"Oh, baby, baby." She sank down on the steps and rocked back and forth, Susan now spatting her thin cheeks and struggling to get away to where all that delightful noise was coming from. "Oh, good Lord, I can't believe it. We've got a box, Susan; we have, Susan, he says so, but I know he's made a mistake. And p'raps there's somethin' to eat in it, and I won't have to go to the selectmen an' tell 'em we'll go to the poorhouse. But 'tain't ours, I know 'tain't. _O Lord, they're bringin'

it in!_"

And in another minute the little widow, hanging to Susan, was off the steps, the box was dragged over them by the united efforts of the three boys, their progress very much impeded by the crowding up of the girls, who were afraid they would miss something of the progress, Mr. Bramble looking on in great satisfaction. Then he climbed into his wagon, stared at the little cabin for another minute, where they had all disappeared, and drove off, blowing his nose violently, his eyes seeming to need a great deal of attention from the back of his gray woollen mitten.

Down went the big box with a thud in the very middle of the kitchen floor.

"Get the hammer," screamed Elvira, capering wildly, her black braids, tied with bits of string, flying out from either side of her head. "I'm goin' to get it myself," with a leap toward the corner.

"No such thing," Matthew roared at her. "I'll get it. Come back, Viry."

"The axe,"--Mark shouted it high above the din, as he rushed to get that necessary implement,--"that's better'n the hammer."

"Oo--Oo--Scree!" Susan, in dreadful distress at being bound in mother's arms, let her feelings have free vent in a wail that soared high above the crackling of the box cover as it splintered under the effort of both hammer and axe.

"And we can keep warm now." The little widow's eyes glistened at the pile of splintered boards tumbling down on the kitchen floor. "Oh, Susan," and she drew near, the whole cover being off now.

There was an awful pause, every one staring at the smooth layer of brown paper. The supreme importance of the event swept them all into silence.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THERE WAS AN AWFUL PAUSE, EVERY ONE STARING AT THE SMOOTH LAYER OF BROWN PAPER.]

"I'm goin' to peek first," announced Elvira, finding her tongue.

This unloosed all the others. "She shan't; Elviry's always a-pushin'

first."

"Mammy, mayn't I?"

"No, let me." It was a babel in a minute.

"You be still." It was Matthew who commanded silence. "Mother's goin' to look first; it's _her_ box," he added convincingly.

The little widow would much rather have allowed this privilege to one of her brood, but it was difficult to choose between the five; so she put out her hand tremblingly, then drew it back.

"We'll let Susan do it," she said; "she couldn't go out to the wagon with the rest of you."

"Oh, yes, let baby do it," cried the others, easily pleased, and in a dreadful twitter to begin operations. "Yes, let baby," echoed Elvira, dashing away from the box to hug Susan, who, delighted at the opportunity, seized one of the black braids in her fat little hands, with a crow that disclosed the few teeth she possessed.

"Ow! Let me go!" screamed Elvira, very red in the face and twisting violently. "Moth_er_, Susan's got my _hair_! Slap her."

"Oh, no, no," said the little widow, getting the small, triumphant hands within her thin ones; "we wouldn't slap baby for anything. There, there, Susan mustn't. Naughty--naughty!"

Susan looked up in her mother's face to see if she really meant it, and concluding that she did, the black braid slid out of her hands, the string flying off to the floor.

"There, see what she's done! My hair's all untied," cried Elvira, in great vexation, and picking up the old white string; "she ought to be slapped," she added, bobbing her head decidedly, her black eyes flashing.

"Oh, no, no," said her mother again; "why, we couldn't slap our baby, Elviry, ever in all this world," and she pressed her closely to her breast. "Well, come, children, now Susan's going to pull up the paper."

"Wait!" screamed Elvira, the string between her teeth, and doubling over in great distress, "till I tie my braid. Oh, wait, Mammy."

"Oh, never mind! Viry, hurry up!" cried all the boys together. And the other children, capering around the big box, with many dashes and pickings from impatient fingers, made Mrs. Hansell say, "Stop, children; there now, hurry, Elviry. Yes, yes, Susan, you're going to do it," until at last the great moment had arrived, and the whole family was drawn up around the centre of operations, each one scarcely daring to breathe.

"Now, baby," said the little widow, grasping Susan's fat hand in one of her thin ones, "you must take hold of one end of the paper; there, see,"

and she folded the little one's fingers over it. But Susan preferred to spat the smooth surface, and to crow loudly. So it was really Mother Hansell after all that lifted the veil and opened up fairyland to view.

XIV

THE CHILDREN IN THE MOUNTAIN CABIN

"Heaven bless me!" exclaimed the little widow. Then she put Susan on the floor, and fell on her knees.

"Mammy, Mammy, look!" the children were hopping wildly around the big box, clutching the sides, each attempting to get hold of their mother's head as it sank between her trembling hands, while she rocked herself to and fro. At last Elvira, unable to keep her hold of the box-edge, the others were crowding her so, and at the same time to attract her mother's attention, stamped her foot violently and howled, "_Look!_" way up above all the rest of the voices.

"Oh, 'tisn't for us; 'tisn't for us. It's got to go back," moaned Mrs.

Hansell, shivering down further between her hands.

At the mention of the box going back, dire alarm struck all the group into sudden silence, and they stared into each other's faces in the greatest distress.

"It shan't," screamed Elvira; "it's ours," and she plunged into the box with both hands, pulling out bundles, which she dropped to the floor, in order to dive for more.

"You hold on," cried Matthew and Mark, seizing her little brown hands.

"You lemme be!" cried Elvira, in a fury.

"No, we ain't a-goin' to let you be," cried Jane. The other girl, who had picked up Susan, who was sprawling in everybody's way, and run over to a corner to barricade her with a big chair turned upside down, now came hurrying back, determination in every line of her thin little face.

"An' I say you ain't a-goin' to either, Elviry Hansell," she declared; "that box ain't yours."

Elvira had no time to retort, "An' 'tain't yours either, Matilda," for she was struggling so with the boys that she had too scant breath to waste in replies. But she whirled a red face over to her sister for a second, while she twisted her wiry little arms in frantic endeavors to get free from the stronger grips upon them.

"Come on," said Matilda, coolly, to Jane, and to Luke, who never would take part in any family quarrel against Elvira, "and we'll pull her petticoat and tickle her legs. Then she'll let go."

"That's not fair," said Luke, glowering at her.

"Huh, I don't care."

"An' 'tis, too," cried Matilda, gleefully. "Come on, Jane, you tickle one leg, and I'll tickle the other, and then she's got to let go."

"Ow," cried Elvira, who knew quite well what to expect from the tickling process, and tucking up first one leg, then the other. "Go 'way, I'll kick dreadful!"

"She will," said Jane, fearfully, who also knew what to expect, as she and Matilda crouched on the floor, with fingers all ready for the attack.

"Huh! S'posin' she does? 'Fraid-cat," said Matilda, scornfully, "can't you scrouge back?"

"No, I can't," said Jane, truthfully, "not in time."