Jack and Jill by Louisa May Alcott (interesting novels in english .TXT) 📖

“Hi there! Bell's rung! Get up, lazy-bones!” called Frank from his room as the clock struck six one bright morning, and a great creaking and stamping proclaimed that he was astir.

“All right, I'm coming,” responded a drowsy voice, and Jack turned over as if to obey; but there the effort ended, and he was off again, for growing lads are hard to rouse, as many a mother knows to her sorrow.

Frank made a beginning on his own toilet, and then took a look at his brother, for the stillness was suspicious.

“I thought so! He told me to wake him, and I guess this will do it;” and, filling his great sponge with water, Frank stalked into the next room and stood over the unconscious victim like a stern executioner, glad to unite business with pleasure in this agreeable manner.

A woman would have relented and tried some milder means, for when his broad shoulders and stout limbs were hidden, Jack looked very young and innocent in his sleep. Even Frank paused a moment to look at the round, rosy face, the curly eyelashes, half-open mouth, and the peaceful expression of a dreaming baby. “I must do it, or he won't be ready for breakfast,” said the Spartan brother, and down came the sponge, cold, wet, and choky, as it was briskly rubbed to and fro regardless of every obstacle.

“Come, I say! That's not fair! Leave me alone!” sputtered Jack, hitting out so vigorously that the sponge flew across the room, and Frank fell back to laugh at the indignant sufferer.

“I promised to wake you, and you believe in keeping promises, so I'm doing my best to get you up.”

“Well, you needn't pour a quart of water down a fellow's neck, and rub his nose off, need you? I'm awake, so take your old sponge and go along,” growled Jack, with one eye open and a mighty gape.

“See that you keep so, then, or I'll come and give you another sort of a rouser,” said Frank, retiring well-pleased with his success.

“I shall have one good stretch, if I like. It is strengthening to the muscles, and I'm as stiff as a board with all that football yesterday,” murmured Jack, lying down for one delicious moment. He shut the open eye to enjoy it thoroughly, and forgot the stretch altogether, for the bed was warm, the pillow soft, and a half-finished dream still hung about his drowsy brain. Who does not know the fatal charm of that stolen moment—for once yield to it, and one is lost.

Jack was miles away “in the twinkling of a bedpost,” and the pleasing dream seemed about to return, when a ruthless hand tore off the clothes, swept him out of bed, and he really did awake to find himself standing in the middle of his bath-pan with both windows open, and Frank about to pour a pail of water over him.

“Hold on! Yah, how cold the water is! Why, I thought I was up;” and, hopping out, Jack rubbed his eyes and looked about with such a genuine surprise that Frank put down the pail, feeling that the deluge would not be needed this time.

“You are now, and I'll see that you keep so,” he said, as he stripped the bed and carried off the pillows.

“I don't care. What a jolly day!” and Jack took a little promenade to finish the rousing process.

“You'd better hurry up, or you won't get your chores done before breakfast. No time for a 'go as you please' now,” said Frank; and both boys laughed, for it was an old joke of theirs, and rather funny.

Going up to bed one night expecting to find Jack asleep, Frank discovered him tramping round and round the room airily attired in a towel, and so dizzy with his brisk revolutions that as his brother looked he tumbled over and lay panting like a fallen gladiator.

“What on earth are you about?”

“Playing Rowell. Walking for the belt, and I've got it too,” laughed Jack, pointing to an old gilt chandelier chain hanging on the bedpost.

“You little noodle, you'd better revolve into bed before you lose your head entirely. I never saw such a fellow for taking himself off his legs.”

“Well, if I didn't exercise, do you suppose I should be able to do that—or that?” cried Jack, turning a somersault and striking a fine attitude as he came up, flattering himself that he was the model of a youthful athlete.

“You look more like a clothes-pin than a Hercules,” was the crushing reply of this unsympathetic brother, and Jack meekly retired with a bad headache.

“I don't do such silly things now: I'm as broad across the shoulders as you are, and twice as strong on my pins, thanks to my gymnastics. Bet you a cent I'll be dressed first, though you have got the start,” said Jack, knowing that Frank always had a protracted wrestle with his collar-buttons, which gave his adversary a great advantage over him.

“Done!” answered Frank, and at it they went. A wild scramble was heard in Jack's room, and a steady tramp in the other as Frank worked away at the stiff collar and the unaccommodating button till every finger ached. A clashing of boots followed, while Jack whistled “Polly Hopkins,” and Frank declaimed in his deepest voice,

“Arma virumque cano, Trojae qui primus ab oris Italiam, fato profugus, Laviniaque venit litora.”

Hair-brushes came next, and here Frank got ahead, for Jack's thick crop would stand straight up on the crown, and only a good wetting and a steady brush would make it lie down.

“Play away, No. 2,” called out Frank as he put on his vest, while Jack was still at it with a pair of the stiffest brushes procurable for money.

“Hold hard, No. 11, and don't forget your teeth,” answered Jack, who had done his.

Frank took a hasty rub and whisked on his coat, while Jack was picking up the various treasures which had flown out of his pockets as he caught up his roundabout.

“Ready! I'll trouble you for a cent, sonny;” and Frank held out his hand as he appeared equipped for the day.

“You haven't hung up your night-gown, nor aired the bed, nor opened the windows. That's part of the dressing; mother said so. I've got you there, for you did all that for me, except this,” and Jack threw his gown over a chair with a triumphant flourish as Frank turned back to leave his room in the order which they had been taught was one of the signs of a good bringing-up in boys as well as girls.

“Ready! I'll trouble you for a cent, old man;” and Jack held out his hand, with a chuckle.

He got the money and a good clap beside; then they retired to the shed to black their boots, after which Frank filled the woodboxes and Jack split kindlings, till the daily allowance was ready. Both went at their lessons for half an hour, Jack scowling over his algebra in the sofa corner, while Frank, with his elbows on and his legs round the little stand which held his books, seemed to be having a wrestling-match with Herodotus.

When the bell rang they were glad to drop the lessons and fall upon their breakfast with the appetite of wolves, especially Jack, who sequestered oatmeal and milk with such rapidity that one would have thought he had a leathern bag hidden somewhere to slip it into, like his famous namesake when he breakfasted with the giant.

“I declare I don't see what he does with it! He really ought not to 'gobble' so, mother,” said Frank, who was eating with great deliberation and propriety.

“Never you mind, old quiddle. I'm so hungry I could tuck away a bushel,” answered Jack, emptying a glass of milk and holding out his plate for more mush, regardless of his white moustache.

“Temperance in all things is wise, in speech as well as eating and drinking—remember that, boys,” said Mamma from behind the urn.

“That reminds me! We promised to do the 'Observer' this week, and here it is Tuesday and I haven't done a thing: have you?” asked Frank.

“Never thought of it. We must look up some bits at noon instead of playing. Dare say Jill has got some: she always saves all she finds for me.”

“I have one or two good items, and can do any copying there may be. But I think if you undertake the paper you should give some time and labor to make it good,” said Mamma, who was used to this state of affairs, and often edited the little sheet read every week at the Lodge. The boys seldom missed going, but the busy lady was often unable to be there, so helped with the paper as her share of the labor.

“Yes, we ought, but somehow we don't seem to get up much steam about it lately. If more people belonged, and we could have a grand time now and then, it would be jolly;” and Jack sighed at the lack of interest felt by outsiders in the loyal little Lodge which went on year after year kept up by the faithful few.

“I remember when in this very town we used to have