The Box-Car Children. Gertrude Chandler Warner
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hand. The dog did not utter a sound. He lay motionless in her lap, until the thorn suddenly let go and lay in Jess’ hand.
“Good, good!” cried Violet.
“Wet my handkerchief,” Jess ordered briskly.
Violet did so, dipping it in the running brook. Jess wrapped the cool, wet folds around the hot paw, and gently squeezed it against the wound, the dog meanwhile trying to lick her hands.
“We’ll s’prise Henry, won’t we?” laughed Benny delightedly. “Now we got a dog!”
“To be sure,” said Jess, struck with the thought, “but that isn’t what I intended for a surprise. You know I was intending to get a lot of blueberries, and maybe find some old dishes in a dump or something—”
“Can’t we look while you hold the dog?” asked Violet anxiously.
“Of course you can, Pet!” said Jess. “Look over there by those rocks.”
Benny and Violet scrambled through the underbrush to the place Jess pointed out, and investigated. But they did not hunt long, for the blueberries were so thick that the bushes almost bent over with their weight.
“O Jessy,” screamed Benny, “you never saw so many in your life! What’ll we pick ’em into?”
“Come and get a clean towel,” said Jess, who noticed that Benny was already “picking into” his own mouth.
“But that’s just as well,” she thought. “Because he won’t get so hungry waiting for the milk.” She watched the two children a moment as they dropped handfuls of the bluish globes on the towel. Then she carefully got up with her little patient and went over and sat down in the center of the patch. The berries were so thick she did not have to change her position before the towel held over a quart.
“Oh, dear,” sighed Jess. “I wish I could hunt for some dishes, so we could have blueberries and milk.”
“Never mind tonight,” said Violet. “We can just eat a handful of berries and then take a drink of milk, when Henry comes.”
But it was even better than that, for when Henry came he had two bottles of milk under one arm, a huge loaf of brown bread under the other, and some golden cheese in waxed paper in his pocket.
But you should have seen Henry stare when he saw what Jess was holding!
“Where in the world—” began the boy.
“He camed to us,” volunteered Benny. “He camed for a s’prise for you. And he’s a nice doggie.”
Henry knelt down to look at the visitor, who wagged his tail. “It wouldn’t be a bad thing to have a watchdog,” said Henry. “I worried about you all the time I was gone.”
“Did you bring some milk?” inquired Benny, trying to be polite, but looking at the bottles with longing eyes.
“Bless his heart!” said Jess, struggling to her feet with the dog. “We’ll have dinner right away—or is it supper?”
“Call it supper,” suggested Henry, “for it’s the last thing we’ll have to eat today.”
“And then tomorrow we’ll start having three meals every day,” laughed Jess.
It was certainly a queer meal, whatever it was. Jess, who liked above all things to be orderly, spread out the big gray laundry bag on the pine needles for a tablecloth. The brown loaf was cut by a very excited little hostess into five thick squares; the cheese into four.
“Dogs don’t eat cheese,” Benny remarked cheerfully. The poor little fellow was glad of it, too, for he was very hungry. He could hardly wait for Jess to set the milk bottles in the center of the table and heap the blueberries in four little mounds, one at each place.
“I’m sorry we haven’t cups,” Jess remarked. “We’ll just have to drink out of the same bottle.”
“No, we won’t,” said Henry. “We’ll drink half of each bottle, so that will make at least two things to drink out of.”
“Good for you, Henry,” said Jess, much relieved. “You and Benny use one, and Violet and I will use the other.”
So the meal began. “Look, Benny,” directed Henry. “Eat a handful of blueberries, then take a bite of brown bread, then a nibble of cheese. Now, a drink of milk!”
“It’s good! It’s good!” mumbled Benny to himself all through the meal.
You must not imagine that the poor wandering dog was neglected, for Jess fed him gently, as he lay in her lap, poking morsels of bread into his mouth and pouring milk into her own hand for him to lap up.
When the meal was over, and exactly half of each bottle of milk remained, Jess said, “We are going to sleep on beds tonight, and just as soon as we get our beds made, we are all going to be washed.”
“That’ll be fun, Benny,” added Violet. “We’ll wash our paws in the brook just the way Cinnamon does.”
“First, let’s gather armfuls of dry pine needles,” ordered Jess. “Get those on top that have been lying in the sunshine.” Jess laid the dog down on a bed of moss as she spoke, and started energetically to scoop up piles of the fragrant needles. Soon a pile as high as her head stood just under the freight-car door.
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