Read Ebook: The New-Year's Bargain by Coolidge Susan Ledyard Addie Illustrator

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Ebook has 615 lines and 38637 words, and 13 pages

"I'm glad to hear it," said Max; "but before you begin, where's the gift?"

"It's only about the bears in the North-West Hollow."

"Bears!" cried Max: "what bears?"

"A real nice family of bears who live up there. Last year when I saw them, they were little fellows about the size of kittens; but they are quite big now, and have got grown-up growls. I thought perhaps you'd like to hear about 'em."

Oh, wouldn't they? Both children crept close to him, and drank in every word with red cheeks and round eyes.

"Bears!" cried Max, quite stuttering with excitement. "I didn't know there were any in the Forest. Oh, do go on!"

"They used to lie all curled up in a heap," continued February, "at the bottom of a nest in the rocks, which their mother had lined with leaves and moss to keep them warm. They looked just like funny bundles of brown hair. There were four of them,--Snap, Snooze, Roll-about, and Greedy. Roll-about was the fattest and the best-natured, but they were all nice. They lay tangled together, and couldn't help pulling each other's fur a good deal; but they quarrelled much less than most brothers and sisters who live in such close quarters.

"I went away before they were old enough to go out, so I couldn't tell you much about them if it were not for April. April and I," said February, with a sentimental air, "were always great friends. She used to see the Mamma Bear and her little ones go walking together. One day when they were in the wood a barking of dogs and blowing of horns was heard.

"'Run! run!' cried Mamma; and off they went,--all but Greedy who had straggled away in pursuit of a honey-tree. He was too young to know how to take care of himself, and getting confused ran into the very track of the hunters. They would have killed him, but one shouted, 'Take him alive! take him alive! I want him;' so instead they put him into a sack and carried him away.

"Of course they growled with astonishment, and flew to meet him. He was glad too, but his manner seemed a little cold. Where had he been? Oh! he had been in a town of Germany getting his education. And where had he been living? Oh! in the family of his tutor of course. Slept in the same room with the children, and treated like a child. None of them knew what a tutor might be; and Roll-about asked innocently if it was something good to eat, but Greedy shook his head. The town was a college town, he said. All persons of refinement were sent there to study.

"'Are you a person of refinement, Greedy?' asked little Snooze.

"Greedy froze him with a look. He didn't answer, but went on with his tale. He had learned to dance. He could pick out the Ace of Hearts, and A, B, and Z from the alphabet. He could jump over a stick. This last he did on the spot, to show them how it went; and, in the middle of the jump, Snap noticed something which made him cry out, 'O Greedy! your poor paws! What is the matter with them? They're all brown, and dried up?'

"Greedy looked foolish. 'Oh!' he replied, 'that's nothing: they--they--got a little burnt one day,--that's all,--on some hot iron. Stoves are very hot in Germany.'

"Mamma looked queer when she heard this, and relieved her feelings by a low growl. The little ones could not tell what to make of it.

"They had a grand walk home; but no sooner had they got there, than Greedy began to find fault with every thing in the most unpleasant manner. The Hollow was the dampest hole he ever had seen. No place was fit to live in without a stove. As for the food, it was horrid. It gave him the stomach-ache, he declared; and he called for beef-steaks, as if he expected a butcher to appear round the corner. When the honeycomb was brought in, he fell upon it tooth and nail, and ate a great deal more than his share. Mamma reproved him; but he snubbed her, and said that was the way all the children did in the city; and when poor little Roll-about, who had to go without any, gave a low whine or two just to comfort herself, he boxed her ears with his paw savagely, and then excused himself by telling them that Master Jack, his tutor's son, often cuffed his sister, Miss Gretchen, in that way, and nobody took any notice. It wasn't any particular consolation to Roll-about to hear of it, and she crept away into a lonely corner, and moaned and licked her paws for a long time.

"Master Jack and Miss Gretchen,"--how the Bear family did learn to hate those children! Every rude and disagreeable thing Greedy did, he quoted them as examples. Jack, it seemed, said, 'I won't,' and fought for his dinner; and Gretchen scratched and bit right and left; and they quarrelled with each other. Their evil example had ruined all that was good in poor Greedy. He said the most unpleasant things. He found fault with every thing. He pitched into the others on all occasions, and boxed Roll-about's ears till the hair grew quite thin. Then he advised her to use 'bears' grease.' 'All the city young ladies did so,' he said; but what good was that, when the poor little thing could get none but her own,--or his, which, as you may suppose, he wasn't very likely to offer her!

"'You are grown up,' she said: 'go out and shift for yourself. As long as you were good and content, I was glad to have you here: now you only make my life miserable, and I can't endure it.' And she raised her large paw, and showed her teeth, for the first time in her life; and Greedy, with a snarl of fright, slunk away from the den.

"Out of her sight, however, his temper revived. He got into a great huff. 'Leave the den?' Of course he would, and very glad to see the last of it. So he went and chose a hole for himself to live in. It was quite close to the village,--a great deal too close for safety. But the silly creature had lost all his instinct by living with human beings. And whenever the bells rang or any thing seemed to be going on, he would rush out to peep, and find what it was. I only wonder they didn't catch him long ago."

"Did they catch him, then?" asked Max.

"You shall hear. Only yesterday it was that a caravan with a band of music came into the village. Greedy heard the sounds, and it seemed as if he would go wild. He dodged among the bushes, and looked on as long as he could stand it, and then, seized with a desire to distinguish himself, out he came. The circus people couldn't believe their eyes when they saw him prancing after them, his head on one side, and taking steps like a dancing-master. Of course such a prize was not to be resisted. They lost no time; and, when I caught sight of them, poor Greedy had already a muzzle on his jaws and a rope round his neck. A boy was banging his sides with a stick, his tail was between his legs, and I must say," ended February, laughing heartily, "he didn't look particularly happy at being taken back into fashionable life after this manner."

"That's first-rate," cried Max, in fits of amusement.

"I'm so glad you liked it," replied February, much pleased. "Now I'll trouble you for my thumb-nail and left ear-tip."

The can was brought, and Max carefully measured out what was wanted. February kissed Thekla's hand , made a clumsy bow to both, and went away.

The children hugged each other. "If they're all like that," cried they, "how jolly it will be!"

LITTLE TOT.

February went by like a flash, or the children thought so. It was really a short month: but, besides, they were very busy; and work, you know, makes time fly. Thekla, who had just learned to spin, had a job on hand of which she was proud. It was no less than spinning and carding the wool for a bran-new suit of clothes which Max was to wear next year. Dyed brown, and woven by Mother Gretel the cunning weaver, they were to be something grand. As for Max, his work was wood-carving. Nearly all the German boys can carve; and he and Thekla thought the spoon over which he was so busy, and which had grape leaves and tendrils on the handle, most beautiful. It would go to the great Spring Fair, and fetch a large price, perhaps as much as a silver dollar. Altogether, they could hardly believe the calendar when it showed them a month had gone by, and that evening they must look for another visitor.

It was a dark night, and very cold. As they sat by the fire waiting, they could hear the frost cracking and snapping the tree-boughs. Now and then a crash like thunder came. It was a limb, overloaded with ice, breaking off, and falling to the ground. And by and by, among the other noises, a strange, wild voice began to mingle, making them all more fearful. It was March, who, as he came through the forest, was talking to himself.

"Won't you sit down, sir?" he said at last very meekly, and went to shut the door, which March had left open. Quite a little heap of dead leaves and snow had collected on the sill; and Thekla, who was a born housewife, ran to brush them up. March twirled round on his stool, and watched her proceedings with great scorn.

"But I am so little," replied Thekla, in her bird's voice; "and, beside, I have brushed up all there are."

"All there are? Nonsense," cried March; "but no matter. Am I, or am I not to tell a story? If not, let me know at once; for I have an engagement with a couple of hurricanes, and want to be off. A pretty business," he went on, glaring fiercely, "to sit here by this melting fire to amuse a couple of thieving brats, when I have so much to do. Ho! ho!"

"Oh!" whispered Thekla to Max, "let's give him his moments, and let him go: he makes me afraid."

"Not I," said Max, who was plucking up courage, "not if I know it!--Of course you are to tell a story," he continued aloud: "you promised, and you ought to be a Month of your word. Thekla, put away that broom. Now we're all ready, sir."

March scowled, but made no resistance. As Max had said, he was a Month of his word; and he began in a queer voice, which was now loud and then soft, now dying away to a murmur and then bellowing out again in a way that made you jump.

"Once upon a time, as I was driving across a prairie, I saw a house."

"I don't know what a prairie is," said Thekla, gently.

"I don't suppose you do," growled March: "that's one of the things you don't know, and there are a good many more of 'em. A prairie's a big field without any fences, and several thousand miles square. People live there,--some people do: I spend a good deal of time there myself. First-rate place for a promenade,--no corners to turn, plenty of room. As I said, I saw a house.

"There was a snow-storm along with me. We had nine hundred billion horses, all white as wool; and we went fast. Killing pace. Horses kept dropping down dead, lay in heaps wherever we went; and we left 'em there. About four million dashed up against the house I was telling you about. They 'most covered it up, for it wasn't a big house. There were two little windows and a door. Windows had curtains; but one was slipped aside, and the fire looked out like a red eye. I didn't like that; so I put my eye to the other side, to see if I couldn't look him down.

"Funniest thing I ever saw!" said March, giving a hoarse chuckle. "Such tots! Biggest only four years old; t'other not a year. There was a pussy too. They three--true, on my word--were the only creatures in the house that night."

"Where could their father and mother be?" asked Max, excessively interested.

"Oh! went off that morning to the town,--like fools,--and couldn't get back. We saw to that. Stuck in ten drifts, most frozen to death. Wife half-crazy about the babies; husband just managed to get to shelter. Ho! ho!" cried March. "Served 'em right, I say. Ho! ho!

"Don't you think, that Tot, the biggest one, was putting a stick of wood on the fire when I looked in? Stick as big as she was, almost! How she did it was a mystery. Little apron blew into the flame, but I flew up the chimney and blew it the other way. 'Tisn't often I do a good turn, but I couldn't help it then."

"That was right," said Thekla.

"Hold your tongue!" cried March, rudely. "What do you know about it? Two sticks that little thing got on. I never did! How she managed it, and such a baby!

"Then she put a shawl over the other tot. Patted the corners down just like an old woman, and put one on herself. Hind side before, but no matter for that. Then she got into bed, and sang, 'Hush by, Budda,--hus' by, Budda,' till the baby went to sleep. Then she went to sleep too. I thought I'd like to see what would happen when they woke up, so I sent the snow-storm on and stayed behind with my eye to the chink.

"I'm not a tender-hearted person myself," said March, modestly, "but really I couldn't bear to disturb those children. Several times I wanted to roar dreadfully,--roaring is one of my greatest pleasures,--but I didn't. I never quite knew why, but so it was. The snow isn't noisy, so it was as still all night about the little house as if it had been mid-summer.

"There was only one stick of wood left, and that was a big one. Tot couldn't move it. Pussy got on the table, and lapped up all the milk in the pan. Then Tot cried hard, and said, 'Mamma, come! oh do come!' over and over. She put all the clothes there were on the bed. When the baby cried, she patted him with her little hand, and cried too. When morning came, they were both still. I could see them through the window. Away off on the prairie I heard the slow jingle of a bell.

"'Hurry! hurry!' I roared, 'or you'll be too late.' Then I scooped up the snow, and blew open a path. The sleigh got nearer. The woman couldn't wait. She held out her arms to the cottage. At last she jumped into the snow , and floundered to the door. She beat upon it, threw it open, and cried out, 'Mary! baby! O my baby!'

"They lay in the bed; but no little voices answered. The mother gave a loud scream. 'Oh, they are dead!' she shrieked, and flung herself over them.

"The men ran in. There were four of them. They built a fire and warmed blankets, and put hot milk into the mouths of the little ones.

"'This little fellow isn't dead,' said one of them. He wasn't. Pretty soon he opened his eyes, and when he saw his mother he began to cry. Tot had wrapped him up so warm that the cold didn't kill him,--only made him dull.

"It took longer to bring her round, but at last they did. And the first thing she said was, 'Mamie didn't mean to spill the milk.'

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