Chapter Chapter 1 · NAT

. NAT

“Please, sir, is this Plumfield?” asked a ragged boy of the man who

opened the great gate at which the omnibus left him.

“Yes. Who sent you?”

“Mr. Laurence. I have got a letter for the lady.”

“All right; go up to the house, and give it to her; she'll see to you,

little chap.”

The man spoke pleasantly, and the boy went on, feeling much cheered by

the words. Through the soft spring rain that fell on sprouting grass

and budding trees, Nat saw a large square house before him, a

hospitable-looking house, with an old-fashioned porch, wide steps, and

lights shining in many windows. Neither curtains nor shutters hid the

cheerful glimmer; and, pausing a moment before he rang, Nat saw many

little shadows dancing on the walls, heard the pleasant hum of young

voices, and felt that it was hardly possible that the light and warmth

and comfort within could be for a homeless “little chap” like him.

“I hope the lady will see to me,” he thought, and gave a timid rap with

the great bronze knocker, which was a jovial griffin's head.

A rosy-faced servant-maid opened the door, and smiled as she took the

letter which he silently offered. She seemed used to receiving strange

boys, for she pointed to a seat in the hall, and said, with a nod:

“Sit there and drip on the mat a bit, while I take this in to missis.”

Nat found plenty to amuse him while he waited, and stared about him

curiously, enjoying the view, yet glad to do so unobserved in the dusky

recess by the door.

The house seemed swarming with boys, who were beguiling the rainy

twilight with all sorts of amusements. There were boys everywhere,

“up-stairs and down-stairs and in the lady's chamber,” apparently, for

various open doors showed pleasant groups of big boys, little boys,

and middle-sized boys in all stages of evening relaxation, not to say

effervescence. Two large rooms on the right were evidently schoolrooms,

for desks, maps, blackboards, and books were scattered about. An open

fire burned on the hearth, and several indolent lads lay on their backs

before it, discussing a new cricket-ground, with such animation that

their boots waved in the air. A tall youth was practising on the flute

in one corner, quite undisturbed by the racket all about him. Two or

three others were jumping over the desks, pausing, now and then, to get

their breath and laugh at the droll sketches of a little wag who was

caricaturing the whole household on a blackboard.

In the room on the left a long supper-table was seen, set forth with

great pitchers of new milk, piles of brown and white bread, and perfect

stacks of the shiny gingerbread so dear to boyish souls. A flavor of

toast was in the air, also suggestions of baked apples, very tantalizing

to one hungry little nose and stomach.

The hall, however, presented the most inviting prospect of all, for

a brisk game of tag was going on in the upper entry. One landing

was devoted to marbles, the other to checkers, while the stairs were

occupied by a boy reading, a girl singing a lullaby to her doll, two

puppies, a kitten, and a constant succession of small boys sliding down

the banisters, to the great detriment of their clothes and danger to

their limbs.

So absorbed did Nat become in this exciting race, that he ventured

farther and farther out of his corner; and when one very lively boy

came down so swiftly that he could not stop himself, but fell off the

banisters, with a crash that would have broken any head but one rendered

nearly as hard as a cannon-ball by eleven years of constant bumping, Nat

forgot himself, and ran up to the fallen rider, expecting to find him

half-dead. The boy, however, only winked rapidly for a second, then lay

calmly looking up at the new face with a surprised, “Hullo!”

“Hullo!” returned Nat, not knowing what else to say, and thinking that

form of reply both brief and easy.

“Are you a new boy?” asked the recumbent youth, without stirring.

“Don't know yet.”

“What's your name?”

“Nat Blake.”

“Mine's Tommy Bangs. Come up and have a go, will you?” and Tommy got

upon his legs like one suddenly remembering the duties of hospitality.

“Guess I won't, till I see whether I'm going to stay or not,” returned

Nat, feeling the desire to stay increase every moment.

“I say, Demi, here's a new one. Come and see to him;” and the lively

Thomas returned to his sport with unabated relish.

At his call, the boy reading on the stairs looked up with a pair of big

brown eyes, and after an instant's pause, as if a little shy, he put the

book under his arm, and came soberly down to greet the new-comer, who

found something very attractive in the pleasant face of this slender,

mild-eyed boy.

“Have you seen Aunt Jo?” he asked, as if that was some sort of important

ceremony.

“I haven't seen anybody yet but you boys; I'm waiting,” answered Nat.

“Did Uncle Laurie send you?” proceeded Demi, politely, but gravely.

“Mr. Laurence did.”

“He is Uncle Laurie; and he always sends nice boys.”

Nat looked gratified at the remark, and smiled, in a way that made his

thin face very pleasant. He did not know what to say next, so the two

stood staring at one another in friendly silence, till the little girl

came up with her doll in her arms. She was very like Demi, only not so

tall, and had a rounder, rosier face, and blue eyes.

“This is my sister, Daisy,” announced Demi, as if presenting a rare and

precious creature.

The children nodded to one another; and the little girl's face dimpled

with pleasure, as she said affably:

“I hope you'll stay. We have such good times here; don't we, Demi?”

“Of course, we do: that's what Aunt Jo has Plumfield for.”

“It seems a very nice place indeed,” observed Nat, feeling that he must

respond to these amiable young persons.

“It's the nicest place in the world, isn't it, Demi?” said Daisy, who

evidently regarded her brother as authority on all subjects.

“No, I think Greenland, where the icebergs and seals are, is more

interesting. But I'm fond of Plumfield, and it is a very nice place

to be in,” returned Demi, who was interested just now in a book on

Greenland. He was about to offer to show Nat the pictures and

explain them, when the servant returned, saying with a nod toward the

parlor-door:

“All right; you are to stop.”

“I'm glad; now come to Aunt Jo.” And Daisy took him by the hand with a

pretty protecting air, which made Nat feel at home at once.

Demi returned to his beloved book, while his sister led the new-comer

into a back room, where a stout gentleman was frolicking with two little

boys on the sofa, and a thin lady was just finishing the letter which

she seemed to have been re-reading.

“Here he is, aunty!” cried Daisy.

“So this is my new boy? I am glad to see you, my dear, and hope you'll

be happy here,” said the lady, drawing him to her, and stroking back the

hair from his forehead with a kind hand and a motherly look, which made

Nat's lonely little heart yearn toward her.

She was not at all handsome, but she had a merry sort of face that never

seemed to have forgotten certain childish ways and looks, any more than

her voice and manner had; and these things, hard to describe but very

plain to see and feel, made her a genial, comfortable kind of person,

easy to get on with, and generally “jolly,” as boys would say. She saw

the little tremble of Nat's lips as she smoothed his hair, and her keen

eyes grew softer, but she only drew the shabby figure nearer and said,

laughing:

“I am Mother Bhaer, that gentleman is Father Bhaer, and these are the

two little Bhaers. Come here, boys, and see Nat.”

The three wrestlers obeyed at once; and the stout man, with a chubby

child on each shoulder, came up to welcome the new boy. Rob and Teddy

merely grinned at him, but Mr. Bhaer shook hands, and pointing to a low

chair near the fire, said, in a cordial voice:

“There is a place all ready for thee, my son; sit down and dry thy wet

feet at once.”

“Wet? So they are! My dear, off with your shoes this minute, and I'll

have some dry things ready for you in a jiffy,” cried Mrs. Bhaer,

bustling about so energetically that Nat found himself in the cosy

little chair, with dry socks and warm slippers on his feet, before he

would have had time to say Jack Robinson, if he had wanted to try. He

said “Thank you, ma'am,” instead; and said it so gratefully that Mrs.

Bhaer's eyes grew soft again, and she said something merry, because she

felt so tender, which was a way she had.

“There are Tommy Bangs' slippers; but he never will remember to put them

on in the house; so he shall not have them. They are too big; but that's

all the better; you can't run away from us so fast as if they fitted.”

“I don't want to run away, ma'am.” And Nat spread his grimy little hands

before the comfortable blaze, with a long sigh of satisfaction.

“That's good! Now I am going to toast you well, and try to get rid of

that ugly cough. How long have you had it, dear?” asked Mrs. Bhaer, as

she rummaged in her big basket for a strip of flannel.

“All winter. I got cold, and it wouldn't get better, somehow.”

“No wonder, living in that damp cellar with hardly a rag to his poor

dear back!” said Mrs. Bhaer, in a low tone to her husband, who was

looking at the boy with a skillful pair of eyes that marked the thin

temples and feverish lips, as well as the hoarse voice and frequent fits

of coughing that shook the bent shoulders under the patched jacket.

“Robin, my man, trot up to Nursey, and tell her to give thee the

cough-bottle and the liniment,” said Mr. Bhaer, after his eyes had

exchanged telegrams with his wife's.

Nat looked a little anxious at the preparations, but forgot his fears in

a hearty laugh, when Mrs. Bhaer whispered to him, with a droll look:

“Hear my rogue Teddy try to cough. The syrup I'm going to give you has

honey in it; and he wants some.”

Little Ted was red in the face with his exertions by the time the bottle

came, and was allowed to suck the spoon after Nat had manfully taken a

dose and had the bit of flannel put about his throat.

These first steps toward a cure were hardly completed when a great bell

rang, and a loud tramping through the hall announced supper. Bashful Nat

quaked at the thought of meeting many strange boys, but Mrs. Bhaer held

out her hand to him, and Rob said, patronizingly, “Don't be 'fraid; I'll

take care of you.”

Twelve boys, six on a side, stood behind their chairs, prancing with

impatience to begin, while the tall flute-playing youth was trying to

curb their ardor. But no one sat down till Mrs. Bhaer was in her place

behind the teapot, with Teddy on her left, and Nat on her right.

“This is our new boy, Nat Blake. After supper you can say how do you do?

Gently, boys, gently.”

As she spoke every one stared at Nat, and then whisked into their seats,

trying to be orderly and failing utterly. The Bhaers did their best to

have the lads behave well at meal times, and generally succeeded pretty

well, for their rules were few and sensible, and