Читать книгу Little Frankie and his Mother - Leslie Madeline - Страница 2

Frankie lived in a quiet, pleasant village about twenty miles from the city. His home was a pretty cottage with a steep roof rising above the windows of the second story. In front there was a smooth, green lawn, and at the side a lovely flower garden, with nicely gravelled walks leading through it. Then back of the house there were beds of peas, and beans, and turnips, and beets, and all kinds of good things for the table.

Frankie had a brother whose name was Willie, and who was five years older than he. There had been a dear sister, too, but when she was only one year old, the Saviour called her home to heaven; and she went with a sweet smile upon her lip.

Beside his father, and mother, and Willie, there were in Frankie's home, Jane, the cook, Sally, the nurse, and Margie, a little girl seven years of age, who loved dearly to dance about and amuse the baby boy. She was the daughter of Jane, and her father had been dead many years. She had begun to go to school; but as soon as the teacher rang the bell for the scholars to go home, Margie caught her bonnet from the hook, and ran away as fast as she could go, she was so impatient to see little Frankie.

Early in the morning, long before his mamma was ready to awake, the little fellow would open his eyes and crow, and sing his morning song. Then he would try to get his tiny toes into his mouth. As soon as Margie heard him, she would knock softly at the door, and ask, "May I come in and play with Frankie?"

If you were to see her, you would think she was quite an old lady; she went around so steadily, and not at all like a school girl. First, she took all the pillows from the cradle, and shook them up. Then she laid them back so that the baby could sit up and see her play to him. When all was ready, she would go to the side of the bed, and Frankie's papa would put him carefully into her arms, and then turn over to take another nap.

It was very strange that with all Margie's singing and laughing, and crying "catchee, catchee, now catch baby;" and with Frankie's happy shouts of delight, papa and mamma could sleep quite soundly. But the instant the little fellow cried, as he sometimes did when he hurt his gums against his coral ring, and Margie said, "O dear! has he hurt him? Margie's sorry," mamma would spring from bed and be wide awake in a minute.

There was one other member of the family whom I have not yet mentioned. It was not a brother, nor a sister, but a large black dog, whose name was Ponto. He was a very handsome fellow, with his shining black hair, and his white ring about his neck; and he held his head up and looked you right in the face, as if he knew that he was above common dogs. Ponto liked to run in the garden with Willie, and catch the sticks his young master threw to him between his teeth. But best of all he liked to follow him to the nursery, and watch the motions of the new comer. Frankie's eyes grew very large the first time he felt Ponto's cold nose on his arm; and he cried, when the great, black creature began to lick his hands and face. Mamma tried to push Ponto away, and Willie laughed most merrily.

This, you know, was Ponto's way of showing that he was fond of the dear baby; and from this time a strong affection sprang up between them. While Frankie slept, the dog lay down by the cradle, to be sure that no harm came to his precious charge; and when he awoke, Ponto made a noise, meaning, "I'll take care of you, baby."