Laddie | Page 7

give up her books and friends and remain at
home. There never was a baby born who was any less wanted than I
was. I knew as much about it as any one else, because from the day I
could understand, all of them, father, mother, Shelley, Sarah Hood,
every one who knew, took turns telling me how badly I was not wanted,
how much trouble I made, and how Laddie was the only one who loved
me at first. Because of that I was on the cordwood trying to find
courage to go farther. Over and over Laddie had told me himself. He
had been to visit our big sister Elizabeth over Sunday and about eight
o'clock Monday morning he came riding down the road, and saw the
most dreadful thing. There was not a curl of smoke from the chimneys,
not a tablecloth or pillowslip on the line, not a blind raised. Laddie said
his heart went--just like mine did when the Something jumped in the

creek bed, no doubt. Then he laid on the whip and rode.
He flung the rein over the hitching post, leaped the fence and reached
the back door. The young green girl, who was all father could get when
the cook left, was crying. So were Shelley and little May, although she
said afterward she had a boil on her heel and there was no one to
poultice it. Laddie leaned against the door casing, and it is easy enough
to understand what he thought. He told me he had to try twice before he
could speak, and then he could only ask: "What's the matter?"
Probably May never thought she would have the chance, but the others
were so busy crying harder, now that they had an audience, that she
was first to tell him: "We have got a little sister."
"Great Day!" cried Laddie. "You made me think we had a funeral!
Where is mother, and where is my Little Sister?"
He went bolting right into mother's room and kissed her like the
gladdest boy alive; because he was only a boy then, and he told her
how happy he was that she was safe, and then he ASKED for me.
He said I was the only living creature in that house who was not
shedding tears, and I didn't begin for about six months afterward. In
fact, not until Shelley taught me by pinching me if she had to rock the
cradle; then I would cry so hard mother would have to take me. He said
he didn't believe I'd ever have learned by myself.
He took a pillow from the bed, fixed it in the rocking chair and laid me
on it. When he found that father was hitching the horses to send Leon
for Doctor Fenner, Laddie rode back after Sarah Hood and spoiled her
washing. It may be that the interest he always took in me had its
beginning in all of them scaring him with their weeping; even Sally,
whom father had to telegraph to come home, was upstairs crying, and
she was almost a woman. It may be that all the tears they shed over not
wanting me so scared Laddie that he went farther in his welcome than
he ever would have thought of going if he hadn't done it for joy when
he learned his mother was safe. I don't care about the reason. It is
enough for me that from the hour of my birth Laddie named me Little

Sister, seldom called me anything else, and cared for me all he possibly
could to rest mother. He took me to the fields with him in the morning
and brought me back on the horse before him at noon. He could plow
with me riding the horse, drive a reaper with me on his knees, and hoe
corn while I slept on his coat in a fence corner. The winters he was
away at college left me lonely, and when he came back for a vacation I
was too happy for words. Maybe it was wrong to love him most. I
knew my mother cared for and wanted me now. And all my secrets
were not with Laddie. I had one with father that I was never to tell so
long as he lived, but it was about the one he loved best, next after
mother. Perhaps I should never tell it, but I wouldn't be surprised if the
family knew. I followed Laddie like a faithful dog, when I was not
gripping his waving hair and riding in triumph on his shoulders. He
never had to go so fast he couldn't take me on his back. He never was
in too big a hurry to be kind. He always had patience to explain