The Cinder Pond Part 5

"To be sure I can. Nothin' easier. You cuts a round hole and then you takes half hitches all around it. I'm a leetle out of practice just now; but when I've practiced a bit--you see, you got to get started just right. But it's pretty soon to be thinkin' about the b.u.t.tonholes."

"Do you makes the holes to fit the b.u.t.tons or do you buy the b.u.t.tons to fit the holes?"

"Well," replied the Captain, scratching his head, "mostly I makes the holes first like and then I fits the b.u.t.tons to 'em. That's what I done on this here vest. You see, the natural ones was too small. Besides I lost the b.u.t.tons, fust lick."

Interested Jeanne examined Old Captain's shabby waistcoat. There was a very large black b.u.t.ton to fit a very large b.u.t.tonhole. Next, a small white b.u.t.ton with a b.u.t.tonhole of corresponding size. Then a medium-sized very bright blue b.u.t.ton with a hole to match that. The other two b.u.t.tons were gone, but the store b.u.t.tonholes remained.

"Three b.u.t.tons--as long as they're _big_ enough," explained Old Captain, "is enough to keep that there vest on. The rest is superfloo-us. Run along now, but mind you come tomorry and we'll have them other tools."

"I will," promised Jeanne.

"Me'll sew, too," promised Annie.

"Me, too," said Sammie.

"How about _you_, Mike?" laughed Old Captain.

"Aw, _I_ wouldn't sew. That's girls' work."

The children had no sooner departed than Old Captain washed his hands and hurried into his coat. Feeling in his pocket to make sure that his money was there, he clambered up the steep bank, back of his queer house, to the road above. This was a pleasant road, because it curved obligingly to fit the sh.o.r.e line. The absence of a sidewalk did not distress Old Captain.

Half an hour later, Jeanne's friend, having reached the business section of the town, peered eagerly in at the shop windows. There seemed to be everything else in them except the articles that he wanted. Presently, choosing the shop that had the _most_ windows, he started in, collided with a lady and a baby carriage and backed out again. He mopped his bald pink head several times with his faded red handkerchief before he felt sufficiently courageous to make a second attempt. Finally he got inside.

"Tarnation!" he breathed. "This ain't no place for a man--I'm the only one!"

A moment later, however, he caught sight of a male clerk and started for him almost on a run. He clutched him by the sleeve.

"Say," said Old Captain, "gimme a girl-sized thimble, a spool o' thread to fit, and a whole package o' needles."

"This young lady will attend to you," replied the man, heartlessly deserting him.

The smiling young lady was evidently waiting for her unusual customer to speak, so the Captain spoke.

"Will you kindly gimme a girl's-size needle, a spool o' thread, an' a package o' thimbles."

"What!" exclaimed the surprised clerk.

"A thimble, a needle, a thread!" shouted the desperate Captain.

"What size needles?"

"Why--about the size you'd use to sew a nice neat seam. Couldn't you mix up about a quarter's worth?"

"They _come_ in a.s.sorted packets. What colored thread?"

"Why--make it about six colors--just pick 'em out to suit yourself."

"How about the thimble? Do you want it for yourself?"

"No, it's for a girl."

"About how big a girl?"

"Well, she's some bigger 'round than a whitefish," said the Captain, a bit doubtfully, "but not so much bigger than a good-sized lake-trout.

Say, how much _is_ them thimbles?"

"Five cents apiece."

"Gimme all the sizes you got. One of each. She might grow some, you know."

"Anything else?"

"Yep," returned Old Captain. "Suppose we match up them spools with some caliker--white with red spots, or blue, now. What do you say to _that_?"

"Right this way, sir," said the clerk, gladly turning her back in order to permit the suppressed giggles that were choking her, to escape.

The big Captain lumbered along in her wake, like a large scow towed by a small tug. He beamed in friendly fas.h.i.+on at the other customers; this dreaded shopping was proving less terrifying than he had feared. His pilot came to anchor near a table heaped with cheap print.

"We're having a sale on these goods," said she.

"What's the matter with 'em?" asked Old Captain, suspiciously.

"Why, nothing," replied the clerk. "They're all good. How much do you need? How many yards?"

"Well, just about three-quarters as much and a little over what it'd take for you. No need o' bein' stingy, an' we got to allow some for mistakes in cuttin' out."

"If you bought a pattern," advised the clerk, "there wouldn't be any waste."

"But," said Old Captain, earnestly, "she needs a waist and a skirt, too."

"I mean, you wouldn't waste any cloth. See, here's our pattern book."

Old Captain turned the pages, doubtfully. Suddenly his broad face broke into smiles.

"Well, I swan! Here she is. This is _her_--the girl them things is for.

Same eyes, same hair, same shape--"

"But," queried the smiling clerk, "do you like the way that dress is made?"

"No, I don't," returned Captain Blossom. "It's got too many flub-dubs.

I wouldn't know how to make _them_. You see, I'm a teachin' her to sew."

Finally, by dint of much questioning, the girl arrived at the size of the pattern required and the number of yards. Then Old Captain selected the goods.

"Gimme a _bluer_ blue than that," he objected. "You got to allow a whole lot for to fade. Same way with the pink. Now that there purple's just right. And what's the matter with them red stripes? And that there white with big black spots. No, don't gimme no plain black--I'll keep _that_ spool to mend with. Now, how about b.u.t.tons? The young lady's had one lesson already on b.u.t.tonholes."

"We're having a sale on those, too. Right this way. About how many?"

"About a pint, I guess," said Old Captain. "And for Pete's sake mix 'em up as to sizes so they'll fit all kinds of holes."