Маленькие мужчины / Little men. Уровень 4

“Teddy is right: there’s something in the child.”

Mr. Bhaer nodded his head emphatically, as he clapped Nat on the shoulder, saying, heartily:

“You play well, my son. Come now and play something which we can sing.”

It was the proudest, happiest minute of the poor boy’s life when he was led to the place by the piano, and the lads gathered round. They chose a song he knew; and soon violin, flute, and piano led a chorus of boyish voices. It was too much for Nat. As the final shout died away, he dropped the fiddle, and turning to the wall sobbed like a little child.

“My dear, what is it?” asked Mrs. Bhaer, who was singing.

“You are all so kind and it’s so beautiful,” sobbed Nat, coughing till he was breathless.

“Come with me, dear; you must go to bed and rest. This is too noisy a place for you,” whispered Mrs. Bhaer; and took him away to her own parlor.

Then she asked him to tell her all his troubles, and listened to the little story with tears in her eyes.

“My child, you have got a father and a mother now, and this is home. Don’t think of those sad times any more, but get well and happy. This place is made for all sorts of boys to have a good time in, and to learn how to be useful men, I hope. You will have as much music as you want. Now have a bath, and then go to bed.”

Mrs. Bhaer led him up to a big room, where they found a stout German woman with a round and cheery face.

“This is Nursey Hummel, and she will give you a nice bath, and cut your hair. That’s the bathroom in there.”

By the time Nat was washed and done up in a blanket by the fire, while Nursey cut his hair, a new detachment of boys arrived.

Nursey gave Nat a flannel night-gown, and then tucked him into one of the three little beds standing in the room. Cleanliness in itself was a new and delightful sensation; flannel gowns were unknown comforts in his world; and the feeling that somebody cared for him made that room a sort of heaven to the homeless child.

A momentary lull was followed by the sudden appearance of pillows flying in all directions. The battle raged in several rooms, all down the upper hall, and even in the nursery. No one forbade it, or even looked surprised.

“Won’t they hurt them?” asked Nat.

“Oh dear, no! We always allow one pillow-fight Saturday night. I like it myself,” said Mrs. Bhaer.

“What a nice school this is!” observed Nat, in a burst of admiration.

“It’s an odd one,” laughed Mrs. Bhaer, “but you see we don’t want to make children miserable by too many rules, and too much study. I forbade night-gown parties at first; but it was of no use. So I made an agreement with them. I allow a fifteen-minute pillow-fight every Saturday night; and they promise to go properly to bed every other night. I tried it, and it worked well. If they don’t keep their word, no frolic. I let them rampage as much as they like.”

“It’s a beautiful plan,” said Nat.

Mrs. Bhaer looked at her watch, and called out:

“Time is up, boys. Into bed, or pay the forfeit!”

“What is the forfeit?” asked Nat.

“Lose their fun next time,” answered Mrs. Bhaer. “I give them five minutes to settle down, then put out the lights, and expect order. They are honorable lads, and they keep their word.”

Sunday

Nat flew out of bed, and dressed himself with great satisfaction in the suit of clothes he found on the chair. Suddenly Tommy appeared and escorted Nat down to breakfast.

The sun was shining into the dining-room on the well-spread table, and the flock of hungry, hearty lads who gathered round it. Everyone stood silently behind his chair while little Rob, standing beside his father at the head of the table, folded his hands, reverently bent his curly head, and softly repeated a prayer. Then they all sat down to enjoy the Sunday-morning breakfast. There was much pleasant talk while the knives and forks rattled briskly.

“Now, my lads, be ready for church when the bus comes round,” said Father Bhaer.

Everyone had some little daily duty, and was expected to perform it faithfully. Some brought wood and water, brushed the steps, or ran errands for Mrs. Bhaer. Others fed the pet animals, and did chores about the barn with Franz. Daisy washed the cups, and Demi wiped them, for the twins liked to work together. Even Baby Teddy trotted to and fro, putting napkins away, and pushing chairs into their places. For half and hour the lads buzzed about like a hive of bees. Then the bus drove round, Father Bhaer and Franz with the eight older boys piled in, and away they went for a three-mile drive to church in town.

Because of the troublesome cough Nat preferred to stay at home with the four small boys, and spent a happy morning in Mrs. Bhaer’s room, listening to the stories she read them, and learning the hymns she taught them.

“This is my Sunday study,” she said, showing him shelves filled with picture-books, paint-boxes, little diaries, and materials for letter-writing. “I want my boys to love Sunday, to find it a peaceful, pleasant day, when they can rest from common study and play, yet enjoy quiet pleasures, and learn lessons more important than any taught in school. Do you understand me?” she asked, watching Nat’s attentive face.

“You mean to be good?” he said, after hesitating a minute.

“Yes; to be good, and to love to be good. It is hard work sometimes, I know very well; but we all help one another.”

She took down a thick book and opened at a page on which there was one word at the top.

“Why, that’s my name!” cried Nat, looking both surprised and interested.

“Yes; I have a page for each boy. I keep a little account of how he gets on through the week, and Sunday night I show him the record. If it is bad I am sorry and disappointed, if it is good I am glad and proud; but, whichever it is, the boys know I want to help them, and they try to do their best for love of me and Father Bhaer. I don’t show my records to any but the one to whom each belongs. I call this my conscience book[6 - conscience book – книга совести]; and only you and I will ever know what is written on the page below your name. Whether you will be pleased or ashamed to read it next Sunday depends on yourself. I think it will be a good report. I hope you will be quite contented if you keep our few rules, live happily with the boys, and learn something.”

“I’ll try ma’am,” said Nat.

“I really don’t know which I like best, writing or boys,” she said, laughing. “Yes, I know many people think boys are a nuisance, but that is because they don’t understand them.”

Nat, who had never heard anything like this before, really did not know whether Mother Bhaer was a trifle crazy, or the most delightful woman he had ever met.

“Now, I think you will go into the school-room and practise some of the hymns we will sing tonight,” she said.

When the church-goers came back and dinner was over, every one read, wrote letters home, or talked quietly to one another, sitting here and there about the house. At three o’clock the entire family went to walk. Nat was not strong enough for the long walk, and asked to stay at home with Tommy, who kindly offered to show him Plumfield.

“You’ve seen the house, so come out and have a look at the garden, and the barn, and the menagerie,” said Tommy.

“What is your menagerie?” asked Nat, as they trotted along the road that encircled the house.

“We all have pets, you see, and we keep them in the corn-barn, and call it the menagerie. Here you are. Isn’t my guinea-pig[7 - guinea-pig – морская свинка] a beauty?” and Tommy proudly presented one of the ugliest animal that Nat ever saw.

“Those white mice are Rob’s, Franz gave them to him. The rabbits are Ned’s, and the bantams outside are Stuffy’s. That box is Demi’s turtle-tank.”

“What is in this box?” asked Nat, stopping before a large deep one, half-full of earth.

“Oh, that’s Jack Ford’s worm-shop[8 - worm-shop – магазин червяков]. He digs heaps of them and keeps them here, and when we want to go fishing with, we buy some of him. It saves lots of trouble, only he charged too much for them. Now, I own two hens, those gray ones with top knots, and I sell Mrs. Bhaer the eggs, but I never ask her more than twenty-five cents a dozen, never!” cried Tommy.

“Who owns the dogs?” asked Nat.

“The big dog is Emil’s. His name is Christopher Columbus,” answered Tommy. “The white pup is Rob’s, and the yellow one is Teddy’s. A man was going to drown them in our pond, and Papa Bhaer didn’t let him. Their names are Castor and Pollux.”

Nat climbed up a ladder, put his head through a trap door and looked at the pretty doves.

“How do you get these animals?” he asked, when he joined Tommy in the barn.