Penn Shirley

“ Wasson was at work.
“Remember, Polly, you are the one to speak about it,” whispered Molly diffidently. “You and Paul know the Wassons.”
Mr. Wasson greeted them all cordially; and as soon as Mrs. Wasson had changed her dress she greeted them cordially too, and treated them to fresh buttermilk and gingerbread. This light repast ended, Pauline moved restlessly in her chair, uncertain how to begin her little speech. But little Miss Weezy presently relieved her embarrassment by saying,—
“We’ve brought you some beautiful poetry, Mr. Wasson; some we made all by ourselves.” ”

“ Their home was just across the street, and she had watched for Paul, and rushed out to meet him, and now stood leaning against the front wheel of the wagon, chatting with him. She was a warm-hearted, impulsive girl, rather too heedless and outspoken at times. She had no mother to guide her, and lacked the gentle manners of her friend, Molly Rowe.
“You ought to put on your hat, Polly. You’re getting as brown as a Mexican,” remarked Paul, with brotherly frankness, as he attacked a second roll. ”

“ Mrs. Rowe was hastily laying aside her apron.
“We’ll ask papa, Molly. Captain Bradstreet is certainly very kind.”
“I don’t think Captain Bradstreet’s kind—I don’t think he’s kind a bit,” muttered little Miss Weezy, as the others went down-stairs. “Never ’vited me at all! Didn’t I ’vite him to my seven-years-old party, ice-cream to it too? O dear, dear, dear!”
Unloading an apronful of dolls in a heap by the trunk, offended little Weezy stole down the back staircase into the garden to confide her sorrows to Ginger, Molly’s yellow kitten. ”

“ Mrs. Rowe had feared lest her sociable little daughter might annoy the stranger; but after hearing Weezy’s story about her, changed her mind.
“The poor girl looks very sad and lonely,” she said, watching the sweet, sensitive face, which she had observed at dinner. “I’ll go back with you, Weezy, and speak to her.”
And having crossed the deck, she gracefully introduced herself to the desolate young lady in mourning, who in return gave her own name as Miss Evans.
“Cannot I prevail upon you, Miss Evans, to make my little daughter and the rest of us happy, by joining us?” said Mrs. Rowe cordially. ”

“ Rowe had suspected all along that the good captain had intended to include Weezy in the invitation, but had forgotten to mention the child by name. Grown people are careless sometimes, and forget that little children have been slighted. The children themselves do not forget—ah, no!
Harry remained at Santa Luzia one week longer, and the members of the family vied with one another in making him happy. Mr. Rowe bought him a new suit, which delighted Molly as much as it did Harry; Kirke caught horned toads, and dug up trap-door spiders’ nests for the lad’s amusement ”

“ She dresses very plainly,” said Pauline. “By the way, what makes rich people want to ‘roll,’ I wonder?”
“Especially in gold,” added Molly flippantly, as they entered the dining-saloon. “I shouldn’t want to roll in gold, of all things. It’s one of the hardest things in the world.”
“And the hardest to get,” broke in Paul, with a grin.
“What would you like to roll in, Molly? Soft money?” said Kirke, with a grin of his own. “That shows your politics, miss. You’re a soft-money girl.”
[102] “A soft, mooney girl, Kirke Rowe? She’s no such thing. ”

“ Don’t you see, papa?”
“Then, Miss Hobbs dresses Harry so oddly, papa,” added Molly, as her father did not reply. “She makes him look for all the world like one of Mr. Palmer Cox’s brownies; and people at Santa Luzia wouldn’t know but Harry was one of our family.”
“What a shocking thought, Molly!” cried Mr. Rowe, vastly entertained by her expression of deep distress. “In the face of a danger like this it never will do for us to take Harry.”
“You’re laughing at me, papa; but you don’t understand how girls feel about such things. Kirke doesn’t understand, either.” ”

“ Why, you little goosie, Mexico is within sight of us, and Europe is ’way off to the other side of the world.”
“Truly? Then I’m not going to any old Europe!”
And Weezy’s lip began to quiver.
“Not with papa and mamma, darling?” said Molly. “They’ll go with us and so will Captain Bradstreet, and they’ll all take care of The Merry Five.”
“Here’s three cheers for Europe!” shouted Kirke, swinging his cap. “And hurrah! Three cheers for The Merry Five!”
[11] “Hurrah! Free chairs for Mary Five!” echoed little Donald, flapping his arms like a windmill in a gale. “Hurrah! Free chairs for Mary Five!” ”

“ Do you suppose papa can take us to the canyon?”
“Papa must take us; papa promised!” exclaimed Weezy, her eyes watering as if the fog had condensed in them.
“But you know it never will do for papa to get cold, Weezy,” returned Molly, herself ready to cry. “If it isn’t pleasant to-day, we can go when it clears off. Wasn’t it nice in Captain Bradstreet to ask us to stay a long while?”
[86] “Oh! the fog will lift by and by, Molly. Here in California mist doesn’t mean rain,” said hopeful Kirke. ”

“ The ruddy-faced captain suppressed a smile, and listened patiently, while Kirke proceeded to sing the praises of the graceful white terrier, who would not obey his master.
“He loves me tremendously; he can’t bear to stay away from me: there’s the trouble.” ”

“ She isn’t much like you and me, Molly. Sometimes we’re kind, and then again sometimes we’re kind of not.”
“Thank you, sir; you can speak for yourself, if you please,” retorted Molly, bridling.
She had secretly prided herself on being unselfish and warm-hearted, and this frank remark was wounding to her self-love.
“For my part, I’m willing to send for Harry,” she added virtuously.
“So am I, Molly,—on a pinch,” said Kirke. “And I suppose Pauline will bring him,—on a pinch!”
“Then, as soon as we get home to The Old and New, Kirke, we’ll ask mamma to write to Miss Hobbs, and have it over with.” ”

“ But when her eyes fell upon the little empty sailor-suit, she gathered it in her arms with the bitter cry, “O Donald, my little Donald, come back to your poor mamma!”
Then it was that something unexpected happened—something which changed her mourning into gladness. A little golden head shot suddenly up from behind a neighboring rock, and a shrill little voice cried out, [142] “Here I is, mamma. Oh, please come qui-ck.”
Everybody jumped as if an earthquake had swallowed the cliff.
“It’s Donald, it’s Donald! I didn’t drown him at all!” shouted Weezy, dancing up and down in frantic joy. ”

“ Wasson can do anything with them. Once he drove them out to Santa Luzia with a load of honey, when the water was up to their knees a part of the way.”
[106] “What makes the Wassons stay in the canyon in the rainy season, Pauline?”
“To take care of the bees.”
“To take care of the bees, Pauline? What do they do to them? You talk as if bees had to be fed and watered like so many cows.”
“Not like cows exactly, Molly; but they do have to be fed and watered. Mr. Wasson sows alfalfa for them to make honey from when the wild sage blossoms are gone. There’s Mr. Wasson now, in front of the house.” ”

“ Her head drooped; but before the tears could fall, Captain Bradstreet soothed her wounded feelings by whispering in her ear that little girls who had never been to sea couldn’t be expected to know about stokers. He would tell her in confidence that stokers [99] are the men who tend the fires on a steamboat.
“The poor souls weren’t more than half dressed,” said Paul, when peace had been restored. “But still they looked ready to melt. You never saw such a fire as they keep up in those furnaces, girls.”
“Threw coal into the fire-boxes every minute or two,” interposed Kirke. ”

“ On her return the child had vanished, and his little blue sailor-suit lay in a tumbled heap upon the brink of the pool.
“Donny had been teasing again to go in bathing, and I wouldn’t let him go,” wailed his despairing little sister; “so I s’pect when I wasn’t there he skipped into the ocean all alone by himself. Donald, Don-ald, where are you? Oh, dear, dear. I wish I was dead!”
“Run to the inn, Weezy, for papa and mamma; run as fast as you can,” cried Molly, in a husky voice. ”

“ And now he’s gone and asked Kirke and Molly to go to his—to his something—oh, yes, he’s asked them, and never asked me.”
Ginger purred softly, and rubbed her head against her little mistress’s feet; but Weezy could not be comforted. What a miserable old world it was to be sure, where captains called you nice, sweet little girls, and then went and didn’t invite you to their—to their—she couldn’t quite remember what.
Grown-up people liked big boys and girls like Kirke and Molly; they didn’t like little ones like herself and Donald. ”

“ It’s sure to be one or the other,” returned easy-going Pauline, stooping to fasten the offending lacing.
“Oh! won’t it be delightful if you and Paul can come to Santa Luzia, Polly? I hope you can stay at Mrs. Kitto’s a whole week.”
“Thank you, Molly dear, and I”—Pauline had been about to say that she hoped Molly and Kirke would stay at least that length of time at the camp; but suddenly remembered that there might not be room enough for them. She must ask her father.
“I—I suppose Auntie David will meet us [11] at Santa Luzia,” she said, to finish the sentence. ”

“ Molly meekly dropped the perfumery back into her hand-bag, and hung the bag upon a large hook beside the plate-glass mirror.
“You scare me to death, Polly,” she said, with a shiver. “I almost wish I weren’t going to sea.”
“Oh, nonsense, you’ll like the ocean when [80] you get used to its tricks,” returned Pauline, with the assurance of an old sailor. “How big your eyes have grown, Miss Scared-to-death! ”

“ Is that so?” The captain raised the glass and peered through it himself. “Yes, you’re right, Bright-Eyes. The fog is ‘going to begin’ to bear down upon us.”
And in a few moments the white fog had shrouded the vessel from stem to stern. Then came at frequent intervals the dreary sound of the fog-horn.
“What a hoarse old thing!” exclaimed Weezy, stopping her ears in disgust. “It brays just like Kirke’s burro, only awful worse.”
“As if it had a long sore throat,” laughed Molly, buttoning her sister’s cape at the neck.
“They’re manning all the lookouts,” remarked the wise Pauline. ”

“ While Kirke presented their tickets at the office, she and Weezy waited in the main room. This had a large oblong bathing-tank in the centre, surrounded on its four sides by a broad walk. The dressing-rooms opened upon this walk, and the door of each one had painted on it near the top either a number or a letter of the alphabet.
“Which room would you like, Molly?” asked Kirke, quickly returning with the keys and their bathing-suits. “You can take ‘H’ or ‘No. 7.’”
“No. 7; it is the larger,” said Molly, drawing Weezy into that room, and locking the door. ”

“ Our Mèdor is dead!” Mrs. Wasson brushed away a tear with her purple calico sleeve. “Would you like to visit his grave? It’s to the left, under the weeping willow.”
“Indeed we should!” cried the twins in a breath; “Mèdor was a dear old dog!”
“There never was a better,” responded Mr. Wasson, leading the way. “He came to us a little puppy. We lived in ’Frisco then, on Telegraph Hill, and we’ve owned him ever since.”
“Father says if he could spell ‘able’ he’d hire a poet to write Mèdor’s epitaph,” panted Mrs. Wasson, trying to keep up with the rest. ”

“ Paul called for Kirke on the following Saturday, long before breakfast-time. He had driven in from the ranch in Mr. Keith’s two-seated wagon, drawn by a pair of little brown mules, and was evidently in a prodigious hurry.
“Hello, Selkirk!” he shouted to the side of the house. “Stir around lively. Mr. Keith wants Sing Wung to get to work on the well early.”
“I’ll be there in two seconds,” returned Kirke, thrusting a tumbled head through an open window. “All dressed but my hair.”
“Good! Can’t you eat your breakfast on the road?”
[32] “To be sure. I can eat anywhere, everywhere.” ”

“ A book that will hold the place of honor on the nursery bookshelf, until it falls to pieces from much handling, is “Little Miss Weezy’s Sister,” a simple, yet absorbing story of children who are interesting because they are so real. It is doing scant justice to say for the author, Penn Shirley, that the annals of child-life have seldom been traced with more loving care.—Boston Times. ”

“ S’pose he’s got up to heaven yet, Kirke?”
“The idea, Weezy!” Kirke’s tone was at once grieved and scornful. “Who ever heard of a fox-terrier’s going to heaven?”
“Don’t good little fox-terriers go to heaven? Nobody ever told me that before,” sighed Weezy, as Paul turned the mules [35] toward Chinatown. “O Kirke, don’t you wish Shot had been a good little skye-terrier ’stead of a fox? He would have gone to heaven then, you know!”
“It’s no sign Shot is dead, Weezy, dear, because he just happened to lose his collar,” cried Pauline, stepping back from the wheel with a smothered laugh. ”

“ Harry, he affirmed, could be rolled into any corner like a foot-ball.
“The question is simply this, children,” said Mrs. Rowe, buttering a biscuit for Donald to eat on the car; “will you devote a part of your vacation to your little neighbor, or will you spend the whole of it in amusing yourselves? You shall decide.”
“O mamma! please don’t leave it that way. [41] Don’t put us on our honor,” entreated Molly, with a shrug.
“Because, when you put us on our honor, we have to do a thing, even if we hate it like poison,” added Kirke, groping under the sideboard for the yellow kitten. ”

“ Why, of course he had, and there was no knowing just where he would come out.
“He must be here soon, Molly,” said Pauline impatiently, “and it’s getting hotter and hotter. Why can’t we be going on slowly?”
“Will you keep Donald happy till Kirke gets here, darling?” asked Molly, smiling at her sister. “If you will, I’ll give you a nickel.”
“I’ll give you another, and that’ll be a dime,” added Pauline.
Weezy gladly consented to the bargain. She was filling a scrap-book with paper flags of all nations, and a dime would purchase several of these. ”

“ Kitto’s boarding-house, overlooking Santa Luzia Beach. The Old was the back part, built of brown adobe, with walls two feet thick; the New was the modern wooden front, with a breezy veranda stepping down toward the sea.
“The house puts its best foot forward,” [43] prattled Molly, as she and Kirke and Weezy set off one morning for a lesson in swimming.
“That’s all right,” replied Kirke, “if it keeps steady on its pins.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” sniffed Weezy with disapproval. “Houses don’t have feet; and they don’t have pins.” ”

“ It is over there between those two rocks near the foot of the chalk cliffs.”
“Thank you, Miss Edith, you’re very kind to tell us about it,” replied Molly, wiping Donald’s eyes, again beginning to twinkle. “You are sure it is perfectly safe?”
“Oh, yes, it’s so far from the sea that the waves never wash into it except at high tide.”
This was all true; and thinking she had done a kindness to the young Americans, Miss Edith gave them a pleasant nod and followed her sisters to the bath-house lower down the beach, to prepare for a plunge into the ocean. ”

“ Lucky for Paul and me; lucky for papa too! Auntie David is papa’s only sister. I believe he thinks she made the world!”
“Well, I must skip back,” said Molly, with an important air. “Kirke has gone over to Mrs. Carillo’s to see if Manuel wants to keep Kirke’s cart and burro while we’re away; [12] and mamma may want me to do some errands.”
All the rest of the week there was a pleasant bustle in the Rowe household, the bustle of preparing for a journey.
“We’re going to ride in the cars,” little Miss Weezy explained to all callers. “We’re going to Sandy Luzia. It’s ’most a hundred miles.” ”

“ Miss Evans followed more slowly, pausing [164] midway to peep over the rail down into the sluggish water of the moat beneath her. Owing to a vegetable growth upon its surface, this water was as green and velvety as a meadow.
“I should think that pasture-y look would fool near-sighted cows, shouldn’t you, Miss Evans?” said Kirke at her elbow; and he was gratified that she positively laughed at his nonsense. This made the second time she had laughed that day. Entranced by the beauty and antiquity of the spot, she ran about the park with Weezy like a gay young girl ”

“ Then calling Zip, who had begged to follow them, she went into the house.
All the way to the little brown cottage by the canyon, Molly and Pauline were talking [131] of the street masquerade now near at hand, and discussing what they should wear.
“I’ve a great mind to dress in light blue,” said Molly; “mask, gown, stockings, and all.”
“I wouldn’t, Molly. You always wear blue or lavender or something of that kind. People would guess you in a minute. Why don’t you wear yellow?”
“Yellow—with my red hair, Pauline!”
“Molly Rowe, your hair isn’t red, and you know it! It is the most heavenly auburn!” ”

“ Keith great anxiety, and it was a matter of rejoicing to him that the explosions were now safely over and the hard pan penetrated to a copious supply of water beneath.
“Shot stares at me and stares at me, and barks for nothing; but I don’t mind,” said Weezy, stroking the little terrier as he frisked up to her to be petted.
Kirke smiled approvingly. Shot was, indeed, a privileged character in these days and received few rebukes. He might even have been allowed to accompany his master to the Old World had not Captain Bradstreet looked upon the proposal with disfavor. ”

“ It was Manuel Carillo, coming to take away Kirke’s burro and cart to keep during vacation.
“You’ll be good to Hoppity, this summer, won’t you, Manuel?” said Kirke playfully, as he helped him harness the sleek gray burro into the trig gray cart. “You won’t be mad with him because he threw you and broke your leg.”
[36] “Mad? Oh, no! that’s all right.”
Manuel grinned, and slapped the limb in question to show how strong it was.
“Hoppity ought to help you carry around your newspapers to pay for that bad trick of his. Now, oughtn’t you, Hoppity?” ”

“ How can he, right in the height of the barley harvest?”
“He can hire somebody else.”
“No, he can’t for love or money. The Mexicans and Chinamen are all engaged for the season by this time. Besides, there’s the well not half done.”
Kirke bit his lip. He knew that this well was needed at once. He had seen for himself how Mr. Keith’s young orange-trees were turning yellow for want of proper irrigation. As they approached the Chinese quarter of the city, he broke the silence by remarking grimly,—
“I sha’n’t speak to Sing Wung. I want him to know I suspect him.” ”

“ Pauline and the others laughed in concert, for Mr. Wasson was exceedingly tall.
“This is Molly Rowe,” said Pauline affably; “and this is her brother Kirke. They’re visiting at our camp, and Paul and I have brought them to see the ranch.”
“Always pleased to have folks come, particularly young folks.—Mother,” Mr. Wasson glanced over his shoulder and shouted,—“Hello, mother, here’s company!”
“That’s Mr. Wasson’s wife; he always calls her mother,” whispered Paul to Kirke, as a woman appeared at the door of the house and hastily retreated. ”

“ Weezy laughed. It was pleasant to have Kirke at home again. For weeks he had spent half his time out of school hours at the ranch, for of course he must see that well finished. After quite a long illness, Yeck Wo had recovered and come to the aid of Sing Wung, who could drill hard pan well enough, but would not light another fuse.
“It will never do to trust Sing Wung with gunpowder again,” Mr. Keith had said in confidence to the boys; “he is too excitable, he loses his head.” ”

“ But oh! racing is such fun! you don’t know.”
As Molly guided her bicycle down the steps of the veranda, there was a shadow on her brow. She could ride very well, even better than Pauline. Why need her mamma be so cautious about “scorching”?
Mrs. Rowe must have observed the shadow; for she followed Molly out upon the veranda, adding tenderly,—
“I know this, dearie, that your papa and I cannot afford to have you reckless. You are our mainstay, Molly.” ”

“ Concealing his grimy face behind his pocket-handkerchief, Kirke rushed past the seated passengers to the men’s toilet-room, while Weezy hastened to that of the women, where Molly assisted her in dressing. To comb Weezy’s fine, fluffy hair was never an easy task, as she seldom stood still half a minute at a time. ”

“ Page 169
“Miss Evans had failed to make satisfactory arrangement for bringing out the book in Paris, Captain Bradstreet,” explained Mrs. Rowe. “Consequently, she was taking it to publishers in London.”
“It’s a sad loss, a sad loss,” returned the captain, as he helped the ladies into the carriage. “But where are the rest of us?” he added. “We can’t leave our boys.”
“They’re coming, they’re running like everything,” cried Weezy, standing upon the wagon-seat to look. “Kirke is holding something up high, and shaking it.”
“It’s a bag!” shouted Molly, clapping her hands. ”

“ Miss Penn Shirley is a very graceful interpreter of child-life. She thoroughly understands how to reach out to the tender chord of the little one’s feelings, and to interest her in the noble life of her young companions. Her stories are full of bright lessons but they do not take on the character of moralizing sermons. Her keen observation and ready sympathy teach her how to deal with the little ones in helping them to understand the lessons of life. ”