The Louisa Alcott Reader by Louisa M. Alcott

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But when she went to bed she was almost afraid to look under the pillow,
knowing that she had done wrong. At last she slowly drew out the box, and
slowly opened it, expecting something to fly at her. All she saw was a
tiny black bag, that began at once to grow larger, till it was big enough
to hold her two hands. Then it tied itself tight round her wrists, as if
to keep these meddlesome hands out of mischief.

"Well, this is very queer, but not so dreadful as the wasp. I hope no one
will see it when I'm asleep. I do wish I'd let those cakes and things
alone," sighed May, looking at the black bag, and vainly trying to get her
hands free.

She cried herself to sleep, and when she woke the bag was gone. No one had
seen it; but she told her mamma about the cake, and promised not to do so
any more.

"Now this shall be a _truly_ good day, every bit of it," she said, as
she skipped away, feeling as light as a feather after she had confessed
her little sins.

But, alas! it is so easy to forget and do wrong, that May spoilt her day
before dinner by going to the river and playing with the boats, in spite
of many orders not to do it. She did not tell of it, and went to a party
in the afternoon, where she was so merry she never remembered the naughty
thing till she was in bed and opened the fairy box. A little chain
appeared, which in a flash grew long and large, and fastened round her
ankles as if she were a prisoner. May liked to tumble about, and was much
disgusted to be chained in this way; but there was no help for it, so she
lay very still and had plenty of time to be sorry.

"It is a good punishment for me, and I deserve it. I won't cry, but I
will--I _will_ remember." And May said her prayers very soberly,
really meaning to keep her word this time.

All the next day she was very careful to keep her lips from cross words,
her hands from forbidden things, and her feet from going wrong. Nothing
spoilt this day, she watched so well; and when mamma gave the good-night
kiss, she said,--

"What shall I give my good little daughter, who has been gentle, obedient,
and busy all day?"

"I want a white kitty, with blue eyes, and a pink ribbon on its neck,"
answered May.

"I'll try and find one. Now go to bed, deary, and happy dreams!" said
mamma, with many kisses on the rosy cheeks, and the smile that was a
reward.

May was so busy thinking about the kitty and the good day that she forgot
the box till she heard a little "Mew, mew!" under her pillow.

"Mercy me! what's that?" And she popped up her head to see.

Out came the box; off flew the lid, and there, on a red cushion, lay a
white kit about two inches long. May couldn't believe that it was alive
till it jumped out of its nest, stretched itself, and grew all at once
just the right size to play with and be pretty. Its eyes were blue, its
tail like a white plume, and a sweet pink bow was on its neck. It danced
all over the bed, ran up the curtains, hid under the clothes, nipped May's
toes, licked her face, patted her nose with its soft paw, and winked at
her in such a funny way that she laughed for joy at having such a dear
kitty. Presently, as if it knew that bed was the place to lie quiet in,
puss cuddled down in a little bunch and purred May to sleep.

"I suppose that darling kit will be gone like all the other things," said
May, as she waked up and looked round for her first pretty gift.

No; there was the lovely thing sitting in the sun among the flower-pots,
washing her face and getting ready for play. What a fine frolic they had;
and how surprised every one was to see just the pussy May wanted! They
supposed it came as kitties often come; and May never told them it was a
fairy present, because she had promised not to. She was so happy with
little puss that she was good all day; and when she went to bed she
thought,--

"I wish I had a dog to play with darling Snowdrop, and run with me when I
go to walk."

"Bow, wow, wow!" came from under the pillow; and out of the box trotted a
curly black dog, with long ears, a silver collar, and such bright, kind
eyes May was not a bit afraid of him, but loved him at once, and named him
Floss, he was so soft and silky. Pussy liked him too; and when May was
sleepy they both snuggled down in the same basket like two good babies,
and went to by-low.

"Well, I never! What shall we find next?" said Nurse, when she saw the dog
in the morning.

"Perhaps it will be an elephant, to fill the whole house, and scare you
out of your wits," laughed May, dancing about with Snowdrop chasing her
bare toes, while Floss shook and growled over her shoes as if they were
rats.

"If your cousin John wants to give you any more animals, I wish he'd send
a pony to take you to school, and save my old legs the pain of trotting
after you," said Nurse; for May did have a rich cousin who was very fond
of her, and often gave her nice things.

"Perhaps he will," laughed May, much tickled with the idea that it was a
fairy, and not Cousin John, who sent the cunning little creatures to her.

But she didn't get the pony that night; for in the afternoon her mother
told her not to sit on the lawn, because it was damp, and May did not
mind, being busy with a nice story. So when she took up her box, a loud
sneeze seemed to blow the lid off, and all she saw was a bit of red
flannel.

"What is this for?" she asked, much disappointed; and as if to answer, the
strip of flannel wrapped itself round her neck.

"There! my throat _is_ sore, and I _am_ hoarse. I wonder how
that fairy knew I sat on the damp grass. I'm so sorry; for I did want a
pony, and might have had it if I'd only minded," said May, angry with
herself for spoiling all her fun.

It _was_ spoilt; for she had such a cold next day she couldn't go out
at all, but had to take medicine and keep by the fire, while the other
children had a lovely picnic.

"I won't wish for anything to-night; I don't deserve a present, I was so
disobedient. But I _have_ tried to be patient," said May, feeling for
the box.

The fairy had not forgotten her, and there was a beautiful picture-book,
full of new, nice stories printed in colored ink.

"How splendid to read to-morrow while I'm shut up!" she said, and went to
sleep very happily.

All the next day she enjoyed the pretty pictures and funny tales, and
never complained or fretted at all, but was so much better the doctor said
she could go out to-morrow, if it was fine.

"Now I will wish for the pony," said May, in her bed. But there was
nothing in the box except a little red-silk rope, like a halter. She did
not know what to do with it that night, but she did the next morning; for
just as she was dressed her brother called from the garden,--

"May, look out and see what we found in the stable. None of us can catch
him, so do come and see if you can; your name is on the card tied to his
mane."

May looked, and there was a snow-white pony racing about the yard as if he
was having a fine frolic. Then she knew the halter was for him, and ran
down to catch him. The minute she appeared, the pony went to her and put
his nose in her hand, neighing, as if he said,--

"This is my little mistress; I will mind her and serve her well."

May was delighted, and very proud when the pony let her put on the saddle
and bridle that lay in the barn all ready to use. She jumped up and rode
gayly down the road; and Will and mamma and all the maids and Floss and
Snowdrop ran to see the pretty sight. The children at school were much
excited when she came trotting up, and all wanted to ride Prince. He was
very gentle, and every one had a ride; but May had the best fun, for she
could go every day for long trots by the carriage when mamma and Will
drove out. A blue habit and a hat with a long feather were bought that
afternoon; and May was so happy and contented at night that she said to
herself as she lay in bed,--

"I'll wish for something for Will now, and see if I get it. I don't want
any more presents yet; I've had my share, and I'd love to give away to
other people who have no fairy box."

So she wished for a nice boat, and in the box lay a key with the name
"Water Lily" on it. She guessed what it meant, and in the morning told her
brother to come to the river and see what she had for him. There lay a
pretty green and white boat, with cushioned seats, a sail all spread, and
at the mast-head a little flag flying in the wind, with the words "Water
Lily" on it in gold letters.

Will was so surprised and pleased to find that it was his, he turned heels
over head on the grass, kissed May, and skipped into his boat, crying,
"All aboard!" as if eager to try it at once.

May followed, and they sailed away down the lovely river, white with real
lilies, while the blackbirds sang in the green meadows on either side, and
boys and girls stopped on the bridges to see them pass.

After that May kept on trying to be good, and wishing for things for
herself and other people, till she forgot how to be naughty, and was the
sweetest little girl in the world. Then there was no need of fairies to
help her; and one night the box was not under the pillow.

"Well, I've had my share of pretty things, and must learn to do without.
I'm glad I tried; for now it is easy to be good, and I don't need to be
rewarded," said May, as she fell asleep, quite happy and contented, though
she did wish she could have seen the fairy just once.

Next morning the first thing she saw was a beautiful bracelet, shining on
the table; and while she stood admiring it, she heard the little voice
sing,--

"Here is the bracelet
For good little May
To wear on her arm
By night and by day.
When it shines like the sun,
All's going well;
But when you are bad,
A sharp prick will tell.
Farewell, little girl,
For now we must part.
Make a fairy-box, dear,
Of your own happy heart;
And take out for all
Sweet gifts every day,
Till all the year round
Is like beautiful May."

As the last words were sung, right before her eyes she saw a tiny creature
swinging on the rose that stood there in a vase,--a lovely elf, with wings
like a butterfly, a gauzy dress, and a star on her forehead. She smiled,
and waved her hand as she slowly rose and fluttered away into the
sunshine, till she vanished from sight, leaving May with the magic
bracelet on her arm, and the happy thought that at last she had
_really_ seen a fairy.

[Illustration: Johnny leaned forward to enjoy the long-desired "peek."]

IX.

A HOLE IN THE WALL.

PART I.

If any one had asked Johnny Morris who were his best friends, he would
have answered,--

"The sun and the wind, next to mother."

Johnny lived in a little court that led off from one of the busiest
streets in the city,--a noisy street, where horse-car bells tinkled and
omnibuses rumbled all day long, going and coming from several great depots
near by. The court was a dull place, with only two or three shabby houses
in it, and a high blank wall at the end.

The people who hurried by were too busy to do more than to glance at the
lame boy who sat in the sunshine against the wall, or to guess that there
was a picture-gallery and a circulating-library in the court. But Johnny
had both, and took such comfort in them that he never could be grateful
enough to the wind that brought him his books and pictures, nor to the sun
that made it possible for him to enjoy them in the open air, far more than
richer folk enjoy their fine galleries and libraries.

A bad fall, some months before the time this story begins, did something
to Johnny's back which made his poor legs nearly useless, and changed the
lively, rosy boy into a pale cripple. His mother took in fine washing, and
worked hard to pay doctors' bills and feed and clothe her boy, who could
no longer run errands, help with the heavy tubs, or go to school. He could
only pick out laces for her to iron, lie on his bed in pain for hours,
and, each fair day, hobble out to sit in a little old chair between the
water-butt and the leaky tin boiler in which he kept his library.

But he was a happy boy, in spite of poverty and pain; and the day a great
gust came blowing fragments of a gay placard and a dusty newspaper down
the court to his feet, was the beginning of good fortune for patient
Johnny. There was a theatre in the street beyond, and other pictured bits
found their way to him; for the frolicsome wind liked to whisk the papers
around the corner, and chase them here and there till they settled under
the chair or flew wildly over the wall.

Faces, animals, people, and big letters, all came to cheer the boy, who
was never tired of collecting these waifs and strays; cutting out the big
pictures to paste on the wall with the leavings of mother's starch, and
the smaller in the scrap-book he made out of stout brown wrappers or
newspapers, when he had read the latter carefully. Soon it was a very gay
wall; for mother helped, standing on a chair, to put the large pictures
up, when Johnny had covered all the space he could reach. The books were
laid carefully away in the boiler, after being smoothly ironed out and
named to suit Johnny's fancy by pasting letters on the back. This was the
circulating library; for not only did the papers whisk about the court to
begin with, but the books they afterward made went the rounds among the
neighbors till they were worn out.

The old cobbler next door enjoyed reading the anecdotes on Sunday when he
could not work; the pale seamstress upstairs liked to look over
advertisements of the fine things which she longed for; and Patsey Flynn,
the newsboy, who went by each day to sell his papers at the station, often
paused to look at the play-bills,--for he adored the theatre, and
entertained Johnny with descriptions of the splendors there to be beheld,
till he felt as if he had really been, and had known all the famous
actors, from Humpty Dumpty to the great Salvini.

Now and then a flock of dirty children would stray into the court and ask
to see the "pretty picters." Then Johnny was a proud and happy boy; for,
armed with a clothes-pole, he pointed out and explained the beauties of
his gallery, feeling that he was a public benefactor when the poor babies
thanked him warmly, and promised to come again and bring all the nice
papers they could pick up.

These were Johnny's pleasures: but he had two sorrows,--one, a very real
one, his aching back; and the other, a boyish longing to climb the wall
and see what was on the other side, for it seemed a most wonderful and
delightful place to the poor child, shut up in that dismal court, with no
playmates and few comforts.

He amused himself with imagining how it looked over there, and nearly
every night added some new charm to this unseen country, when his mother
told him fairy tales to get him to sleep. He peopled it with the dear old
characters all children know and love. The white cat that sat on the wall
was Puss in Boots to him, or Whittington's good friend. Blue-beard's wives
were hidden in the house of whose upper windows the boy could just catch
glimpses. Red Riding-hood met the wolf in the grove of chestnuts that
rustled over there; and Jack's Beanstalk grew up just such a wall as that,
he was sure.

But the story he liked best was the "Sleeping Beauty in the Wood;" for he
was sure some lovely creature lived in that garden, and he longed to get
in to find and play with her. He actually planted a bean in a bit of damp
earth behind the water-barrel, and watched it grow, hoping for as strong a
ladder as Jack's. But the vine grew very slowly, and Johnny was so
impatient that he promised Patsey his best book "for his ownty-donty," if
he would climb up and report what was to be seen in that enchanted garden.

"Faix, and I will, thin." And up went good-natured Pat, after laying an
old board over the hogshead to stand on; for there were spikes all along
the top of the wall, and only cats and sparrows could walk there.

Alas for Johnny's eager hopes, and alas for Pat's Sunday best! The board
broke, and splash went the climber, with a wild Irish howl that startled
Johnny half out of his wits and brought both Mrs. Morris and the cobbler
to the rescue.

After this sad event Pat kept away for a time in high dudgeon, and Johnny
was more lonely than ever. But he was a cheery little soul, so he was
grateful for what joys he had, and worked away at his wall,--for the March
winds had brought him many treasures, and after April rains were over, May
sunshine made the court warm enough for him to be out nearly all day.

"I'm so sorry Pat is mad, 'cause he saw this piece and told me about it,
and he'd like to help me put up these pictures," said Johnny to himself,
one breezy morning, as he sat examining a big poster which the wind had
sent flying into his lap a few minutes before.

The play was "Monte Cristo," and the pictures represented the hero getting
out of prison by making holes in the wall, among other remarkable
performances.

"This is a jolly red one! Now, where will I put it to show best and not
spoil the other beauties?"

As he spoke, Johnny turned his chair around and surveyed his gallery with
as much pride and satisfaction as if it held all the wonders of art.

It really _was_ quite splendid; for every sort of picture shone in
the sun,--simpering ladies, tragic scenes, circus parades, labels from tin
cans, rosy tomatoes, yellow peaches, and purple plums, funny
advertisements, and gay bills of all kinds. None were perfect, but they
were arranged with care; and the effect was very fine, Johnny thought.

Presently his eyes wandered from these treasures to the budding bushes
that nodded so tantalizingly over the wall. A grape-vine ran along the
top, trying to hide the sharp spikes; lilacs tossed their purple plumes
above it, and several tall chestnuts rose over all, making green tents
with their broad leaves, where spires of blossom began to show like
candles on a mammoth Christmas tree. Sparrows were chirping gayly
everywhere; the white cat, with a fresh blue bow, basked on the coping of
the wall, and from the depths of the enchanted garden came a sweet voice
singing,--

"And she bids you to come in,
With a dimple in your chin,
Billy boy, Billy boy."

Johnny smiled as he listened, and put his finger to the little dent in his
own chin, wishing the singer would finish this pleasing song. But she
never did, though he often heard that, as well as other childish ditties,
sung in the same gay voice, with bursts of laughter and the sound of
lively feet tripping up and down the boarded walks. Johnny longed
intensely to know who the singer was; for her music cheered his solitude,
and the mysterious sounds he heard in the garden increased his wonder and
his longing day by day.

Sometimes a man's voice called, "Fay, where are you?" and Johnny was sure
"Fay" was short for Fairy. Another voice was often heard talking in a
strange, soft language, full of exclamations and pretty sounds. A little
dog barked, and answered to the name Pippo. Canaries carolled, and some
elfish bird scolded, screamed, and laughed so like a human being, that
Johnny felt sure that magic of some sort was at work next door.

A delicious fragrance was now wafted over the wall as of flowers, and the
poor boy imagined untold loveliness behind that cruel wall, as he tended
the dandelions his mother brought him from the Common, when she had time
to stop and gather them; for he loved flowers dearly, and tried to make
them out of colored paper, since he could have no sweeter sort.

Now and then a soft, rushing sound excited his curiosity to such a pitch
that once he hobbled painfully up the court till he could see into the
trees; and once his eager eyes caught glimpses of a little creature, all
blue and white and gold, who peeped out from the green fans, and nodded,
and tried to toss him a cluster of the chestnut flowers. He stretched his
hands to her with speechless delight, forgetting his crutches, and would
have fallen if he had not caught by the shutter of a window so quickly
that he gave the poor back a sad wrench; and when he could look up again,
the fairy had vanished, and nothing was to be seen but the leaves dancing
in the wind.

Johnny dared not try this again for fear of a fall, and every step cost
him a pang; but he never forgot it, and was thinking of it as he sat
staring at the wall on that memorable May day.

"How I _should_ like to peek in and see just how it all really looks!
It sounds and smells so summery and nice in there. I know it must be
splendid. I say, Pussy, can't you tell a feller what you see?"

Johnny laughed as he spoke, and the white cat purred politely; for she
liked the boy who never threw stones at her, nor disturbed her naps. But
Puss could not describe the beauties of the happy hunting-ground below;
and, to console himself for the disappointment, Johnny went back to his
new picture.

"Now, if this man in the play dug his way out through a wall ten feet
thick with a rusty nail and a broken knife, I don't see why I couldn't
pick away one brick and get a peek. It's all quiet in there now; here's a
good place, and nobody will know, if I stick a picture over the hole. And
I'll try it, I declare I will!"

Fired with the idea of acting Monte Cristo on a small scale, Johnny caught
up the old scissors in his lap, and began to dig out the mortar around a
brick already loose, and crumbling at the corners. His mother smiled at
his energy, then sighed and said, as she clapped her laces with a heavy
heart,--

"Ah, poor dear, if he only had his health he'd make his way in the world.
But now he's like to find a blank wall before him while he lives, and none
to help him over."

Puss, in her white boots, sat aloft and looked on, wise as the cat in the
story, but offered no advice. The toad who lived behind the water-barrel
hopped under the few leaves of the struggling bean, like Jack waiting to
climb; and just then the noon bells began to ring as if they sang clear
and loud,--

"Turn again, Whittington, Lord Mayor of London."

So, cheered by his friends, Johnny scraped and dug vigorously till the old
brick fell out, showing another behind it. Only pausing to take breath, he
caught up his crutch and gave two or three hearty pokes, which soon
cleared the way and let the sunshine stream through, while the wind tossed
the lilacs like triumphal banners, and the jolly sparrows chirped,--

"Hail, the conquering hero comes!"

Rather scared by his unexpected success, the boy sat silent for a moment
to see what would happen. But all was still; and presently, with a beating
heart, Johnny leaned forward to enjoy the long-desired "peek." He could
not see much; but that little increased his curiosity and delight, for it
seemed like looking into fairy-land, after the dust and noise and dingy
houses of the court.

A bed of splendid tulips tossed their gay garments in the middle of a
grass-plot; a strange and brilliant bird sat dressing its feathers on a
golden cage; a little white dog dozed in the sun; and on a red carpet
under the trees lay the Princess, fast asleep.

"It's all right," said Johnny, with a long sigh of pleasure; "that's the
Sleeping Beauty, sure enough. There's the blue gown, the white fur-cloak
sweeping round, the pretty hair, and--yes--there's the old nurse,
spinning and nodding, just as she did in the picture-book mother got me
when I cried because I couldn't go to see the play."

This last discovery really did bewilder Johnny, and make him believe that
fairy tales _might_ be true, after all, for how could he know that
the strange woman was an Italian servant, in her native dress, with a
distaff in her hand? After pausing a moment, to rub his eyes, he took
another look, and made fresh discoveries by twisting his head about. A
basket of oranges stood near the Princess, a striped curtain hung from a
limb of the tree to keep the wind off, and several books fluttered their
pictured leaves temptingly before Johnny's longing eyes.

"Oh, if I could only go in and eat 'em and read 'em and speak to 'em and
see all the splendid things!" thought the poor boy, as he looked from one
delight to another, and felt shut out from all. "I can't go and wake her
like the Prince did, but I do wish she'd get up and do something, now I
_can_ see. I daren't throw a stone, it might hit some one, or holler,
it might scare her. Pussy won't help, and the sparrows are too busy
scolding one another. I know! I'll fly a kite over, and that will please
her any way. Don't believe she has kites; girls never do."

Eager to carry out his plan, Johnny tied a long string to his gayest
poster, and then fastening it to the pole with which he sometimes fished
in the water-cask, held it up to catch the fresh breezes blowing down the
court. His good friend, the wind, soon caught the idea, and with a strong
breath sent the red paper whisking over the wall, to hang a moment on the
trees and then drop among the tulips, where its frantic struggles to
escape waked the dog, and set him to racing and barking, as Johnny
hurriedly let the string go, and put his eye to his peep-hole.

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