Amanda Douglas - A Modern Cinderella

And this was what had happened; Jack had come home and finding no one, knew there was some candy on the closet shelf. And there hung the strap. He wondered if it would hurt very much? The babies looked too tempting. So he began to strap them and enjoyed the howling. He was just going to leave off when Aunt Florence flew into the room.

“Oh, Jack, you cruel, wicked boy!” Then she seized the strap and he soon had an opportunity to known how much it hurt.

“Marilla! Marilla!” she called.

“Oh, Miss Florence, something dreadful has happened to Aunt Hetty, and I’m fast with her.”

She came up. “Oh, she looks as if she was dying or dead. Let’s put her on the lounge and you go for Bridget.”

“What is the matter with the children.”

“Oh, go, quick! I’ll tell you afterward.”

The child summoned Bridget and just ran in to comfort and kiss the babies.

“Oh, Jack, you never – oh, look at their poor little hands! You bad, wicked boy!”

“If you say much, I’ll give you some–”

Marilla snatched at the strap and flung it upon a high shelf. Jack wiped his eyes and went out to play. Marilla ran upstairs again. They were fanning Aunt Hetty and bathing her face and head.

“Marilla, will you go to the parlor and ask that lady to come up here, – Mrs. Henderson. Bridget thinks – oh, and we ought to have a doctor! I must telephone.”

“And then can I stay with the babies?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Poor babies!” Marilla fairly stopped them with witch hazel. Their little fat hands and their shoulders were swollen already. She kissed them, but she couldn’t take them both and they wanted to be cuddled. So she sat down and hugged them and really cried herself.

Bridget came down, “She isn’t dead but she’s a mighty hard faint on her. And what happened to the children?”

Marilla explained in a broken voice.

“Oh, the murtherin’ little devil! You take one and I’ll comfort ’tother. But you can’t lift her.”

No; Marilla couldn’t lift such a dead weight. Bridget walked the floor and patted Pansy and crooned over her, but the hurt was pretty deep.

Aunt Florence came down.

“She’s over the faint. Mrs. Henderson is going to stay a while. Oh, poor babies!”

“I must look after my meat or it’ll burn,” and she gave the baby to Miss Florence.

“I’ll sit in the rocking chair and you put her in my lap, I think she’s hurt more than Violet. You see, I ran upstairs when Miss Hetty’s bell rang, and she fell on my shoulder, and I never thought–”

“I gave it to him good, and his father’ll finish him tonight. Oh, dear! Well, there comes their mother.”

There was a hubhub with both babies crying again. Mrs. Borden laid aside her hat and coat and took up Violet, sent Marilla for a pitcher of milk and both babies were comforted with a drink.

“Sit on the floor and hold them. They’re so heavy. Poor sweet babies.”

The sobs ceased after a while. Violet fell asleep, Pansy was bathed again and grew quieter. The doctor came and said it was a bad fainting spell but that Mrs. Vanderveers heart was weak from age.

Marilla fixed Pansy’s supper, fed her and undressed her, and her mother laid her in the crib. Then she said —

“You may go and help Bridget a little with the dinner.”

Marilla arranged the table and the master of the house came in. Jack sneaked in, also. Mrs. Henderson staid, so no explanations were made. Jack was very quiet and behaved beautifully, but he wanted to go to bed at once. Violet woke and had her supper and quiet was restored. Then a man came in to consult Mr. Borden about some business.

“It was awful that Jack should go at the babies so,” said Mrs. Borden to her sister.

“I don’t know about telling his father. You gave him one whipping–”

“And a good hard one. I’m afraid of boys getting so used to that mode of punishment that they don’t mind it. But father brought up four boys in that manner and they have all made nice men. I don’t see where Jack gets his badness from.”

Jack’s mother sighed. “And yet he can be so lovely.”

“I’ve been considering,” rejoined Florence. “Suppose we hold this over his head for a while. I might talk to him.”

“Well, we can try it.”

So Aunt Florence talked to him very seriously, and said if he wasn’t a better boy they would have to send him off somewhere in the country where there were no children. She would not tell his father just now, but if he ever struck or pinched the babies again she certainly would, and he would be punished twice over. He must remember that.

He put his arms around her neck, and kissed her. “I’m awful sorry. I didn’t think it hurt so,” he said naively.

“Papa will hurt you a great deal more than I did,” was her reply.

And then Jack had a sudden accession of goodness. His teacher was proud of him. How much was due to his pretty face and winsome manner, one couldn’t quite tell, but the nursery had a lovely rest and Marilla didn’t have to watch out every moment.

Mrs. Borden secretly wished the twins were prettier. They were too fat, and when she tried to diet them a little they made a terrible protest. Here they were fourteen months old and couldn’t walk yet, but they were beginning to say little words under their nurse’s steady training.

Aunt Hetty made light of her attack and was soon about as usual, but she did not take long walks and laid on the lounge a good deal. “Folks can’t stay young forever,” she said, “and I’m getting to be quite an old lady.”

Then they began to plan for a summering.

Last year they had not gone anywhere. Advertisements were answered, and Florence visited several places. They would take Marilla of course, she was coming to have a thin, worn look. Aunt Hetty would visit a grand niece, who had been begging her to come. Bridget would stay in the house, she had no fancy for cantering about. Mrs. Borden would live at home through the week and rejoin them on Saturday afternoons. They must get off soon after school closed. There was no end of sewing. Some pretty skirts were altered over for Marilla, as there was enough for full dresses in them.

The place was on Long Island, a country house with only two other boarders. It was barely a quarter of a mile from the seashore, with a great orchard and grass all about, shady places for hammocks and numerous conveniences, besides moderate board.

Jack had not been an angel all the time. Some days he wouldn’t study. Then he had two fights with boys. He threw stones at cats – sometimes dogs, and broke two or three windows which he didn’t set out to do. He was getting tired of school and the weather was warm.

So one afternoon he thought he would take a walk instead. He would go out to the park where they went on Sundays. It was so warm in school. He was getting quite tired of the confinement.

He found a group of children and played with them awhile. Then they ran off home and he rambled on and on until he came to a street up a few steps. A wagon was standing there and two little boys were hanging on behind.

“Come on, its real fun,” sang out one of them. “You get a good ride.”

Jack thought it would be. They showed him how to hold on. The driver had been busy with an account book and now he touched up the horses. “Hanging on” wasn’t so easy Jack found, and you had to swing your legs underneath. The man paused again at a saloon and he dropped off; his hands were very tired. The man went in the place and when he came out one of the boys said —

“Hi! Mister, won’t you give us a ride?”

The man laughed. “Where you want to go? I’m for Roselands.”

“We want to go there,” was the reply.

“Well, crawl up here. Two of you’ll have to sit on the wagon bottom.”