Back Aa

Sweet Little Maid, A

<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2><h3>Adrift</h3> During this time Mr. Atkinson was not forgotten, and the two little girls spent many a happy morning in his beautiful garden, for even the small house which Mr. Dallas had built for Dimple, was not proof against the attractions Mr. Atkinson's place had to offer. They were careful not to venture beyond bounds, and kept in the walks and on the porches, but one hot day they wandered down to where a fence marked the limits of the place in that direction. Then came a steep bank sloping down to Big Run which, a little further on, emptied into the river. It was a wild, romantic spot and full of charm for the two little girls whose fancies pictured all sorts of possible things. The hollows, in the scraggy willows bending over the stream, might be the hiding-places of nymphs or fairies; yonder soft sward dotted with buttercups and daisies, might be the favorite spot for a midnight revel; among those rocks queer little gnomes might live. Florence was especially struck with it all. She had never been quite so near to such a picturesque spot, and now nothing would do but that they should climb the fence and explore further. "There isn't a soul anywhere to be seen," said Florence, "and it will be perfectly safe." "Suppose we should meet a fierce dog," Dimple, a little more cautious, suggested. "Oh, no, we're not likely to at all. Dogs are not going to such a place as that, at least, I don't think so. It would be perfectly fine to go out on one of those willow trees, and hang our feet over the water." "Suppose we should slip and fall in." "Oh, we'll be careful; besides the branches of the trees hang so far over the stream that we couldn't fall very far, anyhow, and it is very shallow there. We'll only get a wetting and it's such a hot day I shouldn't mind if we did. If we should sit there very quietly we might see fairies." "Do you believe there are fairies, really?" "Why, yes,—I'm not sure. There may be, you know. Wouldn't it be funny to see a tiny little being, in a red cloak or a spun-silver robe, come out from the hollow of a tree and say, 'Maiden, your wish shall be granted'?" "What wish?" "Any wish we happen to be making at the time. Come on, Dimple, I am just crazy to go." And Florence put her foot on the fence and was soon over, Dimple following. It was not so easy as it seemed, to get out on the trees, and they decided not to attempt it, but thought they would wander along the brink of the stream, and in doing this they discovered all sorts of wonderful things in what Florence called the Fairy Dell: moss-grown rocks from which sprung tiny bell-shaped flowers; a circle of wee pink toadstools, which indeed seemed fit for the elfin folk; a wild grapevine with a most delightfully arranged swing on which the two girls "teetered" away in great joy; shining pebbles, bits of rose-colored quartz, a forest of plumy ferns, and all such like things, over which the city child exclaimed and marveled. At last they were obliged to cross a little bridge, for the bank became higher and higher on that side, and a little further walking showed them the river. "Oh!" Florence exclaimed. "Isn't this fine? I wish we could go out rowing. See those girls over there by that funny flat sort of boat. They are going to get on it. Come, let us go down and watch them." They clambered down and were soon on the brink of the river. Two or three girls, much older than Dimple and Florence, were pulling a small flat barge up on the sands. One of the girls recognized Dimple. "Hallo, Eleanor," she cried. "Where did you come from? Don't you want to get on with us?" "Oh, do let us," whispered Florence. "Are you going out on the river?" asked Dimple. "No, we are only going to get on this flat boat, and sit here where we can get the breeze, and maybe we will fish. We brought some tackle along with us. Come, give me your hand. There, you are landed. Come, little girl, there is plenty of room." She held out her hand to Florence, who eagerly accepted the invitation, and was soon by her cousin's side. "Isn't it nice?" said Dimple. "Fine," Florence responded, heartily, as she sat down in the bottom of the boat. "It's rather sunny, though," Dimple remarked. "Oh, you mustn't mind that. We're going to fish. Don't you want to try your luck?" Dimple looked rather disgustedly at the can of angle-worms and decided that she would look on. "What are you going to do, Libbie?" Dimple's acquaintance inquired of one of the other girls. "I'm going to try to get the boat out where it will float. It's such fun to have it bob up and down," replied the girl addressed. She had a long pole and was pushing the boat off from the shore. It was fastened to a stake, so it could only career around a little, and Dimple's friend Callie Spear assured the little girls that it was perfectly secure, and so they gave themselves up to their enjoyment. Both Florence and Dimple felt very proud of being invited to join this company of older girls; and, while the latter amused themselves by fishing, the two little ones set afloat small chips, freighted with the daisies they had gathered, and wondered how far they could go before they should upset. "Wouldn't it be funny if they sailed all the way to the ocean and were seen by the people on one of the big steamers. They would wonder how in the world the daisy people got out so far." Florence said this as she was watching a chip rapidly drifting down stream. Suddenly she became aware that the shore was further away than she supposed, and she cried, "Oh, how wide the water is! See how far it is to the shore." The other girls looked up, startled, and to their dismay discovered that their boat had slipped its moorings and was fast drifting down the river, nearer and nearer to the current of midstream. They looked at each other with scared faces, but they did not want to alarm the little girls, and so Callie said, with a forced laugh: "Oh, that's all right. We'll get in easily enough. Some one will see us from the shore, or a boat will come along that can tow us in. It's rather fun to have a little adventure." However, she eagerly scanned the shore and the water; but no help seemed to be near, and the boat was drifting on and on. Dimple realized that they were moving further and further away from home, as she saw the objects on the shore grow smaller and smaller. The big tears began to gather in her eyes. "Don't cry, dear," said Callie, soothingly. "We'll get home all right." "But suppose we shouldn't. Suppose we should drift on and on down to where the steamboats come up, and we should keep going till it got dark, and nobody should see us, and we should get run into and drowned. Oh dear! I want my mamma, and my papa." Florence took alarm at this, and, putting her head in Dimple's lap, began to cry too. The older girls were scarcely less frightened, for they knew there was a danger in their reaching the rapids, and in being whirled around between the rocks, when they would be very likely to upset, even in a boat like the one in which they were. They managed, however, to show less fear, in their endeavor to calm the younger children. "Why, we'll get home long before we reach the steamboats," said Emma Bradford, cheerfully. "Haven't you seen the river in a freshet? and don't you know how it carries all sorts of things along? haystacks, and sheds, and even houses with people in them, I've seen, and they are always rescued." Libbie Jackson was looking over the side of the boat. "It is very shallow here. We could almost walk ashore," she said. "We are right over the old ford," said Callie. Suddenly she sprang to her feet and began to tear off the skirt of her frock. As soon as she was freed from it she began to wave it frantically. "I see some one on shore," she exclaimed, excitedly. "All shout as loud as you can, girls;" and across the water rang the shrill cry of "Help! Help! Help!" The man riding along the shore caught sight of the flapping skirt, of hats waving frantically, and the cry of "help" came faintly to his ears. He stopped his horse and looked around. "Them gals is adrift," he said to himself. "Whatever possessed 'em I don't know, but I reckon I'll have to see if I can't stop 'em." He rode to the water's edge and looked across. "We're right at the ford," he remarked, as if his horse could understand what he said. "It won't hurt you to go out," he continued. "It's a hot day, and you can get cooled off good." And the girls in the boat were rejoiced to see the horse headed toward them. "Oh, how lucky that we're at the ford," said Callie, "otherwise the man might not venture. See, Eleanor! See, Florence, he can tow us in. Haul up that bit of rope, girls, while I put on my skirt." The man was not long in coming alongside. "What happened ye?" he asked. "A lot o' gals like you ain't no business gittin' into such a fix. Whar did ye start from, anyhow? How long ye been driftin'?" They told him how the trouble had occurred, and he replied with, "Humph! I reckon ye'd better not try that agin. You're a matter o' five mile from home, and the boat don't belong to ye, ye say. How do ye expect to git back? And how are ye going to manage about the boat? Do ye know whose it is?" "No, but we can find out," said Callie. "What do you think would be the best way to get it home again? Isn't it a dreadful fix to be in? Can you suggest any way to help us?" "I might take it up for ye to-morrow, maybe, but ye'll have to pay for it." "How much would you charge us?" "Lemme see; a couple of dollars." The girls looked at each other, and held a whispered consultation which resulted in Callie's agreeing to the amount, each girl promising to put in her share. The boat was easily towed to the shore; but here it was wet and slippery, and it required considerable agility to get ashore without slipping in the soft mud. Every one accomplished it safely but Dimple, whose foot slipped, and over she went, full length into the mire. A sorry sight she was indeed, when she was picked up; plastered from head to foot; face, hands and hair full of the soft ooze. But after she had been scraped off, Callie concluded that it would be better to let the sun dry her well, before attempting to get rid of the rest. "About this job," said the man, "it's worth somethin', ain't it? It's considerable out of my way, travelin' to the middle of the river; besides I've got to look out for that boat, that nobody don't steal it." "How much do you expect?" asked Callie, meekly. This was getting more and more serious. "A couple of dollars ain't much when ye consider there's five of ye, and if I hadn't stopped ye, ye'd be goin' yet. My name's Bill Hart, and any one'll tell you I'm safe. Ye needn't be afraid but what I'll bring back the boat." "Well, if you will come to my house, you shall have your money," said Callie. "Do you know where Mr. Harley Spear lives?" "Big white house, left side the main street. Yes, I know. You his gal?" "I'm his daughter." "All right. I reckon ye can git home now, can't ye? It's a straight road along the river. I must be gettin' on. I'll fetch the boat back to-morrow." The girls saw him disappear, and stood, a most subdued little group. Dimple felt herself to be in a very unhappy plight, and dreaded meeting any one. How should she get home through the town without being seen? She looked very miserable and woe-begone as she thought of all this. "Well, girls, we'll have to be up and doing," said Callie. "We've a five mile walk before us, and it's a pretty hot day, so we'll have to take it slowly. You'll have plenty of time to get dried off, before we get there, Eleanor, so don't look so unhappy, you poor little midget. Think how dreadful it is for me who got you into this scrape. I can never forgive myself for it." "I'll tell you what let's do," said Libbie. "Let Eleanor take off her frock, and we'll wash it out in the river, and dry it as we go along. We're not likely to meet any one, and it's so hot she'll not take cold going without it. We can hold it out between us as we walk along, so it will dry before we get home, and it will be clean at least." Dimple was so grateful for this suggestion that she could have hugged Libbie; but she did not know her very well, and only expressed her thanks very fervently. At the first opportunity the frock was washed out, and really looked much better. "I wish I could do my stockings, too," said Dimple, "but I couldn't go barefoot. Mamma wouldn't like me to, although I'd like to." So this part of her dress had to remain as it was, and the girls took up their line of march again. "I am so thirsty I don't know what to do," said Callie. "If I don't have a drink I'll drop by the way. I hate to think of drinking that warm river water; besides, it isn't so easy to get it." "There's a spring somewhere further along," said Emma Bradford. "If we can manage to exist till we reach it, we can rest there. We shall be half starved, too, by the time we get home." "If we only had something to eat we could sit down by the spring till it grew cooler, and we'd have a sort of a picnic. Oh, girls, we left all our fishing tackle in the boat! I never once thought of it." "Nor I." "Nor I." "Perhaps Bill What's-his-name will bring it back when he comes with the boat. We've made a pretty expensive trip of it, as it is, without losing our fishing tackle. Think what that four dollars would buy: such a lot of ice cream and soda water," said Callie. "Don't mention such things when we are consumed with thirst, and are so warm," said Emma. "We may have to pay for the use of the boat, too," said Libbie. "I suppose we are out at least a dollar apiece, and maybe more. It will take all my pin money for a month. No more soda water for a while, unless some one treats me." "I suppose we ought to be thankful to get home at all," Dimple spoke up. "Yes, when you consider it in that light, we're let off cheaply enough," Callie replied. "Oh, dear, where is that spring?" "Just beyond that turn," Emma told her. And they toiled on till they reached the spot where the cold water bubbled out from a pebbly hollow under an old tree. "We must cool off before we drink," Libbie warned them. "We'll bathe our faces and hands, and sit here for a while. We are so overheated we ought not to drink right away." "It's very hard not to," said Callie, "but I suppose you are right." "I am as hungry as I am thirsty," Libbie remarked. "If we only had one biscuit apiece, it would be something." They had refreshed themselves with the cool spring water, and were idly sitting under a tree, when Dimple sprang up, crying, "I see something!" And she scrambled up the bank to a ledge beyond. "Girls! girls! here are lots of huckleberries," she called. "Are you sure?" "Certain sure. I wish you'd see. Come up." And they clambered up to the spot to find that she spoke truly: there was a patch of huckleberry bushes full of fruit. They set to work with a will and bore their feast down to the spring, near which they seated themselves on a fallen log. "Did you ever taste anything so good?" said Emma. "I never care much for huckleberries at home, but I shall never despise them again." Being refreshed they took up their journey again. Weary and warm they at length reached home, glad indeed to see the familiar streets, shady and quiet. "I am going to see you safely in your mother's hands," Callie assured Dimple; "for it was my fault that you got into trouble. I had no business to tempt you." "But you only meant it out of kindness," replied Dimple, appreciatively. "I think you were very good to want us; and it would have been all right if the boat had not floated off that way." "But we did float off, and I want to explain matters to your mother." "I'll give you the dollar I have in my bank," said Dimple. "No, wait till we find out about the other man; the one who owns the boat. When he understands that we didn't mean any harm, and that it was an accident, perhaps he won't charge for the boat, and then we'll only have to pay eighty cents apiece. I don't want to take any money of yours if I can help it." "Oh, but you must. I'm sure mamma will say so." "Well, we'll see. Just look how nicely your frock has dried. It doesn't look bad at all. A little limp maybe, but it's better that than muddy. I hope your mamma isn't very much worried. I don't believe it is so late after all." And although it seemed to Dimple that she had been days away from home, she was surprised to find that it was only about four o'clock, when hot and hungry they arrived at home. Callie made her excuses and apologies as contritely as possible, and Mrs. Dallas was so relieved to find that nothing worse had happened, that she said very little in the way of reproof to the two runaways. "You must never go down to the river again, my children," she said; "that is, unless papa or I, or some trustworthy person is with you. I should have forbidden you to go this time, but you have never ventured there before." "I know, mamma," replied Dimple, "but it was so easy getting there from Mr. Atkinson's place, that we were there before we knew it. Was it 'Didn't think,' mamma?" "Not exactly. I suppose you hardly realized that you were doing wrong since there were older girls with you, and it was more of an accident than actual wrongdoing. I think we shall have to keep you at home hereafter, for it seems very easy for little folks to get into trouble when they are away from their mothers. You have your own garden and your own little house to play in, so I think we must set the bounds there, and only allow you to go outside our premises by special invitation." "Not even to Mr. Atkinson's?" "No, I think not, dear. It is safer for you at home. Mamma has been greatly worried and distressed, and I am sure you do not want her to pass through such an anxious time again. It is for mamma's sake, dear, as well as your own, that she keeps you close to her. Suppose you had fallen overboard." She drew the child nearer to her, while her eyes grew moist at the thought. "Dear, dear mamma, I'll never go away again without your leave. I don't want to make you unhappy, mamma. I do love you." "I know you do, darling; but little girls sometimes forget that it is more by the doing than by the saying that their mothers are made aware of their love. You know papa always tells you that if you really love your parents, you will do the things that please them, otherwise, no matter how much you say 'I love you,' it doesn't mean anything." Dimple looked very sober, and Florence, too, listened to all this with a very grave face. It had really been a very trying day for the two little cousins, and now that they were safe, they realized how uncomfortable it had been. Therefore, from that time there never was a question of their going outside the gate without permission, and Mr. Atkinson's place was no longer visited unless by his express invitation on Saturday afternoons. "I feel as if I had been sort of ungrateful," said Dimple, the next day after their rescue. "I just love my home, Florence, and somehow I don't feel a bit bad about not going to Mr. Atkinson's. I believe I know exactly how the little birdies feel when they get back to the nest, after they have been trying to fly. I hope I shall never go so far away again, until I am much older." And the two returned contentedly to their old playground, only too glad to feel the security of familiar sights and sounds. <hr class="major" /> <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.