“Blind-man’s Buff.”
“Jack!”
“Commerce; a good round game, and have cents for the pool.”
“Uncle forbids our playing for money. Dan, what do you want?”
“Let’s have a battle between the Greeks and Romans.”
“Stuffy?”
“Roast apples, pop corn, and crack nuts.”
“Good! good!” cried several; and when the vote was taken, Stuffy’s
proposal carried the day.
Some went to the cellar for apples, some to the garret for nuts, and
others looked up the popper and the corn.
“We had better ask the girls to come in, hadn’t we?” said Demi, in
a sudden fit of politeness.
“Daisy pricks chestnuts beautifully,” put in Nat, who wanted his
little friend to share the fun.
“Nan pops corn tip-top, we must have her,” added Tommy.
“Bring in your sweethearts then, we don’t mind,” said Jack, who
laughed at the innocent regard the little people had for one
another.
“You shan’t call my sister a sweetheart; it is so silly!” cried Demi,
in a way that made Jack laugh.
“She is Nat’s darling, isn’t she, old chirper?”
“Yes, if Demi don’t mind. I can’t help being fond of her, she is so
good to me,” answered Nat, with bashful earnestness, for Jack’s
rough ways disturbed him.
“Nan is my sweetheart, and I shall marry her in about a year, so
don’t you get in the way, any of you,” said Tommy, stoutly; for he
and Nan had settled their future, child-fashion, and were to live in
the willow, lower down a basket for food, and do other charmingly
impossible things.
Demi was quenched by the decision of Bangs, who took him by
the arm and walked him off to get the ladies. Nan and Daisy were
sewing with Aunt Jo on certain small garments, for Mrs. Carney’s
newest baby.
“Please, ma’am, could you lend us the girls for a little while? We’ll
be very careful of them,” said Tommy, winking one eye to express
apples, snapping his fingers to signify pop-corn, and gnashing his
teeth to convey the idea of nut-cracking.
The girls understood this pantomime at once, and began to pull of
their thimbles before Mrs. Jo could decide whether Tommy was
going into convulsions or was brewing some unusual piece of
mischief. Demi explained with elaboration, permission was readily
granted, and the boys departed with their prize.
“Don’t you speak to Jack,” whispered Tommy, as he and Nan
promenaded down the hall to get a fork to prick the apples.
“Why not?”
“He laughs at me, so I don’t wish you to have any thing to do with
him.”
“Shall, if I like,” said Nan, promptly resenting this premature
assumption of authority on the part of her lord.
“Then I won’t have you for my sweetheart.”
“I don’t care.”
“Why, Nan, I thought you were fond of me!” and Tommy’s voice
was full of tender reproach.
“If you mind Jack’s laughing I don’t care for you one bit.”
“Then you may take back your old ring; I won’t wear it any
longer;” and Tommy plucked off a horsehair pledge of affection
which Nan had given him in return for one made of a lobster’s
feeler.
“I shall give it to Ned,” was her cruel reply; for Ned liked Mrs.
Giddy-gaddy, and had turned her clothespins, boxes, and spools
enough to set up housekeeping with.
Tommy said, “Thunder turtles!” as the only vent equal to the
pent-up anguish of the moment, and, dropping Nan’s arm, retired
in high dudgeon, leaving her to follow with the fork, a neglect
which naughty Nan punished by proceeding to prick his heart with
jealousy as if it were another sort of apple.
The hearth was swept, and the rosy Baldwins put down to roast. A
shovel was heated, and the chestnuts danced merrily upon it, while
the corn popped wildly in its wire prison. Dan cracked his best
walnuts, and every one chattered and laughed, while the rain beat
on the window-pane and the wind howled round the house.
“Why is Billy like this nut?” asked Emil, who was frequently
inspired with bad conundrums.
“Because he is cracked,” answered Ned.
“That’s not fair; you mustn’t make fun of Billy, because he can’t hit
back again. It’s mean,” cried Dan, smashing a nut wrathfully.