Eventide | Page 9

etc., and last a small jar, which he took under his arm, and, thus encumbered, crept on all-fours to the kitchen door, where Jenny relieved him of the jar. They softly ascended the stairs, where Amy was ready to receive them.
"How dared you take that jar?" said she; "what does it contain?"
"I don't know," said Charlie; "but I know what my pillow-case contains. It was never so well lined before, Amy."
Thus saying, he commenced removing its contents, while Jenny pulled the knife out of the loaf, which proved to be pound cake, uncovered the jar, and pronounced it filled with cherry jam. "Ay," said Amy, "there's where those cherries I saw her buying of Dilly Danforth went, then. She told me they were so dirty she had to throw them away. But I think you had better go and carry these things back."
"Never," said Charlie; "I am going to eat my fill once in Mrs. Mumbles' house."
"But what will she say when she discovers her loss?"
"That is just what I'm anxious to know," said Jenny.
"So am I," returned Charlie, chopping off a large slice of pound cake and dividing two pies in halves. "The old lady goes in for treating her visitors well, don't she? I dare say these condiments were intended to supply her guests for years. I wish we had some spoons to eat this cherry jam."
"You had better carry that back," said Amy.
"No, I will not go down on my knees and crawl under Mrs. Salsify's bed again to-night on any consideration."
"Neither would I," said Jenny, "the old adage is 'as well be killed for a sheep as a lamb;' so let us enjoy ourselves to the utmost in our power. Here is food enough, of the best kind too, to serve us well for the remainder of our stay here, only a week longer you know. I'll keep it locked in my trunk."
So saying, they cleared away, and Charlie bade good-night, and all retired to bright visions of pound cake and cherry jelly.
CHAPTER IV.
"She was a lovely little ladye, With blue eyes beaming sunnily; And loved to carry charity To the abodes of misery."
There was a tiny bark floating down the flower-bordered river that wound so gracefully through the beautiful village of Wimbledon, and a smiling little lady, in a neat gingham sun-bonnet, sat coseyly in the stern, beneath the shady wing of the snow-white sail. A noble-looking lad plied the oar with graceful ease, chatting merrily the while with the little girl, and laughing at her constant and matronly care of a large basket which was placed beside her, neatly covered with a snowy napkin. "One would think that there were diamonds in that basket, Nell, you guard it so carefully," said he.
"No, only nice pies mother gave me leave to take to Aunt Dilly Danforth, the poor washerwoman," returned the little miss, again smoothing the napkin and adjusting the basket in a new position. "I wish you would row as carefully as you can, Neddie, so as not to jostle them much."
"So I will, sis," returned he; "let's sing the Boatman's Song as we glide along." And their voices rose on the calm summer air clear and sweet as the morning song of birds. Now and then their light barge touched the shore, and Ned plucked flowers to twine in Ellen's hair. O, that ever, down life's uncertain tide, these innocent young spirits might float as calmly, happily on to the broad ocean of eternity!
"Is that the old shanty where Dilly lives?" said the lad at length, pointing to a low black house, just beyond a clump of brushwood, which they were swiftly approaching.
"Yes," said Ellen, gathering up her basket.
"Here I must lose you, then," said Ned; "how I wish you would go fishing with me down to the cove!"
Ellen smiled. "Are you going to be all alone, Neddie?" asked she.
"Nobody but Charlie Seaton will be with me. You like him."
"Yes, I like him well enough," said Ellen, innocently; "but I would not care to go a-fishing with him."
"Why not, sis?" inquired Ned.
"Because it would not be pretty for a little girl to go fishing with boys."
"Ha, ha!" laughed the lad; "what a prudent little sis I have got! for all the world like Amy Seaton. But I like Jenny Andrews better, she is so full of fun and frolic. Did you know how she and Charlie Seaton robbed old Mrs. Salsify Mumbles, one night not long since?"
"O, no! robbed her? That was wrong, surely."
"O, no! You see she nearly starved them, so they helped themselves to her sweetmeats without invitation. That's all; not very wicked, I'm thinking, Nell."
"I think it was wicked for her not to give them enough food, and wicked for them to take it without her knowledge," said Ellen, after