CHAPTER II
JACK

The Bordens were nice, ordinary people enjoying life in a commonplace way. There was Mr. Jack Borden, the junior partner in a fairly successful law firm, his wife an averagely nice, sensible body, Miss Florence, her husband’s sister, a bright girl of three and twenty, whose lover was in South America on a five years’ contract, with one year yet to serve.

After the twins were born they tried a grown nursemaid who bored them by sitting around when she was upstairs and making many excuses to get down to the kitchen, where she disputed with Bridget who declared one or the other of them must go, and they simply could not give up Bridget. The babies slept a good deal of the time and only cried when they were hungry. The mother and aunt thought them the dearest things and their father was as proud of them as a man could well be. If it wasn’t for giving them an airing now and then – but when it came pleasant weather they must be taken out.

Aunt Hetty Vanderveer who was queer and going on to eighty, who couldn’t live with a relative for they always wanted to borrow her money, got tangled up in a house on which she had a mortgage, and called her grandnephew, Mr. John Borden to her rescue. She took the house and persuaded them to come there, and she would live with them on certain conditions. She was to have the third floor front room and the store room, get her breakfast and tea and take dinner with them though it was their luncheon. Night dinners she despised. She entertained herself sewing patchwork, a dressmaker sent her bags of silk pieces; knitting baby socks and stockings and reading novels. They did get along very well though it made a good deal of running up and down.

The spare room and Bridget’s room was on this floor. On the second, two sleeping chambers, the nursery and the bath. Down stairs a long parlor and a dining room, with a basement kitchen which Bridget declared she liked above all things. A woman came to do the washing and ironing, Bridget’s nephew took out the ashes and swept the stoop and sidewalk. Bridget was a strong, healthy, good natured Irish woman when you didn’t meddle with her, and the ladies were very glad not to meddle. But some one for the babies they must have.

One day a friend came in for a subscription to some of her charities and heard the appeal.

“Now, I’ll tell you just what to do,” she said “Go over to the Bethany Home, you take the car out to the Melincourt Road that passes it. Ask for Mrs. Johnson. They have two girls; they put them out when they are twelve. And since you only want some one to amuse the babies and take them out, and she will be growing older all the time, you see, you can bring her up in your ways. Yes, that is what I’d do.”

Mrs. Borden followed the advice. There was a stout, rather vacant looking German girl, a good worker who delighted in scrubbing and scouring and who would make an excellent kitchen maid. The other was Marilla Bond, an orphan with no relatives that any one knew; a fair, nice looking intelligent child, with light curly hair cropped close, rather slim, and with a certain ready, alert look that was attractive.

Mrs. Borden brought her home for a month’s trial. She took to the babies at once, and Jack took to her. Oddly enough, so did Bridget. She had such a quaint sweet way of saying, “Yes’m” and “No’m;” she did what she was told to do with alacrity, she ran up and down stairs on numberless errands. She was a very good reader and at first, Jack kept her busy in this respect. But she wanted to hear about lions and tigers and men killing them and Indian fights and matters that didn’t please the little girl at all. Mother Goose was babyish.

The twins sat on a blanket on the floor and sometimes rolled around a little. She played with them, talked to them and they really listened to the stories that she acted off and laughed gleefully.

“They certainly are intelligent,” Aunt Florence said with pride.

On nice sunny days when it was not very cold she took them out in the carriage. They were carried down and put in it, then brought up again. Their mother “wasn’t going to have any nurse breaking their backs by a fall.”

So when the month of probation was ended, Marilla was bound to Mr. and Mrs. John Borden, to be clothed and fed and sent to school for half a year. She really did like her new home. Only if it wasn’t for Jack! He pinched her sometimes, and once he kicked her but his mother gave him a good trouncing.

The twins had some bread and milk and were put to bed at six. Then Cinderella went down stairs but not to sit in the ashes. She did numerous things for Bridget and they had a cozy dinner together, always a dessert, and they were so good.

“If Jack only wouldn’t run away,” she said. “You see I can’t leave the babies, and I am so afraid he will get lost.”

“Let him get lost then; that’ll bring his mother to her senses, and you tell her.”

He did come near it one day. She took the babies home and explained and then said she would go and find him.

Aunt Florence went with her. They had quite a long search and finally asked the policeman, who said: “there was a little boy down here on a stoop, crying.”

Jack, sure enough, and he was very glad to be found. His mother kept him in the house for two days and then he promised to be very good.

“Now, if you make any trouble you shall not go out for a whole week.”

The babies hadn’t gone much farther than “agoo, agoo,” but Marilla tried her best to make them talk. They each had a rubber doll and the child would dance them up and down and make them turn somersaults and stand on their heads, and invent every sort of grotesque action.

Jack was a good looking little fellow and had been spoiled in the earlier years. He was a little afraid of his father, and sometimes his mother would make him mind, but he was very full of badness.

Aunt Florence wanted some silk and twist and spools of cotton one morning.

“You could find your way down to Grand street where the stores are, couldn’t you Marilla – where we went that Saturday night?”

“Oh, yes. Down there opposite the park.”

“Yes. It’s a big store. Day and Belden. I’ll write it out for you and you may take my Leggy bag. Be sure and put the change in it before you leave the store.”

“Yes’m,” with her sweet accent.

“She may take Jack, and the babies will have a good long nap. Now Jack, you must be very good and mind Marilla, or you shan’t go out again for a week.”

Jack said he would. He looked very pretty in his brown coat with its fur collar, and his brown mittens.

“Give me a penny a’cause I’m gonter be good.”

“I’ll wait and see whether you are going to good or not.”

Jack stood it pretty well until they reached the little park which was a rather long triangle with a few trees in it. Here he made a sudden dash and was off like a squirrel.

Marilla was after him. “Go it sonny,” cried a man laughing, but she gained on him and took him by the arm with a jerk that nearly capsized them both.

He could not pull away. She marched him across the street and found the store, and asked for the notion department. There were the spools of all kinds.

“Will you please open the bag and find an order in it,” she said in a very nice manner.

The girl smiled. “Three spools of silk, two twist, black cotton number 60, white cotton, 60, 70 and 80.”

She put up the order and sent the money whizzing to the cash clerk, handing the bag to Marilla.

“What’s that thing like a railroad for?” asked Jack, keeping his eyes upon it.

“That carries the money.”

“Gee! I wish I had one at home!”

The change came back. Marilla opened the bag to put it in and used both hands. Jack was off like a flash, turning here and there through the aisles. Clear down to the end of the store was a toy department. Marilla was almost up to him when he grabbed a handful of toys and ran on.

“Oh, do please stop him!” she cried to the clerk.

Two or three joined the chase. Finding they were gaining on him he threw down the articles and stamped furiously upon them.

“What is all this row?” asked the floor walker.

“The little boy snatched the toys and ran,” said the young clerk.

“Oh, Jack, how could you!” cried Marilla.

Jack laughed insolently.

“Is he your brother?” in a sharp tone.

“I’m only the nurse girl, please, sir,” and Marilla began to cry.

The floor walker shook Jack until he was purple in the face.

“You little thief! You ought to go to the Station House. I’ve half a mind to send you!”

“Oh, please don’t,” pleaded Marilla. She stooped to pick up some of the broken pieces. “I think his mother will pay for them.”

“Who’s his mother?”

“Mrs. John Borden, 138 Arch Street.”

“What brought you in the store.”

“I was sent to buy some things. They are in this bag, and – the change.”

A gentleman came up to inquire into the matter.

“These children ought to be taught a lesson. That Granford boy carried off an expensive toy the other night and I sent a note to his mother that brought her to terms at once. See what is the value of these things.”

The counter girl began to place the pieces together and examine the marks.

“It is – sixty-seven cents.”

“That’s too much. We’ll send a note to his mother, and young sir, if you dare to come in this store again, we’ll send you to jail, I think.”

Quite a crowd had collected. One lady looked at him sharply.

“Why, it’s little Jack Borden,” she said. “What’s the matter?”

Marilla told the story over.

“I don’t care,” Jack flung out. “I just stamped on the old things.”

“Take that to Mrs. Borden,” and the man handed Marilla a folded note. “Now, I’ll see you out, young sir.”

Marilla trembled from head to foot. She was very much ashamed though none of it had been her fault. But what would Mrs. Borden say? What if Mrs. Borden should send her back to the Bethany Home! Oh, she did not want to go. But she could not manage Jack.

The young man stopped short when they reached the house, “I ain’t comin’ in just now,” he said decidedly.

When Marilla was in the house she always answered the door bell. Bridget protested she could not run up and down so much and she didn’t always hear it. Miss Florence came now.

“Oh, Marilla, what’s the matter?”

“Jack has run off down the street. And, oh, Miss Florence” – ending in a fit of crying.

“What is the matter? Did you lose the money?”

“Oh, no, here is everything and the change. But Jack–”

“Come upstairs and tell us.” Miss Florence opened the bag, counted the change, took out the parcels and a note.

“Why, what is this?”

“The man told me to bring it home. I held Jack’s hand tight all the way down to the store and gave the girl the bag because I couldn’t open it with one hand. She took out the money and put in the parcel and gave it to me and said, ‘Wait for the change.’ When it came she handed it to me and turned away, and when I was putting it in the bag Jack ran off. You know how the paths go in and out. I looked and looked and saw him over at the toy counter, but before I could reach him he snatched a lot of things and ran, and the girl went after him, too, and then he threw them down and stamped on them and ever so many people came and the man was very angry–”

Marilla cried as if her little heart had been broken. Miss Florence handed the note to her sister who had been listening in amaze.

“Marilla,” began Florence, “you have done the errand very well. Don’t cry, child. We shouldn’t have let Jack go with you.”

Mrs. Borden’s face turned very red. “A great fuss about sixty-seven cents. Accidents will happen.”

“But throwing them down and stamping on them was no accident, Amy. That child is dreadful. He doesn’t mind Marilla when he is out of our sight, hardly when he is in it. And I don’t know what the babies would do without her.”

They began to cry now. They always cried together and lustily.

“Where’s Jack?” asked his mother.

“He ran down the street.”

“Don’t worry about Jack, Marilla; you go down and get the babies’ bread and milk ready.”

Marilla went and of course told the mishap to Bridget.

“That young’un ’ll get in prison some day; you see! He’s a rascal through and through, a mean dirty spalpeen, a holy terror! And if they set to blaming you, I’ll threaten to leave; that I will.”

“You don’t think they’ll send me back to Bethany Home?” in a distressed tone.

“They’d be big fools to! I don’t know where they’d get another like you. If that Jack was mine, I’d skin him alive and hang him out bare naked, the mean little thief! And the missus knows he’s bad through and through.”

Marilla took the basin of dinner upstairs. The babies had hushed their crying and gave a sort of joyous howl at the sight. Florence had talked her sister-in-law into a more reasonable view of the case. Then the babies were fed and comforted and sat on the blanket with playthings about them. They could climb up a little by chairs, but they were too heavy for much activity.

Mrs. Borden picked up her slipper and went down stairs, opening the front door. Jack was slowly sauntering back and she beckoned to him. He had begun to think it was feeding time as well as the babies.

“I was gone, to put ’em back – ” he began —

She took off his pretty coat and then she did spank him for good. Meanwhile the bell rang for lunch. She put him on a chair in the end of the parlor and said —

“Now you sit there. If you dare to get up you’ll get some more. And all the lunch you can have will be a piece of bread without any butter.” And she left the door open so she could see if he ventured down.

But after the bread he went up stairs and straight to Marilla.

“You old tell tale! You’ll be rid on a rail and dumped in the river,” and he kicked at her.

“The man sent a note–”

“Jack,” interposed his mother sternly.

Then the babies were bundled up and carried down stairs, well wrapped up for their ride. Manila enjoyed the outing when she didn’t have Jack. She went down again by the stores. There were two she delighted in, book and stationery stores. One window was full of magazines and papers, and she read bits here and there. She was so fond of reading and she would piece out the page she read with her own imaginings. She always staid out two hours, more when it was pleasant, and brought back the babies, rosy and bright eyed.

“Jack,” and his father took him on his knee that evening, “you have been a very bad boy today. You have been a thief. Suppose the man had sent you to the Station House?”

“I wouldn’t a’ gone.”

“Well, you would have had to. Thieves break laws and are sent to prison. And there you broke up the toys. You must never go in a store again without your mother.”

“M’rilla took me in.”

“And mother and Auntie supposed they could trust you. Now they can’t. You will have to be watched and punished, and I am going to do it. There’ll be no more Sunday walks with me, either.”

“Can’t I go alone?”

“Not until you are a good boy.”

Jack looked rather sober, but his father saw he was not making much impression. And presently his mother put him to bed.

“I really don’t know what to do with Jack,” his mother said on her return, taking up her sewing.

“Listen to this,” and Mr. Borden read from the paper an account of three boys who had managed to enter a grocery store and steal some quite valuable stock. Ages, seven, nine and ten.

“I’d rather bury Jack tomorrow than have such a thing published about him,” he said.

“And Jack used to be so nice,” returned his mother with a sigh.

“We’ve indulged him too much, and we have idealized childhood too much; we’ve laughed at his smart tricks and his saucy replies, and tried high moral suasion, but we must turn over a new leaf. When he is bad he must be punished severely enough to make an impression. Are you sure of that girl, Marilla?”

“Yes. She’s truthful and so sweet to the babies. Bridget says she wouldn’t even touch a piece of cake without asking for it. But I think she does sometimes shield Jack. He has a nasty way of pinching and I do slap him for it. I’m afraid of his pinching the babies. But we never do leave him alone with them.”

“See here,” began Florence, “why not send him to Kindergarten. The new term is just beginning. I think boys ought to be with other boys. And those classes are made so entertaining. The many employments take a child’s mind off of mischief, and they are trained in manners. Oh dear! think, what a blessed time we should have!”

“I don’t know but it is a good idea,” said Jack’s father. “He will have to mix with children some time, and our training hasn’t proved such a brilliant success. Oh, I do want him to grow up a nice boy. But boys seem an awful risk now-a-days. I never knew so many youthful criminals.”

“I’d like to know who that woman was who recognized Jack in the store. That mortifies me awfully.”

“And it will get told all over, I know,” returned Aunt Florence.

“Well, children do out grow a good many of these disagreeable capers.”

The next night Mr. Borden brought home something in a paper bag and Jack begged the bag “to bust,” watching his father as he shook out a leather strap cut in thongs and said —

“Now, Jack, every time you do any naughty, ugly thing, I am going to punish you with this strap. You must not pinch Marilla or the babies, not kick any one nor tell what isn’t true. We want you to be a pretty good boy, otherwise you will have to be sent to the reform school.”

“I’d like to go to the ’form school.”

“Not much,” was the comment.

“Why, I’d run away.”

“There’s a high fence all around, and you couldn’t climb it.”

“Then I’d holler like fury.”

“And be put in a dark dungeon.”

“There was a man in a story who dug his way out. That’s what I’d do.”

Arguing was useless. He was such a little fellow, but fertile in expedients.

“I don’t want ever to use this strap on my little boy. I hope he will be good.”

“What is good and what is bad.”

“Come to bed, Jack. You’re getting silly.”

On Monday morning Jack went to Kindergarten. The house was like another place. And Jack was very much entertained. He soon learned what a “punch below the belt” meant, and a “biff in the eye” and several other fighting terms.

“And they’re a set of gumps,” he declared. “They can’t read right off, they’ve got to write it, and I can read most anything and spell words, too. But they make pictures and lovely things, and sing. Yes, I like to go.”