Jack and Jill by Louisa May Alcott

tomb, for Boo took bites at it now and then, no other lunch being

offered him.

“Oh dear! why can’t boys play without making such a mess,”

sighed Molly, picking up the feathers from the duster with which

Boo had been trying to make a “cocky-doo” of the hapless dog. “I’ll

wash him right after dinner, and that will keep him out of mischief

for a while,” she thought, as the young engineer unsuspiciously

proceeded to ornament his already crocky countenance with

squash, cranberry sauce, and gravy, till he looked more like a Fiji

chief in full war-paint than a Christian boy.

“I want two pails of hot water, please, Miss Bat, and the big tub,”

said Molly, as the ancient handmaid emptied her fourth cup of tea,

for she dined with the family, and enjoyed her own good cooking

in its prime.

“What are you going to wash now?”

“Boo–I’m sure he needs it enough”; and Molly could not help

laughing as the victim added to his brilliant appearance by

smearing the colors all together with a rub of two grimy hands,

making a fine Turner, of himself.

“Now, Maria Louisa Bemis, you ain’t going to cut up no capers

with that child! The idea of a hot bath in the middle of the day, and

him full of dinner, and croupy into the bargain~ Wet a corner of a

towel at the kettle-spout and polish him off if you like, but you

won’t risk his life in no bath-tubs this cold day.”

Miss Bat’s word was law in some things, so Molly had to submit,

and took Boo away, saying, loftily, as she left the room,

“I shall ask father, and do it to-night, for I will not have my brother

look like a pig.”

“My patience! how the Siamese do leave their things round,” she

exclaimed, as she surveyed her room after making up the fire and

polishing off Boo. “I’ll put things in order, and then mend up my

rags, if I can find my thimble. Now, let me see”; and she went to

exploring her closet, bureau, and table, finding such disorder

everywhere that her courage nearly gave out.

She had clothes enough, but all needed care; even her best dress

had two buttons off, and her Sunday hat but one string. Shoes,

skirts, books, and toys lay about, and her drawers were a perfect

chaos of soiled ruffles, odd gloves, old ribbons, boot lacings, and

bits of paper.

“Oh, my heart, what a muddle! Mrs. Minot wouldn’t think much of

me if she could see that,” said Molly, recalling how that lady once

said she could judge a good deal of a little girl’s character and

habits by a peep at her top drawer, and went on, with great

success, to guess how each of the school-mates kept her drawer.

“Come, missionary, clear up, and don’t let me find such a gloryhole

again, or I’ll report you to the society,” said Molly, tipping

the whole drawer-full out upon the bed, and beguiling the tiresome

job by keeping up the new play.

Twilight came before it was done, and a great pile of things

loomed up on her table, with no visible means of repair–for

Molly’s work-basket was full of nuts, and her thimble down a hole

in the shed-floor, where the cats had dropped it in their play.

“I’ll ask Bat for hooks and tape, and papa for some money to buy

scissors and things, for I don’t know where mine are. Glad I can’t

do any more now! Being neat is such hard work!” and Molly threw

herself down on the rug beside the old wooden cradle in which

Boo was blissfully rocking, with a cargo of toys aboard.

She watched her time, and as soon as her father had done supper,

she hastened to say, before he got to his desk,

“Please, papa, I want a dollar to get some brass buttons and things

to fix Boo’s clothes with. He wore a hole in his new trousers

coasting down the Kembles’ steps. And can’t I wash him? He needs

it, and Miss Bat won’t let me have a tub.”

“Certainly, child, certainly; do what you like, only don’t keep me. I

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