第 七 章 · NAUGHTY NAN

.

Chapter 7. NAUGHTY NAN

“Fritz, I've got a new idea,” cried Mrs. Bhaer, as she met her husband

one day after school.

“Well, my dear, what is it?” and he waited willingly to hear the new

plan, for some of Mrs. Jo's ideas were so droll, it was impossible to

help laughing at them, though usually they were quite sensible, and he

was glad to carry them out.

“Daisy needs a companion, and the boys would be all the better for

another girl among them; you know we believe in bringing up little men

and women together, and it is high time we acted up to our belief. They

pet and tyrannize over Daisy by turns, and she is getting spoilt. Then

they must learn gentle ways, and improve their manners, and having girls

about will do it better than any thing else.”

“You are right, as usual. Now, who shall we have?” asked Mr. Bhaer,

seeing by the look in her eye that Mrs. Jo had some one all ready to

propose.

“Little Annie Harding.”

“What! Naughty Nan, as the lads call her?” cried Mr. Bhaer, looking very

much amused.

“Yes, she is running wild at home since her mother died, and is too

bright a child to be spoilt by servants. I have had my eye on her for

some time, and when I met her father in town the other day I asked him

why he did not send her to school. He said he would gladly if he could

find as good a school for girls as ours was for boys. I know he would

rejoice to have her come; so suppose we drive over this afternoon and

see about it.”

“Have not you cares enough now, my Jo, without this little gypsy to

torment you?” asked Mr. Bhaer, patting the hand that lay on his arm.

“Oh dear, no,” said Mother Bhaer, briskly. “I like it, and never was

happier than since I had my wilderness of boys. You see, Fritz, I feel a

great sympathy for Nan, because I was such a naughty child myself that

I know all about it. She is full of spirits, and only needs to be taught

what to do with them to be as nice a little girl as Daisy. Those quick

wits of hers would enjoy lessons if they were rightly directed, and what

is now a tricksy midget would soon become a busy, happy child. I know

how to manage her, for I remember how my blessed mother managed me,

and—”

“And if you succeed half as well as she did, you will have done a

magnificent work,” interrupted Mr. Bhaer, who labored under the delusion

that Mrs. B. was the best and most charming woman alive.

“Now, if you make fun of my plan I'll give you bad coffee for a week,

and then where are you, sir?” cried Mrs. Jo, tweaking him by the ear

just as if he was one of the boys.

“Won't Daisy's hair stand erect with horror at Nan's wild ways?” asked

Mr. Bhaer, presently, when Teddy had swarmed up his waistcoat, and Rob

up his back, for they always flew at their father the minute school was

done.

“At first, perhaps, but it will do Posy good. She is getting prim and

Bettyish, and needs stirring up a bit. She always has a good time when

Nan comes over to play, and the two will help each other without knowing

it. Dear me, half the science of teaching is knowing how much children

do for one another, and when to mix them.”

“I only hope she won't turn out another firebrand.”

“My poor Dan! I never can quite forgive myself for letting him go,”

sighed Mrs. Bhaer.

At the sound of the name, little Teddy, who had never forgotten his

friend, struggled down from his father's arms, and trotted to the door,

looked out over the sunny lawn with a wistful face, and then trotted

back again, saying, as he always did when disappointed of the longed-for

sight,

“My Danny's tummin' soon.”

“I really think we ought to have kept him, if only for Teddy's sake, he

was so fond of him, and perhaps baby's love would have done for him what

we failed to do.”

“I've sometimes felt that myself; but after keeping the boys in a

ferment, and nearly burning up the whole family, I thought it safer to

remove the firebrand, for a time at least,” said Mr. Bhaer.

“Dinner's ready, let me ring the bell,” and Rob began a solo upon that

instrument which made it impossible to hear one's self speak.

“Then I may have Nan, may I?” asked Mrs. Jo.

“A dozen Nans if you want them, my dear,” answered Mr. Bhaer, who had

room in his fatherly heart for all the naughty neglected children in the

world.

When Mrs. Bhaer returned from her drive that afternoon, before she could

unpack the load of little boys, without whom she seldom moved, a small

girl of ten skipped out at the back of the carry-all and ran into the

house, shouting,

“Hi, Daisy! where are you?”

Daisy came, and looked pleased to see her guest, but also a trifle

alarmed, when Nan said, still prancing, as if it was impossible to keep

still,

“I'm going to stay here always, papa says I may, and my box is coming

tomorrow, all my things had to be washed and mended, and your aunt came

and carried me off. Isn't it great fun?”

“Why, yes. Did you bring your big doll?” asked Daisy, hoping she had,

for on the last visit Nan had ravaged the baby house, and insisted on

washing Blanche Matilda's plaster face, which spoilt the poor dear's

complexion for ever.

“Yes, she's somewhere round,” returned Nan, with most unmaternal

carelessness. “I made you a ring coming along, and pulled the hairs out

of Dobbin's tail. Don't you want it?” and Nan presented a horse-hair

ring in token of friendship, as they had both vowed they would never

speak to one another again when they last parted.

Won by the beauty of the offering, Daisy grew more cordial, and proposed

retiring to the nursery, but Nan said, “No, I want to see the boys, and

the barn,” and ran off, swinging her hat by one string till it broke,

when she left it to its fate on the grass.

“Hullo! Nan!” cried the boys as she bounced in among them with the

announcement,

“I'm going to stay.”

“Hooray!” bawled Tommy from the wall on which he was perched, for Nan

was a kindred spirit, and he foresaw “larks” in the future.

“I can bat; let me play,” said Nan, who could turn her hand to any

thing, and did not mind hard knocks.

“We ain't playing now, and our side beat without you.”

“I can beat you in running, any way,” returned Nan, falling back on her

strong point.

“Can she?” asked Nat of Jack.

“She runs very well for a girl,” answered Jack, who looked down upon Nan

with condescending approval.

“Will you try?” said Nan, longing to display her powers.

“It's too hot,” and Tommy languished against the wall as if quite

exhausted.

“What's the matter with Stuffy?” asked Nan, whose quick eyes were roving

from face to face.

“Ball hurt his hand; he howls at every thing,” answered Jack scornfully.

“I don't, I never cry, no matter how I'm hurt; it's babyish,” said Nan,

loftily.

“Pooh! I could make you cry in two minutes,” returned Stuffy, rousing

up.

“See if you can.”

“Go and pick that bunch of nettles, then,” and Stuffy pointed to a

sturdy specimen of that prickly plant growing by the wall.

Nan instantly “grasped the nettle,” pulled it up, and held it with a

defiant gesture, in spite of the almost unbearable sting.

“Good for you,” cried the boys, quick to acknowledge courage even in one

of the weaker sex.

More nettled than she was, Stuffy determined to get a cry out of her

somehow, and he said tauntingly, “You are used to poking your hands into

every thing, so that isn't fair. Now go and bump your head real hard

against the barn, and see if you don't howl then.”

“Don't do it,” said Nat, who hated cruelty.

But Nan was off, and running straight at the barn, she gave her head a

blow that knocked her flat, and sounded like a battering-ram. Dizzy, but

undaunted, she staggered up, saying stoutly, though her face was drawn

with pain,

“That hurt, but I don't cry.”

“Do it again,” said Stuffy angrily; and Nan would have done it, but Nat

held her; and Tommy, forgetting the heat, flew at Stuffy like a little

game-cock, roaring out,

“Stop it, or I'll throw you over the barn!” and so shook and hustled

poor Stuffy that for a minute he did not know whether he was on his head

or his heels.

“She told me to,” was all he could say, when Tommy let him alone.

“Never mind if she did; it is awfully mean to hurt a little girl,” said

Demi, reproachfully.

“Ho! I don't mind; I ain't a little girl, I'm older than you and Daisy;

so now,” cried Nan, ungratefully.

“Don't preach, Deacon, you bully Posy every day of your life,” called

out the Commodore, who just then hove in sight.

“I don't hurt her; do I, Daisy?” and Demi turned to his sister, who was

“pooring” Nan's tingling hands, and recommending water for the purple

lump rapidly developing itself on her forehead.

“You are the best boy in the world,” promptly answered Daisy; adding,

as truth compelled her to do, “You hurt me sometimes, but you don't mean

to.”

“Put away the bats and things, and mind what you are about, my hearties.

No fighting allowed aboard this ship,” said Emil, who rather lorded it

over the others.

“How do you do, Madge Wildfire?” said Mr. Bhaer, as Nan came in with

the rest to supper. “Give the right hand, little daughter, and mind thy

manners,” he added, as Nan offered him her left.

“The other hurts me.”

“The poor little hand! what has it been doing to get those blisters?” he

asked, drawing it from behind her back, where she had put it with a look

which made him think she had been in mischief.

Before Nan could think of any excuse, Daisy burst out with the whole

story, during which Stuffy tried to hide his face in a bowl of bread and

milk. When the tale was finished, Mr. Bhaer looked down the long table

towards his wife, and said with a laugh in his eyes,

“This rather belongs to your side of the house, so I won't meddle with

it, my dear.”

Mrs. Jo knew what he meant, but she liked her little black sheep all the

better for her pluck, though she only said in her soberest way,

“Do you know why I asked Nan to come here?”

“To plague me,” muttered Stuffy, with his mouth full.

“To help make little gentlemen of you, and I think you have shown that

some of you need it.”

Here Stuffy retired into his bowl again, and did not emerge till Demi

made them all laugh by saying, in his slow wondering way,

“How can she, when she's such a tomboy?”

“That's just it, she needs help as much as you, and I expect you set her

an example of good manners.”

“Is she going to be a little gentleman too?” asked Rob.

“She'd like it; wouldn't you, Nan?” added Tommy.

“No, I shouldn't; I hate boys!” said Nan fiercely, for her hand still

smarted, and she began to think that she might have shown her courage in

some wiser way.

“I am sorry you hate my boys, because they can be well-mannered, and

most agreeable when they choose. Kindness in looks and words and ways is

true politeness, and any one can have it if they only try to treat other

people as they like to be treated themselves.”

Mrs. Bhaer had addressed herself to Nan, but the boys nudged one

another, and appeared to take the hint, for that time at least, and

passed the butter; said “please,” and “thank you,” “yes, sir,” and “no,

ma'am,” with unusual elegance and respect. Nan said nothing, but kept

herself quiet and refrained from tickling Demi, though strongly tempted

to do so, because of the dignified airs he put on. She also appeared

to have forgotten her hatred of boys, and played “I spy” with them till

dark. Stuffy was observed to offer her frequent sucks on his candy-ball

during the game, which evidently sweetened her temper, for the last

thing she said on going to bed was,

“When my battledore and shuttle-cock comes, I'll let you all play with

'em.”

Her first remark in the morning was “Has my box come?” and when told

that it would arrive sometime during the day, she fretted and fumed, and

whipped her doll, till Daisy was shocked. She managed to exist, however,

till five o'clock, when she disappeared, and was not missed till

supper-time, because those at home thought she had gone to the hill with

Tommy and Demi.

“I saw her going down the avenue alone as hard as she could pelt,”

said Mary Ann, coming in with the hasty-pudding, and finding every one

asking, “Where is Nan?”

“She has run home, little gypsy!” cried Mrs. Bhaer, looking anxious.

“Perhaps she has gone to the station to look after her luggage,”

suggested Franz.

“That is impossible, she does not know the way, and if she found it, she

could never carry the box a mile,” said Mrs. Bhaer, beginning to think

that her new idea might be rather a hard one to carry out.

“It would be like her,” and Mr. Bhaer caught up his hat to go and find

the child, when a shout from Jack, who was at the window, made everyone

hurry to the door.

There was Miss Nan, to be sure, tugging along a very large band-box tied

up in linen bag. Very hot and dusty and tired did she look, but marched

stoutly along, and came puffing up to the steps, where she dropped

her load with a sigh of relief, and sat down upon it, observed as she

crossed her tired arms,

“I couldn't wait any longer, so I went and got it.”

“But you did not know the way,” said Tommy, while the rest stood round

enjoying the joke.

“Oh, I found it, I never get lost.”

“It's a mile, how could you go so far?”

“Well, it was pretty far, but I rested a good deal.”

“Wasn't that thing very heavy?”

“It's so round, I couldn't get hold of it good, and I thought my arms

would break right off.”

“I don't see how the station-master let you have it,” said Tommy.

“I didn't say anything to him. He was in the little ticket place, and

didn't see me, so I just took it off the platform.”

“Run down and tell him it is all right, Franz, or old Dodd will think

it is stolen,” said Mr. Bhaer, joining in the shout of laughter at Nan's

coolness.

“I told you we would send for it if it did not come. Another time you

must wait, for you will get into trouble if you run away. Promise me

this, or I shall not dare to trust you out of my sight,” said Mrs.

Bhaer, wiping the dust off Nan's little hot face.

“Well, I won't, only papa tells me not to put off doing things, so I

don't.”

“That is rather a poser; I think you had better give her some supper

now, and a private lecture by and by,” said Mr. Bhaer, too much amused

to be angry at the young lady's exploit.

The boys thought it “great fun,” and Nan entertained them all

supper-time with an account of her adventures; for a big dog had barked

at her, a man had laughed at her, a woman had given her a doughnut, and

her hat had fallen into the brook when she stopped to drink, exhausted

with her exertion.

“I fancy you will have your hands full now, my dear; Tommy and Nan are

quite enough for one woman,” said Mr. Bhaer, half an hour later.

“I know it will take some time to tame the child, but she is such a

generous, warm-hearted little thing, I should love her even if she were

twice as naughty,” answered Mrs. Jo, pointing to the merry group, in

the middle of which stood Nan, giving away her things right and left, as

lavishly as if the big band-box had no bottom.

It was those good traits that soon made little “Giddygaddy,” as they

called her, a favorite with every one. Daisy never complained of being

dull again, for Nan invented the most delightful plays, and her pranks

rivalled Tommy's, to the amusement of the whole school. She buried her

big doll and forgot it for a week, and found it well mildewed when she

dragged it up. Daisy was in despair, but Nan took it to the painter who

as at work about the house, got him to paint it brick red, with staring

black eyes, then she dressed it up with feathers, and scarlet flannel,

and one of Ned's leaden hatchets; and in the character of an Indian

chief, the late Poppydilla tomahawked all the other dolls, and caused

the nursery to run red with imaginary gore. She gave away her new shoes

to a beggar child, hoping to be allowed to go barefoot, but found it

impossible to combine charity and comfort, and was ordered to ask leave

before disposing of her clothes. She delighted the boys by making a

fire-ship out of a shingle with two large sails wet with turpentine,

which she lighted, and then sent the little vessel floating down the

brook at dusk. She harnessed the old turkey-cock to a straw wagon, and

made him trot round the house at a tremendous pace. She gave her coral

necklace for four unhappy kittens, which had been tormented by some

heartless lads, and tended them for days as gently as a mother, dressing

their wounds with cold cream, feeding them with a doll's spoon, and

mourning over them when they died, till she was consoled by one of

Demi's best turtles. She made Silas tattoo an anchor on her arm like

his, and begged hard to have a blue star on each cheek, but he dared not

do it, though she coaxed and scolded till the soft-hearted fellow longed

to give in. She rode every animal on the place, from the big horse Andy

to the cross pig, from whom she was rescued with difficulty. Whatever

the boys dared her to do she instantly attempted, no matter how

dangerous it might be, and they were never tired of testing her courage.

Mr. Bhaer suggested that they should see who would study best, and Nan

found as much pleasure in using her quick wits and fine memory as her

active feet and merry tongue, while the lads had to do their best to

keep their places, for Nan showed them that girls could do most things

as well as boys, and some things better. There were no rewards in

school, but Mr. Bhaer's “Well done!” and Mrs. Bhaer's good report on the

conscience book, taught them to love duty for its own sake, and try to

do it faithfully, sure sooner or later the recompense would come. Little

Nan was quick to feel the new atmosphere, to enjoy it, to show that it

was what she needed; for this little garden was full of sweet flowers,

half hidden by the weeds; and when kind hands gently began to

cultivate it, all sorts of green shoots sprung up, promising to blossom

beautifully in the warmth of love and care, the best climate for young

hearts and souls all the world over.