THE COMPLETE WORKS OF LOUISA MAY ALCOTT: Novels, Short Stories, Plays & Poems (Illustrated Edition). Louisa May Alcott

but once; the cakes floated in syrup, and the toast had a delicious beef-steak flavor, owing to cook's using the gridiron to make it on. Demi forgot philosophy, and stuffed like any carnal boy, while Daisy planned sumptuous banquets, and the dolls looked on smiling affably.

      "Well, dearies, have you had a good time?" asked Mrs. Jo, coming up with Teddy on her shoulder.

      "A very good time. I shall come again soon," answered Demi, with emphasis.

      "I'm afraid you have eaten too much, by the look of that table."

      "No, I haven't; I only ate fifteen cakes, and they were very little ones," protested Demi, who had kept his sister busy supplying his plate.

      "They won't hurt him, they are so nice," said Daisy, with such a funny mixture of maternal fondness and housewifely pride that Aunt Jo could only smile and say:

      "Well, on the whole, the new game is a success then?"

      "I like it," said Demi, as if his approval was all that was necessary.

      "It is the dearest play ever made!" cried Daisy, hugging her little dish-tub as she proposed to wash up the cups. "I just wish everybody had a sweet cooking stove like mine," she added, regarding it with affection.

      "This play out to have a name," said Demi, gravely removing the syrup from his countenance with his tongue.

      "It has."

      "Oh, what?" asked both children eagerly.

      "Well, I think we will call it Pattypans," and Aunt Jo retired, satisfied with the success of her last trap to catch a sunbeam.

CHAPTER VI

       A FIRE BRAND

       Table of Contents

      "Please, ma'am, could I speak to you? It is something very important," said Nat, popping his head in at the door of Mrs. Bhaer's room.

      It was the fifth head which had popped in during the last half-hour; but Mrs. Jo was used to it, so she looked up, and said, briskly,

      "What is it, my lad?"

      Nat came in, shut the door carefully behind him, and said in an eager, anxious tone,

      "Dan has come."

      "Who is Dan?"

      "He's a boy I used to know when I fiddled round the streets. He sold papers, and he was kind to me, and I saw him the other day in town, and told him how nice it was here, and he's come."

      "But, my dear boy, that is rather a sudden way to pay a visit."

      "Oh, it isn't a visit; he wants to stay if you will let him!" said Nat innocently.

      "Well, I don't know about that," began Mrs. Bhaer, rather startled by the coolness of the proposition.

      "Why, I thought you liked to have poor boys come and live with you, and be kind to 'em as you were to me," said Nat, looking surprised and alarmed.

      "So I do, but I like to know something about them first. I have to choose them, because there are so many. I have not room for all. I wish I had."

      "I told him to come because I thought you'd like it, but if there isn't room he can go away again," said Nat, sorrowfully.

      The boy's confidence in her hospitality touched Mrs. Bhaer, and she could not find the heart to disappoint his hope, and spoil his kind little plan, so she said,

      "Tell me about this Dan."

      "I don't know any thing, only he hasn't got any folks, and he's poor, and he was good to me, so I'd like to be good to him if I could."

      "Excellent reasons every one; but really, Nat, the house is full, and I don't know where I could put him," said Mrs. Bhaer, more and more inclined to prove herself the haven of refuge he seemed to think her.

      "He could have my bed, and I could sleep in the barn. It isn't cold now, and I don't mind, I used to sleep anywhere with father," said Nat, eagerly.

      Something in his speech and face made Mrs. Jo put her hand on his shoulder, and say in her kindest tone:

      "Bring in your friend, Nat; I think we must find room for him without giving him your place."

      Nat joyfully ran off, and soon returned followed by a most unprepossessing boy, who slouched in and stood looking about him, with a half bold, half sullen look, which made Mrs. Bhaer say to herself, after one glance,

      "A bad specimen, I am afraid."

      "This is Dan," said Nat, presenting him as if sure of his welcome.

      "Nat tells me you would like to come and stay with us," began Mrs. Jo, in a friendly tone.

      "Yes," was the gruff reply.

      "Have you no friends to take care of you?"

      "No."

      "Say, 'No, ma'am,' " whispered Nat.

      "Shan't neither," muttered Dan.

      "How old are you?"

      "About fourteen."

      "You look older. What can you do?"

      "'Most anything."

      "If you stay here we shall want you to do as the others do, work and study as well as play. Are you willing to agree to that?"

      "Don't mind trying."

      "Well, you can stay a few days, and we will see how we get on together. Take him out, Nat, and amuse him till Mr. Bhaer comes home, when we will settle about the matter," said Mrs. Jo, finding it rather difficult to get on with this cool young person, who fixed his big black eyes on her with a hard, suspicious expression, sorrowfully unboyish.

      "Come on, Nat," he said, and slouched out again.

      "Thank you, ma'am," added Nat, as he followed him, feeling without quite understanding the difference in the welcome given to him and to his ungracious friend.

      "The fellows are having a circus out in the barn; don't you want to come and see it?" he asked, as they came down the wide steps on to the lawn.

      "Are they big fellows?" said Dan.

      "No; the big ones are gone fishing."

      "Fire away, then," said Dan.

      Nat led him to the great barn and introduced him to his set, who were disporting themselves among the half-empty lofts. A large circle was marked out with hay on the wide floor, and in the middle stood Demi with a long whip, while Tommy, mounted on the much-enduring Toby, pranced about the circle playing being a monkey.

      "You must pay a pin apiece, or you can't see the show," said Stuffy, who stood by the wheelbarrow in which sat the band, consisting of a pocket-comb blown upon by Ned, and a toy drum beaten spasmodically by Rob.

      "He's company, so I'll pay for both," said Nat, handsomely, as he stuck two crooked pins in the dried mushroom which served as money-box.

      With a nod to the company they seated themselves on a couple of boards, and the performance went on. After the monkey act, Ned gave them a fine specimen of his agility by jumping over an old chair, and running up and down ladders, sailor fashion. Then Demi danced a jig with a gravity beautiful to behold. Nat was called upon to wrestle with Stuffy, and speedily laid that stout youth upon the ground. After this, Tommy proudly advanced to turn a somersault, an accomplishment which he had acquired by painful perseverance, practising in private till every joint of his little frame was black and blue. His feats were received with great applause, and he was about to retire, flushed with pride and a rush of blood to the head, when a scornful voice in the audience was heard to say,

      "Ho! that ain't any thing!"

      "Say that again, will you?" and Tommy bristled