ANOTHER YEAR WITH DENISE AND NED TOODLES

“DENISE RAISED HER HEAD AND LISTENED FOR THE SECOND CALL.”

See page 15

ANOTHER YEAR

WITH

Denise and Ned Toodles

BY

GABRIELLE E. JACKSON

With Illustrations PHILADELPHIA

HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

Caps and Capers Doughnuts and Diplomas $1.00 each A Blue Grass Beauty Fifty cents Copyright, 1904, by Henry Altemus

[Pg vii]

ILLUSTRATIONS

[Pg x]

[Pg xi]

WHAT THE WOOD-THRUSH TOLD

[Pg xii]

[Pg 13]

CHAPTER I WHAT THE WOOD-THRUSH TOLD

Denise sat all alone in her phaeton, her elbows resting upon her knees, and her chin propped upon her hands. The soft brown curls fell all about her face, and the brown eyes, which matched the curls in color, looked dreamily off toward the glassy river. The linen carriage-robe had slipped from her knees and one end trailed out upon the fresh green grass upon which the phaeton stood, for she had driven out of the main road into a little by-way leading up the mountain, her favorite spot for a “good quiet think,” and she [Pg 14]and Ned Toodles were reveling in the beauty of that early spring day. The atmosphere was so balmy, so filled with the thousand promises of spring, the sun so warm and comforting, without the oppressive heat that would come later in the season, and all nature so entrancing in the exquisitely soft green of her new spring attire, that it was no wonder that the sensitive, imaginative child of eleven should be transported into a fairy-like reverie, or the little pony, which had now been her constant companion for more than eighteen months, should,

so far as an animal can sympathize with a human being’s moods, enter into sympathy with Denise’s. He stood perfectly still, his head turned slightly toward the river upon which Denise’s eyes rested, his head slightly drooping, and the usually wide-awake eyes partly closed, as though he, too, had nearly slipped away into the land of dreams. One ear, however, was turned backward toward the occupant of the phaeton, as though he had placed an anchor in [Pg 15]the land of reality in which his beloved little mistress dwelt most of the time.

To the right of the phaeton stretched the great woodland, with its silence, broken only by the wind whispering through the trees, and its bird-calls. It was a dreamy, beautiful world which Denise and her pet were dwelling in just there and then, and a fitting surrounding for a child whose life had been filled with sunshine, and whose nature reflected it, as well as for the little pony, who ever since he had become hers, eighteen months before, had not known the meaning of a harsh word or unkindness.

Presently from out the woodland came the incomparable call of the wood-thrush, rising from its soft, tender note to the clear joyous call which told to all the world that life was, oh, so sweet! Denise raised her head from her hands and listened for the second call which she knew would follow. It came, and this time a little nearer, as though the bird were searching the woods for its mate. Then back went the [Pg 16]answering call, but not from the bird’s mate. Raising her head, Denise puckered up the soft red lips, and clear and sweet from between them came the

Then she listened for the answer. It came, and so did the bird, peering cautiously from a leafy covert, flying nearer and nearer the still figures at the roadside, hopping questioningly from bough to bough, as though asking, “Where is she?”

Denise smiled, but made no sound, and the little bird, deciding that those odd-looking creatures so near by were harmless, opened his tiny beak, and clear and sweet at her very side gave his entrancing call again.

The moment it ceased Denise repeated hers, and for a few moments a very bewildered little bird flitted about the phaeton, calling and hearing [Pg 17]the answering call without seeing the lady bird whom he felt sure must be near at hand. It was altogether too tantalizing, and the mystery must be solved if possible, so, gathering courage from his intense curiosity, down he flew from his leafy branch and alighted upon the wheel of the phaeton, to give a still louder and more peremptory call. It was of no use, for even though his lady-love politely answered from between Denise’s lips, she refused to appear, and with an indignant flourish of his brown tail, off flew her suitor to seek a lady-love less disdainful.

As he disappeared into the wood a merry laugh rippled after him, which must have caused a surprised flutter from his wings, and, giving one bound, Denise sprang over the wheels and landed upon the grass beside Ned. The move was a sudden one, but Ned was used to moves of all sorts, so, giving a soft little whinny of welcome, he aroused himself from his dreams, took a step or two nearer, and [Pg 18]poked his head under Denise’s arm. She dropped upon the soft grass, saying:—

“Ned Toodles, it’s springtime, springtime, springtime! I am so glad, aren’t you?” And cuddling both arms about the warm head which was thrust into her lap as she sat there, she buried her face in the silky forelock and “snuggled” as hard as she could. Ned responded by a succession of subdued whinnies, as though saying, “More delighted than I can express, for spring means green grass, long walks with you, and no bother with blankets!”

“Now, Ned, listen,” continued Denise, for these conversations were by no means uncommon; they were held daily. “Spring means warm weather, warm weather means vacation, vacation means Pokey! What do you think of that? Vacation doesn’t mean much to us, does it? It’s a sort of vacation all the time with Miss Meredith, for she seems to know just when I have done enough, and doing any more would make my brain all sort of muddled up, [Pg 19]and it’s just fun to study with some one who makes you see every solitary thing you learn, till you couldn’t help knowing it unless you were as stupid as—as, well that funny person who called upon mamma the other day and who said to me, ‘So this is the examplry child I have heard so much about. Dear me, I think I shall have to ask your mamma to let you come and visit my children for a while; they are simply irrepressible, and perhaps your shining example will serve as a beacon to their benighted minds.’”

“Ned, it was just awful! Really, it was! That funny woman was so very much dressed up, and was so very, very polite, but she used such queer words. I did not dare look at mamma for fear I should laugh, and then what would she have thought of this ‘examplry’ child I am sure I don’t know. Mamma said, ‘We do not consider Denise a model child by any means, Mrs. Smithers; she is no more than any child may be if the parents will take the [Pg 20]trouble to study their children’s characters and learn the wisest manner of government. “One man’s meat is another man’s poison,” you know, and I think the rule will apply to children pretty well, too, don’t you?’ And then mamma smiled that odd little smile of hers that just means so much. You sort of feel its meaning way down inside you, and even if you could not tell in words just what she means you know it all the same. Then she said to me, ‘Mrs. Smithers will excuse you now, Sweetheart,’ and gave me the little love-nod which means, ‘I see you don’t understand what it is all about, but we

will talk it over together when twilight comes and we have our cuddle in the big armchair in the library.’ Ned Toodles, that armchair is just the very nicest place in the whole wide world, do you know that?”

Ned evidently agreed perfectly, for he answered, “Hoo-hoo-hoo!” and Denise continued:—

“But, oh, dear, I’m just miles away from [Pg 21]where I started! What was I telling you? Oh, yes, I remember. Vacation and Pokey. You see, Ned Toodles, Pokey is smart, very smart, indeed, and some day she is going to be famous, because she told me so. She is going to study hard and get to be a teacher, and buy a dear little house and furnish it all just as pretty as can be, and have her mother live with her and never wish for a single thing that she cannot give to her right off! Isn’t that just splendid? But to do that she must study hard while she is a little girl, and that is what she is doing now, oh, so hard! And she gets all tired out and fidgety, and sort of criss-cross, because she doesn’t know what ails her, but mamma says it is because the brain is trying to grow too fast for the body, and Pokey can’t keep up to it, so just as soon as vacation comes Pokey will come out here, and—then!”

This thought was too tremendous to be dealt with in a sitting position, and, springing up, Denise cried:—

[Pg 22]

“Let’s go home just as fast as ever we can, Ned, for I’ve a sort of feeling that something fine is going to happen,” and she scrambled into the phaeton, and was soon spinning down the road toward home—the very road down which she and her beloved Pokey had scurried the previous summer in their vain attempt to escape from Colonel Franklin when their taffy candy had led them into disgrace. Her thoughts were still busy with her little friend as she hurried along, but she could not look into the future to see that friend’s dream a reality beyond her most sanguine hopes nor behold her grown to dignified womanhood and presiding as superintendent of one of the largest schools in the city which had always been her home.

[Pg 23]

CHAPTER II “MABIE LILLY TAINTIT”

Ned Toodles trotted along the road that beautiful afternoon, and Denise’s joyous mood found a vent in a charming little song which kept time with Ned’s footfalls and to which he occasionally gave a sort of staccato accent, by breaking into a frisky jump. “Sing-Song Polly” rang out over the fields, the song growing gayer and wilder at every bar, till suddenly a second voice took up the theme in a long-drawn, doleful wail, that brought Denise’s warble to an abrupt ending. Ned heard it, too, and gave a little start to one side, for the wail seemed to proceed from the very ground beneath them, and was decidedly uncanny. Denise drew rein quickly, and [Pg 24]stopped to listen for further signs of distress. They came very promptly, and a second later she was stooping over a forlorn figure which the low bushes at the roadside nearly concealed.

A little ditch divided the adjacent fields from the road, and at this season of the year the ditch was very apt to be filled with water and inhabited by a flourishing family of tadpoles. Seated upon the ground at the further side of the ditch, her feet firmly embedded in its mud, from which she was vainly striving to withdraw them, was a small child, probably six years of age. She wore a little pink and white checked gingham, which was splashed with mud from top to bottom; her hands were the color of a little darky’s, and her hair, which perhaps had not been in perfect order upon setting out, was now a hopeless snarl and firmly caught in the overhanging branches of the bushes at her back.

Altogether she was in a sorry plight, for she was held fast by head and feet, and, unless some good Samaritan appeared upon the scene [Pg 25]to release her, in a fair way to remain a prisoner for some time to come. But she certainly had no intention of submitting meekly to the predicament in which she found herself, if lusty shouts and yells could compass her release.

“My good gracious!” exclaimed Denise, “how in this world did you ever get in there, and stuck tight fast in the mud?”

“I wanted the littule fat fises! I wanted the littule fat fises! I want to get out! I want to get out!” screamed the child, tugging with might and main to free her feet, and thereby only adding to the trouble above.

“Wait a minute! Wait a minute!” cried Denise. “I must get your hair free before you can move.” But the youngster was beyond all reasoning with, and, turning to Denise, shrieked at the top of her lungs: “Take that old tree away! Take it away, I say!”

“Why don’t you ask me to take the whole woods away, you little goose!” exclaimed Denise with some asperity. “I can’t take the tree [Pg 26]away, and if you don’t keep still long enough to let me loosen your hair from the branches, I shall never in the world get you free. Be still!” and she gave the screaming youngster a little shake. It was not much of a shake, but it had the desired effect, and was doubtless the sort of persuasion to which she was accustomed. As a rule Denise was wonderfully gentle with little folk, but here was a situation which needed prompt action, and this small imp seemed determined to frustrate every move she made to help her.

Denise began to unwind the tangled hair, and was just upon the point of releasing the whole mop, when, “Oh! Oh! Ohuu! They’re all tummin’ after me! Oh-h! Ou-u! Ou-u!” and up bounced the youngster, as four or five tadpoles, emboldened by the silence which had prevailed while Denise was absorbed in her task, came swimming toward her, only to vanish at the howl which greeted them. In a twinkling Denise’s labors were undone. Up bobbed the [Pg 27]head into the branches, only to be jerked back again by the imprisoned feet, and the hair, caught more firmly than ever, drew down with it a slender branch which gave a stinging lash across the child’s face.

If she had howled before, she outdid herself now when the pain added to her miseries, and Denise was literally at her wit’s end. To ever untangle that hair now was out of the question, and what in the world was to be done? Every moment was adding to the mischief, and the child was becoming nearly frantic. Stepping to one side, Denise drew from her pocket the little knife she always carried, and, opening the largest blade, stepped carefully back to the struggling child. Watching her chance, she grasped her firmly with one arm, and, despite her struggles, held her fast while she cut the hair from the bush. Once that end was freed, she flung the knife out into the road, and set about pulling the other end from the mud. The first jerk produced no effect, but the second [Pg 28]resulted in a prolonged “s-k-e-r-S-w-A-P,” and up flew one foot without a shoe, the other foot with so much mud upon it that it looked like nothing in this world but a lump of wet peat, while heels-over-head went Denise and her charge into the bushes behind them. Denise

was too frightened to care whether she was hurt or not, but, scrambling to her feet, turned to see what had befallen Miss Pink-Gingham. The howl had been scared out of her, and she was making for the road as fast as her legs would carry her. Once upon terra firma she stood still to wait for her rescuer, sobbing meanwhile in a subdued sort of fashion.

By this time it may easily be imagined what sort of condition Denise was in, but, feeling that it could not possibly be any worse, she clawed down into the mud till she found the missing shoe and drew it out in triumph. As upon one other memorable occasion, the linen duster now served as a towel, and a moment later Denise had scoured off her hands [Pg 29]and was turning her attention to the little blackamoor in the road. At sight of the forlorn little figure Denise’s heart melted, but to offer condolence, excepting in the form of words, until some of mother earth had been removed, was obviously impossible. So she rubbed and scraped as she poured forth words of consolation, and ere long had the child as much restored to her normal color as was possible and seated beside her in the phaeton. Then came the question of where to take her, for, although pretty well acquainted with every one in that town, this face was a strange one, and where its owner belonged she did not know.

“Now tell me your name and where you live,” said Denise, soothingly, but, as though the mention of home recalled her recent harrowing experiences, the child began to sob again, and Denise was in despair.

“Oh, please stop crying, and tell me where to take you. See. I will drive you in the carriage wherever you tell me, and Ned Toodles [Pg 30]will go ever so fast if you will only let him know where to go.”

“Mabie Lilly—oh!—Taint! Taint—it!” sobbed the child.

“Maybe Lilly—what? Isn’t Lilly your name? Then what is it?” pleaded Denise.

“Oh, Taint-it! Taint-it!” was all she could hear.

“What isn’t it? Lilly? Isn’t Lilly your name?” demanded Denise, inwardly thinking that no name could have been a greater misnomer under existing conditions.

“Yes; yes, Mabie Lilly—boo, hoo. Taint-it! Taint-it!”

“Oh, dear me, what shall I do with her,” wailed Denise, then, thinking to find out the child’s address if she could not learn her name, she asked, “Where do you live?” Tell me that, and I’ll take you straight there.

“In Noo York! In Noo York!” was the climax of a reply.

“Oh, I’ll take you there by the very next [Pg 31]train, of course,” cried Denise; “or, perhaps, I’d better turn around and drive there to save time. Where in the world does she belong, I wonder. I’ve never seen her before, but I suppose I might sit here till to-morrow and never find out from her. Go on, Ned, and we’ll see what we can find out from the first person we meet,” for pity, combined with despair of learning who the child was, was a sore tax upon nerves and patience, and, gathering up her reins, she started for the town, the youngster beside her keeping up an incessant sob of “Taint-it; Taint it! Oh, Ma-bie Lilly; Ma-bie Lilly—Taint-it! Taint-it!”

Ned spun along over the road, till at last they came to the section of the town dotted all along the roadside with pretty homes. They were about a quarter of a mile from Denise’s when she spied a man hurrying toward them, gesticulating, and evidently holding an animated conversation with himself. Denise could not help laughing at the figure he cut, for wrath, strong [Pg 32]and potent, was written in every gesture. Just at that moment the child saw him also, and, jumping up in the carriage, cried at the top of her lungs: “Oh, Michael! Michael! Here I is! Here I is!” By this time they were nearly up to him, and, stopping short in the road, the man froze to his last gesture and stared at them open-mouthed. Then, shaking his fist at the youngster, he came a step nearer, saying:

“An’ is it yersilf I see a-sittin’ up there in yer illigince, an’ me runnin’ me legs arf me ter search the town fer ye, ye schmall bit av a divil, that has run away twinty times within the past tin days! Faith I’ve a mind ter shake the head arf ye fer the thrubble ye’ve put upon me! An’ yer mither a-screechin’ an’ a-screamin’ that ye’re drownded entirely in the river beyant, an’ fer gettin’ out half the town ter search it fer ye! Arrah, now! Come out av that, an’ let me—Ah! what shall I do wid ye at all, I dunno!” and, reaching over the wheel, the irate Irishman lifted the child out with not the gentlest hand, [Pg 33]she protesting and screaming that she wanted to “wide home with the nice young lady dat fised her out of the brook.”

“An’ will ye look at the young lady, ye young limb o’ Satan! See the sthate ye’ve been after puttin’ hersilf an’ her kerrege in! Ah! Miss Denise, an’ it’s a shame, so it is, the dhirt that’s from hid ter ind av yer little wagon.”

“Never mind the mud, Michael. I don’t care about that, for John will soon brush it all out. But who on earth is that child? I thought I knew everybody in Springdale, but I have never seen her before. I thought I should never get her home, because I could not get her to say a single thing when I asked her name, but that maybe it was Lilly, and then she always added, oh, taint it, taint it, till I knew less than before she began to tell it.”

Over Michael’s broad face a smile began to spread itself, till it well-nigh reached from ear to ear, and then, becoming aware of his rudeness, [Pg 34]he put his hand over his mouth to suppress the guffaw that would come.