Eight Cousins; Or, The Aunt-HillAlcott, Louisa May
General
Eight Cousins; Or, The Aunt-Hill
Alcott, Louisa May
Cousins -- Juvenile fiction; Family life -- Juvenile fiction; Orphans -- Juvenile fiction
"It is Mac's pardon you should ask, not mine, for you haven't hurt me,
and I shouldn't wonder if you had him a great deal, with all that light
and racket, and talk about things that only worry him."
"Do you really think we've hurt him, cousin?" asked Archie, with a
troubled look, while Charlie settled down in a remorseful heap among the
table legs.
"Yes, I do, for he has got a raging headache, and his eyes are as red
as--as this emery bag," answered Rose, solemnly plunging her needle into
a fat flannel strawberry.
Steve tore his hair, metaphorically speaking, for he clutched his
cherished top-knot and wildly dishevelled it, as if that was the
heaviest penance he could inflict upon himself at such short notice.
Charlie laid himself out flat, melodramatically begging some one to take
him away and hang him; but Archie, who felt worst of all, said nothing
except to vow within himself that he would read to Mac till his own eyes
were as red as a dozen emery bags combined.
Seeing the wholesome effects of her treatment upon these culprits, Rose
felt that she might relent and allow them a gleam of hope. She found it
impossible to help trampling upon the prostrate Prince a little, in
words at least, for he had hurt her feelings oftener than he knew; so
she gave him a thimble-pie on the top of his head, and said, with the
air of an infinitely superior being,--
"Don't be silly, but get up, and I'll tell you something much better to
do than sprawling on the floor and getting all over lint."
Charlie obediently sat himself upon a hassock at her feet; the other
sinners drew near to catch the words of wisdom about to fall from her
lips, and Rose, softened by this gratifying humility, addressed them in
her most maternal tone.
"Now, boys, if you really want to be good to Mac, you can do it in this
way. Don't keep talking about things he can't do, or go and tell what
fun you have had batting your ridiculous balls about. Get some nice book
and read quietly; cheer him up about school, and offer to help him study
by and by; _you_ can do that better than I, because I'm only a girl,
and don't learn Greek and Latin and all sorts of headachy stuff."
"Yes, but you can do heaps of things better than we can; you've proved
that," said Archie, with an approving look that delighted Rose, though
she could not resist giving Charlie one more rebuke, by saying, with a
little bridling up of the head, and a curl of the lip that wanted to
smile instead,--
"I'm glad you think so, though I _am_ a 'queer chicken.'"
This scathing remark caused the Prince to hide his face for shame, and
Steve to erect his head in the proud consciousness that this shot was
not meant for him. Archie laughed, and Rose, seeing a merry blue eye
winking at her from behind two brown hands, gave Charlie's ear a
friendly tweak, and extended the olive-branch of peace.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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