's no denying. As I remember last summer, she was not a pleasant person to talk to."

"An' that she wasn't," said Mrs. Hansell. "She was that partik'ler 'bout a cent in change. But that box--" she stopped and turned her eyes over toward it.

"Yes, the box, and the invitation for the children to visit her," said the minister. "You can't get around these facts without believing she's entirely changed."

"The what?" said the little widow.

"Why, the invitation for the children, at least three of them, to visit her," said the young man.

"An' where'd she say that, if you please?"

"Why, I just read it to you," he said, a trifle impatiently.

"Oh, no, excuse me, sir." The poor woman's head was now turning from side to side in bewilderment; the children, who had understood as little, beginning to clamor lustily for the bundles to be opened.

Upon this the Rev. Mr. St. John said, "Stop, this moment!" bringing down his foot, "Just as he slaps the Bible," whispered Elvira, who had been to church one eventful Sunday. "I will read it to you again," which he did.

"And now, what have you done with the check?"

"Check? I don't know what you mean," said the little widow, utterly incapable of understanding anything more after that invitation!

"Why, the check,--dear me,--the money she sent."

"She hasn't sent me no money. She paid me for the washing when she was here," said Mrs. Hansell.

"I mean the money she sent in the letter," he shook it at her; "the paper check to pay for the children's railroad fare. Where is it?"

"I hain't seen no money," said Mrs. Hansell, putting up her hand uncertainly to her poor bewildered head.

Thereupon the minister decided to take matters into his own hands. So getting off from his chair, "Children," he said, "not one of these bundles can be opened until we find something that has been dropped out of this letter. A little strip of paper."

"I guess Susan's et it," said Elvira, cheerfully.

"Oh, no, that cannot be."

"Yes, 'tis," she defied him, "she's been eatin' paper just awful."

"Well, look for it as hard as you can. I'll help you." The minister dropped to all fours, and together they all looked over the papers and bundles strewn in confusion around the big box. No strip of paper was to be seen.

"This is very dreadful," said the Rev. Mr. St. John, at last, getting up to his feet, and snapping off the wisps of straw from his clothes, which he was glad to reflect were not his best ones.

"Now can't we open the bundles?" screamed Matilda.

"Yes, can't we? can't we?" begged the others, except Matthew, who was wholly concerned in himself and his new attire.

"Everythin's out of the old box," said Mark, giving it a kick.

"Yes, everythin'," said Elvira, taking a flying leap past it, and peering in once more, "'cept an old scrap o' paper." She dived into its depths and brought up a long, thin strip, which she waved disdainfully before casting it off. At sight of which, the minister sprang and twisted it out of her hands. "Oh, the check! Well, I _am_ thankful that's found!"

But this fell on careless ears after all. For was not the opening of the wonderful bundles at last to be allowed! And for the next half hour nothing was heard but the tearing of paper, the bursting of string, and the howls of delight from the young brood and the half-frightened, tearful ejaculations from the little mother. No one stopped in the process of unfolding the treasures, except to dig the teeth into a cracker or a bun, too hungry to wait.

"Tea, Mammy!" Mark bundled a package that spilt half its contents into his mother's lap, then rushed back for more treasures.

"Thank the Lord!" she cried, involuntarily, and hungrily gathering up each morsel.

The minister turned aside his face to look out of the window, pretending to see something very attractive in the drear winter landscape, and so the babel went on.

At last all the unfolding was done. "Now then," said the Rev. Mr. St. John, "you understand, don't you, that Matthew and Mark are to go, and one of the girls, to visit Mrs. Van Ruypen?"

"See my new dress," interrupted Matilda, prancing up with a red merino gown, resplendent in gilt buttons all down the back.

"That's mine," said Elvira, dropping the blue one, which she had selected, now that she saw how pretty the red one looked.

"'Tain't either. This is too big for you. Anyway, it's mine," said Matilda, folding it within her arms, and getting off the kitchen-length from her sister.

"Children, children, stop quarrelling," commanded the minister.

"Huh, I ain't afraid o' him," said Elvira to Luke, and pointing to the minister, who since he had been down on the floor with them, hunting for the check, had seemed quite one of the family.

"Now which one of the girls shall you allow to go to Madam Van Ruypen's?" asked the minister. "She has left it to you, Mrs. Hansell."

"Oh, I don't know, I'm sure," she said helplessly.

"You can send which one you like," he said kindly, and smiling down at her encouragingly.

"Well, Elviry ain't goin', anyway," said Matthew, with great decision.

"Where?" Elvira dropped her blue gown in a heap, and ran up to her mother's chair. "Where ain't I goin', Mammy?" but she looked up into the minister's face for the reply.

"Oh, visiting with Matthew and Mark," he said laughingly at her.

"What's visiting?"

"Oh, a little journey. But be quiet now, and give your mother time to think."

"What's a journey?" demanded Elvira, without the least hesitation.

"Oh, going away on the cars."

"Are Matthew and Mark goin'?" asked Elvira, with a long breath, and very big eyes.

"Yes. Well, Mrs. Hansell, what do you say?"

"I don't know."

"I'm goin'; I'm goin'," announced Elvira, capering away.

"Be quiet, child, your mother hasn't decided," said the minister.

"I'm goin'; I'm goin'," Elvira kept on, shouting and dancing away as hard as she could, which presently brought the other two girls up to their mother's chair with a clamor to know what it was all about.

When it was explained, the trouble was so great the minister had more than two minds to flee the scene and let the little widow get out of it as best she might. At last a happy thought struck him.

"Mrs. Hansell, you might let them draw," he said; "strips of paper, you know. Now that's the very idea!" He clapped his hands like a boy. "Now, Matthew, get the pieces."

"It's the littlest, ain't it?" said Matthew, hurrying, as fast as the dignity of the great coat and tippet would allow, to obey the minister.

"No, no, the longest," said the minister, laughing. "Now, girls, you must stand in a row--there--and toe that crack. That's it," as they scuttled into place on the old kitchen floor. "Now then, my boy, hurry up." He was as excited as the children themselves, and found it as difficult to wait.

"Now shut your eyes," and he turned his eyes on the line of girls, while Matthew handed him the little strips.

"Tilly's peekin'," announced Luke.

"I ain't," said Matilda, twisting her eyelids tightly together; "not a single squint, so there, Luke Hansell."

"Well, all ready!" The minister whirled around, the little strips neatly placed, and all presenting the same appearance, between his two hands. "Matilda, you're the oldest; you may draw first."

"O dear! I don't know which one," said Matilda, putting out her brown hand, then drawing it back with a jerk.

"Of course not," said Matthew, bursting into a laugh; "if you did that would be peekin'."

"Well, you must hurry, and give your sisters a chance," said the minister.

"I don't want to; I want to go myself," said Matilda, hanging back.

"Then you don't want to draw," said the young man, severely. "Very well, you give up your chance. Elvira, it's your turn."

"Oh, I will, I will," cried Matilda, terribly alarmed, and, making a lunge, she twitched out the middle piece, so very tiny it was scarcely worth being there at all.

"Hoh, hoh!" snickered Mark. And Luke gave a little crow. Badly as he should miss Elvira, he wouldn't for the world want her to lose the chance of going.

"Now, Elvira."

"Oh, I'm goin'," she said, confidently, laying hold of the outside piece.

Luke trembled; that couldn't be the one. Out it came,--there was a second's lull,--and a strip so long it had to be doubled up in the middle was flying from her hand.

"I told you I was goin'," she said.

XVI

WHO WILL HELP?

The Van Ruypen butler came down the rose-tinted room, known as madam's boudoir, with his usual soft, catlike tread, and stood by her very chair for a moment without being seen. She appeared lost in thought, her head bent on her hand, and her right foot tapping impatiently on the carpet.

"If you please, madam," said the serving-man, with a little apologetic cough to announce his presence, "I--"

"Well," interrupted his mistress, sharply, and lifting her head with an impatient gesture, "what is it, Hooper?" Then, without waiting for an answer, she got out of her chair, and went quickly across the apartment to her writing-desk. "I want you to take a note to Mr. King's, to little Miss Pepper," and she began to write hastily, and as if no very good humor inspired her thought.

"If you please, madam," said Hooper, obsequiously, "little Master Pepper is downstairs now."

"Hey? What is that you are saying?" demanded the old lady, throwing down her pen to turn away from the writing-table.

"He's downstairs," repeated Hooper, "the little Pepper lad."

"Which one?" cried madam, quickly.

"_The_ one, madam," said the butler; "I don't know his name."

"Then it must be Joel," said the old lady, and a smile of great satisfaction began to run over her strongly marked face. "Show him up at once, Hooper; at once," she added, with an imperious wave of her hand that set all the heirlooms of rings to shining at a great rate.

"Yes, madam," said Hooper, getting out on his errand as expeditiously as possible.

"To think that Joel has really come!" she exclaimed to herself joyfully. She deserted her writing-table now and began to walk up and down the apartment, her long fingers nervously playing with the silken cord of her elaborate morning gown. "Oh, Joel," as her restless feet brought her near the door, "there you are, my boy."

"Yes'm," said Joel, wholly miserable, and leaning against the casing, with his black eyes fastened on the staircase, as if the way to Paradise lay there.

"Well, come in. Don't stand there any longer. Pray come in." She waved her hand authoritatively toward the centre of the apartment, then followed him, as he crept dismally in. "Now sit down," she said, in her most sociable way.

So Joel sat down and fastened his eyes on the beautiful red velvet carpet.

"So you've come to see me this time, instead of my going to call on you," said Madam Van Ruypen, to set him at his ease.

"Yes'm," said Joel, "Mamsie made me come."

"That's not very polite," observed the old lady, dryly. Which so added to Joel's confusion, that he folded his small brown hands together tightly, with a wild idea of springing off down the long stairs and out of the big house--but Mamsie. Oh, he couldn't do it! So he sat still, hardly daring to breathe.