cried as if her little heart had been broken. Miss Florence handed the note to her sister who had been listening in amaze.
“Marilla,” began Florence, “you have done the errand very well. Don’t cry, child. We shouldn’t have let Jack go with you.”
Mrs. Borden’s face turned very red. “A great fuss about sixty-seven cents. Accidents will happen.”
“But throwing them down and stamping on them was no accident, Amy. That child is dreadful. He doesn’t mind Marilla when he is out of our sight, hardly when he is in it. And I don’t know what the babies would do without her.”
They began to cry now. They always cried together and lustily.
“Where’s Jack?” asked his mother.
“He ran down the street.”
“Don’t worry about Jack, Marilla; you go down and get the babies’ bread and milk ready.”
Marilla went and of course told the mishap to Bridget.
“That young’un ’ll get in prison some day; you see! He’s a rascal through and through, a mean dirty spalpeen, a holy terror! And if they set to blaming you, I’ll threaten to leave; that I will.”
“You don’t think they’ll send me back to Bethany Home?” in a distressed tone.
“They’d be big fools to! I don’t know where they’d get another like you. If that Jack was mine, I’d skin him alive and hang him out bare naked, the mean little thief! And the missus knows he’s bad through and through.”
Marilla took the basin of dinner upstairs. The babies had hushed their crying and gave a sort of joyous howl at the sight. Florence had talked her sister-in-law into a more reasonable view of the case. Then the babies were fed and comforted and sat on the blanket with playthings about them. They could climb up a little by chairs, but they were too heavy for much activity.
Mrs. Borden picked up her slipper and went down stairs, opening the front door. Jack was slowly sauntering back and she beckoned to him. He had begun to think it was feeding time as well as the babies.
“I was gone, to put ’em back – ” he began —
She took off his pretty coat and then she did spank him for good. Meanwhile the bell rang for lunch. She put him on a chair in the end of the parlor and said —
“Now you sit there. If you dare to get up you’ll get some more. And all the lunch you can have will be a piece of bread without any butter.” And she left the door open so she could see if he ventured down.
But after the bread he went up stairs and straight to Marilla.
“You old tell tale! You’ll be rid on a rail and dumped in the river,” and he kicked at her.
“The man sent a note–”
“Jack,” interposed his mother sternly.
Then the babies were bundled up and carried down stairs, well wrapped up for their ride. Manila enjoyed the outing when she didn’t have Jack. She went down again by the stores. There were two she delighted in, book and stationery stores. One window was full of magazines and papers, and she read bits here and there. She was so fond of reading and she would piece out the page she read with her own imaginings. She always staid out two hours, more when it was pleasant, and brought back the babies, rosy and bright eyed.
“Jack,” and his father took him on his knee that evening, “you have been a very bad boy today. You have been a thief. Suppose the man had sent you to the Station House?”
“I wouldn’t a’ gone.”
“Well, you would have had to. Thieves break laws and are sent to prison. And there you broke up the toys. You must never go in a store again without your mother.”
“M’rilla took me in.”
“And mother and Auntie supposed they could trust you. Now they can’t. You will have to be watched and punished, and I am going to do it. There’ll be no more Sunday walks with me, either.”
“Can’t I go alone?”
“Not until you are a good boy.”
Jack looked rather sober, but his father saw he was not making much impression. And presently his mother put him to bed.
“I really don’t know what to do with Jack,” his mother said on her return, taking up her sewing.
“Listen to this,” and Mr. Borden read from the paper an account of three boys who had managed to enter a grocery store and steal some quite valuable stock. Ages, seven, nine and ten.
“I’d rather bury Jack tomorrow than have such a thing published about him,” he said.
“And Jack used to be so nice,” returned his mother with a sigh.
“We’ve indulged him too much, and we have idealized childhood too much; we’ve laughed at his smart tricks and his saucy replies, and tried high moral suasion, but we must turn over a new leaf. When he is bad he must be punished severely enough to make an impression. Are you sure of that girl, Marilla?”
“Yes. She’s truthful and so sweet to the babies. Bridget says she wouldn’t even touch a piece of cake without asking for it. But I think she does sometimes shield Jack. He has a nasty way of pinching and I do slap him for it. I’m afraid of his pinching the babies. But we never do leave him alone with them.”
“See here,” began Florence, “why not send him to Kindergarten. The new term is just beginning. I think boys ought to be with other boys. And those classes are made so entertaining. The many employments take a child’s mind off of mischief, and they are trained in manners. Oh dear! think, what a blessed time we should have!”
“I don’t know but it is a good idea,” said Jack’s father. “He will have to mix with children some time, and our training hasn’t proved such a brilliant success. Oh, I do want him to grow up a nice boy. But boys seem an awful risk now-a-days. I never knew so many youthful criminals.”
“I’d like to know who that woman was who recognized Jack in the store. That mortifies me awfully.”
“And it will get told all over, I know,” returned Aunt Florence.
“Well, children do out grow a good many of these disagreeable capers.”
The next night Mr. Borden brought home something in a paper bag and Jack begged the bag “to bust,” watching his father as he shook out a leather strap cut in thongs and said —
“Now, Jack, every time you do any naughty, ugly thing, I am going to punish you with this strap. You must not pinch Marilla or the babies, not kick any one nor tell what isn’t true. We want you to be a pretty good boy, otherwise you will have to be sent to the reform school.”
“I’d like to go to the ’form school.”
“Not much,” was the comment.
“Why, I’d run away.”
“There’s a high fence all around, and you couldn’t climb it.”
“Then
