Under the Lilacs (15 page)

“Didn’t I have a time of it, though, when I had to go round for a week with plantain leaves and cream stuck all over my face!
Just picked some pretty red dogwood, Ben; and then I was a regular guy, with a face like a lobster, and my eyes swelled out
of sight. Come along, and learn right away, and never get into scrapes like most fellows.”

Impressed by this warning, and attracted by Thorny’s enthusiasm, Ben cast himself down upon the blanket, and for an hour the
two heads bobbed to and fro, from microscope
to book, the teacher airing his small knowledge, the pupil more and more interested in the new and curious things he saw or
heard — though it must be confessed that Ben infinitely preferred to watch ants and bugs, queer little worms and gauzy-winged
flies, rather than “putter” over plants with long names. He did not dare to say so, however; but, when Thorny asked him if
it wasn’t capital fun, he dodged cleverly by proposing to hunt up the flowers for his master to study, offering to learn about
the dangerous ones, but pleading want of time to investigate this pleasing science very deeply.

As Thorny had talked himself hoarse, he was very ready to dismiss his class of one to fish the milk bottle out of the brook;
and recess was prolonged till next day. But both boys found a new pleasure in the pretty pastime they made of it; for active
Ben ranged the woods and fields with a tin box slung over his shoulder, and feeble Thorny had a little room fitted up for
his own use, where he pressed flowers in newspaper books, dried herbs on the walls, had bottles and cups, pans and platters,
for his treasures, and made as much litter as he liked.

Presently, Ben brought such lively accounts of the green nooks where jacks-in-the-pulpit preached their little sermons; brooks,
beside which grew blue violets and lovely ferns; rocks, round which danced the columbines like rosy elves, or the trees where
birds built, squirrels chattered, and woodchucks burrowed, that Thorny was seized with a desire to go and see these beauties
for himself. So Jack was saddled, and went plodding, scrambling, and wandering into all manner of pleasant places, always
bringing home a stronger, browner rider than he carried away.

This delighted Miss Celia; and she gladly saw them ramble off together, leaving her time to stitch happily at
certain dainty bits of sewing, write voluminous letters, or dream over others quite as long, swinging in her hammock under
the lilacs.

C
HAPTER
13

“School is done,

Now we’ll have fun,”

S
ung Bab and Betty, slamming down their books as if they never meant to take them up again, when they came home on the last
day of June.

Tired Teacher had dismissed them for eight whole weeks, and gone away to rest; the little schoolhouse was shut up, lessons
were over, spirits rising fast, and vacation had begun. The quiet town seemed suddenly inundated with children, all in such
a rampant state that busy mothers wondered how they ever should be able to keep their frisky darlings out of mischief; thrifty
fathers planned how they could bribe the idle hands to pick berries or rake hay; and the old folks, while wishing the young
folks well, secretly blessed the man who invented schools.

The girls immediately began to talk about picnics, and have them, too; for little hats sprung up in the fields like a new
sort of mushroom — every hillside bloomed with gay gowns, looking as if the flowers had gone out for a walk; and the woods
were full of featherless birds chirping away as blithely as the thrushes, robins, and wrens.

The boys took to baseball like ducks to water; and the common was the scene of tremendous battles, waged with
much tumult, but little bloodshed. To the uninitiated, it appeared as if these young men had lost their wits; for, no matter
how warm it was, there they were, tearing about in the maddest manner, jackets off, sleeves rolled up, queer caps flung on
any way, all batting shabby leather balls, and catching the same, as if their lives depended on it. Everyone talking in his
gruffest tone, bawling at the top of his voice, squabbling over every point of the game, and seeming to enjoy himself immensely,
in spite of the heat, dust, uproar, and imminent danger of getting eyes or teeth knocked out.

Thorny was an excellent player, but, not being strong enough to show his prowess, he made Ben his proxy; and, sitting on the
fence, acted as umpire to his heart’s content. Ben was a promising pupil, and made rapid progress; for eye, foot, and hand
had been so well trained that they did him good service now; and Brown was considered a first-rate “catcher.”

Sancho distinguished himself by his skill in hunting up stray balls, and guarding jackets when not needed, with the air of
one of the Old Guard on duty at the tomb of Napoleon. Bab also longed to join in the fun, which suited her better than “stupid
picnics” or “fussing over dolls”; but her heroes would not have her at any price; and she was obliged to content herself with
sitting by Thorny, and watching with breathless interest the varying fortunes of our side.

A grand match was planned for the Fourth of July; but when the club met, things were found to be unpropitious. Thorny had
gone out of town with his sister to pass the day, two of the best players did not appear, and the others were somewhat exhausted
by the festivities, which began at sunrise
for them. So they lay about on the grass in the shade of the big elm, languidly discussing their various wrongs and disappointments.

“It’s the meanest Fourth I ever saw. Can’t have no crackers, because somebody’s horse got scared last year,” growled Sam Kitteridge,
bitterly resenting the stern edict which forbade free-born citizens to burn as much gunpowder as they liked on that glorious
day.

“Last year Jimmy got his arm blown off when they fired the old cannon. Didn’t we have a lively time going for the doctors
and getting him home?” asked another boy, looking as if he felt defrauded of the most interesting part of the anniversary,
because no accident had occurred.

“Ain’t going to be fireworks either, unless somebody’s barn burns up. Don’t I just wish there would,” gloomily responded another
youth who had so rashly indulged in pyrotechnics on a former occasion that a neighbor’s cow had been roasted whole.

“I wouldn’t give two cents for such a slow old place as this. Why, last Fourth at this time, I was rumbling through Boston
streets up top of our big car, all in my best toggery. Hot as pepper, but good fun looking in at the upper windows and hearing
the women scream when the old thing waggled round and I made believe I was going to tumble off,” said Ben, leaning on his
bat with the air of a man who had seen the world and felt some natural regret at descending from so lofty a sphere.

“Catch me cutting away if I had such a chance as that!” answered Sam, trying to balance
his
bat on his chin and getting a smart rap across the nose as he failed to perform the feat.

“Much you know about it, old chap. It’s hard work, I can tell you, and that wouldn’t suit such a lazybones. Then you
are too big to begin, though you might do for a fat boy if Smithers wanted one,” said Ben, surveying the stout youth with
calm contempt.

“Let’s go in swimming, not loaf round here, if we can’t play,” proposed a red and shiny boy, panting for a game of leapfrog
in Sandy pond.

“May as well; don’t see much else to do,” sighed Sam, rising like a young elephant.

The others were about to follow, when a shrill “Hi, hi, boys, hold on!” made them turn about to behold Billy Barton tearing
down the street like a runaway colt, waving a long strip of paper as he ran.

“Now, then, what’s the matter?” demanded Ben, as the other came up grinning and puffing, but full of great news.

“Look here, read it! I’m going; come along, the whole of you,” panted Billy, putting the paper into Sam’s hand, and surveying
the crowd with a face as beaming as a full moon.

“Look out for the big show,” read Sam. “Van Amburg & Co.’s New Great Golden Menagerie, Circus and Colosseum, will exhibit
at Berryville, July 4th, at 1 and 7 precisely. Admission 50 cents, children half-price. Don’t forget day and date. H. Frost,
Manager.”

While Sam read, the other boys had been gloating over the enticing pictures which covered the bill. There was the golden car,
filled with noble beings in helmets, all playing on immense trumpets; the twenty-four prancing steeds with manes, tails, and
feathered heads tossing in the breeze; the clowns, the tumblers, the strong men, and the riders flying about in the air as
if the laws of gravitation no longer existed. But, best of all, was the grand conglomeration of animals where the giraffe
appears to stand on the elephant’s back, the zebra to be jumping over the seal, the hippopotamus to be lunching off a couple
of crocodiles, and lions and
tigers to be raining down in all directions with their mouths wide open and their tails as stiff as that of the famous Northumberland
House lion.

“Cricky! wouldn’t I like to see that,” said little Cyrus Fay, devoutly hoping that the cage, in which this pleasing spectacle
took place, was a very strong one.

“You never would, it’s only a picture! That, now, is something like,” and Ben, who had pricked up his ears at the word “circus,”
laid his finger on a smaller cut of a man hanging by the back of his neck with a child in each hand, two men suspended from
his feet, and the third swinging forward to alight on his head.

“I’m going,” said Sam, with calm decision, for this superb array of unknown pleasures fired his soul and made him forget his
weight.

“How will you fix it?” asked Ben, fingering the bill with a nervous thrill all through his wiry limbs, just as he used to
feel it when his father caught him up to dash into the ring.

“Foot it with Billy. It’s only four miles, and we’ve got lots of time, so we can take it easy. Mother won’t care, if I send
word by Cy,” answered Sam, producing half a dollar, as if such magnificent sums were no strangers to his pocket.

“Come on, Brown; you’ll be a first-rate fellow to show us round, as you know all the dodges,” said Billy, anxious to get his
money’s worth.

“Well, I don’t know,” began Ben, longing to go, but afraid Mrs. Moss would say “No!” if he asked leave.

“He’s afraid,” sneered the red-faced boy, who felt bitterly toward all mankind at that instant, because he knew there was
no hope of
his
going.

“Say that again, and I’ll knock your head off,” and Ben faced round with a gesture which caused the other to skip out of reach
precipitately.

“Hasn’t got any money, more likely,” observed a shabby youth, whose pockets never had anything in them but a pair of dirty
hands.

Ben calmly produced a dollar bill and waved it defiantly before this doubter, observing with dignity:

“I’ve got money enough to treat the whole crowd, if I choose to, which I
don’t.”

“Then come along and have a jolly time with Sam and me. We can buy some dinner and get a ride home, as like as not,” said
the amiable Billy, with a slap on the shoulder, and a cordial grin which made it impossible for Ben to resist.

“What are you stopping for?” demanded Sam, ready to be off, that they might “take it easy.”

“Don’t know what to do with Sancho. He’ll get lost or stolen if I take him, and it’s too far to carry him home if you are
in a hurry,” began Ben, persuading himself that this was the true reason of his delay.

“Let Cy take him back. He’ll do it for a cent; won’t you, Cy?” proposed Billy, smoothing away all objections, for he liked
Ben, and saw that he wanted to go.

“No, I won’t; I
don’t
like him. He winks at me, and growls when I touch him,” muttered naughty Cy, remembering how much reason poor Sanch had to
distrust his tormentor.

“There’s Bab; she’ll do it. Come here, sissy; Ben wants you,” called Sam, beckoning to a small figure just perching on the
fence.

Down it jumped and came fluttering up, much elated at being summoned by the captain of the sacred nine.

“I want you to take Sanch home, and tell your mother I I’m going to walk, and maybe won’t be back till sundown. Miss Celia
said I might do what I pleased, all day. You remember, now.”

Ben spoke without looking up, and affected to be very busy buckling a strap into Sanch’s collar, for the two were so seldom
parted that the dog always rebelled. It was a mistake on Ben’s part, for while his eyes were on his work Bab’s were devouring
the bill which Sam still held, and her suspicions were aroused by the boys’ faces.

“Where are you going? Ma will want to know,” she said, as curious as a magpie all at once.

“Never you mind; girls can’t know everything. You just catch hold of this and run along home. Lock Sanch up for an hour, and
tell your mother I’m all right,” answered Ben, bound to assert his manly supremacy before his mates.

“He’s going to the circus,” whispered Fay, hoping to make mischief.

“Circus! Oh, Ben,
do
take me!” cried Bab, falling into a state of great excitement at the mere thought of such delight.