The Louisa Alcott Reader by Louisa M. Alcott

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The eyes of the Princess were wide open now, and she clapped her hands
when Pippo brought the gay picture for her to see; while the old woman,
with a long yawn, went away, carrying her distaff, like a gun, over her
shoulder.

"She likes it! I'm so glad. Wish I had some more to send over. This will
come off, I'll poke it through, and maybe she will see it."

Very much excited, Johnny recklessly tore from the wall his most cherished
picture, a gay flower-piece, just put up; and folding it, he thrust it
through the hole and waited to see what followed.

Nothing but a rustle, a bark, and a queer croak from the splendid bird,
which set the canaries to trilling sweetly.

"She don't see, maybe she will hear," said Johnny. And he began to whistle
like a mocking-bird; for this was his one accomplishment, and he was proud
of it.

Presently he heard a funny burst of laughter from the parrot, and then the
voice said,--

"No, Polly, you can't sing like that bird. I wonder where he is? Among the
bushes over there, I think. Come, Pippo, let us go and find him."

"Now she's coming!" And Johnny grew red in the face trying to give his
best trills and chirrups.

Nearer and nearer came the steps, the lilacs rustled as if shaken, and
presently the roll of paper vanished. A pause, and then the little voice
exclaimed, in a tone of great surprise,--

"Why, there's a hole! I never saw it before. Oh! I can see the street. How
nice! how nice!"

"She likes the hole! I wonder if she will like me?" And, emboldened by
these various successes, Johnny took another peep. This was the most
delicious one of all; for he looked right into a great blue eye, with
glimpses of golden hair above, a little round nose in the middle, and red
lips below. It was like a flash of sunshine, and Johnny winked, as if
dazzled; for the eye sparkled, the nose sniffed daintily, and the pretty
mouth broke into a laugh as the voice cried out delightedly,--

"I see some one! Who are you? Come and tell me!"

"I'm Johnny Morris," answered the boy, quite trembling with pleasure.

"Did you make this nice hole?"

"I just poked a brick, and it fell out."

"Papa won't mind. Is that your bird?"

"No; it's me. I whistled."

"It's very pretty. Do it again," commanded the voice, as if used to give
orders.

Johnny obeyed; and when he paused, out of breath, a small hand came
through the hole, grasping as many lilies of the valley as it could hold,
and the Princess graciously expressed her pleasure by saying,--

"I like it; you shall do it again, by and by. Here are some flowers for
you. Now we will talk. Are you a nice boy?"

This was a poser; and Johnny answered meekly, with his nose luxuriously
buried in the lovely flowers,--

"Not very,--I'm lame; I can't play like other fellers."

"_Porverino_!" sighed the little voice, full of pity; and, in a
moment, three red-and-yellow tulips fell at Johnny's feet, making him feel
as if he really had slipped into fairy-land through that delightful hole.

"Oh, thank you! Aren't they just elegant? I never see such beauties,"
stammered the poor boy, grasping his treasures as if he feared they might
vanish away.

"You shall have as many as you like. Nanna will scold, but papa won't
mind. Tell me more. What do you do over there?" asked the child, eagerly.

"Nothing but paste pictures and make books, when I don't ache too bad. I
used to help mother; but I got hurt, and I can't do much now," answered
the boy, ashamed to mention how many laces he patiently picked or clapped,
since it was all he could do to help.

"If you like pictures, you shall come and see mine some day. I do a great
many. Papa shows me how. His are splendid. Do you draw or paint yours?"

"I only cut 'em out of papers, and stick 'em on this wall or put 'em in
scrap-books. I can't draw, and I haven't got no paints," answered Johnny.

"You should say 'haven't any paints.' I will come and see you some day;
and if I like you, I will let you have my old paint-box. Do you want it?"

"Guess I do!"

"I think I _shall_ like you; so I'll bring it when I come. Do you
ache much?"

"Awfully, sometimes. Have to lay down all day, and can't do a thing."

"Do you cry?"

"No! I'm too big for that. I whistle."

"I _know_ I shall like you, because you are brave!" cried the
impetuous voice, with its pretty accent; and then an orange came tumbling
through the hole, as if the new acquaintance longed to do something to
help the "ache."

"Isn't that a rouser! I do love 'em, but mother can't afford 'em often."
And Johnny took one delicious taste on the spot.

"Then I shall give you many. We have loads at home, much finer than these.
Ah, you should see our garden there!"

"Where do you live?" Johnny ventured to ask; for there was a homesick
sound to the voice as it said those last words.

"In Rome. Here we only stay a year, while papa arranges his affairs; then
we go back, and I am happy."

"I should think you'd be happy in there. It looks real splendid to me, and
I've been longing to see it ever since I could come out."

"It's a dull place to me. I like better to be where it's always warm, and
people are more beautiful than here. Are _you_ beautiful?"

"What queer questions she does ask!" And poor Johnny was so perplexed he
could only stammer, with a laugh,--

"I guess not. Boys don't care for looks."

"Peep, and let me see. I like pretty persons," commanded the voice.

"Don't she order round?" thought Johnny, as he obeyed. But he liked it,
and showed such a smiling face at the peep-hole, that Princess Fay was
pleased to say, after a long look at him,--

"No, you are not beautiful; but your eyes are bright, and you look
pleasant, so I don't mind the freckles on your nose and the whiteness of
your face. I think you are good. I am sorry for you, and I shall lend you
a book to read when the pain comes."

"I couldn't wait for that if I had a book. I do _love_ so to read!"
And Johnny laughed out from sheer delight at the thought of a new book;
for he seldom got one, being too poor to buy them, and too helpless to
enjoy the free libraries of the city.

"Then you shall have it _now_." And there was another quick rush in
the garden, followed by the appearance of a fat little book, slowly pushed
through the hole in the wall.

"This is the only one that will pass. You will like Hans Andersen's fairy
tales, I know. Keep it as long as you please. I have many more."

"You're so good! I wish I had something for you," said the boy, quite
overcome by this sweet friendliness.

"Let me see one of _your_ books. They will be new to me. I'm tired of
all mine."

Quick as a flash, off went the cover of the old boiler, and out came half-
a-dozen of Johnny's best works, to be crammed through the wall, with the
earnest request,--

"Keep 'em all; they're not good for much, but they're the best I've got.
I'll do some prettier ones as soon as I can find more nice pictures and
pieces."

"They look very interesting. I thank you. I shall go and read them now,
and then come and talk again. Addio, Giovanni."

"Good-by, Miss."

Thus ended the first interview of little Pyramus and Thisbe through the
hole in the wall, while puss sat up above and played moonshine with her
yellow eyes.

PART II.

After that day a new life began for Johnny, and he flourished like a poor
little plant that has struggled out of some dark corner into the sunshine.
All sorts of delightful things happened, and good times really seemed to
have come. The mysterious papa made no objection to the liberties taken
with his wall, being busy with his own affairs, and glad to have his
little girl happy. Old Nanna, being more careful, came to see the new
neighbors, and was disarmed at once by the affliction of the boy and the
gentle manners of the mother. She brought all the curtains of the house
for Mrs. Morris to do up, and in her pretty broken English praised
Johnny's gallery and library, promising to bring Fay to see him some day.

Meantime the little people prattled daily together, and all manner of
things came and went between them. Flowers, fruit, books, and bonbons kept
Johnny in a state of bliss, and inspired him with such brilliant
inventions that the Princess never knew what agreeable surprise would come
next. Astonishing kites flew over the wall, and tissue balloons exploded
in the flower-beds. All the birds of the air seemed to live in that court;
for the boy whistled and piped till he was hoarse, because she liked it.
The last of the long-hoarded cents came out of his tin bank to buy paper
and pictures for the gay little books he made for her. His side of the
wall was ravaged that hers might be adorned; and, as the last offering his
grateful heart could give, he poked the toad through the hole, to live
among the lilies and eat the flies that began to buzz about her Highness
when she came to give her orders to her devoted subjects.

She always called the lad Giovanni, because she thought it a prettier name
than John; and she was never tired of telling stories, asking questions,
and making plans. The favorite one was what they would do when Johnny came
to see her, as she had been promised he should when papa was not too busy
to let them enjoy the charms of the studio; for Fay was a true artist's
child, and thought nothing so lovely as pictures. Johnny thought so, too,
and dreamed of the happy day when he should go and see the wonders his
little friend described so well.

"I think it will be to-morrow; for papa has a lazy fit coming on, and then
he always plays with me and lets me rummage where I like, while he goes
out or smokes in the garden. So be ready; and if he says you can come, I
will have the flag up early and you can hurry."

These agreeable remarks were breathed into Johnny's willing ear about a
fortnight after the acquaintance began; and he hastened to promise, adding
soberly, a minute after,--

"Mother says she's afraid it will be too much for me to go around and up
steps, and see new things; for I get tired so easy, and then the pain
comes on. But I don't care how I ache if I can only see the pictures--and
you."

"Won't you ever be any better? Nanna thinks you might."

"So does mother, if we had money to go away in the country, and eat nice
things; and have doctors. But we can't; so it's no use worrying." And
Johnny gave a great sigh.

"I wish papa was rich, then he would give you money. He works hard to make
enough to go back to Italy, so I cannot ask him; but perhaps I can sell
_my_ pictures also, and get a little. Papa's friends often offer me
sweets for kisses; I will have money instead, and that will help. Yes, I
shall do it." And Fay clapped her hands decidedly.

"Don't you mind about it. I'm going to learn to mend shoes. Mr. Pegget
says he'll teach me. That doesn't need legs, and he gets enough to live on
very well."

"It isn't pretty work. Nanna can teach you to braid straw as she did at
home; that is easy and nice, and the baskets sell very well, she says. I
shall speak to her about it, and you can try to-morrow when you come."

"I will. Do you really think I _can_ come, then?" And Johnny stood up
to try his legs; for he dreaded the long walk, as it seemed to him.

"I will go at once and ask papa."

Away flew Fay, and soon came back with a glad "Yes!" that sent Johnny
hobbling in to tell his mother, and beg her to mend the elbows of his only
jacket; for, suddenly, his old clothes looked so shabby he feared to show
himself to the neighbors he so longed to see.

"Hurrah! I'm really going to-morrow. And you, too, mammy dear," cried the
boy, waving his crutch so vigorously that he slipped and fell.

"Never mind; I'm used to it. Pull me up, and I'll rest while we talk about
it," he said cheerily, as his mother helped him to the bed, where he
forgot his pain in thinking of the delights in store for him.

Next day, the flag was flying from the wall, and Fay early at the hole,
but no Johnny came; and when Nanna went to see what kept him, she returned
with the sad news that the poor boy was suffering much, and would not be
able to stir for some days.

"Let me go and see him," begged Fay, imploringly.

"Cara mia, it is no place for you. So dark, so damp, so poor, it is enough
to break the heart," said Nanna, decidedly.

"If papa was here, he would let me go. I shall not play; I shall sit here
and make some plans for my poor boy."

Nanna left her indignant little mistress, and went to cook a nice bowl of
soup for Johnny; while Fay concocted a fine plan, and, what was more
remarkable, carried it out.

For a week it rained, for a week Johnny lay in pain, and for a week Fay
worked quietly at her little easel in the corner of the studio, while her
father put the last touches to his fine picture, too busy to take much
notice of the child. On Saturday the sun shone, Johnny was better, and the
great picture was done. So were the small ones; for as her father sat
resting after his work, Fay went to him, with a tired but happy face, and,
putting several drawings into his hand, told her cherished plan.

"Papa, you said you would pay me a dollar for every good copy I made of
the cast you gave me. I tried very hard, and here are three. I want some
money very, very much. Could you pay for these?"

"They are excellent," said the artist, after carefully looking at them.
"You _have_ tried, my good child, and here are your well-earned
dollars. What do you want them for?"

"To help my boy. I want him to come in here and see the pictures, and let
Nanna teach him to plait baskets; and he can rest, and you will like him,
and he might get well if he had some money, and I have three quarters the
friends gave me instead of bonbons. Would that be enough to send poor
Giovanni into the country and have doctors?"

No wonder Fay's papa was bewildered by this queer jumble, because, being
absorbed in his work, he had never heard half the child had told him, and
had forgotten all about Johnny. Now he listened with half an ear, studying
the effect of sunshine upon his picture meantime, while Fay told him the
little story, and begged to know how much money it would take to make
Johnny's back well.

"Bless your sweet soul, my darling, it would need more than I can spare or
you earn in a year. By and by, when I am at leisure, we will see what can
be done," answered papa, smoking comfortably, as he lay on the sofa in the
large studio at the top of the house.

"You say that about a great many things, papa. 'By and by' won't be long
enough to do all you promise then. I like _now_ much better, and poor
Giovanni needs the country more than you need cigars or I new frocks,"
said Fay, stroking her father's tired forehead and looking at him with an
imploring face.

"My dear, I cannot give up my cigar, for in this soothing smoke I find
inspiration, and though you are a little angel, you must be clothed; so
wait a bit, and we will attend to the boy--later." He was going to say "by
and by" again, but paused just in time, with a laugh.

"Then _I_ shall take him to the country all myself. I cannot wait for
this hateful 'by and by.' I know how I shall do it, and at once. Now,
now!" cried Fay, losing patience; and with an indignant glance at the lazy
papa, who seemed going to sleep, she dashed out of the room, down many
stairs, through the kitchen, startling Nanna and scattering the salad as
if a whirlwind had gone by, and never paused for breath till she stood
before the garden wall with a little hatchet in her hand.

"This shall be the country for him till I get enough money to send him
away. I will show what _I_ can do. He pulled out two bricks. _I_
will beat down the wall, and he _shall_ come in at once," panted Fay;
and she gave a great blow at the bricks, bent on having her will without
delay,--for she was an impetuous little creature, full of love and pity
for the poor boy pining for the fresh air and sunshine, of which she had
so much.

Bang, bang, went the little hatchet, and down came one brick after
another, till the hole was large enough for Fay to thrust her head
through; and being breathless by that time, she paused to rest and take a
look at Johnny's court.

Meanwhile Nanna, having collected her lettuce leaves and her wits, went to
see what the child was about; and finding her at work like a little fury,
the old woman hurried up to tell "the Signor," Fay's papa, that his little
daughter was about to destroy the garden and bury herself under the ruins
of the wall. This report, delivered with groans and wringing of the hands,
roused the artist and sent him to the rescue, as he well knew that his
angel was a very energetic one, and capable of great destruction.

When he arrived, he beheld a cloud of dust, a pile of bricks among the
lilies, and the feet of his child sticking out of a large hole in the
wall, while her head and shoulders were on the other side. Much amused,
yet fearful that the stone coping might come down on her, he pulled her
back with the assurance that he would listen and help her now immediately,
if there was such need of haste.

But he grew sober when he saw Fay's face; for it was bathed in tears, her
hands were bleeding, and dust covered her from head to foot.

"My darling, what afflicts you? Tell papa, and he will do anything you
wish."

"No, you will forget, you will say 'Wait;' and now that I have seen it
all, I cannot stop till I get him out of that dreadful place. Look, look,
and see if it is not sad to live there all in pain and darkness, and so
poor."

As she spoke, Fay urged her father toward the hole; and to please her he
looked, seeing the dull court, the noisy street beyond, and close by the
low room, where Johnny's mother worked all day, while the poor boy's pale
face was dimly seen as he lay on his bed waiting for deliverance.

"Well, well, it _is_ a pitiful case; and easily mended, since Fay is
so eager about it. Hope the lad is all she says, and nothing catching
about his illness. Nanna can tell me."

Then he drew back his head, and leading Fay to the seat, took her on his
knee, all flushed, dirty, and tearful as she was, soothing her by saying
tenderly,--

"Now let me hear all about it, and be sure I'll not forget. What shall I
do to please you, dear, before you pull down the house about my ears?"

Then Fay told her tale all over again; and being no longer busy, her
father found it very touching, with the dear, grimy little face looking
into his, and the wounded hands clasped beseechingly as she pleaded for
poor Johnny.

"God bless your tender heart, child; you shall have him in here to-morrow,
and we will see what can be done for those pathetic legs of his. But
listen, Fay, I have an easier way to do it than yours, and a grand
surprise for the boy. Time is short, but it can be done; and to show you
that I am in earnest, I will go this instant and begin the work. Come and
wash your face while I get on my boots, and then we will go together."

At these words Fay threw her arms about papa's neck and gave him many
grateful kisses, stopping in the midst to ask,--

"Truly, _now_?"

"See if it is not so." And putting her down, papa went off with great
strides, while she ran laughing after him, all her doubts set at rest by
this agreeable energy on his part.

If Johnny had not been asleep in the back room, he would have seen strange
and pleasant sights that afternoon and evening; for something went on in
the court that delighted his mother, amused the artist, and made Fay the
happiest child in Boston. No one was to tell till the next day, that
Johnny's surprise might be quite perfect, and Mrs. Morris sat up till
eleven to get his old clothes in order; for Fay's papa had been to see
her, and became interested in the boy, as no one could help being when
they saw his patient little face.

So hammers rang, trowels scraped, shovels dug, and wonderful changes were
made, while Fay danced about in the moonlight, like Puck intent upon some
pretty prank, and papa quoted _Snout_, [Footnote: A character in
Shakspeare's "Midsummer Night's Dream."] the tinker's parting words, as
appropriate to the hour,--

"Thus have I, wall, my part discharged so;
And, being done, thus wall away doth go."

PART III.

A lovely Sunday morning dawned without a cloud; and even in the dingy
court the May sunshine shone warmly, and the spring breezes blew freshly
from green fields far away. Johnny begged to go out; and being much
better, his mother consented, helping him to dress with such a bright face
and eager hands that the boy said innocently,--

"How glad you are when I get over a bad turn! I don't know what you'd do
if I ever got well."

"My poor dear, I begin to think you _will_ pick up, now the good
weather has come and you have got a little friend to play with. God bless
her!"

Why his mother should suddenly hug him tight, and then brush his hair so
carefully, with tears in her eyes, he did not understand; but was in such
a hurry to get out, he could only give her a good kiss, and hobble away to
see how his gallery fared after the rain, and to take a joyful "peek" at
the enchanted garden.

Mrs. Morris kept close behind him, and it was well she did; for he nearly
tumbled down, so great was his surprise when he beheld the old familiar
wall after the good fairies Love and Pity had worked their pretty miracle
in the moonlight.

The ragged hole had changed to a little arched door, painted red. On
either side stood a green tub, with a tall oleander in full bloom; from
the arch above hung a great bunch of gay flowers; and before the threshold
lay a letter directed to "Signor Giovanni Morris," in a childish hand. As
soon as he recovered from the agreeable shock of this splendid
transformation scene, Johnny sank into his chair, where a soft cushion had
been placed, and read his note, with little sighs of rapture at the
charming prospect opening before him.

DEAR GIOVANNI,--Papa has made this nice gate, so you can come
in when you like and not be tired. We are to have two keys, and no one
else can open it. A little bell is to ring when we pull the cord, and
we can run and see what we want. The paint is wet. Papa did it,
and the men put up the door last night. I helped them, and did not go
in my bed till ten. It was very nice to do it so. I hope you will like
it. Come in as soon as you can; I am all ready.

Your friend,

FAY.

"Mother, she must be a real fairy to do all that, mustn't she?" said
Johnny, leaning back to look at the dear door behind which lay such
happiness for him.

"Yes, my sonny, she is the right sort of good fairy, and I just wish I
could do her washing for love the rest of her blessed little life,"
answered Mrs. Morris, in a burst of grateful ardor.

"You shall! you shall! Do come in! I cannot wait another minute!" cried an
eager little voice as the red door flew open; and there stood Fay, looking
very like a happy elf in her fresh white frock, a wreath of spring flowers
on her pretty hair, and a tall green wand in her hand, while the brilliant
bird sat on her shoulder, and the little white dog danced about her feet.

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

sung the child, remembering how Johnny liked that song; and waving her
wand, she went slowly backward as the boy, with a shining face, passed
under the blooming arch into a new world, full of sunshine, liberty, and
sweet companionship.

Neither Johnny nor his mother ever forgot that happy day, for it was the
beginning of help and hope to both just when life seemed hardest and the
future looked darkest.

Papa kept out of sight, but enjoyed peeps at the little party as they sat
under the chestnuts, Nanna and Fay doing the honors of the garden to their
guests with Italian grace and skill, while the poor mother folded her
tired hands with unutterable content, and the boy looked like a happy soul
in heaven.

Sabbath silence, broken only by the chime of bells and the feet of church-
goers, brooded over the city; sunshine made golden shadows on the grass;
the sweet wind brought spring odors from the woods; and every flower
seemed to nod and beckon, as if welcoming the new playmate to their lovely
home.

While the women talked together, Fay led Johnny up and down her little
world, showing all her favorite nooks, making him rest often on the seats
that stood all about, and amusing him immensely by relating the various
fanciful plays with which she beguiled her loneliness.

"Now we can have much nicer ones; for you will tell me yours, and we can
do great things," she said, when she had displayed her big rocking-horse,
her grotto full of ferns, her mimic sea, where a fleet of toy boats lay at
anchor in the basin of an old fountain, her fairy-land under the lilacs,
with paper elves sitting among the leaves, her swing, that tossed one high
up among the green boughs, and the basket of white kittens, where Topaz,
the yellow-eyed cat, now purred with maternal pride. Books were piled on
the rustic table, and all the pictures Fay thought worthy to be seen.

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