Back Aa

Little Men (version 2)

<h2> CHAPTER IX. DAISY'S BALL </h2> “Mrs. Shakespeare Smith would like to have Mr. John Brooke, Mr. Thomas Bangs, and Mr. Nathaniel Blake to come to her ball at three o'clock today. “P.S. Nat must bring his fiddle, so we can dance, and all the boys must be good, or they cannot have any of the nice things we have cooked.” This elegant invitation would, I fear, have been declined, but for the hint given in the last line of the postscript. “They have been cooking lots of goodies, I smelt 'em. Let's go,” said Tommy. “We needn't stay after the feast, you know,” added Demi. “I never went to a ball. What do you have to do?” asked Nat. “Oh, we just play be men, and sit round stiff and stupid like grown-up folks, and dance to please the girls. Then we eat up everything, and come away as soon as we can.” “I think I could do that,” said Nat, after considering Tommy's description for a minute. “I'll write and say we'll come;” and Demi despatched the following gentlemanly reply, “We will all come. Please have lots to eat. J. B. Esquire.” Great was the anxiety of the ladies about their first ball, because if every thing went well they intended to give a dinner-party to the chosen few. “Aunt Jo likes to have the boys play with us, if they are not rough; so we must make them like our balls, then they will do them good,” said Daisy, with her maternal air, as she set the table and surveyed the store of refreshments with an anxious eye. “Demi and Nat will be good, but Tommy will do something bad, I know he will,” replied Nan, shaking her head over the little cake-basket which she was arranging. “Then I shall send him right home,” said Daisy, with decision. “People don't do so at parties, it isn't proper.” “I shall never ask him any more.” “That would do. He'd be sorry not to come to the dinner-ball, wouldn't he?” “I guess he would! we'll have the splendidest things ever seen, won't we? Real soup with a ladle and a tureem [she meant tureen] and a little bird for turkey, and gravy, and all kinds of nice vegytubbles.” Daisy never could say vegetables properly, and had given up trying. “It is 'most three, and we ought to dress,” said Nan, who had arranged a fine costume for the occasion, and was anxious to wear it. “I am the mother, so I shan't dress up much,” said Daisy, putting on a night-cap ornamented with a red bow, one of her aunt's long skirts, and a shawl; a pair of spectacles and large pocket handkerchief completed her toilette, making a plump, rosy little matron of her. Nan had a wreath of artificial flowers, a pair of old pink slippers, a yellow scarf, a green muslin skirt, and a fan made of feathers from the duster; also, as a last touch of elegance, a smelling-bottle without any smell in it. “I am the daughter, so I rig up a good deal, and I must sing and dance, and talk more than you do. The mothers only get the tea and be proper, you know.” A sudden very loud knock caused Miss Smith to fly into a chair, and fan herself violently, while her mamma sat bolt upright on the sofa, and tried to look quite calm and “proper.” Little Bess, who was on a visit, acted the part of maid, and opened the door, saying with a smile, “Wart in, gemplemun; it's all weady.” In honor of the occasion, the boys wore high paper collars, tall black hats, and gloves of every color and material, for they were an afterthought, and not a boy among them had a perfect pair. “Good day, mum,” said Demi, in a deep voice, which was so hard to keep up that his remarks had to be extremely brief. Every one shook hands and then sat down, looking so funny, yet so sober, that the gentlemen forgot their manners, and rolled in their chairs with laughter. “Oh, don't!” cried Mrs. Smith, much distressed. “You can't ever come again if you act so,” added Miss Smith, rapping Mr. Bangs with her bottle because he laughed loudest. “I can't help it, you look so like fury,” gasped Mr. Bangs, with most uncourteous candor. “So do you, but I shouldn't be so rude as to say so. He shan't come to the dinner-ball, shall he, Daisy?” cried Nan, indignantly. “I think we had better dance now. Did you bring your fiddle, sir?” asked Mrs. Smith, trying to preserve her polite composure. “It is outside the door,” and Nat went to get it. “Better have tea first,” proposed the unabashed Tommy, winking openly at Demi to remind him that the sooner the refreshments were secured, the sooner they could escape. “No, we never have supper first; and if you don't dance well you won't have any supper at all, not one bit, sir,” said Mrs. Smith, so sternly that her wild guests saw she was not to be trifled with, and grew overwhelmingly civil all at once. “I will take Mr. Bangs and teach him the polka, for he does not know it fit to be seen,” added the hostess, with a reproachful look that sobered Tommy at once. Nat struck up, and the ball opened with two couples, who went conscientiously through a somewhat varied dance. The ladies did well, because they liked it, but the gentlemen exerted themselves from more selfish motives, for each felt that he must earn his supper, and labored manfully toward that end. When every one was out of breath they were allowed to rest; and, indeed, poor Mrs. Smith needed it, for her long dress had tripped her up many times. The little maid passed round molasses and water in such small cups that one guest actually emptied nine. I refrain from mentioning his name, because this mild beverage affected him so much that he put cup and all into his mouth at the ninth round, and choked himself publicly. “You must ask Nan to play and sing now,” said Daisy to her brother, who sat looking very much like an owl, as he gravely regarded the festive scene between his high collars. “Give us a song, mum,” said the obedient guest, secretly wondering where the piano was. Miss Smith sailed up to an old secretary which stood in the room, threw back the lid of the writing-desk, and sitting down before it, accompanied herself with a vigor which made the old desk rattle as she sang that new and lovely song, beginning “Gaily the troubadour Touched his guitar, As he was hastening Home from the war.” The gentlemen applauded so enthusiastically that she gave them “Bounding Billows,” “Little Bo-Peep,” and other gems of song, till they were obliged to hint that they had had enough. Grateful for the praises bestowed upon her daughter, Mrs. Smith graciously announced, “Now we will have tea. Sit down carefully, and don't grab.” It was beautiful to see the air of pride with which the good lady did the honors of her table, and the calmness with which she bore the little mishaps that occurred. The best pie flew wildly on the floor when she tried to cut it with a very dull knife; the bread and butter vanished with a rapidity calculated to dismay a housekeeper's soul; and, worst of all, the custards were so soft that they had to be drunk up, instead of being eaten elegantly with the new tin spoons. I grieve to state that Miss Smith squabbled with the maid for the best jumble, which caused Bess to toss the whole dish into the air, and burst out crying amid a rain of falling cakes. She was comforted by a seat at the table, and the sugar-bowl to empty; but during this flurry a large plate of patties was mysteriously lost, and could not be found. They were the chief ornament of the feast, and Mrs. Smith was indignant at the loss, for she had made them herself, and they were beautiful to behold. I put it to any lady if it was not hard to have one dozen delicious patties (made of flour, salt, and water, with a large raisin in the middle of each, and much sugar over the whole) swept away at one fell swoop? “You hid them, Tommy; I know you did!” cried the outraged hostess, threatening her suspected guest with the milk-pot. “I didn't!” “You did!” “It isn't proper to contradict,” said Nan, who was hastily eating up the jelly during the fray. “Give them back, Demi,” said Tommy. “That's a fib, you've got them in your own pocket,” bawled Demi, roused by the false accusation. “Let's take 'em away from him. It's too bad to make Daisy cry,” suggested Nat, who found his first ball more exciting than he expected. Daisy was already weeping, Bess like a devoted servant mingled her tears with those of her mistress, and Nan denounced the entire race of boys as “plaguey things.” Meanwhile the battle raged among the gentlemen, for, when the two defenders of innocence fell upon the foe, that hardened youth intrenched himself behind a table and pelted them with the stolen tarts, which were very effective missiles, being nearly as hard as bullets. While his ammunition held out the besieged prospered, but the moment the last patty flew over the parapet, the villain was seized, dragged howling from the room, and cast upon the hall floor in an ignominious heap. The conquerors then returned flushed with victory, and while Demi consoled poor Mrs. Smith, Nat and Nan collected the scattered tarts, replaced each raisin in its proper bed, and rearranged the dish so that it really looked almost as well as ever. But their glory had departed, for the sugar was gone, and no one cared to eat them after the insult offered to them. “I guess we had better go,” said Demi, suddenly, as Aunt Jo's voice was heard on the stairs. “P'r'aps we had,” and Nat hastily dropped a stray jumble that he had just picked up. But Mrs. Jo was among them before the retreat was accomplished, and into her sympathetic ear the young ladies poured the story of their woes. “No more balls for these boys till they have atoned for this bad behavior by doing something kind to you,” said Mrs. Jo, shaking her head at the three culprits. “We were only in fun,” began Demi. “I don't like fun that makes other people unhappy. I am disappointed in you, Demi, for I hoped you would never learn to tease Daisy. Such a kind little sister as she is to you.” “Boys always tease their sisters; Tom says so,” muttered Demi. “I don't intend that my boys shall, and I must send Daisy home if you cannot play happily together,” said Aunt Jo, soberly. At this awful threat, Demi sidled up to his sister, and Daisy hastily dried her tears, for to be separated was the worst misfortune that could happen to the twins. “Nat was bad, too, and Tommy was baddest of all,” observed Nan, fearing that two of the sinners would not get their fair share of punishment. “I am sorry,” said Nat, much ashamed. “I ain't!” bawled Tommy through the keyhole, where he was listening with all his might. Mrs. Jo wanted very much to laugh, but kept her countenance, and said impressively, as she pointed to the door, “You can go, boys, but remember, you are not to speak to or play with the little girls till I give you leave. You don't deserve the pleasure, so I forbid it.” The ill-mannered young gentlemen hastily retired, to be received outside with derision and scorn by the unrepentant Bangs, who would not associate with them for at least fifteen minutes. Daisy was soon consoled for the failure of her ball, but lamented the edict that parted her from her brother, and mourned over his short-comings in her tender little heart. Nan rather enjoyed the trouble, and went about turning up her pug nose at the three, especially Tommy, who pretended not to care, and loudly proclaimed his satisfaction at being rid of those “stupid girls.” But in his secret soul he soon repented of the rash act that caused this banishment from the society he loved, and every hour of separation taught him the value of the “stupid girls.” The others gave in very soon, and longed to be friends, for now there was no Daisy to pet and cook for them; no Nan to amuse and doctor them; and, worst of all, no Mrs. Jo to make home life pleasant and life easy for them. To their great affliction, Mrs. Jo seemed to consider herself one of the offended girls, for she hardly spoke to the outcasts, looked as if she did not see them when she passed, and was always too busy now to attend to their requests. This sudden and entire exile from favor cast a gloom over their souls, for when Mother Bhaer deserted them, their sun had set at noon-day, as it were, and they had no refuge left. This unnatural state of things actually lasted for three days, then they could bear it no longer, and fearing that the eclipse might become total, went to Mr. Bhaer for help and counsel. It is my private opinion that he had received instructions how to behave if the case should be laid before him. But no one suspected it, and he gave the afflicted boys some advice, which they gratefully accepted and carried out in the following manner: Secluding themselves in the garret, they devoted several play-hours to the manufacture of some mysterious machine, which took so much paste that Asia grumbled, and the little girls wondered mightily. Nan nearly got her inquisitive nose pinched in the door, trying to see what was going on, and Daisy sat about, openly lamenting that they could not all play nicely together, and not have any dreadful secrets. Wednesday afternoon was fine, and after a good deal of consultation about wind and weather, Nat and Tommy went off, bearing an immense flat parcel hidden under many newspapers. Nan nearly died with suppressed curiosity, Daisy nearly cried with vexation, and both quite trembled with interest when Demi marched into Mrs. Bhaer's room, hat in hand, and said, in the politest tone possible to a mortal boy of his years, “Please, Aunt Jo, would you and the girls come out to a surprise party we have made for you? Do it's a very nice one.” “Thank you, we will come with pleasure; only, I must take Teddy with me,” replied Mrs. Bhaer, with a smile that cheered Demi like sunshine after rain. “We'd like to have him. The little wagon is all ready for the girls; you won't mind walking just up to Pennyroyal Hill, will you Aunty?” “I should like it exceedingly; but are you quite sure I shall not be in the way?” “Oh, no, indeed! we want you very much; and the party will be spoilt if you don't come,” cried Demi, with great earnestness. “Thank you kindly, sir;” and Aunt Jo made him a grand curtsey, for she liked frolics as well as any of them. “Now, young ladies, we must not keep them waiting; on with the hats, and let us be off at once. I'm all impatience to know what the surprise is.” As Mrs. Bhaer spoke every one bustled about, and in five minutes the three little girls and Teddy were packed into the “clothes-basket,” as they called the wicker wagon which Toby drew. Demi walked at the head of the procession, and Mrs. Jo brought up the rear, escorted by Kit. It was a most imposing party, I assure you, for Toby had a red feather-duster in his head, two remarkable flags waved over the carriage, Kit had a blue bow on his neck, which nearly drove him wild, Demi wore a nosegay of dandelions in his buttonhole, and Mrs. Jo carried the queer Japanese umbrella in honor of the occasion. The girls had little flutters of excitement all the way; and Teddy was so charmed with the drive that he kept dropping his hat overboard, and when it was taken from him he prepared to tumble out himself, evidently feeling that it behooved him to do something for the amusement of the party. When they came to the hill “nothing was to be seen but the grass blowing in the wind,” as the fairy books say, and the children looked disappointed. But Demi said, in his most impressive manner, “Now, you all get out and stand still, and the surprise party with come in;” with which remark he retired behind a rock, over which heads had been bobbing at intervals for the last half-hour. A short pause of intense suspense, and then Nat, Demi, and Tommy marched forth, each bearing a new kite, which they presented to the three young ladies. Shrieks of delight arose, but were silenced by the boys, who said, with faces brimful of merriment, “That isn't all the surprise;” and, running behind the rock, again emerged bearing a fourth kite of superb size, on which was printed, in bright yellow letters, “For Mother Bhaer.” “We thought you'd like one, too, because you were angry with us, and took the girls' part,” cried all three, shaking with laughter, for this part of the affair evidently was a surprise to Mrs. Jo. She clapped her hands, and joined in the laugh, looking thoroughly tickled at the joke. “Now, boys, that is regularly splendid! Who did think of it?” she asked, receiving the monster kite with as much pleasure as the little girls did theirs. “Uncle Fritz proposed it when we planned to make the others; he said you'd like it, so we made a bouncer,” answered Demi, beaming with satisfaction at the success of the plot. “Uncle Fritz knows what I like. Yes, these are magnificent kites, and we were wishing we had some the other day when you were flying yours, weren't we, girls?” “That's why we made them for you,” cried Tommy, standing on his head as the most appropriate way of expressing his emotions. “Let us fly them,” said energetic Nan. “I don't know how,” began Daisy. “We'll show you, we want to!” cried all the boys in a burst of devotion, as Demi took Daisy's, Tommy Nan's, and Nat, with difficulty, persuaded Bess to let go her little blue one. “Aunty, if you will wait a minute, we'll pitch yours for you,” said Demi, feeling that Mrs. Bhaer's favor must not be lost again by any neglect of theirs. “Bless your buttons, dear, I know all about it; and here is a boy who will toss up for me,” added Mrs. Jo, as the professor peeped over the rock with a face full of fun. He came out at once, tossed up the big kite, and Mrs. Jo ran off with it in fine style, while the children stood and enjoyed the spectacle. One by one all the kites went up, and floated far overhead like gay birds, balancing themselves on the fresh breeze that blew steadily over the hill. Such a merry time as they had! running and shouting, sending up the kites or pulling them down, watching their antics in the air, and feeling them tug at the string like live creatures trying to escape. Nan was quite wild with the fun, Daisy thought the new play nearly as interesting as dolls, and little Bess was so fond of her “boo tite,” that she would only let it go on very short flights, preferring to hold it in her lap and look at the remarkable pictures painted on it by Tommy's dashing brush. Mrs. Jo enjoyed hers immensely, and it acted as if it knew who owned it, for it came tumbling down head first when least expected, caught on trees, nearly pitched into the river, and finally darted away to such a height that it looked a mere speck among the clouds. By and by every one got tired, and fastening the kite-strings to trees and fences, all sat down to rest, except Mr. Bhaer, who went off to look at the cows, with Teddy on his shoulder. “Did you ever have such a good time as this before?” asked Nat, as they lay about on the grass, nibbling pennyroyal like a flock of sheep. “Not since I last flew a kite, years ago, when I was a girl,” answered Mrs. Jo. “I'd like to have known you when you were a girl, you must have been so jolly,” said Nat. “I was a naughty little girl, I am sorry to say.” “I like naughty little girls,” observed Tommy, looking at Nan, who made a frightful grimace at him in return for the compliment. “Why don't I remember you then, Aunty? Was I too young?” asked Demi. “Rather, dear.” “I suppose my memory hadn't come then. Grandpa says that different parts of the mind unfold as we grow up, and the memory part of my mind hadn't unfolded when you were little, so I can't remember how you looked,” explained Demi. “Now, little Socrates, you had better keep that question for grandpa, it is beyond me,” said Aunt Jo, putting on the extinguisher. “Well, I will, he knows about those things, and you don't,” returned Demi, feeling that on the whole kites were better adapted to the comprehension of the present company. “Tell about the last time you flew a kite,” said Nat, for Mrs. Jo had laughed as she spoke of it, and he thought it might be interesting. “Oh, it was only rather funny, for I was a great girl of fifteen, and was ashamed to be seen at such a play. So Uncle Teddy and I privately made our kites, and stole away to fly them. We had a capital time, and were resting as we are now, when suddenly we heard voices, and saw a party of young ladies and gentlemen coming back from a picnic. Teddy did not mind, though he was rather a large boy to be playing with a kite, but I was in a great flurry, for I knew I should be sadly laughed at, and never hear the last of it, because my wild ways amused the neighbors as much as Nan's do us. “'What shall I do?' I whispered to Teddy, as the voices drew nearer and nearer. “'I'll show you,' he said, and whipping out his knife he cut the strings. Away flew the kites, and when the people came up we were picking flowers as properly as you please. They never suspected us, and we had a grand laugh over our narrow escape.” “Were the kites lost, Aunty?” asked Daisy. “Quite lost, but I did not care, for I made up my mind that it would be best to wait till I was an old lady before I played with kites again; and you see I have waited,” said Mrs. Jo, beginning to pull in the big kite, for it was getting late. “Must we go now?” “I must, or you won't have any supper; and that sort of surprise party would not suit you, I think, my chickens.” “Hasn't our party been a nice one?” asked Tommy, complacently. “Splendid!” answered every one. “Do you know why? It is because your guests have behaved themselves, and tried to make everything go well. You understand what I mean, don't you?” “Yes'm,” was all the boys said, but they stole a shamefaced look at one another, as they meekly shouldered their kites and walked home, thinking of another party where the guests had not behaved themselves, and things had gone badly on account of it. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.