stars thathe had not proved himself untrustworthy by running away, and so missing all this fun.
“Won’t it be fine to have the house open all the time? We can run over and see the pictures and books whenever we like. I
know we can, Miss Celia is so kind,” began Betty, who cared for these things more than for screaming peacocks and comical
donkeys.
“Not unless you are invited,” answered their mother, locking the front door behind her. “You’d better begin to pick up your
duds right away, for she won’t want them cluttering round her front yard. If you are not too tired, Ben, you might rake round
a little while I shut the blinds. I want things to look nice and tidy.”
Two little groans went up from two afflicted little girls as they looked about them at the shady bower, the dear porch, and
the winding walks where they loved to run “till their hair whistled in the wind,” as the fairy books say.
“Whatever shall we do! Our attic is so hot and the shed so small, and the yard always full of hens or clothes. We shall have
to pack all our things away, and never play anymore,” said Bab, tragically.
“Maybe Ben could build us a little house in the orchard,” proposed Betty, who firmly believed that Ben could do anything.
“He won’t have any time. Boys don’t care for baby-houses,” returned Bab, collecting her homeless goods and chattels with a
dismal face.
“We sha’n’t want these much when all the new things come; see if we do,” said cheerful little Betty, who always found out
a silver lining to every cloud.
Miss Celia’s Man
C HAPTER 8
B en was not too tired, and the clearing-up began that very night. None too soon, for in a day or two things arrived, to the
great delight of the children, who considered moving a most interesting play. First came the phaeton, which Ben spent all
his leisure moments in admiring; wondering with secret envy what happy boy would ride in the little seat up behind, and beguiling
his tasks by planning how, when he got rich, he would pass his time driving about in just such an equipage, and inviting all
the boys he met to have a ride.
Then a load of furniture came creaking in at the Lodge gate, and the girls had raptures over a cottage piano, several small
chairs, and a little low table, which they pronounced just the thing for them to play at. The livestock appeared next, creating
a great stir in the neighborhood, for peacocks were rare birds there; the donkey’s bray startled the cattle and convulsed
the people with laughter; the rabbits were continually getting out to burrow in the newly made garden; and Chevalita scandalized
old Duke by dancing about the stable which he had inhabited for years in stately solitude.
Last but by no means least, Miss Celia, her young brother, and two maids arrived one evening so late that only Mrs. Moss went
over to help them settle. The childrenwere much disappointed, but were appeased by a promise that they should all go to pay their respects in the morning.
They were up so early, and were so impatient to be off, that Mrs. Moss let them go with the warning that they would find only
the servants astir. She was mistaken, however, for, as the procession approached, a voice from the porch called out, “Good
morning, little neighbors!” so unexpectedly, that Bab nearly spilt the new milk she carried, Betty gave such a start that
the fresh-laid eggs quite skipped in the dish, and Ben’s face broke into a broad grin over the armful of clover which he brought
for the bunnies, as he bobbed his head, saying briskly—
“She’s all right, miss, Lita is; and I can bring her over any minute you say.”
“I shall want her at four o’clock. Thorny will be too tired to drive, but I must hear from the post office, rain or shine”;
and Miss Celia’s pretty color brightened as she spoke, either from some happy thought or because she was bashful, for the
honest young faces before her
Nick S. Thomas
Becky Citra
Kimberley Reeves
Matthew S. Cox
Marc Seifer
MC Beaton
Kit Pearson
Sabine Priestley
Oliver Kennedy
Ellis Peters