In the second place Uncle William was so pleased with the five old ladies that a charming idea came into his head. After a consultation with Miss Brown, he sent them one Sat.u.r.day afternoon a note and a big bundle. Here is the note:

MY DEAR LITTLE FRIENDS: I was delighted the other night to find that your small fingers were already learning to be useful, and I take the liberty of giving them some more work to do. I know an old colored woman who, after spending most of her life in taking care of little children, is now paralyzed, and can only lie in bed. Nothing pleases her so much as bright colors, so I want you to make her a gay afghan. She will not mind any uneven st.i.tches if they happen to put in, and will be very proud of it.

I send the yarn of which to make it. There are to be five stripes, one for each of you.

Hoping that you will enjoy the work, and at the same time the thought that it is to please a poor old invalid, I am affectionately your friend,

WILLIAM S. HAZELTINE.

The bundle when it was unrolled was found to contain some of the oddest-looking b.a.l.l.s of yarn that ever were seen.

"I think he must have wound them himself," remarked Louise, shaking her head over the lumpy, unsymmetrical ball she held.

However, Miss Brown said the shape did not matter, and work was begun, with great interest. Dora was the first to make a discovery, perhaps because she could knit more rapidly than the others. One of the lumps in her ball proved to be caused by something rolled in tissue paper.

Feeling sure that this was the key to one of Uncle William's surprises, they looked on eagerly while she pulled the paper off and found a gold thimble with her name on it. Not long after Elsie found a tiny pair of scissors. Never had any work been so delightful! It usually happened that some one of the gay b.a.l.l.s yielded a prize each Sat.u.r.day afternoon. Sometimes only a big sugar plum, but oftener something pretty and useful. A tiny book of texts, a dainty handkerchief rolled into smallest compa.s.s, rings of twisted gold with the letters M.K. on bangles attached to them,--these were some of the things found in the wonder b.a.l.l.s, for that is what they are called in Germany, where Mr. Hazeltine first heard of them.

"It is so exactly like him, I thought he must have invented it himself," said Dora.

CHAPTER XIV.

CLOUDS.

The beautiful snow-storm which came two weeks after Christmas seemed to be the cause of all the unhappiness, though the real reason for it was to be found in quite another quarter.

A deep snow followed by a week of clear cold weather seldom came more than once during the winter in this part of the country, and the children were wild with delight. Aunt Zelie was obliged to do a little of the curbing that Aunt Marcia so often advised, and Bess and Louise thought it hard that they were not allowed to hitch their sleds behind wagons as Carl and Ikey did.

The boys first got into trouble. They began at once building forts in their playground at school, and were soon divided into two opposing forces, each with one of the older boys for captain.

For a time things went very well, and Carl and Ikey, though they belonged to different sides, could discuss their battles good-naturedly. But this did not last. One day the cry of "Not fair"

arose; someone was hurt and resented it, his friends took it up, and all good feeling went to the winds. When the bell called them in there were some bad bruises, and, worse still, angry looks and accusations.

On the way home the dispute ran high between Carl and Ikey. The first-named in particular was very much excited, and declared he wanted nothing more to do with cheats. Ikey retorted warmly, with natural indignation, and so they parted.

About the same time discord arose among the girls.

Mr. Hazeltine had had a slide made for the children in the back yard.

It was built from the top of the stable loft, and was as good a subst.i.tute for a hill as such an affair could be. Here they had a grand time till one day when Elsie insisted it was her turn to slide.

"No, it is Dora's," objected Louise. "Isn't it, Constance?"

But Constance, always devoted to Elsie, was not sure. Bess and Helen both agreed with Louise.

"I am sure it is my turn to slide," said Dora, "but if Elsie thinks it is hers, I'd rather have her take it."

Bess had very positive ideas of fairness, however, and would not give up. "No," she declared, "it is her turn, and we must play fair or it isn't any fun."

"But I know it is my turn," said Elsie, equally stubborn; "Connie thinks so too."

"Never mind, Bess," pleaded Dora.

"I _shall_ mind; for when Louise and Helen and I all say it is your turn, and only Constance thinks it is Elsie's, you have a--a majority, and she ought to see it."

"Yes," added Louise, admiring her sister's big word; "I think you ought, Elsie."

"And it is _our_ slide," put in Helen very unwisely.

"That doesn't make any difference," Bess hastened to say; but the mischief was done.

"Then keep your old slide," Elsie cried angrily. "I wouldn't be so selfish. Come, Constance, let's not stay where they don't want us."

"Don't go, Elsie; it is not worth quarrelling about," urged Dora; but she wouldn't listen and walked off with an air of offended dignity, followed rather reluctantly by Constance. Dora wanted to go after her, but Louise held her fast.

"Don't go, Dody; it won't do a bit of good. If she is mad, she can just _be_ mad."

They took a few more slides, finding it not half so much fun as before. Dora looked very sober, for quarrelling was something she was not accustomed to, and after a visit to Carie, who was sick with a cold, she went home feeling exceedingly uncomfortable. Perhaps it would be all right to-morrow, she thought, but that did not prove to be the case.

When they met at school Elsie entirely ignored Bess and Louise, who in their turn treated her with a lofty indifference wonderful to behold.

"I am not at all mad at you, Dora," Elsie said to her; "but I am at Bess and Louise, for they were impolite. I am not going to speak to them till they say they are sorry."

"Oh, dear! I feel as though it were my fault in some way. It will spoil our club and everything," sighed Dora.

How long this unhappy state of affairs might have continued had not the Big Front Door taken matters in hand, it is impossible to say.

On the afternoon of the quarrel Elsie had a story book with her, which in her hasty departure she forgot. She remembered it before she reached home, but did not like to go back. The next day she planned a very cold note which was to be carried by one of the servants. Mrs.

Morris, however, saw no reason why her daughter should not do her own errand, and all arguments were in vain. Finding that it was of no use to plead, after some rebellious tears she decided to go for her book herself.

Bess, Louise, and Dora were studying their history lesson together, when Joanna came in to say that Elsie was downstairs and wanted the book she had left.

"I wonder," said Bess, when it had been found and sent down, "if she will come to the club."

After they went back to their lessons Dora's thoughts kept wandering off to that miserable quarrel, and she said, as she put on her hat, "If Elsie were willing to make up, you would be, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, yes," they both answered readily, Louise adding, "but she doesn't want to."

Elsie felt rather uncomfortable as she sat in the library. She hoped that none of the children would come in and find her there. She could not help remembering the pleasant time she had had in that very room a few weeks ago, getting ready for the New Year's eve entertainment, and for a moment she was sorry about the quarrel.

When Joanna brought her the book she hurried away, and, opening the front door for herself, pulled it to behind her with a bang, when to her dismay she found herself held fast. The door had closed on her dress. She pulled and twisted, but it was of no use--she was a prisoner. She could not reach the bell, and only a dead latch-key would open it from the outside. It was late in the afternoon and few people were pa.s.sing; then too she did not like to call for help. The poor child felt herself to be in a somewhat ridiculous position, and if she dreaded anything it was being made fun of.

Suppose Carl should come in and find her! He was such a tease he would tell the other boys, and they would think it a great joke. The wind was so cold and penetrating that after a little Elsie forgot her fear of being laughed at, and began to long for anybody who would release her. All the pa.s.sers-by seemed to be on the other side of the street.

Once she called to a colored boy, but he only looked at her stupidly and went on.

"Oh, dear! what shall I do!" she cried, sinking down on the cold marble step. "I wish I had never thought of my book."