permitted to ride him, to the great envy and admiration of the other
boys.
“Isn’t he handsome? and don’t he mind me like a lamb?” said Dan
one day as he dismounted and stood with his arm round Charlie’s
neck.
“Yes, and isn’t he a much more useful and agreeable animal than
the wild colt who spent his days racing about the field, jumping
fences, and running away now and then?” asked Mrs. Bhaer from
the steps where she always appeared when Dan performed with
Charlie.
“Of course he is. See he won’t run away now, even if I don’t hold
him, and he comes to me the minute I whistle; I have tamed him
well, haven’t I?” and Dan looked both proud and pleased, as well
he might, for, in spite of their struggles together, Charlie loved him
better than his master.
“I am taming a colt too, and I think I shall succeed as well as you if
I am as patient and persevering,” said Mrs. Jo, smiling so
significantly at him, that Dan understood and answered, laughing,
yet in earnest,
“We won’t jump over the fence and run away, but stay and let them
make a handsome, useful span of us, hey, Charlie?”
CHAPTER XVII COMPOSITION DAY
“Hurry up, boys, it’s three o’clock, and Uncle Fritz likes us to be
punctual, you know,” said Franz one Wednesday afternoon as a
bell rang, and a stream of literary-looking young gentlemen with
books and paper in their hands were seen going toward the
museum.
Tommy was in the school-room, bending over his desk, much
bedaubed with ink, flushed with the ardor of inspiration, and in a
great hurry as usual, for easy-going Bangs never was ready till the
very last minute. As Franz passed the door looking up laggards,
Tommy gave one last blot and flourish, and departed out the
window, waving his paper to dry as he went. Nan followed,
looking very important, with a large roll in her hand, and Demi
escorted Daisy, both evidently brimful of some delightful secret.
The museum was all in order, and the sunshine among the
hop-vines made pretty shadows on the floor as it peeped through
the great window. On one side sat Mr. and Mrs. Bhaer, on the
other was a little table on which the compositions were laid as
soon as read, and in a large semicircle sat the children on
camp-stools which occasionally shut up and let the sitter down,
thus preventing any stiffness in the assembly. As it took too much
time to have all read, they took turns, and on this Wednesday the
younger pupils were the chief performers, while the elder ones
listened with condescension and criticised freely.
“Ladies first; so Nan may begin,” said Mr. Bhaer, when the settling
of stools and rustling of papers had subsided.
Nan took her place beside the little table, and, with a preliminary
giggle, read the following interesting essay on
“THE SPONGE
“The sponge, my friends, is a most useful and interesting plant. It
grows on rocks under the water, and is a kind of sea-weed, I
believe. People go and pick it and dry it and wash it, because little
fish and insects live in the holes of the sponge; I found shells in my
new one, and sand. Some are very fine and soft; babies are washed
with them. The sponge has many uses. I will relate some of them,
and I hope my friends will remember what I say. One use is to
wash the face; I don’t like it myself, but I do it because I wish to be
clean. Some people don’t, and they are dirty.” Here the eye of the
reader rested sternly upon Dick and Dolly, who quailed under it,
and instantly resolved to scrub themselves virtuously on all
occasions. “Another use is to wake people up; I allude to boys
par-tic -u-lar-ly.” Another pause after the long word to enjoy the
smothered laugh that went round the room. “Some boys do not get
up when called, and Mary Ann squeezes the water out of a wet
sponge on their faces, and it makes them so mad they wake up.”
Here the laugh broke out, and Emil said, as if he had been hit,