Маленькие мужчины / Little men. Уровень 4

“We find them or buy them, or folks give them to us. My father sends me mine,” said Tommy, with the air of a millionaire.

Nat sighed, for he had neither father nor money, nothing in the wide world but an old empty pocketbook. Tommy understood the sigh which followed his answer,

“Look here, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. If you hunt eggs for me – I hate it – I’ll give you one egg out of every dozen. When you have twelve, Mother Bhaer will give you twenty-five cents for them, and then you can buy what you like.”

“I’ll do it! What a kind fellow you are, Tommy!” cried Nat, quite dazzled by this brilliant offer.

“Pooh! You begin now and rummage the barn, and I’ll wait here for you. Granny is cackling, so you’re find one somewhere,” and Tommy threw himself down on the hay.

Nat joyfully began his search, and he found two fine eggs.

“You may have one and I’ll have the other, and tomorrow we’ll start again. Here, you chalk your accounts up near mine,” said Tommy.

Then Tommy took Nat to an old willow-tree. From the fence it was an easy scramble into a wide niche between the three big branches. Here little seats had been fixed,

“This is Demi’s and my private place; we made it, and nobody can come up unless we let them, except Daisy,” said Tommy.

“Oh, it’s just beautiful!” cried Nat. “I hope you’ll let me up sometimes. I never saw such a nice place in all my life. I’d like to be a bird, and live here always.”

“It is pretty nice. You can come if Demi doesn’t mind, and I guess he won’t, because he said last night that he liked you.”

“Did he?” and Nat smiled with pleasure.

“Yes; Demi likes quiet boys. And you can read books together.”

“I can’t read very well; I never had any time, you know.”

Punishment

Nat was very fond of Mrs. Bhaer, but found something even more attractive in the good professor, who took fatherly care of the shy feeble boy. Father Bhaer took pleasure in fostering poor Nat’s virtues, and in curing his faults, finding his new pupil as docile and affectionate as a girl. He often called Nat his “daughter” when speaking of him to Mrs. Jo.

One fault of Nat’s gave the Bhaers much anxiety. Nat sometimes told lies[9 - told lies – врал]. A lie is a lie, it is not right, and everybody knows it.

“Watch your tongue, and eyes, and hands, for it is easy to tell, and look, and act untruth,” said Mr. Bhaer to Nat one day.

“I know it. I used to tell lies because I was afraid of father and Nicolo, and now I do sometimes because the boys laugh at me. I know it’s bad, but I forget,” Nat looked much depressed by his sins.

“When I was a little lad I used to tell lies! Ach! But my old grandmother cured me of it. How? My parents cried, and punished, but still did I forget as you. Then said the dear old grandmother, ‘I shall help you to remember’. With that she drew out my tongue and snipped the end with her scissors till the blood ran. That was terrible, you may believe, but it did me much good, because it was sore for days, and every word I said came so slowly that I had time to think. After that I was more careful, for I feared the big scissors.”

“I never had any grandmothers, but if you think it will cure me, I’ll let you snip my tongue,” said Nat, heroically, for he dreaded pain.

Mr. Bhaer smiled, but shook his head.

“I have a better way than that, I tried it once before and it worked well. See now, when you tell a lie I will not punish you, but you will punish me.”

“How?” asked Nat.

“You will ferule me in the good old-fashioned way; I seldom do it myself, but it may make you remember better to give me pain than to feel it yourself.”

“Strike you? Oh, I can’t!” cried Nat.

“Then watch your tongue. I have no wish to be hurt, but I will gladly bear much pain to cure this fault.”

This suggestion made such an impression on Nat, that for a long time he watched upon his lips, and was desperately accurate. But alas! One sad day, when Emil threatened to thrash him, if it was he who had run over his garden and broken down his best hills of corn, Nat declared he didn’t, and then was ashamed to own up that he did do it, when Jack was chasing him the night before.

He thought no one saw it, but Tommy happened to see him, and when Emil spoke of it a day or two later, Tommy gave his evidence, and Mr. Bhaer heard it. School was over, and Mr. Bhaer took Nat by the hand and led him into the school and shut the door.

“You remember what I told you last time?” said Mr. Bhaer, sorrowfully, not angrily.

“Yes; but please don’t make me beat you,” cried Nat, with both hands behind him, and a face full of distress.

“I shall keep my word, and you must remember to tell the truth. Obey me, Nat, take this and give me six good strokes.”

Nat took the rule, for when Mr. Bhaer spoke in that tone everyone obeyed him. The boy gave two feeble blows on the broad hand held out to him. Then he stopped and looked up half-blind with tears, but Mr. Bhaer said steadily:

“Go on, and strike harder.”

Nat drew his sleeve across his eyes and gave two more quick hard strokes that reddened the hand, yet hurt the giver more.

“Isn’t that enough?” he asked.

“Two more,” was all the answer, and he gave them, then threw the rule all across the room, and hugging the kind hand in both his own, laid his face down:

“I will remember! Oh! I will!”

Then Mr. Bhaer put an arm about him[10 - put an arm about him – обнял его], and said in a compassionate tone:

“I think you will. Ask the dear God to help you.”

Tommy saw it through the window. He said no more, for he crept back to the hall, looking so excited that the boys crowded round him to ask him about Nat. In a most impressive whisper Tommy told them.

“He made me do the same thing once,” said Emil.

“And you hit him? dear old Father Bhaer?”

“It was so long ago.”

Nat did not come to dinner, but Mrs. Jo took some up to him, and said a tender word, though he could not look at her. He opened door to slip away into the woods. The walk did Nat good, and he came home quieter than usual.

No one said a word about the scene of the morning, but its effect was lasting. Nat tried his very best, and found much help from the earnest little prayers he prayed to his Friend in heaven.

A Trouble-Maker

“Please, ma’am, could I speak to you? It is something very important,” said Nat one day, popping his head in at the door of Mrs. Bhaer’s room.

Mrs. Jo looked up and said, briskly,

“What is it, my lad?”