LOUIS'S LITTLE JOKE. BY KATHARINE R. MCDOWELL. "Miss Innocence does n't know, then, that the fellows said they 'd stop for me when they went to the mill-pond to-day, and then all dashed by the house, waving their baskets and not giving me a chance to get in?" The egg-beater rested on the edge of the bowl. "Why, how selfish, Louis! I saw them waving, and waved back at them from the piazza, but I did n't know you expected them to stop." "You waved back at them?" exclaimed Louis, almost frantically. "Well, that 's just like a girl! And now they 'll think you understood the joke, and like enough you did." "Was it a joke?" asked Esther, opening wide her large gray eyes. "Then Miss Innocence probably does n't know But she flew straight to the house, and into the this is the first of April?" kitchen, exclaiming : "Oh, Becky! Five of them, and they 'll be here for supper. I can sit at the head, can't I, Becky? And you 'll make chocolate for me to serve, wont you? And oh! dear Becky, please, please can't I make the custard?" "Bress your heart, yes," said Rebecca; "an' Becky'll make you whateber you want. An' de blue set ob china?" she asked, a moment later. "Oh, yes, Becky - they 're so pretty; and the little crystal cups for my custard, so 't will show through." And she danced merrily about the room. "Where's that telegram?" demanded Louis, nearly out of breath from his sudden descent of a tree and rapid run for the house. "There, on the table, Louis. I could n't stop, I was in such a hurry to tell Becky," explained Esther, as she broke some eggs and carefully separated whites and yolks. "It's going to be my supper, Louis, and I 'm going to have "I don't care for your supper," growled Louis. "And I'm going to pay you, before the day's over, for not letting me see that telegram at first." "Oh, Louis! please do not play any more tricks on me," pleaded his cousin. "I told Becky first, because I knew she 'd take more interest in my supper. What do boys care how things are made? They'd rather go fishing or But Louis interrupted her with: But Esther had every reason to know it. From the moment that Louis had shouted "April Fool!" when she called to Becky, "I can't get my sleeve on-it's all twisted," to the time when she found her knife and fork sewed to the table-cloth at dinner, the morning had been a series of similar shouts from Louis Perkins. "She's the best one to play tricks upon," he kept saying to himself. "Never suspects, no matter what a fellow does!" "I don't believe in cruel jokes," said Esther, slowly" anything that will make anybody else feel hurt; do you, Louis?" "Oh, you 're very careful of other people's feelings; we all know that," said Louis, tantalizingly, as he slammed the kitchen-door. "Now, I ought to go and entertain him," thought the forbearing Esther. "I'll take my eggs out on the piazza and beat them there. Louis!" she called, "come and whittle here, wont you, and let's talk about the fun when the folks come?" "If Howard comes, I don't care about the rest," said Louis, apparently in better humor. "He's the only one who likes fun. Take care, Essie, you'll spill them!" cried Louis, warningly, as Esther turned the platter of beaten whites upside-down. "No, I wont," laughed Esther, merrily; "that shows they're done." They don't keep in that shape, do they?" "Never mind the fishing, though I suppose asked Louis, showing interest despite himself. you'll harp on it for years." "How harp on it?" asked Esther, still intent on her eggs. "They would keep just like this for hours, but it's better to let them rest on boiling water for a moment," said the little housekeeper, as she held a "floating island" aloft on the beater. "Is n't it pretty?" Louis vouchsafed no answer. Had those snowy blankets not been swinging on the clothes-line, his thoughts, perhaps, would not have run in the channel they did. But Rebecca had been washing, and he had noticed her tubs on the back piazza. They were covered with a foam that was so firm one could have sliced it with a knife. Louis had taken a handful of it and found that it did not liquefy or dissolve." When he saw Esther making the méringue, its resemblance to the foam on the suds struck him, and another thought was in his mind as well, when he went back on the piazza again to see if the suds had lost all form. No, there they were, just as they had appeared an hour before. Rebecca was still making preparations for the new-comers, and had not taken the time to empty the tubs. "All of which shows," thought the bad boy, "that I can put a platterful of this in place of what Essie has made, and have it go on the table. Imagine the faces they'll make! Essie wont know what the matter is, and Becky will be so bothered! It will be the best joke yet! I think Essie 'll let me read telegrams first after this," and he walked off for a moment to plan it all out. 66 Oh, no; I don't put it on till the very last thing," said the unsuspecting Esther, in answer to his question. "I shall run down cellar just before supper, and put a little of the froth on top of each custard; and you know, Louis, we 're going to use the little crystal glasses! 'T will be just as nice as though Mamma were here, wont it, Becky?" "If Rebecca's suds don't last, I can make some more with the same soap while they're all visiting," thought Louis, “and run down with them just before supper. And to think that Es will put it on herself, that 'll be the best of all! But suppose she were to taste it? Well, even if she should, 't would be a good fool, for they'd have to dance around pretty lively and make some more; but I hope she does n't find it out till she tastes it at supper. Wont it be rich to watch her! She wont know what is wrong, and if any of the company discover a queer taste they wont say anything, but they'll stop eating rather suddenly, I'll venture! And Essie, what will she think to see them all steering clear of those custards, after she's been most of the afternoon making 'em!" And with such thoughts Louis tried to put aside the picture that rose before him, of the pretty cousin who danced around the kitchen in the small checked apron, and to think only of Esther's having refused to let him read the telegram when he had asked to see it. The afternoon stage brought the four cousins and Aunt Jo, amid much rejoicing. Esther received them all so prettily, and said so deferentially to Louis, "You'll see to the baggage? "using a tone that, in its recognition of him as the man of the house, made so evident an impression on the younger cousins, that he almost began to wish he had not saved that dish of suds. Then, too, he overheard Esther, as she was getting out the rackets for tennis, say to Howard: "Beware of Louis! He plays splendidly. Serves balls that bound every way but the one you're prepared for. He gives me odds and beats me, too, and had never played till he came South, three weeks ago. Where has he gone? Louis!" and her clear voice rang over the lawn. "I'll be there in a minute. Let Howard get used to the ground," answered Louis, which suggestion struck them all as being very generous. How pretty Esther looked! Louis could see from his window her bright, happy face, as she darted hither and thither after the balls. After all, would his little joke pay? What was there to be so vexed about, now that he thought it all over? Well, I would n't give it up after I'd gone so far," said a bad voice within; you said you'd pay her for not letting you see that telegram.” 66 66 He stole down into the cellar. He could hear Rebecca overhead singing, “Oh, Dearest May," as she set the table. There was Esther's meringue on a small platter. He slid it off and out of the little cellar-window, put the suds' foam in its place, and went noiselessly up the stairs. Rebecca was prolonging the refrain of “Lubly as the Day," so he felt sure she could not have heard him. They all went in to supper soon after. "It's just as well," thought Esther, as she looked at the custards, "that Becky put the méringue on. She always makes it look prettier than I do. Still, I wanted to have done it all myself," and she sighed to think she should have seen the custards all ready on the table, when she was just going down cellar to put that bit of fluffy white on each herself. And what were Louis's thoughts as he looked at the crystal cups? "Well, who 'd ever think of its being suds? I'm going to taste my own, to be sure of it." He did so, and no doubt was left in his mind that his little joke on Esther was going to be a success. He fancied, as he glanced stealthily around the table, that Rebecca was watching him, and that one of her great smiles overspread her face as he took that taste of his custard. "I say, Howard," he said to his cousin, "you say you think my two big agates are so handsome, I'll put one of them up on a wager. If you eat all of your custard inside of a minute, I'll give you your choice!" face after it, and there was no doubt in his mind this time that Rebecca was laughing at him. "What is going on at that end of the table?" asked Aunt Jo. "You two boys seem very much "All right," chuckled Louis, "I'll time you," absorbed in something." as he drew out his watch. In even less than the half-minute Howard set down his empty glass with: "Massa Louis is in de suds," said Rebecca. Louis flushed crimson as he darted an angry glance at Rebecca's face, wreathed in smiles; while "Where's the agate? I'll take the blue-and- Howard, who had watched him taste his custard, gold one." laughed outright. 66 "Soap-suds!" echoed Howard, questioningly. 'What do you mean?" "Hush!" cautioned Louis, proceeding in a half-whisper to give him an insight into the joke he was playing on Esther. "But if they don't taste bad," he admitted, "'t is n't going to be much of a joke." "I declare, Louis, I would n't have thought you so mean! I'm glad you could n't spoil 'em, and evidently you have n't, for they're all being eaten." Not only were the custards being eaten, but Aunt Jo was praising them, and Esther blushing with pleasure! What could it mean? Was there any mistake? Louis tasted his own again, and made a wry Louis left the table soon after, Howard with him, to whom he gave the other agate as he begged him to promise that he would never breathe a word of the joke to any one. He little knew that Rebecca was telling the others at the table, concluding her narrative with a hearty laugh and this explanation: 66 "I knowed Massa Louis steal down dat cellar for no good! I foun' out his soap-suds; and den I make de new meringue for all de cups 'cept Massa Louis's. He hab to eat ob de fruits ob de result!" But, Becky," said Esther, as she went upstairs that night, - Rebecca leading the way and still laughing at Louis's discomfiture,-"if you had only given Louis a good custard, too, he would have understood that verse in the Bible about 'heaping coals of fire.' "Bress your heart, chile," said Rebecca, never at loss for an answer, 'pears to me it's jes' as important dat he understan' de meanin' ob de verse 'bout de man dat made a pit an' digged it, and den falls in de ditch hisself!" A BRAVE CHINESE BABY. By H. H. He was very little more than a baby, certainly not more than three or four years old; and the queer, wide clothes he wore made him look so short that, at first sight, it seemed a miracle he could walk at all. He was all alone in the house; in fact, he was all alone in the village. Every other house but his was shut up tight, the door locked, and all the people gone away fishing. What a predicament, to be sure, for a four-yearold boy to be left in! The more I think of it, the more I think he was one of the very bravest fellows ever born. Many a man has got a great name for being a hero without having shown half the courage that this little chap did when he toddled out into the street to meet us. I wish I could have found out his name, to remember him by; but none of us who saw him will ever forget him. We shall think of him always as the Brave Chinese Baby. It was in a Chinese fishing-village, on the shore of the Pacific Ocean, a few miles from Monterey, in California. There are several such villages on that coast, and, to Americans, they are very curious places to see. I am sure that nothing in all China can look more Chinese, for only Chinese people live in them; and they huddle their little houses close together, on narrow alleys, and set up their queer shrines, and pile their odds and ends of outlandish rubbish all about, as if they prided themselves on living just as unlike Americans as possible. then turned around, and waddled back as fast as his fat little legs would carry him into the dark recesses of his house. We thought he had run away to hide. Not a bit of it. In a few seconds, back he came, holding up to us a big abalone shell, tightly grasped in both his chubby hands; then he laid it on a bench by the door, waddled back, got another, brought it out and laid it down; then still another. The abalone is a beautiful shell which is found in great abundance on the southern coast of California, and is offered for sale everywhere. Travelers buy many of them to carry away as curiosities. When their surfaces are polished they have all the colors of the rainbow in them, and are very brilliant. In all the houses in the fishing-villages there are great baskets of these abalone shells kept to sell to travelers, and the Baby had, no doubt, often seen his mother bring them out and offer them to people passing by. So he thought they might be what we had come for. As he held out shell after shell toward us, he fixed his queer, narrow, slanting little eyes on us with an expression of anxiety and inquiry that was pathetic. When he saw that we did not want the shells, he went back again, still farther into the recesses of the cabin, and, bringing out a tin dipper with a little water in it, offered that to us. He was so calm and grave in his demeanor that we did not think of his being frightened; and we walked about, and looked in at the door of the house, and looked at him, and laughed at his queer, wide trousers and sleeves, and old brown hat on the back of his head, as much as we liked. We thought he was a very droll little man, with a good business head on his shoulders, who meant to drive a trade in abalone shells on his own account if he could. The truth is, that even baby Chinese faces look about as old as grown-up faces. They are the same sallow color, and the boys' heads are shaven, just like their fathers'. This little fellow's head was shaven all over, except an odd little wing-like wisp of stiff black hair left above each ear; these were the drollest things about him. They looked like whiskers which had slipped up above his cheeks. |