“Go on, and strike harder.”
Nat drew his sleeve across his eyes and gave two more quick hard strokes that reddened the hand, yet hurt the giver more.
“Isn’t that enough?” he asked.
“Two more,” was all the answer, and he gave them, then threw the rule all across the room, and hugging the kind hand in both his own, laid his face down:
“I will remember! Oh! I will!”
Then Mr. Bhaer put an arm about him[10], and said in a compassionate tone:
“I think you will. Ask the dear God to help you.”
Tommy saw it through the window. He said no more, for he crept back to the hall, looking so excited that the boys crowded round him to ask him about Nat. In a most impressive whisper Tommy told them.
“He made me do the same thing once,” said Emil.
“And you hit him? dear old Father Bhaer?”
“It was so long ago.”
Nat did not come to dinner, but Mrs. Jo took some up to him, and said a tender word, though he could not look at her. He opened door to slip away into the woods. The walk did Nat good, and he came home quieter than usual.
No one said a word about the scene of the morning, but its effect was lasting. Nat tried his very best, and found much help from the earnest little prayers he prayed to his Friend in heaven.
A Trouble-Maker
“Please, ma’am, could I speak to you? It is something very important,” said Nat one day, popping his head in at the door of Mrs. Bhaer’s room.
Mrs. Jo looked up and said, briskly,
“What is it, my lad?”
Nat came in, shut the door carefully behind him, and said in an eager, anxious tone,
“Dan has come.”
“Who is Dan?”
“He’s a boy I used to know when I fiddled round the streets. He sold papers, and he was kind to me, and I saw him the other day in town, and told him how nice it was here, and he’s come.”
“But, my dear boy, that is rather a sudden visit.”
“Oh, it isn’t a visit; he wants to stay if you let him!” said Nat innocently.
“Well, I don’t know about that,” began Mrs. Bhaer, rather startled by the coolness of the proposition.
“Why, I thought you liked to have poor boys come and live with you, and be kind to them as you were to me,” said Nat, looking surprised and alarmed.
“So I do, but I like to know something about them first. I choose them, because there are so many. I have not room for all.”
“I told him to come because I thought you’d like it. But if there isn’t room he can go away again,” said Nat, sorrowfully.
The boy’s confidence in her hospitality touched Mrs. Bhaer, so she said,
“Tell me about this Dan.”
“I don’t know anything, only he hasn’t got any folks, and he’s poor, and he was good to me, so I’d like to be good to him.”
“But really, Nat, the house is full,” said Mrs. Bhaer.
“He may have my bed, and I can sleep in the barn. It isn’t cold now, and I don’t mind, I used to sleep anywhere with father,” said Nat, eagerly.
Something in his speech and face made Mrs. Jo put her hand on his shoulder, and say in her kindest tone:
“Bring in your friend[11], Nat. I think we will find room for him without giving him your place.”
Nat joyfully ran off, and soon returned followed by a boy, who slouched in and stood looking about him, with a half bold, half sullen look.
“This is Dan,” said Nat.
“Nat tells me you will like to come and stay with us,” began Mrs. Jo, in a friendly tone.
“Yes,” was the gruff reply.
“Have you any friends to take care of you?”
“No.”
“Say, ‘No, ma’am,’” whispered Nat.
“How old are you?”
“About fourteen.”
“You look older. What can you do?”
“Almost anything.”
“If you stay here we shall want you to do as the others do, work and study as well as play. Are you willing to agree to that?”
“I can try.”
“Well, you can stay a few days, and we will see how we get on together. Take him out, Nat, and amuse him till Mr. Bhaer comes home,” said Mrs. Jo.
She did not know how to get on with this cool young person, who fixed his big black eyes on her with a hard, suspicious expression, sorrowfully unboyish.
“Come on, Nat,” Dan said.
“Thank you, ma’am,” added Nat, as he followed him.
“The fellows are having a circus[12] out in the barn; don’t you want to come and see it?” he asked, as they came down the wide steps on to the lawn.
“Are they big fellows?” said Dan.
“No; the big ones are gone fishing.”
“Let’s go, then,” said Dan.
Nat led him to the great barn and introduced him to the boys. A large circle was marked out with hay on the wide floor, and in the middle stood Demi with a long whip, while Tommy, mounted on Toby, was a monkey.
“You must pay a pin, or you can’t see the show,” said Stuffy, who stood by the wheelbarrow.
“I’ll pay for both,” said Nat, handsomely, as he stuck two crooked pins in the dried mushroom which served as money-box.
With a nod to the company they seated themselves on a couple of boards, and the performance went on. Ned was jumping over an old chair, and running up and down ladders. Then Demi danced a jig. Nat wrestled with Stuffy. After this, Tommy proudly advanced to turn a somersault. His somersault was received with great applause, and he was about to retire, flushed with pride, when he heard a scornful voice,
“Ho! That is nothing!”
“Say that again, will you?” and Tommy bristled up like an angry turkey-cock.
“Do you want to fight?” said Dan, promptly descending from the barrel.
“No, I don’t;” and the candid Thomas retired.
“Fighting isn’t allowed!” cried the others, much excited.
“I see,” sneered Dan.
“If you don’t behave, you won’t stay,” said Nat.
“I’d like to see what he can do, that’s all,” observed Tommy, with a swagger.
“Clear the way, then,” and without the slightest preparation Dan turned three somersaults one after the other and came up on his feet.
The audience were shocked by three more somersaults backwards, and a short promenade on the hands, head down, feet up. Even Tommy joined in the admiring cries which greeted the gymnast. Dan looked at them with an air of calm superiority.
“What will you give me if I’ll teach you?” said Dan.