THE old clock on the stairs was drowsy. Its ticks, now lower, now louder, sounded like the "What'll I do to-day?" he thought. "I know. I'll go into the wood and build a house, a nice little house, just like Wobinson Cwusoe's, all made of sticks, Nobody'll know where my house is; I'll not tell, not even Mamma, where it is. Then when I don't want to study or any thing, I can run away and hide, and they won't know where to find me. That'll be nice! I guess I'll go and begin it now, 'cause the days are getting short. Papa said so once. I wonder what makes 'em get short? Pr'aps sometime they'll be so short that there won't be any days at all, only nights. That wouldn't be pleasant, I think. Mamma'd have to buy lots of candles then, or else we couldn't see." With this he jumped out of bed. "I must be very quiet," he thought, "else Loo—isa'll hear, and then she won't let me go till I've had my bekfast. Loo—isa's real cross sometimes; only sometimes she's kind when she makes my kite fly." His clothes were folded on a chair by the "Oh, dear!" he said to himself, "I wish Loo—isa would come and buckle my shoes for me. No, I don't, though, 'cause p'raps she'd say, 'Go back to bed, naughty boy; it isn't time to get up.' I wouldn't like that. Sometimes Loo—isa does say things to me." So he put on the shoes without buckling them, and, not stopping to brush his hair or wash his face, he clapped on his broad-brimmed straw hat, took "Robinson Crusoe" and the spade, dropped the red apples and the gingerbread into his pocket, and stole softly downstairs. "Oh, dear!" sighed Archie, "I wish somebody would come and open this door for me." He looked at the bolt a minute. Then an idea struck him, and, laying "Robinson Crusoe" and the little spade down on the floor, he went into the dining-room pantry, where was a drawer with tools in it. "I'll get Papa's hammer," he thought to himself, "and I'll pound that old bolt to pieces." While he was gone, Marianne, who had lighted her fire, came from the kitchen with a broom in her hand. She opened the door, shook the mat, and began to sweep the steps. A sharp tinkle, tinkle met her ear from the back gate. It was the milkman ringing for some one to come and take in the milk. Marianne "Why, the door's open!" exclaimed Archie, who at that moment came from the dining-room, hammer in hand. He did not trouble himself to speculate as to how the door happened to be open, but, picking up the spade, wandered forth into the garden. The gate gave no trouble. He walked fast, and long before Marianne came back to her sweeping he had gained the woods, which were near, and enclosed the house on two sides in a shady half-circle. They were pretty woods, full of flowers and squirrels and winding, puzzling paths. Archie had never been allowed to go into them alone before. The morning was delicious, so full of snap and sunshine that it set him to dancing and skipping as he went along. All the wood-flowers were as wide awake as he. They The sun rose higher and higher. But the thick branching trees kept off the heat, and the wood remained shady and cool. The paths twisted in and out, and looped into each other like a tangled riband. No grown person could have kept a straight course in their mazes. "I dess this is a nice place for my house," he said suddenly, as the path he had been following led into a small open space, across which lay a fallen tree, with gray moss, which looked like hair, hanging to its trunk. It was a nice place; also, Archie's feet were tired, and he was growing hungry, which aided in the decision. The ground about the fallen tree was carpeted with thick mosses. Some were bright green, with stems and little branches like tiny, tiny pine-trees. Others had horn-shaped cups of yellow and fiery red. Others still were Into the very middle of one of these pretty green cushions plumped Archie. He rested his back against a tree trunk, and gave a sigh of comfort. It was like an easy chair, except that it had no arms; but what does a little boy want of arms to chairs? He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out, first the red apples, and then the gingerbread. The gingerbread was rather mashed; but it tasted most delicious, only there was too little of it. "I wish I'd brought a hundred more pieces," soliloquized Archie, as he nibbled the last crumb. "One isn't half enough bekfast." The red apples, however, proved a consolation; and, quite rested and refreshed now, he jumped from the moss cushion and prepared to begin his house-building. "First, I must pick up some sticks," he thought,—"a great many, many sticks, heaps There were plenty of sticks to be had in that part of the wood; twigs and branches from the dead tree, fragments of bark, odds and ends of dry brush. Close by stood a white birch. The thin, paper-like covering hung loose on its stem, like grey-white curls. Archie could pull off large pieces, and he enjoyed this so much that he pulled till the birch trunk, as far up as he could reach, was perfectly bare. Some of the boughs were crooked. Archie tried to lay them straight with the others, but they wouldn't fit in nicely, and stuck their stiff angles out in all directions. "Those are naughty sticks," said Archie, giving the crookedest a shove. "They shan't go into my house at all." The want of nails became serious as the heap of wood grew large and Archie was ready to build. What was the use of a hammer without nails? He tried various ways. At last he laid "This'll be my chair," he said to himself. "I dess I don't want any more furnture except just a chair. Loo—isa, she said, 'so many things to dust is a bodder.'" At that moment came a rustling sound in the underbrush. "P'raps it's savages," thought Archie, and, half pleased, half frightened at the idea, he gave a loud whoop. Out flew a fat motherly hen, cackling and screaming. What she was doing there in the woods I cannot imagine. Perhaps she had lost her way. Perhaps she had private business there which only hens can understand. Or it may be that she, too, had built a little house and hidden it away so that no one should know where it was. Archie was enchanted. "A hen, a hen," he cried. "I'll catch her and keep her for my own. Then I'll have eggs, and I'll give 'em to Mamma, and I'll make custards. Custards is made of eggs. Loo—isa said so." "Chicky, chicky, chicky," he warbled in a winning voice, waving his fingers as if he were sprinkling corn on the ground for the hen to eat. But the hen was not to be enticed in that manner, and, screaming louder than ever, ran into the bushes again. Then Archie began to run too. Twice he almost seized her brown wings, but she slipped through his hands. Had the hen been silent she would easily have escaped him, but she cackled as she flew, and that guided him along. His shoe came off, next the hammer flew out of his hand, but he did not stop for either. Running, plunging, diving, on he went, the frightened hen just before, till at last a root tripped him up and he fell forward on his face. The hen vanished into the thicket. Her voice died away He rose from the ground disconsolate. His nose bled from the fall, and there was a bump on his forehead, which ached painfully. A strong desire to cry came over him. But, like a brave fellow, he would not give way to it, and sat down under a tree to rest and decide what was to be done next. "I'll go back again to my house," was his decision. But where was the house? He ran this way, that way; the paths all looked alike. The house had vanished like the hen. Archie had not the least idea which way he ought to turn to find it. One big tear did force its way to his eyes when this fact became evident. House and hen, it was hard to lose both at once. The hammer, too, was gone. Only the spade remained, and, armed with this, Archie, like a true hero, started to find a good place and build House-building was not half so easy in this part of the wood where he then was, for the bushes were thick and stood closely together. Their branches hung so low, that, small as Archie was, he had to bend forward and walk almost double to avoid having his eyes scratched by them. At last, in the middle of a circle of junipers, he found a tolerably free space which he thought would do. The ground, however, was set thick with sharp uncomfortable stones, and the first thing needed was to get rid of them. So for an hour, with fingers and spade, Archie dug and delved among the stones. It was hard work enough, but at last he cleared a place somewhat larger than his small body, which he carpeted with soft mosses brought from another part of the wood. This done, he lay down flat Meantime at home, two miles away, there was great commotion over the disappearance of Master Archie. Marianne had lingered quite a long time at the back gate. The milkman was a widower, looking out for a wife, and "Sake's alive, Marianne, where's Master Archie?" "How should I know? Not down here, anyway," was Marianne's reply. "But he must be down here," persisted Louisa. "He's gone out of the nursery, and so are his clothes. Whatever's taken him I can't Into the parlor, the dining-room, the pantry, ran the maids, calling "Archie! Archie!" at the tops of their voices. But Archie, who as we know was a good mile away by that time, did not hear them. They searched the kitchen, the cellar, the wood-shed, the store-closet. Marianne even lifted the lid of the great copper boiler and peeped in to make sure that he was not there! Louisa ran wildly about the garden, looking behind currant bushes and raspberry vines, and parting the tall feathers of the asparagus lest Archie should have chosen to hide among them. Then ensued a fresh confusion. "Where did you say the book was lying, Louisa?" said Mr. Gray, trying to make out the meaning of her sobbing explanation. "Just here, sir, on the hall table. Oh, the darling child, whatever has come to him?" "Oh, wurra! wurra!" chimed in Marianne. "He been and got took away by wicked people, perhaps. Well niver get him back, niver!" "The hall table? Then he must have passed out this way. Surely you must have seen him or heard him open the door, Marianne?" "Is it I see him, sir? I'd niver forget it if I had. Oh, the pretty face of him! Wurra! wurra!" "But, now I think of it, the child couldn't have opened the door for himself," went on Papa, growing impatient. "Did you leave it standing open at all, Marianne?" "Only for a wee moment while I fetched in the milk," faltered Marianne, growing rosy-red as she reflected on the length of the "moment" which she had passed at the gate with the milkman. "That must have been the time, then," said Mr. Gray. "Probably the little fellow has set off by himself for a walk. I'll go after and look for him. Don't frighten Mrs. Gray when she comes down, Louisa, but just say that Archie and I are both gone out. Try to look as you usually do." This, however, was beyond Louisa's powers. Her eyes were as red as a ferret's, and her cheeks the color of purple cherries from crying and excitement "How could he get away all by himself?" asked poor frightened Mrs. Gray. "Ah, who knows? Like as not the thaves came into the room and lifted him out of his very bed. They're iverywhere, thim tramps! There's no providing against thim. Oh, howly St. Patrick! who'd have thought it?" This happy idea of tramps having lodged itself in Marianne's mind, the story grew rapidly. The butcher was informed of it when he came, the fishmonger, and the grocer's boy. By noon all the village had heard the tale, and farmers' "He'd a ought to have taken the constable with him," said old Mrs. Fidgit, "then perhaps he'd have got him back. I guess the thieves won't keep the boy long though, he's too troublesome! His ma sent him over once on an errand, and I'd as lieve have a wild-cat in the house any day. Mark my word, they'll let him drop pretty soon!" As the day went on, Louisa began to disbelieve this theory about robbers. It was Marianne's theory for one thing; for another, she recollected that Archie must have taken his apples and gingerbread with him, and his spade. "Is it likely that thieves would stop to pack up things like that?" she asked Marianne, who was highly indignant at the question. The afternoon came, still Mr. Gray had not returned, and there were no tidings of Archie. Mrs. Gray, half ill with anxiety and headache, went to her room to lie down. Marianne was describing the exact appearance of the imaginary robbers to a crony, who stood outside the kitchen window. "Six foot high, ivery bit, and a face as black as chimney sut," Louisa heard her say. "Pshaw," she called out; but sitting still became unbearable; and the motion of her needle in and out of the work made her feel half crazy. She flung down the work,—it was a jacket for Archie,—and, tying on her bonnet, set off by herself in the direction of the woods. Where she was going The blind wood paths puzzled Louisa more than they had puzzled Archie in the morning; for she wanted to keep her way, which he did not. She lost it, however, continually. Her eyes were scratched by boughs and brambles, the tree roots tripped her up, her dress caught in a briar and was torn. "Archie! Archie!" she cried, as she went along. Her voice came back from the forest in strange echoing tones which made her start. At last, after winding and turning for a long time, she found herself again upon the main path, not far from the place where she had entered the wood. She was hot, tired, and breathless; her voice was hoarse with crying and calling. "I'll wait here awhile," she thought. "Perhaps the blessed little dear'll come this way; but, whether he does or not, I'm too tired to move another step till I've had some rest." She found a smooth place under an oak, sat down, and leaned her back against the stem. "Cheep, cheep, chickeree," sang one bird to another. "What a stupid girl that is! I could tell her which way to go. Why, there's the mark of his big foot on the moss close by. Why doesn't she see it and follow? Cheep, cheep." "Cluck, cluck, whirr, whillahu," sang the other bird. "Human beings are too stupid." Poor stupid Louisa, her eyes blurred with tears, did not heed the birds' songs or understand those plain directions for finding Archie which they were so ready to give. The tree trunk felt comfortable against her back. The air came cool and spicy from the wood depths to steal the smart from her hot face. The rustle of the leaves was pleasant in her ear. So the faithful maid waited. Mr. Gray meantime had tracked Archie for a little way by the traces of his small feet on the dewy grass. Then the marks became too confused to help him longer; he lost the track, and, after a long and weary walk, found himself While he was bargaining for his wagon in the distant village, Archie, in the midst of his nest of moss, was waking up. He had slept three hours, and so soundly that, at first arousing, he could not in the least remember where he was. He rubbed his eyes, and stared about him wonderingly. "Why, I'm out in the woods!" he said in a surprised voice. Gradually he recollected how he had built the house, chased a hen, and lost his hammer. This last accident troubled him a little. "Papa said I mustn't touch that big hammer ever," he thought to himself, "'cause I'd be sure to spoil it. But I'll tell him it isn't spoiled, and he can pick it up and put it back into the drawer; then he won't mind." One of the striped squirrels came down from "What a pretty bunny!" he said out loud. "Now I'll go home," was his next remark, getting suddenly up from the ground. The cause of this resolution was a little gnawing sensation which had begun within him and was getting stronger every moment. In other words, he was hungry. Gingerbread and apples do not satisfy little boys as roast beef does. Archie's stomach was quite empty, and began to cry with an unmistakable voice, "I want my dinner, I want my dinner. Give me my dinner quick, or I shall do something desperate." Everybody in the world has to listen when voices like these begin to sound inside of them. There is a pretty picture—I wonder if any of you have ever seen it?—in which a little child is seen walking across a narrow plank which bridges a deep chasm, while behind flies a tall, beautiful angel, with a hand on either side the child, guiding it along. The child does not see the angel, and walks fearlessly; but the heavenly hands are there, and the little one is safe. It may be that just such a good angel The path grew wider, and was hedged with barberries and wild roses. The lovely pink of the roses pleased Archie's eye. He stopped and tugged at a great branch till it broke, then "Master Archie, dear," she cried, sobbing, "how could you run away and scare us so?" "Why, it's Loo—isa," said Archie wonderingly. "Did you come out here to build a house too, Loo—isa?" "Where have you been?" clamored Louisa, holding him tight in her arms. "Oh, out there," explained Archie, waving his hand toward the woods generally. "How could you slip away and frighten Nursey so, and poor Mamma and Papa? Papa's been all the day hunting you. And where are you going now?" "Home! Stop a squeezing of me, Loo—isa. I don't like to be squeezed. Has the dinner-bell runged yet? I want my dinner." "Dinner! Why it's most evening, Master Archie. And nobody could eat, because we was so frightened at your being lost." "I wasn't lost!" cried Archie indignantly. "I was building a house. Come along, Loo—isa, I'll show you the way." So Archie took Louisa's hand and led her along. Neither of them knew the path, but they were in the right direction, and by and by the trees grew thinner, and they could see where they were, on the edge of Mr. Plimpton's garden, not far from home. Mr. and Mrs. Gray were consulting together on the piazza, when the click of the gate made them look up, and behold! the joyful Louisa, displaying Archie, who walked by her side. "Here he is, ma'am," she cried. "I found him way off in the wood. He'd run away." "I didn't," said Archie, squirming out of his mother's arms. "I was building houses. And you didn't find me a bit, Loo—isa. I found you, and I showed you the way home!" "Never mind who found who, so long as we have our little runaway back," said Mr. Gray, stooping to kiss Archie. "Another time we must have a talk about boys who go to build houses without leave from their Mamma's and Papa's, and make everybody anxious. Meantime, I fancy somebody I know about is half-starved. Tell Marianne to send some dinner in at once, Louisa." "Yes, sir, I will." And Louisa hastened off to triumph over her friend Marianne. "Archie, darling, how could you go away and frighten us so?" asked Mrs. Gray, taking him in her lap. "Why, Mamma, were you frightened?" replied Archie wonderingly. "I was building a house. It's a beau-tiful house. I'll let you come and sit in it if you want to. And I've got a hen, and I'll give you all the eggs she lays, to cook, you know. Only the hen's runned away, and I couldn't find my house any more, and the hammer tumbled down, and I lost my "Oh, the comfort of seeing him safe in his little bed to-night!" said Mrs. Gray. Roused by her voice, Archie stirred. "I dess I know where the hammer is," he said drowsily. Then his half-opened eyes closed, and he was sound asleep. Ride a Cock-horse
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