CHAPTER XVI.
“Nancy didn’t steal my necklace, I know her didn’t,” said Posy.
“Of course she didn’t,” said Tom; “it must have dropped off while we were playing tiger.”
“Then why isn’t it there?” asked Hannah triumphantly; “it couldn’t have run away by itself, I suppose.”
“Why do you accuse Nancy of taking it, Hannah?” asked Mrs. Winton.
“Because it isn’t the first thing that has disappeared since she came here. My silver thimble is missing too. I had it yesterday when I was sitting in the porch sewing.”
“But it is very wrong to accuse anybody unless you have proof of his guilt,” said Mrs. Winton.
“Oh, do please believe me, ma’am!” said Nancy, with the tears running down her cheeks and a most distressed look in her face. “How could I be so mean as to steal from people who have been so kind to me,—and from dear little Posy too! Oh, do please believe me!”
“I will believe you, Nancy,” said Mrs. Winton kindly. “Now stop crying, and remember that we will be your friends as long as you are a good little girl. Run out to play, children, and perhaps you will find the necklace.”
So Nancy dried her tears and was tenderly conducted out of doors by Tom and Posy on either side; and they proved such good comforters that in a short time she was laughing heartily.
“Now, Hannah,” said Mrs. Winton, when the children were gone, “I want you to give up the thought that Nancy is a thief. She is a poor, neglected child, and I should think that all your sympathies would go out towards her.”
“I don’t believe in her honesty,” replied Hannah, unmoved. “I made up my mind she was a thief the first time I sot eyes on her.”
“First impressions are not to be trusted,” said Mrs. Winton. “I shall believe the child honest until I have reason to doubt her, and certainly there has been nothing to prove her guilt yet.”
Hannah didn’t dare say more, but she secretly resolved to watch the child closely.
The barn-cat, sitting on the window-sill, had heard the whole conversation, and so had the little gray kitten; and the barn-cat reported it faithfully to Mrs. Polly, who was greatly troubled by it. “I’ll think it over and see if I can find any way to prove Nancy’s innocence,” she said. “‘Give a dog a bad name and it will stick to him,’ is a very true saying, and we must clear this poor child’s reputation, or by-and-by others besides Hannah will begin to suspect her. Yes, I’ll think the matter over carefully and see what can be done. The sparrow moves his family over here to-day, and I am very glad of it. I am in hopes he will turn over a new leaf and stay at home more in the future.”
“Seeing is believing,” said the barn-cat dryly; “I haven’t much hope of him myself.”
It was true that the sparrow was about to move. Mrs. Polly’s sharp eyes had discovered a deserted swallow’s nest just under the roof of the piazza, in a position where she could watch what went on; and she proposed that he should put it in order for his family. The plan pleased the sparrow, and he at once set to work to build. He brought bits of straw and twine and hair, in fact anything he could find, and put it inside the swallow’s nest. He was a careless fellow, and didn’t spend any more time than was necessary over the building; but when it was finished it was quite a nice little house,—a great improvement, certainly, on the house in the elm-tree that his family now occupied.
The next day the sparrow appeared, escorting his bright-eyed wife and her three little ones, now fine strong young birds; and they seemed much pleased with their new quarters.
“That bright-eyed Mrs. Sparrow is a nice little thing,” said Mrs. Polly to herself, “much too nice to be neglected by that scamp of a husband of hers. I’ll keep a sharp lookout, and set matters straight if he goes on in the old way.”
The sparrow was very attentive to his family the first day, and brought the finest worms and insects he could find for them to eat, and busied himself for their comfort in many ways, and the bright-eyed sparrow looked very happy; but when twilight came on the sparrow became a little restless and nervous, as if he had something on his mind. Mrs. Polly’s shrewd eyes noticed all this, and she said to herself,—
“It’s just as I thought; but I did think he’d have sense enough to stay at home the first night. It’s much worse than I thought.”
“Good-night, my dear,” said the sparrow, coming up to his bright-eyed wife and giving her a hasty kiss; “I’ll be in as early as I can.”
“You don’t mean to say you’re going to leave me the very first night after we’ve been separated so long, and in a strange place too?” said the bright-eyed sparrow indignantly.
“Only for a short time, my dear. It’s an engagement I made some time ago. Very sorry, upon my honor; but I must keep my word!”
“How can you treat me so?” said the bright-eyed sparrow. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself. I’ll go back to-morrow, and never live with you any more!”
The sparrow considered a moment. He was a good-natured fellow in spite of his roving propensities. He looked at the bright-eyed sparrow; she was crying, and he couldn’t leave her feeling so unhappy. He went up to her and said in a very tender tone,—
“See here, my dear! don’t you know that you’re going to work the wrong way? I am the easiest fellow to manage you ever saw if you know how to take me.”
“I wish I knew the way to take you,” answered the bright-eyed sparrow; “I’d take it fast enough. I manage you, indeed!” and she gave a scornful little laugh.
“Did you ever hear that you could catch more flies with molasses than with vinegar?” said the sparrow. “Well, my dear, I am willing to be caught with molasses, but clip my pinions if you’ll catch me with vinegar! Come, my dear,” he said very gently and putting his little head close to hers, “if you want me to stay at home tell me that you care a little for me, and make me feel good, instead of telling me what a worthless fellow I am.”
“Will you really and truly stay?” said the bright-eyed sparrow, smiling through her tears.
“Really and truly,” answered the sparrow tenderly.
“Then I’ll think you are the dearest and best husband in the whole world,” answered the bright-eyed sparrow; and she reached up her little beak and gave him a hearty kiss.
“That’s as it should be,” said Mrs. Polly to herself, with her nod of satisfaction, “but it won’t last long. He’ll be trying it over again soon, and they’ll not always make up so easy. I do wish he had firmer principles!”
Mrs. Polly was right. It was not very long before there was trouble again in the sparrow’s household. One afternoon the bright-eyed sparrow looked very anxious. She flew backward and forward, and perched on the top of the tallest trees and looked about in every direction, and then she flew home again and peered out of her little house with a very distressed expression.
“I know what it all means,” said Mrs. Polly; “that scamp of a husband of hers is off again. I must give him a talking to. He ought to set a better example to his young family.”
“Good-evening, my dear,” she called to the bright-eyed sparrow, who was just then looking out of her house; “hasn’t your husband come home yet? He ought to be in by this time.”
“Oh! he’ll come soon, I dare say,” answered the bright-eyed sparrow cheerfully; “he’s probably been detained by business.”
“Don’t feel anxious, my dear,” said Mrs. Polly; “nothing will happen to him.”
“Oh, I’m not at all anxious,” said the bright-eyed sparrow, with a great attempt at cheerfulness; but her voice was not as hopeful as her words, and it had a sad tone that quite touched Mrs. Polly.
“He’s been away all day long,” whispered the canary to Mrs. Polly; “I saw him go off early this morning, and if she sees him before to-morrow morning it’s more than I think she will.”
“I declare it is too bad, too bad!” said Mrs. Polly, shaking her head gravely.
The canary was right. Just before daybreak the next morning they heard the sparrow come home; and although the dining-room window was closed, they knew from the sounds that reached them that the sparrows had a quarrel. Mrs. Polly waited until the sparrow was awake,—for he slept late after his dissipation, and it was afternoon before he was fully awake,—and then she called to them that she had something to say to them.
Both of the birds flew down and seated themselves on the flowering-currant bush before the dining-room window, where Mrs. Polly could converse easily with them.
“Why do you accuse Nancy of taking it?”—Page [204.]