Read Online Caddie Woodlawn's Family by Carol Ryrie Brink - Free Book Online
Authors: Carol Ryrie Brink
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said, “if you cannot go to Dr. Hearty’s highly educating and entertaining display of music, art, and magic, Dr. Hearty will come to you.”
He took out a worn old banjo and began such a lively tune that the little Hooper boys could not resist jiggingand doing handsprings all over the grass. When the jig was finished, Dr. Hearty struck more plaintive chords and raised his rich bass voice in a sad ballad, “Dying at the Door.”
“Through the dark streets I am wand’ring alone,
Bowed down and weary with hope overthrown;
Seeking from torturing memory rest,
Trying to stifle the pain at my breast.
Stained tho’ I am, yet on this cruel night
I’m seeking again my old home’s firelight.
Oh, you who once loved me, forgive, I implore;
Oh, pity me tonight, for I’m dying at your door.
Have pity tonight for I’m dying, at your door.
“Weary, sighing, hopeless, dying,
What a change from days of yore.
Father, mother, husband, children,
I am dying at your door.”
Emma couldn’t help wiping her eyes on the corner of her apron. The mouths of the little Hooper boys had gone down at the corners. In fact, Dr. Hearty’s audience was almost in tears over the sad fate of the heroine of the ballad, when he stopped singing as suddenly as he had begun.
“Pardon me, miss, but you’ve a half dollar sticking out of your ear.”
Emma was perfectly amazed to have Dr. Hearty reach out and pluck a half dollar quite painlessly out of her ear. It was a very nimble half dollar indeed; for after it had disappeared under a silk handkerchief, it suddenly popped up again in old man Toomey’s beard, was once more lost in Dr. Hearty’s stovepipe hat, and finally came to light in the youngest Hooper boy’s pocket.
“And now,” said Dr. Hearty, “a little local talent, my friends. My able assistant, Miss Emma, will now favor us with her bird-call imitations.”
Emma was as much astonished as when Dr. Hearty found a half dollar in her ear, but she wasn’t frightened.
“This is the robin’s early-morning song,” she said, pursing up her lips. “This is the bobolink…. This is the redwing….”
When she had finished they all applauded. Even the blacksmith stopped working on the axle to clap his hands, and Emma found herself making a curtsy just like a regular actor.
“And now, again, my friends,” said Dr. Hearty, “to demonstrate to you the salubrious properties of my Marvelous Cure-All, I should like you to witness its remarkable effect on a poor old man.”
In a moment the spotted dog, dressed in a small pair of trousers, with spectacles on his nose, came walking around the caravan on his hind legs. He appeared to be in great distress and presently lay down as if at death’s door. Dr. Hearty felt his pulse and asked him various questions concerning his health, to which the little dog replied with barks and dismal whines. When all seemed lost, a sip of Dr. Hearty’s Cure-All miraculously restored him to health and vivacity—to the extreme delight of Emma and the little boys.
“I’d like a bottle of that myself,” said Mr. Hooper. “Have you et, Dr. Hearty?”
“No,” said Dr. Hearty, “but I’d admire to do so. Will you trade me some supper for a bottle of Cure-All?”
He began a lively tune
“Step right over to the store, doctor, an’ we’ll do business.”
“My able assistant is also unfed,” said the doctor.
“That’s all right,” said Mr. Hooper. “Come right in, Emma. I’ll feed ye both.”
The store was mellow with lamplight. Emma sat on a cracker barrel and Dr. Hearty leaned on a counter beside her. Crackers and cheese had never tasted finer. It was a rare meal and spiced with magic, for Dr. Hearty seemed as clever at extracting crackers from people’s ears as he had been with half dollars. Crackers came out of the lamp chimney and disappeared mysteriously into flour sacks, and gingersnaps materialized out of thin air.
It was a lovely evening, full of adventure. But at last
He took out a worn old banjo and began such a lively tune that the little Hooper boys could not resist jiggingand doing handsprings all over the grass. When the jig was finished, Dr. Hearty struck more plaintive chords and raised his rich bass voice in a sad ballad, “Dying at the Door.”
“Through the dark streets I am wand’ring alone,
Bowed down and weary with hope overthrown;
Seeking from torturing memory rest,
Trying to stifle the pain at my breast.
Stained tho’ I am, yet on this cruel night
I’m seeking again my old home’s firelight.
Oh, you who once loved me, forgive, I implore;
Oh, pity me tonight, for I’m dying at your door.
Have pity tonight for I’m dying, at your door.
“Weary, sighing, hopeless, dying,
What a change from days of yore.
Father, mother, husband, children,
I am dying at your door.”
Emma couldn’t help wiping her eyes on the corner of her apron. The mouths of the little Hooper boys had gone down at the corners. In fact, Dr. Hearty’s audience was almost in tears over the sad fate of the heroine of the ballad, when he stopped singing as suddenly as he had begun.
“Pardon me, miss, but you’ve a half dollar sticking out of your ear.”
Emma was perfectly amazed to have Dr. Hearty reach out and pluck a half dollar quite painlessly out of her ear. It was a very nimble half dollar indeed; for after it had disappeared under a silk handkerchief, it suddenly popped up again in old man Toomey’s beard, was once more lost in Dr. Hearty’s stovepipe hat, and finally came to light in the youngest Hooper boy’s pocket.
“And now,” said Dr. Hearty, “a little local talent, my friends. My able assistant, Miss Emma, will now favor us with her bird-call imitations.”
Emma was as much astonished as when Dr. Hearty found a half dollar in her ear, but she wasn’t frightened.
“This is the robin’s early-morning song,” she said, pursing up her lips. “This is the bobolink…. This is the redwing….”
When she had finished they all applauded. Even the blacksmith stopped working on the axle to clap his hands, and Emma found herself making a curtsy just like a regular actor.
“And now, again, my friends,” said Dr. Hearty, “to demonstrate to you the salubrious properties of my Marvelous Cure-All, I should like you to witness its remarkable effect on a poor old man.”
In a moment the spotted dog, dressed in a small pair of trousers, with spectacles on his nose, came walking around the caravan on his hind legs. He appeared to be in great distress and presently lay down as if at death’s door. Dr. Hearty felt his pulse and asked him various questions concerning his health, to which the little dog replied with barks and dismal whines. When all seemed lost, a sip of Dr. Hearty’s Cure-All miraculously restored him to health and vivacity—to the extreme delight of Emma and the little boys.
“I’d like a bottle of that myself,” said Mr. Hooper. “Have you et, Dr. Hearty?”
“No,” said Dr. Hearty, “but I’d admire to do so. Will you trade me some supper for a bottle of Cure-All?”
He began a lively tune
“Step right over to the store, doctor, an’ we’ll do business.”
“My able assistant is also unfed,” said the doctor.
“That’s all right,” said Mr. Hooper. “Come right in, Emma. I’ll feed ye both.”
The store was mellow with lamplight. Emma sat on a cracker barrel and Dr. Hearty leaned on a counter beside her. Crackers and cheese had never tasted finer. It was a rare meal and spiced with magic, for Dr. Hearty seemed as clever at extracting crackers from people’s ears as he had been with half dollars. Crackers came out of the lamp chimney and disappeared mysteriously into flour sacks, and gingersnaps materialized out of thin air.
It was a lovely evening, full of adventure. But at last
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