Part 35 (1/2)
”We've dot him!” called the innocents, tugging up their prize with such solemn satisfaction it was impossible to help laughing.
”I always wanted to tatch a whale, and this is a baby one, I fink. A boy said, when they wanted to die they comed on the sand and did it, and we saw this one go dead just now. Ain't he pretty?” asked Boo, displaying the immense mouth with fond pride, while his friend flapped the tail.
”What are you going to do with him?” said Mrs. Hammond, regarding her infant as if she often asked herself the same question about her boy.
”Wap him up in a paper and tate him home to pay wid,” answered Harry, with such confidence in his big blue eyes that it was very hard to disappoint his hopes and tell him the treasure must be left behind.
Wails of despair burst from both children as the hard-hearted boys tipped out the little whale, and hustled the indignant fishermen on board the boat, which had been whistling for them impatiently. Boo recovered his spirits first, and gulping down a sob that nearly shook his hat off, consoled his companion in affliction and convulsed his friends by taking from his pocket several little crabs, the remains of a jelly-fish, and such a collection of pebbles that Frank understood why he found the fat boy such a burden when he shouldered him, kicking and howling, in the late run to the boat. These delicate toys healed the wounds of Boo and Harry, and they were soon happily walking the little ”trabs” about inside a stone wall of their own building, while the others rested after their exertions, and laid plans for coming to the Willows another year, as people usually did who had once tasted the wholesome delights and cordial hospitality of this charming place.
Chapter XXIII. Cattle Show
The children were not the only ones who had learned something at Pebbly Beach. Mrs. Minot had talked a good deal with some very superior persons, and received light upon various subjects which had much interested or perplexed her. While the ladies worked or walked together, they naturally spoke oftenest and most earnestly about their children, and each contributed her experience. Mrs. Hammond, who had been a physician for many years, was wise in the care of healthy little bodies, and the cure of sick ones. Mrs. Channing, who had read, travelled, and observed much in the cause of education, had many useful hints about the training of young minds and hearts. Several teachers reported their trials, and all the mothers were eager to know how to bring up their boys and girls to be healthy, happy, useful men and women.
As young people do not care for such discussions, we will not describe them, but as the impression they made upon one of the mammas affected our hero and heroine, we must mention the changes which took place in their life when they all got home again.
”School begins to-morrow. Oh, dear!” sighed Jack, as he looked up his books in the Bird Room, a day or two after their return.
”Don't you want to go? I long to, but don't believe I shall. I saw our mothers talking to the doctor last night, but I haven't dared to ask what they decided,” said Jill, affectionately eying the long-unused books in her little library.
”I've had such a jolly good time, that I hate to be shut up all day worse than ever. Don't you, Frank?” asked Jack, with a vengeful slap at the arithmetic which was the torment of his life.
”Well, I confess I don't hanker for school as much as I expected. I'd rather take a spin on the old bicycle. Our roads are so good, it is a great temptation to hire a machine, and astonish the natives. That's what comes of idleness. So brace up, my boy, and go to work, for vacation is over,” answered Frank, gravely regarding the tall pile of books before him, as if trying to welcome his old friends, or tyrants, rather, for they ruled him with a rod of iron when he once gave himself up to them.
”Ah, but vacation is not over, my dears,” said Mrs. Minot, hearing the last words as she came in prepared to surprise her family.
”Glad of it. How much longer is it to be?” asked Jack, hoping for a week at least.
”Two or three years for some of you.”
”What?” cried all three, in utter astonishment, as they stared at Mamma, who could not help smiling, though she was very much in earnest.
”For the next two or three years I intend to cultivate my boys' bodies, and let their minds rest a good deal, from books at least. There is plenty to learn outside of school-houses, and I don't mean to shut you up just when you most need all the air and exercise you can get. Good health, good principles, and a good education are the three blessings I ask for you, and I am going to make sure of the first, as a firm foundation for the other two.”
”But, mother, what becomes of college?” asked Frank, rather disturbed at this change of base.
”Put it off for a year, and see if you are not better fitted for it then than now.”
”But I am already fitted: I've worked like a tiger all this year, and I'm sure I shall pa.s.s.”
”Ready in one way, but not in another. That hard work is no preparation for four years of still harder study. It has cost you these round shoulders, many a headache, and consumed hours when you had far better have been on the river or in the fields. I cannot have you break down, as so many boys do, or pull through at the cost of ill-health afterward.
Eighteen is young enough to begin the steady grind, if you have a strong const.i.tution to keep pace with the eager mind. Sixteen is too young to send even my good boy out into the world, just when he most needs his mother's care to help him be the man she hopes to see him.”
Mrs. Minot laid her hand on his shoulder as she spoke, looking so fond and proud that it was impossible to rebel, though some of his most cherished plans were spoilt.
”Other fellows go at my age, and I was rather pleased to be ready at sixteen,” he began. But she added, quickly,--
”They go, but how do they come out? Many lose health of body, and many what is more precious still, moral strength, because too young and ignorant to withstand temptations of all sorts. The best part of education does not come from books, and the good principles I value more than either of the other things are to be carefully watched over till firmly fixed; then you may face the world, and come to no real harm.
Trust me, dear, I do it for your sake; so bear the disappointment bravely, and in the end I think you will say I'm right.”