Black-Eyed Susan Part 3

Mrs. Vane hastily polished off her son with a corner of the kitchen roller towel, snuggled him into a warm sweater, and sent word to Grandfather that she was very glad to have Philip go driving, though he didn't need to work up an appet.i.te she was sure.

Grandmother made Susan hunt for her straw hat which, strange to say, was not to be found upon its accustomed nail. Grandmother and Phil searched downstairs, while Susan ran about frantically upstairs, so afraid they would be late that she could only half look. But at last she discovered her hat upside down under the bed, with rubber s...o...b..ll taking a nap in it, just as Susan had put her to bed the day before.

In spite of this delay the children were in good time, and with Susan wedged tightly on the seat between Grandfather and the minister, and Phil standing between the great leather boots with either hand on Grandfather's knee, they drove off in fine style.

Mr. Drew was the village minister, a young man with a pleasant manner and a twinkle in his kind blue eyes. He and Grandfather were special friends. They liked to talk together, though they rarely agreed, and sometimes became so excited in their talk that you might almost think they were quarreling. But of course Susan knew better than that.

Grandfather's horse, big bony Nero, had hurt his knee and had been turned out to gra.s.s to rest and recover. So this afternoon Mr. Drew held the reins and chirruped gently to his little brown Molly as she carried them briskly along the road.

As the grown-up talk rumbled on over her head, Susan peered out like a bright-eyed bird, and at every interesting landmark or familiar spot she called, "Look, Phil, look!" until from its frequent turning there was some danger that Phil's head might snap completely off its frail little neck.

"There is the old schoolhouse, Phil," called Susan. "We can play house on the doorstep.

"And here is the row of cherry trees. By and by we will come here with a pail.

"And, Phil, the crossest old cow lives in this field. Don't you ever come here by yourself. Once I only climbed up on the fence to look at her, and she put down her head and ran at me. And how she did moo-as cross as anything."

"I'm not afraid of her," said Phil stoutly, as, safe behind the shelter of Grandfather's boots and bowling swiftly along the road, he cast a defiant look at the surly bossy securely fastened by a rope to a stout stake in the ground. "Maybe I'll take you there sometime. I won't let her hurt you."

But the cow was left behind them, and Susan called Phil to look at the poultry farm, with its ducks and geese, its hens and chickens, cackling cheerfully and running about in amiable confusion.

Now they were nearing the town of Green Valley, and down the hill and over the bridge they rumbled to stop before the imposing stone Court-House, with its parking-s.p.a.ce for automobiles and its row of hitching-posts, to one of which was tied little brown Molly.

Susan danced impatiently up and down as Grandfather descended heavily to the sidewalk.

"Oh, Grandfather," said she, catching hold of his hand, "I want to take Philly to Madame Bonnet's. May I? Please say 'yes.'"

"To be sure," answered Grandfather, feeling in his pocket as he spoke.

"It will be a good place for you to wait. Here's ten cents apiece. Spend it carefully, and be sure you don't get lost on the way."

Susan laughed as she caught Phil by the arm and dragged him off. Lost on the way to Madame Bonnet's! when every one in the world knew it was just across the street from the Court-House.

Once safely over the crossing Susan stopped and pointed:

"Look, Phil," said she. "It's the nicest place you ever knew. Here it is. Here's Madame Bonnet's shop."

CHAPTER III-MADAME BONNET'S SHOP

Madame Bonnet's shop was so small that if you hadn't known it was there you might easily have walked past it and never seen it at all.

It was one story high, with a low front door, and panes of gla.s.s in the one window so tiny that it was difficult to see the wares that Madame Bonnet had for sale. But if you shut one eye and pressed the other close to the gla.s.s, you were well repaid for your trouble, for Madame Bonnet kept a toy shop the like of which was not to be found anywhere, though you traveled the world over in search of it.

It was not that the shop was large, because it wasn't. It was not that Madame Bonnet had many toys for sale, because she hadn't. But the children said you could buy at Madame Bonnet's what you couldn't buy anywhere else. And though the grown people sometimes stated, and perhaps truly, that Madame Bonnet hadn't bought a penny's worth of new stock in twenty-five years, the children were well satisfied, and no doubt that is the true test of a toy shop, after all.

"Oh, Phil," cried Susan, pressing one eye against the window, "do look at the china doll carriage, and the little doll's lamp with a pink shade and all, and that beautiful pair of vases that would just go on the mantel in my doll's house. I mean if I had a doll's house," added Susan truthfully.

But Phil, twisting and turning and almost standing on his head, was calling out:

"Look at the china boy rowing in the boat-with all his bundles, too.

What do you think is in them, Susan? Do tell me. What is in that yellow striped bundle? What do you think is in that one?"

"Something for him to eat, I guess," said Susan sensibly. "Let's go inside and look around."

Madame Bonnet was comfortably knitting in the rear of the shop, and didn't think of getting up to wait upon her customers.

"Well, Susan Whiting," said she, gazing at the children over her spectacles. "How do you do? Is your grandmother well? And so your grandfather is going to call by for you. I suppose he came in to the Court-House on business. And this is the little boy who has come to live next door to you, is it? Well, my dears, I hope you will find something you like here. Just walk around, and if you want to know about anything bring it to me. My knee has been so bad with rheumatism that I don't get up if I can help it."

And Madame Bonnet returned to her knitting, apparently forgetting the children, who walked about on tiptoe eyeing the toys and handling everything within reach.

Madame Bonnet had been born and brought up in the town of Green Valley and had never journeyed farther away than fifty miles. People were somewhat surprised, therefore, when, one fine day, the girl they had always known as Mary Bonnet had opened her little shop, and had raised over the front door a sign which boldly read, "Madame Bonnet."

"There is French blood in me somewhere, I'm sure," said she. "And I don't see why I shouldn't call myself 'Madame,' if I like."

And now that Madame Bonnet was an old lady with white hair and spectacles, most people had forgotten that she had ever borne any other name.

"Phil," said Susan, standing entranced before a low shelf, "won't you come and look at this doll?"

In the center of a large square of cardboard was sewed a bisque doll, whose long flaxen braid hung over one shoulder and reached to the tips of her dimpled toes. Surrounding her, also sewed on the card, was her wardrobe, consisting of a pink dress, a pink hat, and a pair of pink kid boots, a similar costume in blue, a Red Riding Hood cape, and a green silk umbrella.

Susan fairly held her breath before this vision of loveliness. But Phil was spellbound at the other end of the shop-and no wonder.

In a long gla.s.s tube, full of water, was a little red imp, even to horns and tail, and, instructed by Susan how to press upon the rubber top, Phil soon learned to make the imp execute a gay dance or move slowly up and down in his narrow, watery prison.

"Come along," urged Susan, tugging at Phil's arm. "There are lots more things to see. Look at this little piano. It has four keys-_tink-a-link-a-link_! And here's a swimming boy-how pretty he is!"

And Susan carefully lifted the light little figure, who lay with rosy hands and feet outstretched all ready for a splash.

"I like the animals."

And Phil paused before a table laden with small trays on each of which reposed a family of tiny bisque animals. There sat demure Mrs. p.u.s.s.y and her five tortoise-sh.e.l.l kittens. Four timid little lambs huddled close to the Mother Sheep as if asking protection from a herd of big gray elephants, who, in turn, trumpeted silently with upturned trunks, at the disgrace of being placed next a placid family of black-and-white pigs.

There were ducks and chickens, camels and donkeys, cows and horses-sitting, standing, and lying side by side in a peaceful and united frame of mind not often to be met with in this world.

Phil carried a tray of fat snub-nosed little animals back to Madame Bonnet to find out what they were.

"Land sakes!" exclaimed Madame Bonnet. "Don't you know what they are?

They're dogs, pug dogs. Didn't you ever see one? Susan, didn't you ever see a pug dog? Well, I don't know as they are as common as they used to be. Ladies used to like them for pets." And Madame Bonnet shook her head over the way times had changed since she was a girl.

The children wandered round and round, entranced afresh at each table and shelf.

There was a small wooden clock, like the timepiece in Susan's kitchen at home, whose pendulum swung gayly to and fro if only you helped it a little with your finger. There were dolls' hats made by Madame Bonnet herself, that varied in style from a knitted tam-o'-shanter to a strange turban-like affair with a jaunty chicken feather in the top. There was sheet after sheet of paper dolls that surely belonged to the days of long ago, for the ladies wore their hair in a way that Grandmother would have recognized as a waterfall, and the little girl dolls had droll pantalettes hanging below their skirts.

There was a beautiful sawdust and china doll, whose wavy black china hair was piled high upon her head, whose strapped china boots gracefully took "first position" when she was held upright, and whose rosy lips smiled sweetly in spite of the fact that her bright green silk dress was neatly pasted on, so that it wouldn't come off, no matter what the emergency. Perhaps the fancy gilt paper tr.i.m.m.i.n.g on dolly's frock kept her cheerful. Perhaps Susan's open admiration warmed her chilly little china heart and helped her to forget any discomfort she might suffer.

At any rate, Susan pa.s.sed reluctantly from her side to view the doll's furniture, and there she entered into such a delightful wilderness of chairs, beds, tables, and sofas as would be difficult to describe.

Parlor sets with red and blue velvet tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs; bedroom sets quite complete, down to the cradle rocking comfortably away beside the mother's big bed; rocking-chairs; baby's high chair; a bookcase filled with tiny paper books; a stove with lids that really lifted off.