Cricket

Mamie went sneaking past them to the house and went into the kitchen where her mother was at work.

“Oh, ma!” she cried. “The girls has been in the barnyard where that cross cow is, ’n’ Cricket got knocked over the fence, and Eunice is most killed I guess, ’n’ I don’t b’lieve she kin walk home.”

“Got hooked! Law ful suz! You don’t say so!” and ’Manda hurriedly wiped her hands and ran out to the lane. The barn was not far from the house, but the kitchen was on the further side, so she had not noticed the children’s screams.

She ran to meet the girls and caught Eunice up in her strong arms. “You poor little dear,” she exclaimed. “I’ll carry you right along myself. Here, Cricket, you hang on to me too;” for Cricket was limping by this time, with her knee aching more every minute.

’Manda was very comforting, for she was too used to the children’s mishaps even to ask how things had happened. “Come in and rest a spell,” she coaxed, “and let me put some hot water on your head, poor dear.”

“I want to go home,” repeated Eunice, still half-crying.

“Well, so you shall, an’ I’ll carry you right up there, myself. ’Course yer ma’s yer best friend when you’re hurt. Hi! there goes the doctor now! Hi! Hi!”

Dr. Ward, returning from his call, drew up his horse as he crossed the little bridge at the sound of the cry.

“Suthin’ happened, just the same as usual, doctor,” ’Manda said, as the party came up, with Mamie well in the rear.

The doctor sprang out of his buggy, looking rather anxious. There were certainly drawbacks to having a pair of romps for daughters.

He hastily took Eunice in his arms.

“What is the matter, dear. Did you fall?”

“Not—not exactly,” said Eunice. “I don’t know exactly what happened, but somehow Cricket flew over the fence, and fell on top of me, and—and I think my head knocked into a stone, and my back hurts too.”

“Flew over the fence? What do you mean?”

“That old cow hooked me over,” flashed out Cricket. “We were see-sawing, just peaceably, and the old thing came up behind me and boosted me right over the fence, and ’course I fell on Eunice pretty hard, and we got all mixed up with the end of the boards and some stones. Eunice is more hurt than I am, though.”

“The cow,” said the doctor, looking suddenly stern. “Did you go into the barnyard?”

“Yes, sir, we always do, you know.”

“Didn’t you get my message?”

“Yes—but—well, I didn’t really believe Mamie, ’cause she didn’t say why,” burst out Cricket, after a moment’s hesitation. “And we always go in the barns whenever we wish, and ’Gustus John never says a word. And oh, dear! I do feel as if the socket was pulled out of my arm.” And Cricket, between excitement and pain, burst out crying.

Her father had gathered enough from her story to feel sure that there had been no real disobedience, and seeing the children’s nervousness and pain, he put them both into the buggy, and as speedily as possible gave them over into the care of mamma and nurse.

It was several days before Eunice was herself again, for she had really had a hard blow both on the back and head, and for two days she was actually willing to remain in bed. She really very seldom met with accidents, for she was not by nature nearly so much of a romp as her younger sister, and was far less rash and heedless.

Cricket was as chirpy as ever the next day. Her knee was bound up and she hobbled about, rather enjoying the attention she received. Her left arm was somewhat stiff and lame, for she had hit her left side with considerable force as she landed, although her striking Eunice had somewhat broken her fall.

The whole story had come out, and, as usual, Cricket had to undergo a fire of teasing.

“A girl with the sockets pulled out of her arms ought to go to the Dime Museum,” laughed papa, as they all sat on the piazza that evening after supper. “She’s a natural curiosity.”

“If I’m a natural curiosity, then I wish I were an unnatural one. I don’t think I’m nice a bit,” said Cricket, candidly. “Things never happen to Eunice and Hilda, if I’m not along. Just think, if I hadn’t hit Eunice she wouldn’t have been hurt a bit,” for Cricket took her sister’s injuries very much to heart.

“You always have such romantic accidents,” teased Donald. “Think how thrilling it is to be run away with by a raging span of oxen, and fancy the excitement of being tossed by the cow with a crumpled horn!”

“I really should think you wouldn’t care to look a piece of beef in the face,” laughed Will.

“Plant Cricket and what would she come up,” asked Archie, and Cricket herself answered, quickly,—

“Cow-slip. That’s good. Ask another one.”

“Can’t; you’re too bright.”

“I’d have given a sixpence to see Mamie Hecker dangling on that hook,” said Will. “Little imp!”

“It wasn’t very funny to fish her up,” said Cricket, seriously, “for it did pull the sockets out of my arm. Why isn’t that right to say, papa!”

“Because your arms are put in the sockets, my dear, not the sockets in your arms.”

“Oh! well, I hope it will teach Mamie a lesson; and the next time she has a message to give, I hope she’ll give it.”

“What do you think!” exclaimed Marjorie. “Here’s Mamie Hecker coming up the avenue now.”

Sure enough, there was Mamie in her stiffly-starched best white dress, and her Sunday hat on her head, coming very slowly up towards the house. This was very unusual, for Mamie knew her bounds. The family watched her with interest to see what she meant to do.

Cricket slipped hastily behind mamma. “I don’t want to see her,” she said, impatiently.

Mamie came awkwardly to the foot of the steps.

“Is Cricket here?” she asked, with a very unusual shyness in her manner, which was partly due to the fact that she had on her best clothes on a week-day.

Cricket came unwillingly forward in obedience to mamma’s touch.

“I want to speak to you,” Mamie said, still shyly.

Cricket came slowly down the steps, half expecting some trick, since she knew Mamie’s ways so well. But the child was in earnest this time. She stood uneasily, first on one foot and then on the other, not quite knowing how to say what she wanted to.

“See here,” she burst out, at length. “I’ve brought you those,” holding out a brown paper bag. “Ma said I might. I bought ’em with the five cents that the minister give me. An’—an’—I’m awful sorry I didn’t tell you ’bout the cow right straight off,—an’—I’m not goin’ to tag you any more.”

Cricket took the bag that the child held toward her.

“Why, Mamie, you shouldn’t have spent your five cents for me,” began Cricket, shy in her turn, and hardly knowing what to say. “But it’s very good of you.”

“I told my ma ’n’ pa ’bout my not telling you, and they was awful took back. Pa said you might have been killed. An’ then you went and pulled me up with that lame arm of yourn,” Mamie went on, in a lower tone, putting out one finger to touch Cricket’s left arm, of which the fingers were still a little stiff and swollen. “I ain’t forgot that. I’m a-goin’ to be gooder all the time, now,” and here Mamie, quite overcome by her feelings, gave the brown paper bag in Cricket’s hand, a final pat, and, turning around, scampered away to the gates as fast as her feet could carry her.

“Well, I say!” Donald exclaimed, as Cricket, still looking very much amazed, came up the steps. “I should call that a case of clear repentance. Real article.”

“I’ve hopes of Mamie, now,” said Marjorie.

“That certainly is very touching,” said mamma, gently.

“Cricket, you fished to some purpose when you brought up Mamie from the depths,” added Will.

“Whatever has she brought as a peace-offering?” asked Archie, curiously.

Cricket opened the bag and displayed five chocolate mice.

“If they were only cows, now,” shouted Will.