Part 36 (2/2)

Frightened Billy had been holding the smaller pole all this time, in a vise-like grip.

”Let me down!” screamed Cricket. ”Carefully, Billy!” and Billy, stiff with terror, nevertheless had the sense to obey. He raised the small pole steadily, lest the other, with Cricket's added weight, should come down too fast. In a moment more she was near enough to the ground to drop lightly down.

A tremendous splas.h.i.+ng and mewing had been going on in the well, but the children had been too much absorbed in Cricket to notice it.

”'Tisn't as much fun as I thought it would be,” was all she said, as she darted forward to look down the well after her pet. ”Let the bucket down again, Billy, and see if he'll cling to it. Oh, you poor, poor George Was.h.i.+ngton. Billy, do hurry up! Why, he'll _drown_.”

But Billy had given out. He was so thoroughly frightened when he discovered Cricket on her lofty perch, that, now that she was safely down, he was shaking like a leaf. Cricket pushed him unceremoniously away, as she peered down.

George Was.h.i.+ngton looked like a good-sized muskrat, as they saw him clinging to the wet, mossy stones, meowing pitifully. He was either too frightened or too cold to make any effort to climb up. Perhaps he could not have done so anyway. Cricket lowered the bucket again herself, till it struck the water. The splash seemed to frighten George Was.h.i.+ngton only the more, for his cries were redoubled.

”What a _stupid_ cat!” cried Hilda. ”Why doesn't he take hold and come up?”

”He's frightened to death down there in the cold. He's _never_ stupid, are you, George W.? I'm _so_ afraid he'll die of getting wet and cold before we can save him!” cried Cricket, anxiously, flopping the bucket about. ”Do take hold of it, George! dear George, do!”

But Cricket's most coaxing tones availed nothing. George only meowed and meowed in accents that grew more pitiful every minute.

”Do run and tell Marm Plunkett that the kitten's in the well, Hilda,”

said Cricket, at last. ”Perhaps she'll know something to do. Look out, children! don't lean over so far, else the first thing you know you'll be down there, too. Oh, George Was.h.i.+ngton, please take hold!”

Hilda ran off, and came back a moment later with rather a scared face.

”I told her, Cricket, and what do you think she said? That we must be sure not to let it die there, 'cause it would poison the water! She seemed dreadfully frightened about it, and tried to get up, but of course she couldn't, and then she said--she said--she'd _pray_ for us.”

Hilda's voice sank to an awed whisper. Cricket looked blank.

Billy caught up the word eagerly.

”Yes, yes, children, that's right o' Marm Plunkett. It's allers good to pray,” and down went simple old Billy on his knees. ”You keep on a-danglin' that ere bucket, and I'll pray fur ye, young uns. That'll fetch him.” He clasped his hands and shut his earnest eyes.

The children stood in awed silence. Billy, swaying back and forth in his eagerness, began in a high-keyed voice, sounding unlike his ordinary tones:

”'How dothe the little busy bee Improve each s.h.i.+ning hour; And gather honey all the day From every fragrant flower'--Amen.”

Poor old Billy! this sc.r.a.p of a rhyme, learned in his far-away boyhood, was the one bit that had stuck in his clouded mind all these years, and had served this pious soul for a prayer ever since. Every night, kneeling reverently by his bedside, he had said it, and every morning when he arose; only then he added the pet.i.tion, ”G.o.d bless Mrs. Maxwell, and make Billy good.”

Cricket and Hilda, too much amazed to speak, but too much impressed with Billy's earnestness to laugh, stood stock-still as they were; Hilda in the act of stretching out her hands to draw Zaidee back from the well-curb,--where she hung, in imminent danger of following George W.,--and Cricket, still grasping the pole, and looking back over her shoulder, and Helen staring with her great eyes.

As Billy ceased, there was an oppressive moment of silence. He remained on his knees, swaying his gaunt frame slightly, with his eyes still closed. Suddenly Cricket felt the bucket lurch as it lay on the surface of the water below. She looked quickly over the well-curb.

”Oh, Hilda! Billy, hurrah! he's climbed upon the bucket at last! He's way up on it. Now, we'll have him!” and with Hilda to help, she began cautiously to raise the bucket.

Billy slowly got up from the ground, and dusted off his trouser knees.

”It's allers wuth while a-prayin' for things,” he remarked.

In a few minutes the bucket was on a level with the well-curb, and while Hilda held the pole, Cricket drew out her dripping, s.h.i.+vering pet.

Such a rubbing as he got in Marm Plunkett's little kitchen! He was very much exhausted with his cold bath, and I'm afraid that a very few minutes longer in the icy water would have ended one of George Was.h.i.+ngton's nine lives.

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