and he was very glad to be found. His mother kept him in the house for two days and then he promised to be very good.
“Now, if you make any trouble you shall not go out for a whole week.”
The babies hadn’t gone much farther than “agoo, agoo,” but Marilla tried her best to make them talk. They each had a rubber doll and the child would dance them up and down and make them turn somersaults and stand on their heads, and invent every sort of grotesque action.
Jack was a good looking little fellow and had been spoiled in the earlier years. He was a little afraid of his father, and sometimes his mother would make him mind, but he was very full of badness.
Aunt Florence wanted some silk and twist and spools of cotton one morning.
“You could find your way down to Grand street where the stores are, couldn’t you Marilla – where we went that Saturday night?”
“Oh, yes. Down there opposite the park.”
“Yes. It’s a big store. Day and Belden. I’ll write it out for you and you may take my Leggy bag. Be sure and put the change in it before you leave the store.”
“Yes’m,” with her sweet accent.
“She may take Jack, and the babies will have a good long nap. Now Jack, you must be very good and mind Marilla, or you shan’t go out again for a week.”
Jack said he would. He looked very pretty in his brown coat with its fur collar, and his brown mittens.
“Give me a penny a’cause I’m gonter be good.”
“I’ll wait and see whether you are going to good or not.”
Jack stood it pretty well until they reached the little park which was a rather long triangle with a few trees in it. Here he made a sudden dash and was off like a squirrel.
Marilla was after him. “Go it sonny,” cried a man laughing, but she gained on him and took him by the arm with a jerk that nearly capsized them both.
He could not pull away. She marched him across the street and found the store, and asked for the notion department. There were the spools of all kinds.
“Will you please open the bag and find an order in it,” she said in a very nice manner.
The girl smiled. “Three spools of silk, two twist, black cotton number 60, white cotton, 60, 70 and 80.”
She put up the order and sent the money whizzing to the cash clerk, handing the bag to Marilla.
“What’s that thing like a railroad for?” asked Jack, keeping his eyes upon it.
“That carries the money.”
“Gee! I wish I had one at home!”
The change came back. Marilla opened the bag to put it in and used both hands. Jack was off like a flash, turning here and there through the aisles. Clear down to the end of the store was a toy department. Marilla was almost up to him when he grabbed a handful of toys and ran on.
“Oh, do please stop him!” she cried to the clerk.
Two or three joined the chase. Finding they were gaining on him he threw down the articles and stamped furiously upon them.
“What is all this row?” asked the floor walker.
“The little boy snatched the toys and ran,” said the young clerk.
“Oh, Jack, how could you!” cried Marilla.
Jack laughed insolently.
“Is he your brother?” in a sharp tone.
“I’m only the nurse girl, please, sir,” and Marilla began to cry.
The floor walker shook Jack until he was purple in the face.
“You little thief! You ought to go to the Station House. I’ve half a mind to send you!”
“Oh, please don’t,” pleaded Marilla. She stooped to pick up some of the broken pieces. “I think his mother will pay for them.”
“Who’s his mother?”
“Mrs. John Borden, 138 Arch Street.”
“What brought you in the store.”
“I was sent to buy some things. They are in this bag, and – the change.”
A gentleman came up to inquire into the matter.
“These children ought to be taught a lesson. That Granford boy carried off an expensive toy the other night and I sent a note to his mother that brought her to terms at once. See what is the value of these things.”
The counter girl began to place the pieces together and examine the marks.
“It is – sixty-seven cents.”
“That’s too much. We’ll send a note to his mother, and young sir, if you dare to come in this store again, we’ll send you to jail, I think.”
Quite a crowd had collected. One lady looked at him sharply.
“Why, it’s little Jack Borden,” she said. “What’s the matter?”
Marilla told the story over.
“I don’t care,” Jack flung out. “I just stamped on the old things.”
“Take that to Mrs. Borden,” and the man handed Marilla a folded note. “Now, I’ll see you out, young sir.”
Marilla trembled from head to foot. She was very much ashamed though none of it had been her fault. But what would Mrs. Borden say? What if Mrs. Borden should send her back to the Bethany Home! Oh, she did not want to go. But she could not manage Jack.
The young man stopped short when they reached the house, “I ain’t comin’ in just now,” he said decidedly.
When Marilla was in the house she always answered the door bell. Bridget protested she could not run up and down so much and she didn’t always hear it. Miss Florence came now.
“Oh, Marilla, what’s the matter?”
“Jack has run off down the street. And, oh, Miss Florence” – ending in a fit of crying.
“What is the matter? Did you lose the money?”
“Oh, no, here is everything and the change. But Jack–”
“Come upstairs and tell us.” Miss Florence opened the bag, counted the change, took out the parcels and a note.
“Why, what is this?”
“The man told me to bring it home. I held Jack’s hand tight all the way down to the store and gave the girl the bag because I couldn’t open it with one hand. She took out the money and put in the parcel and gave it to me and said, ‘Wait for the change.’ When it came she handed it to me and turned away, and when I was putting it in the bag Jack ran off. You know how the paths go in and out. I looked
