The Story of the Big Front Door | Page 6

cut the grass.
"Did you see anybody, Jo? Are there any children?" were the questions she met with. But she had only seen a middle-aged woman who was cleaning the hall, and had learned nothing about the new occupants.
"It is very stupid of Joanna," said Carl as he rolled up the rug and the clothes-pins and marched over to apologize to Mrs. Ford for their share of the mischief. He did this so meekly and with such evident sincerity that the old lady was greatly mollified, and sent him up to tell Ikey he might consider himself released from the day's confinement in his room.
For the rest of the week the children were models of propriety. No one would have dreamed that they had been outlaws so short a time before.
From the star chamber windows Robin and his merry men looked down on the transformation which was taking place in their old domain.
The long grass was cut down, and with it those patches of pepper grass that had seasoned many a feast. The bushes and vines were trimmed, the walk was reddened, the shutters were thrown open. Every day added something to the change, yet, besides the servants, no one had been seen about the house.
Who could their new neighbors be? The subject was discussed morning, noon, and night, till their father said he would have to tell them the story of the man who made a fortune minding his own business. Uncle William, who was there at the time, said that probably the man was too stupid to enjoy his fortune after he made it, and he pretended to be willing to go over and inquire at the door, if Louise would go with him.
"At least we know there can't be any children," said Bess, "for they couldn't stay in the house all the time."
"Please tell us the story about the man, Father," asked little Helen, and couldn't understand why they all laughed.
CHAPTER III.
THE LADY OF THE BROWN HOUSE.
Bang! went the door, and away they rushed, like a small tornado, across the porch, down the walk and over the street.
They seemed to be running away from Helen, for a second after they had vanished behind Mrs. Ford's oleanders she came around the house.
Indignant tears were in her eyes; it was hard not to be wanted, to be thought too little to play with. Bess and Louise had such good times with the boys and she had nothing in the world to do this afternoon. To be sure they had been very gracious all morning, and had even allowed her to listen to a thrilling chapter in the history of the Carletons, but this was too good to last.
At lunch certain signs passed back and forth across the table arousing her curiosity, and afterwards when she found them laughing on the stairs and begged to know what they were going to do, Carl had replied provokingly, "What do you suppose?" and now they had run away with Ikey somewhere. The house was very quiet; Carie was taking her nap, Aunt Zélie dressing to go out. Helen sat down on the top step of the porch and wiped her eyes, saying to herself, "They are just as mean as anything, but I don't care--I'll have a good time too. I think I'll ask Aunt Zélie to let me go with her."
It happened that as the runaways reached the gate Aunt Marcia's coupé turned the corner, and her horrified eyes beheld their flight. When she stepped from her carriage her lips were firmly closed in a manner which indicated that they would be opened presently for somebody's benefit. She was so absorbed that she almost fell over the woebegone little figure on the step.
"You have been crying--what is the matter?" she demanded.
"Oh, Aunt Marcia, I didn't see you--please excuse me," said Helen, whose politeness rarely failed her, rising and putting away her handkerchief. Mrs. Hazeltine saw pretty clearly how matters stood.
"Never mind, my dear," she said; "perhaps you would like to take a drive with me. I am going out to Cousin John's."
Helen was her favorite among the children, because she was quiet and demure, and did not tear and soil her clothes as Bess and Louise did. Helen on her part looked up to Aunt Marcia with deep admiration, and meant to be just like her when she was grown. So she ran off very happily to have her dress changed, while Mrs. Hazeltine waylaid Aunt Zélie as she came downstairs ready for a walk.
"Dear me! the children have been in mischief," was this lady's inward exclamation, for she knew the signs of disapproval, and felt like running away, as she used to do when a child, from Sister Marcia's lectures.
She only sat down on the bottom step, however, and waited.
"How do