A Dear Little Girl's Thanksgiving Holidays by Amy Ella Blanchard (easy to read books for adults list TXT) 📖

she went by his dilapidated house on her way to school. She reported this performance to the other girls at recess.

"Oh, Reliance, you didn't dare, did you?" exclaimed Alcinda. "What did he do? Did he run after you?"

"No, he only frowned and grunted."

"Did you walk very fast when you went by?" asked little Letty Osgood, being very sure that she would not have loitered upon such an occasion.

"No, not so very. I just walked as I always do."

"Then I think you were very brave," continued Letty.

"Pooh!" exclaimed Esther Ann, "that wasn't anything to do. Just wait till you see what I am going to do."

"What, Esther Ann? What?" clamored the girls.

"Wait till this afternoon and you will see," was all Esther Ann would say to satisfy their curiosity.

This being Friday and Edna's last day at her grandmother's, her friends begged that she be allowed to go with them to school that afternoon. "We don't have real lessons," Reliance told her, "for Miss Fay reads to us, and we have a sewing lesson."

"I'd love to go," said Edna, "and I could take the work bag I am making for Celia. I could finish it, I think. May I go?"

"I haven't the slightest objection," Mrs. Conway assured her. So she set off with Reliance, and felt quite at home since she knew all the girls of her own age, and older, and, as she said, "the littler ones don't count."

Everything moved along pleasantly during the school session, and the girls started along in a bunch toward home. "You just come with me, Edna," said Esther Ann. "You see you are a member of the club, too, and this will be your only chance to do a deed. The others can follow along if they want. I'll tell you what I am going to do and you can take part, if you like."

The others were both timid and curious, and were quite content to obey Esther Ann's suggestion to "follow on." Edna, it may be said, was not inspired with that wholesome dread of old Nathan which possessed the others, for she had not been brought up under the shadow of his ogre-like actions, and she felt that this was an opportunity which she could not neglect. She trotted along valiantly by Esther Ann's side, the others keeping a safe distance behind.

"Tell me what you are going to do," said Edna to her companion, as they proceeded on their way.

For answer, Esther Ann dived down into her school-bag and produced first one then another big, red apple. "I am going to give these to Nathan. You can give one. I mean just to walk right up to him and say, 'Won't you have an apple, Mr. Keener?'"

"Suppose he isn't there," returned Edna.

"Oh, he'll be there; he always is when it is a bright day like this. He sits in an old chair on that broad doorstep in front of his house, and leans on a big, thick stick he always carries."

"Who cooks for him?"

"Oh, he cooks for himself, when he has anything to cook. He has a little garden, but it doesn't amount to much. He has no apple trees except an old one that is nearly dead and never has but a few little, measly, knerly apples on it; that's why I thought he'd like these."

Their walk was carrying them nearer and nearer the old man's door. "There he is now," whispered Esther Ann. "I'll go first and you come right up behind me. Here, take your apple." She thrust the fruit into Edna's hand and hastened her own pace a little. Edna's heart began to beat fast, for surely Nathan Keener was anything but an attractive figure as he sat there glowering and muttering, his gaunt hands resting on his knotted stick, and his grizzly old face wearing a wrathful look.

True to her guns, Esther Arm dashed forward and held out her apple saying in a shrill, excited voice, "Won't you have----"

But she got no further, for with a snarl the old man reached out one long, bony arm and grabbed her by the shoulder, raising his stick threateningly, "I'll larn ye, ye little varmint," he began.

Esther screamed. Edna, paralyzed with fright, looked on with affrighted eyes, but presently found voice to quaver out, "Please don't hurt her! Oh, please don't!"

The other girls a little distance off stood huddled together like a flock of sheep. No one was brave enough to venture within reach of that terrible stick, but just then along came a crowd of boys from school. The foremost took in the situation in a glance, and in another instant was on the platform by Esther's side.

"Here, you old mut, what are you doing to my sister?" he cried, at the same time trying to wrest the stick from the old man's grasp.

But Nathan had too long wielded the stick with effect to lose it so readily. Loosing his hold upon Esther, he swiftly shifted his weapon to his other hand and brought down a blow on the boy's back.

By this time the other boys had come up; there were cries, threats, screams from the girls, shouts from the boys. All was in a dreadful hub-bub when along the road approached a young man who stood for a moment and then dashed to the scene of battle. "Here, boys, here," he cried, "what are you doing to that old man?"

"He was going to beat my sister," spoke up the one who had first hurried to the front.

"You old scalawag," cried the young man, "what were you up to? If you are yearning to hit somebody, take a fellow your own size." He wrenched the stick from the man's grasp and threw it away. "Now," he said, "have it out if you will. I'm ready." He squared off, but the old man had neither strength nor desire to grapple with such a masterful opponent, and he slunk back against his door.

"I guess if your life was pestered by a set of young wretches like these, you'd threaten, too," he said surlily. "I guess I'm getting too smart for their tricks, and know enough not to take anything they offer me. I don't have to have more'n one apple full of red pepper set on my doorsill. I guess I know who hides my loaf of bread, and puts salt in my can of milk. I guess I cut my eyeteeth a good many years ago, and can catch 'em at their tricks."

The young man looked around at the group of boys, now rather shamefaced, at the group of girls now gathered around Esther Ann. On the edge of this latter group he recognized a little round face now tear-stained and affrighted. In a moment he was by Edna's side. "Well, I'll be everlastingly switched," he exclaimed, "Edna, my child, what are you doing in this mix-up?"

"Oh, Ben," returned Edna, "it was all a mistake. Nobody meant to play a trick."

"Come over here and tell me all about it," said Ben, leading her aside. Edna poured forth her tale of woe, during the recital of which more than once Ben's mouth twitched and his eyes grew merry. "It doesn't do to be too zealous, does it?" he said at the close of the story. "Here, old fellow, come back here." He made a dash at old Nathan who was now retreating within his own doorway. Ben pulled him back by his coat-tails. "We aren't through with this yet," he went on as the man turned upon him with a few smothered words. "That isn't a pretty way to talk. You have something of a case, I admit, but you happened to overreach yourself this time. No, you're not going in yet. A little more fresh air won't hurt you. Sit down there and be good and I will tell you a pretty little story." He pushed the old man gently into his chair and stood guard over him. "No, you don't need your stick yet; you might get careless with it. I'll just lean it up against the house. Now, then, those little girls hadn't a notion of playing you a trick; they were trying to do you a kindness. They knew you were lonely and hadn't much chance to run around with the boys, or run an automobile, so they thought they would chirk you up a little by presenting you with a large, sweet, juicy, red apple. Their little hearts were throbbing with good-will; they had an unconquerable desire to bring a smile to your lips and a gleam of happiness to your eye. To prove this to you, I will now dissect this large, sweet, juicy, red apple. I will eat half and you will eat the other. If it isn't a good apple, I'll eat my hat." He carefully cut the apple, which Edna had given him, pared and quartered it, stuck a piece on the end of his knife and offered it to the old man, who pushed it away contemptuously. "Let me insist," Ben went on. "We are not playing Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. There is no serpent in sight, not so much as a worm, and if you find so much as a grain of red pepper I'll acknowledge myself beaten."

The old man muttered incoherently as Ben finished his harangue, but made no motion to take the apple. "You don't know what you are missing," Ben went on. "Now just for the sake of old times, let's try to be jolly and remember when we were boys. Why, many a time you and I have raced down this shaded street, shouting with mirth, have climbed the wall by the orchard and stuffed our pockets with apples like these. You never could take a joke, as I remember, but still you weren't a bad fellow, and I'll bet you were a wonder at baseball. I shouldn't wonder if your batting didn't beat the town. The way you swing around that stick of yours shows there is 'life in the old land yet.'"

The old man's face had relaxed a little and he no longer muttered under his breath. Ben winked at the boys who had drawn nearer and were enjoying the situation to the utmost. "Now, just for old times' sake," continued Ben, "just tell me what was the last real, good, old-fashioned trick you ever played?" The old man cast a half-suspicious look at the smiling young man by his side, but made no reply. "Too bad you forget," said Ben, "but I'll bet an apple to an oyster you don't forget that last game you played."

"Who told you about it?" snapped out the old man.

"Never mind. Do you suppose such a game as that will ever be forgotten? I'm going to tell these boys all about it some day, see if I don't."

Nathan wheeled around in his chair and glanced over the row of young faces before him. Then he leaned back in his chair and sighed.

"I'll bet you wouldn't mind a good game now, but you've no use for these boys and they haven't much for you. When's the next game, boys?" He turned to the row of faces.

"We've stopped playing baseball for this year," came in a chorus.

"Don't have football up here?"

"No, we haven't any team."

"Too bad. I might join you on that. Well, Mr. Keener, some of these days you and I will go to a game together; we'll get that