Stuyvesant: A Franconia Story

“I will give him something to drink,” said Phonny.

“Yes,” said Beechnut.

The boys turned and saw Beechnut standing at the door of the shop, looking at them. He continued,

“His name is Frink,
And so I think,
I’d give him a little water to drink.”

So saying, Beechnut went away. Phonny took up an old tin cover which lay upon a shelf behind the bench, and which had once belonged to a tin box. The box was lost, but Phonny had kept the cover to put nails in. He now poured the nails out upon the bench, and went out to the pump to fill the cover with water.

In a minute or two he came back, walking carefully, so as not to spill the water. He raised the lid of the trap a little, very cautiously, and then pushed the cover in underneath it, in such a manner that about half of it was inside the trap.

“There! That’s what I call complete. Now he can have a drink when he pleases, and we will go in to dinner.”

At the dinner table, Phonny and Stuyvesant sat upon one side of the table, and Malleville sat on the other side, opposite to them. Mrs. Henry sat at the head, and Wallace opposite to her, at the foot of the table. The dinner consisted that day, of roast chickens, and after it, an apple pudding.

Wallace carved the chickens, and when all had been helped, Phonny began to talk about the squirrel.

“I suppose you consider it as boyishness in me, Cousin Wallace, to like to have a squirrel,” said he.

“It is a very harmless kind of boyishness, at any rate,” replied Wallace.

“Then you have no objection to it,” said Phonny.

“None at all,” said Wallace. “In one sense it is boyishness, for it is boys, and not men, that take pleasure in possessing useless animals.”

“Useless!” said Phonny, “do you call a gray squirrel useless?”

“He is not useful in the sense in which the animals of a farm-yard are useful,” said Wallace. “He gives pleasure perhaps, but cows, sheep, and hens, are a source of profit. Boys don’t care much about profit; but like any kind of animals, if they are pretty, or cunning in their motions and actions.”

“I like gray squirrels,” said Phonny, “very much indeed, if it is boyishness.”

“It is a very harmless kind of boyishness at all events,” replied Wallace. “It is not like some other kinds of boyishness, such as I told you about the other day.”

“Well, Cousin Wallace,” said Phonny, “what would you do, if you were in my case, for a cage?”

“I would take some kind of box, without any top to it,” replied Wallace, “and lay it down upon its side, and then make a front to it of wires.”

“Yes,” said Phonny, “that will be an excellent plan. But how can I make the front of wires?”

“I will come and show you,” said Wallace, “when you get the box all ready. You must look about and find a box, and carry it into the shop. Is your shop in order?”

“No,” said Phonny, “not exactly; but I can put it in order in a few minutes.”

“Very well,” said Wallace. “Put your shop all in order, and get the box, and then come and call me.”

“Well,” said Phonny, “I will.”

Chapter VI

Difficulty

After dinner, Stuyvesant told Phonny that he should be glad to help him about his cage, were it not that he was engaged to go with Beechnut that afternoon, to plow. Phonny was very sorry to hear this. In fact he had a great mind to go himself, and help plow, and so put off making his cage until the next day. It is very probable that he would have decided upon this plan, but while he was hesitating about it, Beechnut came to tell Stuyvesant that he should not be able to finish the plowing that day, for he was obliged to go away. Then Stuyvesant said that he would help Phonny. So they went together into the shop.

They found the squirrel safe. Phonny examined the water very attentively, to see whether Frink had been drinking any of it. He was very confident that the water had diminished quite sensibly. Stuyvesant could not tell whether it had diminished or not.

“And now,” said Phonny, “the first thing is to put the shop in order.”

So saying, he took the plane away from before the trap, and looked at the hole to see whether Frink had gnawed it any bigger. He had not. Phonny then carried the trap to the back side of the shop and put it upon a great chopping-block which stood there. He did this for the purpose of having the bench clear, so as to put the tools in order upon it.

“I am glad that you are going to put this shop in order,” said Stuyvesant, – “that is, if you will let me use it afterward.”

“Yes,” said Phonny, “I will let you use it. But what should you want to make in it?”

“Why, Beechnut has given me charge of the hen-house,” said Stuyvesant, “and I am to have one third of the eggs.”

Here Phonny stopped suddenly in his work and looked up to Stuyvesant as if surprised.

“What, my hen-house!” said he.

“The one that you used to have,” said Stuyvesant. “He said that you sold it to him.”

“So I did,” said Phonny, thoughtfully. As he said this, he laid down his saw, which he had just taken to hang upon a nail where it belonged, and ran off out of the shop.

He was in pursuit of Beechnut. He found him harnessing a horse into a wagon.

“Beechnut,” said he, “have you given Stuyvesant the charge of my hen-house?”

“I have offered it to him,” said Beechnut, “but he has not told me yet whether he accepted the offer or not.”

“You are going to let him have half the eggs if he takes care of the house and the hens?” inquired Phonny.

“One third of them,” said Beechnut.

“I did not know that you would do that,” said Phonny. “If I had known that you would be willing to let it out in that way, I should have wanted it myself.”

“I am not certain that it would be safe to let it to you,” said Beechnut.

“Why not?” asked Phonny.

“I am not sure that you would be persevering and faithful in taking care of the hens.”

“Why should not I as well as Stuyvesant?” asked Phonny. “Stuyvesant is not so old as I am.”

“He may have more steadiness and perseverance, for all that,” said Beechnut.

“I think you might let me have it as well as him,” said Phonny.