Young Folks' Treasury, Volume 3 — Simple Susan: A Surprise For Susan

IX A SURPRISE FOR SUSAN

When Philip came to the door he stopped suddenly, for the idea struck him that it would give Rose great pleasure to carry the guinea-fowl to Susan.

So he ran into the village.

All the children who had given up their Mayday money to Susan were playing on the green.

They were delighted to see the guinea-hen once more.

Philip took his pipe and tabor and they all marched together towards the whitewashed cottage.

As they passed the butcher's house, his boy came out.

They told him where they were going.

"Let me come with you, let me come with you," he said.

"But wait one moment, for my father has something to say to you," and he darted into the house.

The children waited.

In a few moments they heard the bleating of a lamb, and soon they saw it being gently led by the butcher from the paddock.

"It is Daisy!"

exclaimed Rose.

"It is Daisy!"

they all shouted with joy, "Susan's lamb!

Susan's lamb!"

"Well, for my part," said the good butcher, as soon as he could be heard, "for my part I would not be so cruel as Attorney Case for the whole world.

It's true the lamb did not know what was before it, but poor Susan did, and to wring her gentle heart was what I call cruel.

But at any rate, here it is, safe and sound now.

I'd have taken it to her sooner, but was off early this morning to the fair, and am but just come back.

Daisy, though, was as well off in my paddock as in the field by the water-side."

The troop of happy children went on their way with the guinea-fowl and the lamb.

As they passed the shop where Susan had been shown the pretty calicoes, the shopkeeper, who, you remember, was Rose's father, came out.

When he saw the lamb, and learned whose it was and heard its story, he gave the children some pieces of colored ribbon, with which Rose decorated Susan's favorite.

The children now once more moved on, led by Philip, who played joyfully upon his pipe and tabor.

Susan was working in her summer-house, with her little pine table before her.

When she heard the sound of the music, she put down her work and listened.

She saw the crowd of children coming nearer and nearer.

They had closed round Daisy, so she did not see her pet, but as they came up to the garden-gate she saw that Rose beckoned to her.

Philip played as loud as he could, that she might not hear, until the proper moment, the bleating of the lamb.

As Susan opened the gate, the children divided, and first she saw, in the midst of her taller friends, little smiling Mary, with the guinea-hen in her arms.

"Come on!

come on!"

cried Mary, as Susan started with joyful surprise;

"you have more to see."

At this instant the music paused.

Susan heard the bleating of a lamb, and pressing eagerly forward, she beheld poor Daisy.

She burst into tears.

"I did not shed one tear when I parted with you, my dear little Daisy," she said, "it was for my father and mother.

I would not have parted with you for any one else in the whole world.

Thank you, thank you all," she added to her companions, who were even gladder for her in her joy than they had been sorry for her in her sorrow.

"Now, if my father was not to go away from us next week, and if my mother were quite strong, I should be the happiest person in the world."

As Susan finished speaking, a voice behind the listening crowd cried, in a rough tone, "Let us pass, if you please; you have no right to block the road."

This was the voice of Attorney Case, who was returning with Barbara from his visit to the Abbey.

He saw the lamb and tried to whistle as he went on.

Barbara also saw the guinea-hen and turned her head another way.

Even her new bonnet, in which she had expected to be so much admired, now only served to hide her blushing face.

"I am glad she saw the guinea-hen," cried Rose, who now held it in her hands.

"Yes," said Philip, "she'll not forget Mayday in a hurry."

"Nor I either, I hope," said Susan, looking round upon her companions with a most loving smile: "I hope, while I live, I shall never forget your goodness to me last Mayday.

Now that I've my pretty guinea-hen safe once more, I should think of returning your money."

"No!

no!

no!"

was the cry, "we don't want the money--keep it--keep it--you want it for your father."

"Well," said Susan, "I am not too proud to accept it.

I will keep your money for my father.

Perhaps some time or other I may be able to earn----" "Oh," said Philip, "don't let us talk of earning; don't let her talk to us of money now; she hasn't had time hardly to look at poor Daisy and her guinea-hen.

Come, we had better go and let her have them all to herself."

The children moved away, but Philip himself was the very last to stir from the garden-gate.

He stayed, first, to tell Susan that it was Rose who tied the ribbons on Daisy's head.

Then he stayed a little longer to let her hear the story of the guinea-fowl, and to tell her who it was that brought the hen home from the Abbey.

As Philip finished speaking, Susan was already feeding her long-lost favorite.

"My pretty guinea-hen," said Susan, "my naughty guinea-hen that flew away from me, you shall never serve me so again.

I must cut your nice wings, but I won't hurt you."

"Take care!"

cried Philip, "you'd better, indeed you'd better let me hold her, while you cut her wings."

When this was done, which it certainly never could have been had Philip not held the hen for Susan, he remembered his mother had given him a message for Mrs. Price.

This led to another quarter of an hour's delay, for Philip had the whole story of the guinea-hen to tell over again to Mrs. Price, and as the farmer came in while it was going on, it was only polite to begin at the beginning once more.

Farmer Price was so pleased to see Susan happy again with her two favorites, that he said he must himself see Daisy fed, and Philip found that he was wanted to hold the jug of milk, from which Susan's father now filled the pan for Daisy.

When Philip at last left the cottage, Bab and her maid Betty were staring out of the window as usual.

Seeing them after he had left the garden, he at once turned back to see if he had shut the gate fast, lest the guinea-hen might stray out and again fall into Barbara's hands.