"If you will, I'll send a box of cold cream; we can send them through the post-office, and he'll never find out who they came from."

"Jolly! we'll do it! Belle won't send anything, for he's dead in love with _her_."

"Much good it'll do him, girls! Do you suppose I wouldn't marry that simpleton if he was made of gold."

"Did you ever see such a red face as he has? I would be afraid to come near it with a light dress on."

"And his ears!"

"Monstrous! and always burning."

"And the awkwardest fellow that ever blundered into a parlor. You know the night he waited on me to Hetty's party? he stepped on my toes so that I had to poultice them before I went to bed; he tore the train all off my pink tarlatan; he spilled a cup of hot coffee down old Mrs.

Ballister's back, and upset his saucer of ice-cream over Ada's sweet new book-muslin. Why, girls, just as sure as I am standing here, I saw him cram the saucer into his pocket when Belle came up to speak with him! I tell you, I was glad to get home that night without any more accidents."

"They say he always puts the tea-napkins into his pocket when he takes tea away from home. But it's not kleptomania, it's only bashfulness. I never heard before of his pocketing the saucers."

"Well, he really did. It's awful funny. I don't know how we'd get along without John this winter--he makes all the fun we have. What's that?"

"I don't know, it sounded like rats gnawing the floor."

(It was only the amusing John gritting his teeth, I am able to explain).

"Did you ever notice his mouth?--how large it is."

"Yes, it's frightful. I don't wonder he's ashamed of himself with that mouth."

"I don't mind his mouth so much--but his _nose_! I never did like a turn-up nose in a man. But his father's pretty well off. It would be nice to marry a whole store full of dry-goods and have a new dress every time you wanted one. I wonder where they have gone to! I believe I'll rap."

The last speaker seized the yard-stick and thumped on the counter directly over my head.

"Oh, girls! let's go behind, and see how they keep things. I wonder how many pieces of dress-silk there are left!"

"I guess I'll go behind the counter, and play clerk. If any one comes in, I'll go, as sure as the world! and wait on 'em. Won't it be fun?

There comes old Aunty Harkness now. I dare say she is after a spool of thread or a paper of needles. I'm going to wait on her. Mr. Flutter won't care--I'll explain when he comes in. What do you want, auntie?"

in a very loud voice.

My head buzzed like a saw--my heart made such a loud thud against my side I thought stars! she wanted "an ounce o' snuff," and that article was kept in a gla.s.s jar in plain sight on the other side of the store. There was a movement in that direction, and I recovered partially, I half resolved to rise up suddenly--pretend I'd been hiding for fun--and laugh the whole thing off as a joke. But the insulting, the ridiculous comments I had overheard, had made me too indignant. Pretty joke, indeed! But I wished I had obeyed the dictates of prudence and affected to consider it so. Father came bustling in while the girls were trying to tie up the snuff, and sneezing beautifully.

"What! what! young ladies! Where's John?"

"That's more than we know--tschi-he! We've been waiting at least ten minutes. Auntie Harkness wanted some stch-uff, and we thought we'd do it for her. I s'pose you've no objections, Mr. Flutter?"

"Not the least in the world, girls. Go ahead. I wonder where John is!

There! you'll sneeze your pretty noses off--let me finish it. John has no business to leave the store. I don't like it--five cents, auntie, to _you_--and I told him particularly not to leave it a minute. I don't understand it; very sorry you've been kept waiting. What shall I show you, young lady?" and father pa.s.sed behind the counter and stood with his toes touching my legs, notwithstanding I had shrunk into as small s.p.a.ce as was convenient, considering my size and weight. It was getting toward dusk of the short winter afternoon, and I hoped and prayed he wouldn't notice me.

"What shall I show you, young ladies?"

"Some light kid gloves, No. 6, please."

"Yes, certainly--here they are. I do believe there's a strange dog under the counter! Get out--get out, sir, I say!" and my cruel parent gave me a vicious kick.

I pinched his leg impressively. I meant it as a warning, to betray to him that it was I, and to implore him, figuratively, to keep silence.

But he refused to comprehend that agonized pinch; he resented it. He gave another vicious kick. Then he stooped and looked under--it was a little dark--too dark, alas! under there. He saw a man--but not to recognize him.

"Ho!" he yelled; "robber! thief! burglar! I've got you, fellow! Come out o' that!"

I never before realized father's strength. He got his hand in my collar, and he jerked me out from under that counter, and shook me, and held me off at arm's length.

"There, Mr. Burglar," said he, triumphantly, "sneak in here again will--JOHN!"

The girls had been screaming and running, but they stood still now.

"Yes, _John_!" said I, in desperation. "The drawer came loose under the counter, and I was nailing on a strip of board when those _young ladies_ came in. I kept quiet, just for fun. They began to talk in an interesting manner, curiosity got the better of politeness, and I'm afraid I've played eavesdropper," and I made a killing bow, meant especially for Belle.

"Well, you're a pretty one!" exclaimed father.

"_So they say_," said I. "Don't leave, young ladies. I'd like to sell you a magnifying-gla.s.s, and some cold cream." But they all left in a hurry. They didn't even buy a pair of gloves.

The girls must have told of it, for the story got out, and Fred advised me to try counter-irritation for my bashfulness.

"You're not a burglar," said he, "but you're guilty of counter-fitting."

"Nothing would suit me better," I retorted, "than to be tried for it, and punished by solitary confinement."

And there was nothing I should have liked so much. The iron had entered my soul. I was worse than ever. I purchased a four-ounce vial of laudanum, went to my room, and wrote a letter to my mother:

"Mother, I am tired of life. My nose is turn-up, my mouth is large; I pocket other people's saucers and napkins; I am always making blunders. This is my last blunder. I shall never blush again.

Farewell. Let the inscription on my tombstone be--'Died of Bashfulness.' JOHN."

And I swallowed the contents of the vial, and threw myself on my little bed.

CHAPTER VI.

HE IS DOOMED FOR WORSE ACCIDENTS.

It may seem strange for you to hear of me again, after the conclusion of the last chapter of my blunders. But it was not I who made the last blunder--it was the druggist. Quite by mistake the imbecile who waited upon me put up four ounces of the aromatic syrup of rhubarb. I felt myself gradually sinking into the death-sleep after I had taken it; with the thought of Belle uppermost in my mind, I allowed myself to sink--"no more catastrophes after this last and grandest one--no more red faces--big mouth--tea-napkins--wonder--if she--will be--sorry!"

and I became unconscious.

I was awakened from a comfortable slumber by loud screams; mother stood by my bed, with the vial labeled "laudanum" in one hand, my letter in the other. Father rushed into the room.

"Father, John's committed suicide. Oh! bring the tartar-emetic quick!

Make some coffee as strong as lye! Oh! send for a stomach-pump. Tell Mary to bring the things and put the coffee on; and you come here, an'

we'll walk him up and down--keep him a-going--that's his only salvation! Oh! John, John! that ever your bashfulness should drive you into this! Up with him, father! Oh! he's dying! He ain't able to help himself one bit!"