The Last of the Foresters Part 66

Longears had now regaled himself with a comfortable dinner, the last bone of which he had licked--and having thus, like a regular and respectable citizen, taken care of the material, was busily engaged again in the intellectual pursuit of his enemies, the squirrels, b.u.t.terflies and bees, at which he barked and dashed at times with great vigor and enthusiasm.

"Look at him," said Redbud; "why does he dislike the b.u.t.terflies?"

"Only fun," said Verty; "he often does that. Here, Longears!"

Longears approached, and Verty pointed to the ground. Longears laid down.

"Stay there!" said Verty.

And smiling, he walked on.

Redbud laughed, and turning round made signs to the dog to follow them. Longears, however, only moved his head uneasily, and wagged his tail with eloquent remonstrance.

"Let him come, Verty," said the girl.

Verty smiled, and made a movement of the hand, which, from the distance of a hundred yards, raised Longears three feet into the air.

Returning from this elevation to the earth again, he darted off over the fields after the bees and swallows.

The young men and their companions smiled, and strolled on. They reached the old orchard, and ran about among the trees picking up apples--now the little soft yellow crab apples--then the huge, round, ruddy pippins--next the golden-coat bell apples, oblong and mellow, which had dropped from pure ripeness from the autumn boughs.

Verty had often climbed into the old trees, and filled his cap with the speckled eggs of black-birds, or found upon the fence here, embowered in the foliage, the slight nests of doves, each with its two eggs, white and transparent almost; and the recollection made him smile.

They gathered a number of the apples, and then strolled on, and eat a moment with the pleasant overseer's wife.

A number of little curly-headed boys had been rolling like apples on the gra.s.s as they approached; fat-armed and chubby-legged, and making devoted advances to Longears, who, descending from his dignity, rolled with them in the suns.h.i.+ne. These now approached, and the young girls patted their heads, and Mr. Ralph gave them some paternal advice, and the good housewife, spinning in her cane-bottom chair with straight tall back, smiled pleasantly, and curtsied.

The baby (there always was a baby at the overseer's) soon made his appearance, as babies will do everywhere; and then the unfortunate young curly-heads of riper age were forced to return once more to the gra.s.s and play with Longears--they were forgotten.

To describe the goings on of the two young ladies with that baby is wholly out of the question. They quarreled for it, chucked it in their arms, examined its toes with critical attention, and conversed with it in barbarous baby language, which was enough, Ralph said, to drive a man distracted. They asked it various questions--were delighted with its replies--called its attention to the chickens--and evidently labored under the impression that it understood. They addressed the baby uniformly in the neuter gender, and requested to know whether it was not their darling. To all which the baby replied with thoughtful stares, only occasionally condescending to laugh. The feet having been examined again--there is much in babies' feet--the party smiled and went away, calling after baby to the last.

"Now, that's all affectation," said Ralph; "you young ladies--"

"You're a barbarian, sir!" replied f.a.n.n.y, with great candor.

"I know I am."

"I'm glad you do."

"But," continued Ralph, "tell me now, really, do you young girls admire babies?"

"Certainly _I_ do--"

"And I," said Redbud.

"They're the sweetest, dearest things in all the world," continued f.a.n.n.y, "and the man who don't like babies--"

"Is a monster, eh?"

"Far worse, sir!"

And f.a.n.n.y laughed.

"That is pleasant to know," said Ralph; "then I'm a monster."

Having arrived at which highly encouraging conclusion, the young man whistled.

"I say," he said, suddenly, "I wanted to ask--"

"Well, sir?" said f.a.n.n.y.

"Before we leave the subject--"

"What subject?"

"Babies."

"Well, ask on."

"I wish to know whether babies talk."

"Certainly!"

"Really, now?"

"Yes."

"And you understand them?"

"_I_ do," said f.a.n.n.y.

"What does 'um, um,' mean? I heard that baby say 'um, um,'

distinctly."

f.a.n.n.y burst out laughing.

"Oh, I know!" she said, "when I gave him an apple."

"Yes."

"It meant, 'that is a very nice apple, and I would like to have some.'"

"Did it?"

"Of course."

"Suppose, then, it had been a crab-apple, and the baby had still said 'um, um,' what would it then have meant?"

"Plainly this: 'that is not a nice apple, and I would not like to have any.'"