Part 4 (2/2)

They are Indian braves, a terrible band, Each with a tomahawk in his hand, And each has a knife _without a sheath_ Fiercely stuck in his gleaming teeth.

Are the dragons awake? Are the dragons sleepers?

Will they meet and scatter these crafty creepers?

What ho! ... But John, who has sorely tried me, Trots up and flattens his nose beside me; Against the window he flattens it And says he can see As well as me, But never an Indian--not a bit; Not even the top of a feathered head, But only a wall and the lean-to shed.

THE CONTRACT

”Come, Peggy, put your toys away; you needn't shake your head, Your bear's been working overtime; he's panting for his bed.

He's turned a thousand somersaults, and now his head must ache; It's cruelty to animals to keep the bear awake.”

At this she stamped in mutiny, and then she urged her plea, Her wonted plea, ”A little time, a minute more, for me.”

”Be off, you little rogue of rogues,” I sternly made reply; ”It's wicked to be sitting up with sand in either eye.

”To bed, to bed, you sleepy head; and then, and then--who knows?-- Some day you'll be a grown-up girl, and lovely as a rose.

And some day some one else will come, a gallant youth and gay, To harry me and marry you and carry you away.”

At this the storm broke out afresh:--”You know I hate the boys; They're only good at taking things, and breaking things, and noise.

So, Daddy, please remember this, because--I--want--you--to:-- I'll never marry any boy; I'll only marry _you_.”

”Agreed,” I cried--the imp, of course, had won the bout of wits; Had gained her point and got her time and beaten me to fits-- ”Agreed, agreed,”--she danced for joy--”we'll leave no room for doubt, But bind ourselves with pen and ink, and write the contract out:-”

_This is a contract, firm and clear Made, as doth from these presents appear, Between Peggy, being now in her sixth year, A child of laughter, A sort of funny actress, Referred to hereinafter As the said contractress-- Between the said contractress, that is to say, And a person with whom she is often good enough to play; Who happens to have been something of a factor In bringing her into the world, who, in short, is her father, And is hereinafter spoken of as the said contractor.

Now the said contractress declares she would rather Marry the said contractor than any other.

At the same time she affirms with the utmost steadiness Her perfect readiness To take any other fellow on as a brother.

Still, she means to marry her father, and to be his wife, And to live happily with him all the rest of her life.

This contract is made without consideration, And is subject to later ratification.

The said contractress had it read through to see that nothing was missed, And she took her pen, and she held it tight in a chubby and cramped-up fist, And she made her mark with a blotted cross, instead of signing her name; And the said contractor he signed in full, and they mean to observe the same._

”Now give me, Peg, that old brown shoe, that battered shoe of yours, I'll stow the contract in its toe, and, if the shoe endures, When sixteen years or so are gone, I'll hunt for it myself And take it gently from its drawer, or get it from its shelf.

”And when, mid clouds of scattered rice, through all the wedding whirl A laughing fellow hurries out a certain graceless girl, Unless my hand have lost its strength, unless my eye be dim, I'll lift the shoe, the contract too, and fling the lot at him.”

JOHN

He's a boy, And that's the long and (chiefly) the short of it, And the point of it and the wonderful sport of it; A two-year-old with a taste for a toy, And two chubby fists to clutch it and grasp it, And two fat arms to embrace it and clasp it; And a short stout couple of st.u.r.dy legs As hard and as smooth as ostrich eggs; And a jolly round head, so fairly round You could easily roll it, Or take it and bowl it With never a b.u.mp along the ground.

And, as to his cheeks, they're also fat-- I've seen them in ancient prints like that, Where a wind-boy high In a cloudy sky Is puffing away for all he's worth, Uprooting the trees With a reckless breeze, And strewing them over the patient earth, Or raising a storm to wreck the s.h.i.+ps With the work of his lungs and cheeks and lips.

Take a look at his eyes; I put it to you, Were ever two eyes more truly blue?

If you went and worried the whole world through You'd never discover a bluer blue; I doubt if you'd find a blue so true In the coats and scarves of a Cambridge crew.

And his hair Is as fair As a pretty girl's,

But it's right for a boy with its crisp, short curls All a-gleam, as he struts about With a laugh and a shout, To summon his sister-slaves to him For his joyous Majesty's careless whim.

But now, as, after a stand, he budges, And sets to work and solemnly trudges, Out from a bush there springs full tilt His four-legged playmate--and John is spilt.