The Little Colonels Hero | Page 8

emptied into it. But no one took any interest in
their amusement. When they asked questions the answer always was,
"Oh, run along and don't bother me now." There were no quiet bedtime

talks for them to smooth the snarls out of the day. Their mother was
always dining out or receiving company at that time, and their nurse
hurried them to sleep with threats of the bugaboos under the bed that
would catch them if they were not still. They suspected that the Little
Colonel's stories would soon lead to a lecture on quarrelling.
Presently they forgot their fears in the interest of the tale. The youngest
boy sidled a little nearer and climbed up on the end of the bench beside
her. Then Howell, dragging his whip behind him, came a step closer,
then another, till he too was on the bench beside her.
She had never had such a flattering audience. They never took their
eyes from her face, and listened with such breathless attention that she
talked on and on, wondering how long she could hold their interest.
"They listen to me just as people do to Betty," she thought, proudly. An
hour went by, and half of another, and the bugle blew the first
dinner-call.
"Go on," demanded Howell, edging closer. "We ain't hungry. Are we,
Henny?"
"But I must go and get ready for dinner," said Lloyd, rising.
"Will you tell us some more to-morrow?" begged Howell, holding her
skirts with his dirty little hand.
"Yes, yes," promised Lloyd, laughing and breaking loose from his hold.
"I'll tell you as many stories as you want."
It was a rash promise, for next day, no sooner had she finished
breakfast and started to take her morning walk around the deck with her
father, than the boys were at her heels. They were eating bananas as
they staggered along, and as fast as one disappeared another was
dragged out of their blouses, which seemed pouched out all around
their waists with an inexhaustible supply. Up and down they followed
her, until Papa Jack began to laugh, and ask what she had done to tame
the little savages.

As soon as she stopped at her chair they dropped down on the floor,
tailor-fashion, waiting for her to begin. Their devotion amused her at
first, and gratified her later, when the English woman who had
complained of their manners stopped to speak to her.
"You are a real little 'good Samaritan,'" she said, "to keep those two
nuisances quiet. The passengers owe you a vote of thanks. It is very
sweet of you, my dear, to sacrifice yourself for others in that way."
Lloyd grew very red. She had not looked upon it as a sacrifice. She had
been amusing herself. But after awhile story-telling did become very
tiresome as a steady occupation. She groaned whenever she saw the
boys coming toward her.
Fidelia joined them on several occasions, but her appearance was
always the signal for a quarrel to begin. Not until one morning when
the boys were locked in their stateroom for punishment, did she have a
chance to speak to Lloyd by herself.
"The boys opened a port-hole this morning," explained Fidelia. "They
had been forbidden to touch it. Poor Beauty was asleep on the couch
just under it, and a big wave sloshed over him and nearly drowned him.
He was soaked through. It gave him a chill, and mamma is in a terrible
way about him. Howl and Henny told Fanchette they wanted him to
drown. That's why they did it. They will be locked up all morning. I
should think that you'd be glad. I don't see how you stand them tagging
after you all the time. They are the meanest boys I ever knew."
"They are not mean to me," said Lloyd. "I can't help feelin' sorry for
them." Then she stopped abruptly, with a blush, feeling that was not a
polite thing to say to the boys' sister.
"I'm sure I don't see why you should feel sorry for them," said Fidelia,
angrily. At which the Little Colonel was more embarrassed than ever.
She could not tell Fidelia that it was because a little poodle received the
fondling and attention that belonged to them, and that it was Fidelia's
continual faultfinding and nagging that made the boys tease her. So
after a pause she changed the subject by asking her what she wanted

most to see in Europe.
"Nothing!" answered Fidelia. "I wouldn't give a penny to see all the old
ruins and cathedrals and picture galleries in the world. The only reason
that I care to go abroad is to be able to say I have been to those places
when the other girls brag about what they've seen. What do you