Under the Lilacs | Page 3

cause we had whooping-cough, and it was
damp there. Now we shall see all the nice things; won't it be fun?"
observed Bab, after a pause.
"Yes, indeed! Ma says there's lots of books in one room, and I can look
at 'em while she goes round. May be I'll have time to read some, and
then I can tell you," answered Betty, who dearly loved stories, and
seldom got any new ones.
"I'd rather see the old spinning-wheel up garret, and the big pictures,
and the queer clothes in the blue chest. It makes me mad to have them
all shut up there, when we might have such fun with them. I'd just like
to bang that old door down!" And Bab twisted round to give it a thump
with her boots. "You needn't laugh; you know you'd like it as much as
me," she added, twisting back again, rather ashamed of her impatience.
"I didn't laugh."

"You did! Don't you suppose I know what laughing is?"
"I guess I know I didn't."
"You did laugh! How darst you tell such a fib?"
"If you say that again I'll take Belinda and go right home; then what
will you do?"
"I'll eat up the cake."
"No, you won't! It's mine, Ma said so; and you are only company, so
you'd better behave or I won't have any party at all, so now."
This awful threat calmed Bab's anger at once, and she hastened to
introduce a safer subject.
"Never mind; don't let's fight before the children. Do you know, Ma
says she will let us play in the coach-house next time it rains, and keep
the key if we want to."
"Oh, goody! that's because we told her how we found the little window
under the woodbine, and didn't try to go in, though we might have just
as easy as not," cried Betty, appeased at once, for, after a ten years'
acquaintance, she had grown used to Bab's peppery temper.
"I suppose the coach will be all dust and rats and spiders, but I don't
care. You and the dolls can be the passengers, and I shall sit up in front
drive."
"You always do. I shall like riding better than being horse all the time,
with that old wooden bit in my mouth, and you jerking my arms off,"
said poor Betty, who was tired of being horse continually.
"I guess we'd better go and get the water now," suggested Bab, feeling
that it was not safe to encourage her sister in such complaints.
"It is not many people who would dare to leave their children all alone
with such a lovely cake, and know they wouldn't pick at it," said Betty

proudly, as they trotted away to the spring, each with a little tin pail in
her hand.
Alas, for the faith of these too confiding mammas! They were gone
about five minutes, and when they returned a sight met their astonished
eyes which produced a simultaneous shriek of horror. Flat upon their
faces lay the fourteen dolls, and the cake, the cherished cake, was gone.
For an instant the little girls could only stand motionless, gazing at the
dreadful scene. Then Bab cast her water-pail wildly away, and,
doubling up her fist, cried out fiercely, --
"It was that Sally! She said she'd pay me for slapping her when she
pinched little Mary Ann, and now she has. I'll give it to her! You run
that way. I'll run this. Quick! quick!"
Away they went, Bab racing straight on, and bewildered Betty turning
obediently round to trot in the opposite direction as fast as she could,
with the water splashing all over her as she ran, for she had forgotten to
put down her pail. Round the house they went, and met with a crash at
the back door, but no sign of the thief appeared.
"In the lane!" shouted Bab.
"Down by the spring!" panted Betty; and off they went again, one to
scramble up a pile of stones and look over the wall into the avenue, the
other to scamper to the spot they had just left. Still, nothing appeared
but the dandelions' innocent faces looking up at Bab, and a brown bird
scared from his bath in the spring by Betty's hasty approach.
Back they rushed, but only to meet a new scare, which made them both
cry "Ow!" and fly into the porch for refuge.
A strange dog was sitting calmly among the ruins of the feast, licking
his lips after basely eating up the last poor bits of bun, when he had
bolted the cake, basket, and all, apparently.
"Oh, the horrid thing!" cried Bab, longing to give battle, but afraid, for

the dog was a peculiar as well as a dishonest animal.