A Sweet Little Maid by Amy Ella Blanchard (e book reading free .txt) 📖

the party down at the river's brink.

"Oh, there's Mr. Atkinson," cried Dimple, catching sight of this gentleman's pleasant face, "I am so glad he could come. I wonder if he sees us. I hope we can go in his boat, don't you, Florence?"

"Yes, indeed, I do. He sees us. He is waving his hat."

The two little girls ran forward and to their satisfaction were helped into Mr. Atkinson's boat with Mr. and Mrs. Dallas and Bubbles as fellow-passengers, Bubbles grinning from ear to ear and looking very spick and span in a clean pink calico frock and a white apron. A string of blue beads adorned her neck; she had added it as a finishing touch to her toilet.

The boats pushed off and, after an hour's rowing, the party of picnickers landed at a pretty little island in the river. It was covered with trees and underbrush, but not so densely as to prevent their finding a space big enough for a camping ground where they could build a fire and spread their supper.

Most of the party preferred to go out on the river to fish, for some fine black bass could be caught here. Dimple, however, preferred to stay behind with Mrs. Dallas and one or two of the other ladies, even though Mr. Atkinson said he would bait her hook for her, and would lend her his finest line and reel.

"I feel so sorry for the poor little earth worms, first, and for the fish afterward, that I don't believe I should enjoy it," Dimple said, seriously.

"But you can eat a piece of bass after it is cooked, can't you?" Mr. Atkinson returned, smiling.

"Yes, if I don't see him caught."

"Your little girl reminds me of those very tender-hearted children, who, when they saw the picture of the Christian martyrs, were overcome with pity, not for the martyrs, no indeed, but because there was one poor dear lion that hadn't any martyr to eat," Mr. Atkinson said to Mr. Dallas.

"That was a little extreme, I admit," returned Mr. Dallas, laughing, "but we do try to cultivate a humane spirit in our little daughter, and you may be sure she will never wear a stuffed bird in her hat when she grows older."

Mr. Atkinson nodded in approval. "I'm glad of that," he returned, "and I must say I think useless sport is wicked, but when one wants fish for food, I think he may be excused the catching. And so, Dimple, it resolves itself into your going without the fish or the fishing, does it?"

Dimple nodded. She didn't exactly understand, but she supposed he meant that if she wanted the fish for supper, she'd better remain where she could not see them caught.

Florence, however, had less compunction, and consented to go out in the boat, though she wasn't sure whether or not she should want to catch any fish. But Rock, like most boys, was very eager for the sport, and hoped he would be able to catch the first fish, and also wanted it to be the biggest caught.

"May Bubbles and I go anywhere on the island that we want?" Dimple asked her mother, after they had watched the boats start off.

Mrs. Dallas, with Mrs. Hardy's help, was putting up a hammock between two of the big trees. "I think it will be perfectly safe," she replied, after a moment's thought. "The island isn't very big, and you will not go too near the water's edge, will you? I can see you from here--I suppose in whatever direction you go."

"I will keep away from the water, mamma, although I should dearly like to paddle about."

"You can take off your shoes and stockings and paddle right here on this bit of shore when you come back from your exploring trip. I can watch you then, and shall feel perfectly easy about you."

"Where are the lunch baskets, mamma?"

"Over there behind that tree."

"What is that covered up with that grey blanket?"

"Something Mr. Atkinson brought."

"I didn't see it in our boat. May I peep at it?"

"No, dear, I think I wouldn't. It isn't just the thing to indulge one's curiosity about such matters. Mr. Atkinson had it sent up here, and as he meant it as a sort of a little secret for you children, it wouldn't be polite to try to find it out."

So Dimple with her little maid, walked away, not, however, without several backward looks at the grey blanket.

There was not very much to see on the island, after all, for it was a small place, and the most interesting discovery they made was a pile of big rocks at the upper end of the narrow strip of land. Here they established themselves to watch the boats and the fishers.

"I think Rock has caught a fish," exclaimed Dimple, when she had been watching for some time. "See, Bubbles, he is hauling in his line as fast as he can. There goes the reel again. Oh, I hope if he must catch them, that he will catch big ones. See that lovely red flower growing down there between the rocks. I wish you would get it for me, Bubbles, and then we will go back to where mamma is. I am as hungry as I don't know what, and I want to ask mamma for a turnover or a biscuit or something. Get me the flower, Bubbles, and I'll watch to see if Rock really did catch a fish."

Bubbles promptly obeyed, but she had just stooped to pick the flower when she heard a piercing shriek from Dimple. Mrs. Dallas heard it, too, and came running in the greatest alarm, to find, when she reached the spot, Dimple almost paralyzed with fright, continuing her screams, while Bubbles, dancing about, getting more and more excited every minute, was valiantly hurling pieces of rock at a large black snake.

"Hyar come anudder," she cried, as a stone went flying through the air. "Take dat. Hit yuh, didn't it? Skeer Miss Dimple outen her senses, will yuh? Yuh gre't, ugly black crittur!" and rock after rock came with such force and precision that the unfortunate snake, in a few minutes, was "daid as a do' nail," as Bubbles expressed it.

Dimple clung to her mother, trembling with fright, even after the snake was killed.

"Is it dead, really dead? Oh, Bubbles!" she quavered. "What would I have done if you hadn't been so brave?"

Bubbles laughed. "Dat wan't no snake to pison yuh," she said. "It couldn't hurt yuh. All it could do was to race yuh."

"Don't talk about it," said Dimple, shuddering. "Do let us leave it, and go back."

But Bubbles was too proud of her performance to allow it to be set aside; so she picked up the snake, and started to carry it back on a forked stick.

On the way, however, she too fell into a fright at sight of an innocent little land terrapin traveling along with his house on his back. "Don't tech it, don't, Miss Dimple," she cried in terror. "Dey has de evilest eyes. I wouldn't tech one fer nothin'."

"But you aren't afraid of snakes," replied Dimple, "and these little terrapins are much more harmless." Nevertheless Bubbles had in some way acquired a superstition about "Bre'r Tarrapin," from Sylvy, who, like most colored people, stood in terror of the innocent creatures.

But when the boats returned, the big snake, hanging over the limb of a tree, was triumphantly displayed and attested to Bubbles' courage; so that she was made very proud by the praise she received for having killed it, Dimple generously refraining from saying anything about the terrapin.

Although Rock did not catch the first fish, he caught the biggest one, and was quite proud of it.

There was a fire built, and the fish, nicely cleaned, were cooked over the coals. Florence thought all this delightful. She had never enjoyed such an experience, and watched the proceedings with the greatest pleasure. Every one was ready to enjoy the supper when it was prepared, saying that fish never tasted so good, and that the coffee, made in a very ordinary tin coffee-pot, could not be improved.

Dimple whispered to Florence that there was a secret under the grey blanket; and that she half suspected what it was, but she didn't intend to look. Even a delighted giggle from Bubbles did not cause her to turn her head, but when that small hand-maiden, who was bustling about waiting on every one, offered her a saucer of ice cream, Dimple exclaimed, "I guessed it! I guessed it to myself."

"Guessed what?" said Mr. Atkinson, at her side.

"Guessed that it was an ice cream freezer under the blanket," returned Dimple.

"Oho! so you've been trying to find out, have you?"

"No. I didn't try. I only hoped," replied Dimple, gravely. At which Mr. Atkinson laughed heartily; just why, Dimple was puzzled to discover.

When the supper was over and the baskets repacked, they played all manner of games till the great round moon rose over the river, and then they rowed home, singing as they floated along in the silvery moonlight.

Florence and Dimple sat side by side, in a sort of waking dream; and Bubbles dreamed too, as was very evident when the boat landed, for she was sound asleep, and had to be called and shaken before she knew where she was. Then she blundered along behind the others, still so sleepy that she forgot to take off her precious blue beads when she went to bed, and in the night the string broke; consequently when she awoke in the morning she found the beads straggling over the floor and strewing the sheets.

"Didn't we have a good time?" said Florence, looking out on the moonlight, as she stood at the window in Dimple's room.

"Yes," was Dimple's reply, "all but the snake. I don't like snakes."

But the next evening it was evident that Bubbles still bore the subject of snakes in her mind. Mr. and Mrs. Dallas had gone out. Dimple, Florence and Bubbles were sitting on the floor by one of the front windows.

The air was full of the scent of the honeysuckle, and the katydids were contradicting each other in the trees.

"What quarrelsome things they are," said Florence. "Do you suppose they will ever find out whether katy did or not? I'd like to know what she did, anyhow."

"Or what she didn't," said Dimple. "Bubbles, are you asleep?" giving her a shake.

"Thinkin'," said Bubbles, sitting up straight and rubbing her eyes.

"Then what are you rubbing your eyes for?"

"'Cause it's dark. I can't see good," returned Bubbles.

"I declare," Dimple said, "I never know what to do with myself when mamma goes out; it seems to me she is very intimate with Mrs. Hardy. Florence, suppose you tell a story."

"Oh, I can't," replied Florence. "I never could. I never know what to tell about. You tell."

"I don't know any except Cinderella and the Seven Swans, and those. Bubbles will have to do it. Go on Bubbles, you've got to tell us a story."

"Laws! Miss Dimple," giggled Bubbles.

"You needn't 'laws,' you know you can, for you've often told them to me; now begin, right away; it will keep you awake if it doesn't do anything else."

"Well," said Bubbles, smoothing down her apron, "oncet they was a bummelybee, and a snake, and a