While Caroline Was Growing. Josephine Daskam Bacon

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      "What was his name?" she asked gently.

      The boy jerked his head toward the dog.

      "That's his name," he said, "William Thayer." A little frown gathered on Caroline's smooth forehead; she felt instinctively the cloud on all this happy wandering. The spring had beckoned, and he had followed, helpless at the call, but something—what and how much?—tugged at his heart; its shadow dimmed the blue of the April sky.

      He shrugged his shoulders with a sigh; the smile came again into his gray eyes and wrinkled his freckled face.

      "Oh, well, let's be jolly," he cried, with a humorous wink. "The winter's comin' soon enough!" and he burst into a song:

      "There was a frog lived in a well,

       Kitty alone, Kitty alone;

       There was a frog lived in a well;

       Kitty alone and I!"

      His voice was a sweet, reedy tenor; the quaint old melody delighted Caroline.

      "This frog he would a-wooing ride,

       Kitty alone, Kitty alone."

      She began to catch the air, and nodded to the time with her chin.

      "Cock me cary, Kitty alone,

       Kitty alone and I!"

      The boy lifted his polo-cap in a courtly manner, and began with grimaces and bows to act out the song. His audience swayed responsive to his every gesture, nodding and beaming.

      "Quoth he, 'Miss Mouse, I'm come to thee'—

       Kitty alone, Kitty alone;

       Quoth he, 'Miss Mouse, I'm come to thee,

       To see if thou canst fancy me.'

       Cock me cary, Kitty alone,

       Kitty alone and I!"

      Caroline swung her hat by its ribbons and shrilled the refrain, intoxicated with freedom and melody:

      "Cock me cary, Kitty alone,

       Kitty alone and I!"

      She drummed with her heels on the ground, the boy waved his cap, and William Thayer rolled over and over, barking loudly for the chorus. Suddenly the boy jumped up, pulled her to her feet, and with grotesque, skipping steps pirouetted around the dying fire. The dog waltzed wildly on his hind legs; Caroline's short petticoats stood straight out around her as she whirled and jumped, a Bacchante in a frilled pinafore. The little glade rang to their shouting:

      "Kitty alone and I!"

      He darted suddenly through an opening in the bushes, William Thayer close behind, Caroline panting and singing as she gave chase. Through a field, across a little bridge they dashed. He flung the empty coffee-pail at an astonished group of men, who stopped their work, their fence-posts in hand, to stare at the mad trio.

       Breathless at last, they flung themselves on a bank by the road and smiled at each other. Caroline laughed aloud, even, in sheer, irresponsible light-headedness, but over the boy's face a little shadow grew.

      "It won't seem so nice alone after this, will it, William Thayer?" he said, slowly.

      Caroline stared.

      "But—but I'm coming! I'll be there," she cried. "I'm coming with you!"

      He went on as if he had not heard.

      "Who'll there be to eat our dinner with us to-morrow, William Thayer?" he questioned whimsically.

      Caroline moved nearer and put her hand on his knee.

      "There'll be—won't there be me?" she begged.

      He shook his head.

      "I guess not," he said bluntly.

      Her eyes filled with tears.

      "But—but you said I was a—a regular little chum," she whispered. "Don't you like me?"

      He was silent:

       "Don't you? Oh, don't you?" she pleaded. "I don't need much to eat, really!"

      The lad looked at her with a strange longing. The fatherhood that lives in every boy thrilled at the touch of her fat little hand on his knee; the comradely glow in her round brown eyes warmed his restless, lonely heart. He shook her off almost roughly.

      "I guess they'd miss you more'n that salt-shaker," he said grimly. "I wish I could take you with me—honest, I do. But you better stay home and go to school. You don't want to grow up ignorant, and have your folks ashamed of you."

      "But you—you aren't ignorant!" she urged warmly, her admiration shining in her eyes.

      He blushed and kicked nervously at the grass.

      "I am," he said angrily. "I am, too. Oh, dear, I wish—I wish—"

      They looked at each other, troubled and uncertain.

      "You're a girl," he began again, "and girls can't; they just can't. They have to stay with their folks and keep nice. It's too bad, but that's the way it is. You'd want to see 'em, too. You'd miss 'em nights."

      Caroline winced, but could not deny. "Oh," she cried passionately, "why do girls have to do all the missing? It's just what that Simms boy says: 'If I couldn't be a boy, I'd rather be a dog!'"

      "There, there," he said soothingly, "just think about it. You'll see. And you're not exactly like a girl, anyhow. You're too nice."

      He patted her shoulder softly, and they lay quietly against the bank. Her breathing grew slow and regular; raising himself cautiously on one elbow, he saw that she had fallen asleep, her arm about William Thayer, her dusty boots pathetically crossed. He watched her tenderly, with frequent glances up and down the road.

      Presently an irregular beat of hoofs sounded around a bend, and a clattering wagon drew steadily nearer.

      The egg-and-chicken man jumped out and strode angrily toward the little group.

      "I've caught you, have I, you young——"

      "'Sh!"

       The boy put up a warning hand.

      "She's fast asleep," he whispered. "Are you goin' to take her home?"

      The man stared.

      "Oh, I'm no child-stealer," said the boy lightly. "Here, just lift her soft with me, and I'll bet we can put her in without waking her up at all."

      Without a word, the man slipped his hands under Caroline's shoulders, the boy lifted her dusty boots, and gently unloosing her arm from the dog, they carried her lax little body carefully to the wagon and laid her on the clean straw in СКАЧАТЬ