Sophie May

“ Pollio had friends enough. Oh, no lack of those! Nunky, papa, and Dick carried him pickapack; mamma and aunt Ann read to him; Teddy was as kind as he could be; and, as for Posy, there was nothing in the world she wouldn’t have done for her Pollio. Then the little boys in town—why, they rushed in in an army! or you would have thought so if you had heard Eliza scold about the mud they brought on their shoes. Even Jimmy Cushing came with a basket of fruit, and begged forgiveness for hitting Pollio’s nose ever so long ago. ”

“ Teddy was as wide awake now as Pollio, and cut as many capers of delight.
“So you like them, do you?” laughed Nunky. “They are for you and Posy, from your ‘thee-and-thou friend.’”
“Oh! he’s the goodest man that ever lived, ’cept you!” shouted Pollio. ”

“ Posy looked up in surprise.
“What a baby that is!” thought Jimmy Cushing, spying Posy’s innocent face just then as he came along, swinging his arms, and whistling. “Guess I’ll plague her a little.”
“Oh! is that you, Posy Pitcher?” said he aloud. “Well, I’ve got something for you.”
[34]
She blushed and smiled.
“Put out your hand,” said he, offering her a clam. “There, just feel of that: isn’t it smooth? Put your fingers inside.”
She knew no better than to do as he said; and the clam, which was alive, knew no better than to seize her little hand with a dreadful grip. ”

“ Pollio liked Jamie, because he had a pop-gun in his desk, and promised to show him at recess how to fire it off. Posy liked her seat-mate, because she had a very sweet face, and because she hopped on one foot, and dragged the other as a tired bird does; but her clothes were very ragged.
“I know who you are: you are Posy Pitcher.”
Posy nodded.
“And I’m Lucinda Outhouse.”
“Oh! are you? And does your mamma know you have such big holes in your clo’es, Lucy-vindy?”
“Oh! this woman I live with isn’t my mamma: my mamma’s dead.” ”

“ Hop-clover was quite alarmed by the row of Quakers, but she did nothing worse than to put her finger in her mouth; while Posy blushed crimson, and Pollio bowed five times,—once for each lady,—not forgetting to twitch his front-hair. He had never seen women dressed so strangely before; but he wished them to understand that he thought none the worse of them for it.
When Mr. Littlefield came in and said the twins were Judge Pitcher’s children, his wife kissed them again, and said she had always wanted to see them. ”

“ Hop-clover came, for Pollio wanted to see her. “Poh! I s’pose you think you’re lame; but look here,” said he, dropping on all-fours. “Can you beat that?”
Hop-clover humbly confessed that she couldn’t. Her lameness wasn’t much: a horse never stepped on her; she only fell down stairs when she was a baby, and she ’spected she lost out one o’ the bones. But now she could read in the Second Reader, and she didn’t care.
Mrs. Pitcher was so charmed with Hop-clover’s sweet little face and patient ways, that she gave her some of Edith’s dresses, and asked her to come twice a week and stay to tea. ”

“ If you had looked in the great gilt-edged family Bible on the parlor-table, you would have seen that their whole names were Napoleon Bonaparte Pitcher, and Josephine Bonaparte Pitcher; but it did no great harm, for nobody called them any thing worse than Pollio and Posy.
“I don’t fink we’re twins,” said Pollio, the boy; “I fink we’re odds. We don’t look any bit alike.” ”

“ It pleased the dear old people very much to see her so glad; and they both kissed her at the same moment, while Pollio and Posy looked on in surprise.
“But, Liddy,” said Mr. Littlefield to his wife, “we can’t think of taking her unless [192] her father is willing. I will go to see him when I get to Rosewood.”
“Oh! he isn’t my truly father: he don’t care where I go,” said Hop-clover eagerly.
Mr. Littlefield thought, as she did, that he wasn’t likely to care. If he had not thought so, he would not have spoken to Hop-clover about this until after he had seen him. ”

“ Have you ever observed how long the day always seems when something pleasant is going to happen to-morrow?
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“I think a picnic is perfectly splendid! I’ve forgot what you pick, though,” said Posy, looking puzzled.
“You pick people’s cupboards, I should say,” replied Eliza, measuring out sugar. “I hate the very sound of a picnic! I thought I had all I could do before, but now here’s queen-cake”—
“Oh, that’s right, ’Liza! And some strawb’ry-jelly tarts, and cherry-turnovers, and peach-pie!” cried Pollio, turning a somerset in the middle of the floor. ”

“ Pitcher couldn’t help hugging Pollio; for he didn’t seem to mind his own sufferings when he thought of his precious Posy.
“Well, my son, if Jimmy pinched her, that was wrong. I like to see you so ready to protect your sister; but you needn’t fly at anybody like a little savage. I can’t have my darling boy fight!”
Pollio buried his aching nose in his mother’s bosom. He didn’t want to fight again that day, you may be sure. ”

“ The Quaker smiled, and went into the house with the children. He staid to tea; and at the table he observed once or twice that Pollio did not obey his mother the very moment she spoke, and he feared his little pet was growing naughty. “Napoleon,” said he, as the little boy came skipping out after supper to see him mount his horse. (He would never call him Pollio, though he disliked his real name, for “Napoleon Bonaparte was a fighting-man.”) “Napoleon!” ”

“ Littlefield left Hop-clover at the little brown house to “pack up her things,” while he drove to Judge Pitcher’s with the twins.
“O mamma! she’s going to live with ’em,—live with ’em always!” cried Posy, as they rushed into the house.
And before Mrs. Pitcher could ask who “she” was, and where she was going to live, Pollio was swinging the peeping chicken before her eyes, with a shout,—
“See what I’ve got for a tormento, mamma!”
“I’m afraid Eliza will think it’s a tormento if you keep it under the kitchen-stove,” laughed aunt Ann. ”

“ Pollio cast down his eyes. Mr. Littlefield was an old-fashioned man, who did not use very good grammar; but everybody loved [44] him dearly, and Pollio would rather have been chidden by almost any one else.
“Thee has one of the best mothers that ever lived, my boy. I want thee always to mind thy mother.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And remember this: A child that won’t mind its mother won’t mind its God!”
“Click, clack,” went the horse’s hoofs; and Pollio stood on the fence till horse and rider were far out of sight. ”

“ Pollio began to turn a somerset, but caught himself by the hair, and changed it into a dance. Posy was quite as eager, but did not dance with any thing but her eyes.
“Wait a moment,” said their mamma. “Mr. Littlefield is very kind to give this invitation; but the truth is, my poor little Posy has nothing fit to wear. The cow has eaten up her two best dresses.”
The Quaker looked surprised, as well he might. He knew that toads eat their own clothes, but he had never heard that any animals eat little girls’ dresses. ”

“ It was now Billy Barstow’s turn to be frightened; for the child lay as still as if he were dead.
“Help, help!” screamed Billy. But the Fantastics had gone some distance by this time, and were making such a din with their [58] pans and horns, that they scarcely heard the scream; or, if any of them did hear it, I suppose they thought Billy was a noisy fellow not worth minding.
Mrs. Pitcher, aunt Ann, Nunky, and the children, were still standing in the yard. They had seen the colt prancing round and round; and aunt Ann had said, “I’m so glad none of the children are out there!” ”

“ Before dinner was over, the sun had thrown off his great-coat of clouds; and the children were soon rushing out of the house, gayer than ever. There were running and laughing, and playing and singing. It was a day of almost perfect delight; and, when “The Lady of the Lake” whistled to call them back, nobody was ready to go except the grown people.
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“I shall be thankful if we once get these children home,” remarked Nanty aside to Nunky, after they were all on board. “I’m so afraid somebody will fall into the water!” ”

“ I love them dearly. I’ve lived with Mrs. Littlefield ever since I was twelve years old. She took me when I didn’t know much, and hadn’t any home or any parents, and she has been a mother to me ever since. The Littlefields like folks all the better for being poor, or sick, or in trouble, I believe,” said Dorothy, with another smile at Hop-clover.
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“Why, that’s just like”—began Posy.
“Like Jesus Christ,” said Pollio.
“To be sure it is: they try to be like Him.”
“Dorothy,” said Hop-clover, drawing near the girl, and speaking low, “did you know my mother?” ”

“ This made the little girl perfectly happy.
“Oh, how good your mamma is!” said she to Posy. “It’s wicked to wish you was cats and dogs, and I don’t; but I ’most wish I was [90] your Muff or your Beppo, so I could live in this house. I like a house that has a sign to it,” added she, looking wistfully at the framed motto over the nursery-door: “God bless our home.”
Sometimes Pollio was as patient as Hop-clover, and said he was “glad he had something the rest of the family couldn’t catch.” Sometimes, too, he thought he shouldn’t live long. ”

“ Teddy had gone in swimming the day before without leave, and naughty Pollio had just got a grass stain on the knees of his new “pair o’ clo’es;” so how could either of the boys be quite happy?
When they went in to breakfast, their mother and aunt Ann were talking about the Fantastics.
“Billy Barstow and a few other wild boys are to ride colts and mules,” said aunt Ann; “and I’m afraid somebody will get hurt.”
“Oh, no! everybody will keep out of the way,” returned uncle Rufus. “The Fantastics will pass by at eight o’clock, and then the danger will be over.” ”

“ Pitcher, “our new cow strayed into the clothes-yard last Monday, and chewed up some of the fine clothes lying in a tub. We would not have bought such a strange cow if we had known her habits.”
“O mamma!” pleaded Posy in a whisper. “Don’t you s’pose the lady would ’scuse it? [148] My other dresses are not very homely,—not so homely as Hop-clover’s.”
“Hop-clover!” exclaimed Pollio aloud. “Why, when the cow has chewed Posy’s things all up, they look better’n Hop-clover’s. Hop-clover’s things are all rags.”
“Is Hop-clover the cow?” asked the Quaker. ”

“ Pollio was very sorry for his uncle. It must be hard to grow up and not care for balloons! Nunky would never, never, be a boy again: his good times were over.
“Poor Nunky! He has got to stay old,” thought Pollio as the young man walked into the house with a bounding step. ”

“ He’s no business with me!” said Pollio, turning a somerset on the back-seat.
“O Hop-clover! mustn’t he get down?”
“Of course he must,” replied Hop-clover, chewing some wheat she had found in a barrel.
“Tell you what it is!” said Pollio, dancing up and down, “if Mr. Littlefield had a boy, my father’d let him play in our carriage as easy as nothing.”
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“Well, Ike wouldn’t,” returned Posy.
“I can’t help it about Ike, and I can’t help it about John: I guess Mr. Littlefield wants to be polite to his company,” said Pollio, cracking the whip. ”

“ It was a whole week before he could go to school again; for his nose was hideous. It was red, blue, green, and yellow; and Nunky said nobody could get an education who looked like that.
Posy would not go without her brother, [39] and mourned very much because people laughed at him.
“Don’t cry about me,” said Pollio: “I’m only a boy! If ’twas a girl, ’twould be awful!” ”

“ It was a pretty sight, especially to Hop-clover.
“You’re having a good time, I guess,” said Dorothy, smiling down upon the lame girl kindly.
“Oh, I never was so happy! I never saw such cunning chickens! But don’t you wish [163] they’d been born sooner? I’m afraid they won’t grow up before the snow comes.”
“No, they won’t, unless we take good care of them. But this is a famous place for taking care of every thing,—chickens and folks too,” added Dorothy, smiling again.
“Why don’t you say thee and thou?” asked Pollio, who had been watching the girl’s speech.
“Because I’m not a Quaker.” ”

“ He’s a jolly boy,—fires ’tatoes out of a gun.”
“Well, the girl with me hops lame,” said Posy, determined not to be outdone by Pollio. “She’s a hypocrite.”
“Cripple!” explained Teddy.
“I think it must be the little girl I meet [32] on the street so often,” said Nunky. “I call her ‘Hop-clover.’ She has a very sweet face.”
“Her father’s an awful drunkard,” remarked Teddy.
“Well, he isn’t her truly papa, and she hasn’t any truly mamma. Her name’s Lucy-vindy, and she hasn’t anybody to take care of her but just God. I wish I could give her my pink dress,” begged Posy. ”