Just David [37]
"Hurrah!" he gave.
David smiled delightedly; once more he had found some one who wanted him--and it was so nice to be wanted! Truth to tell, David had felt not a little hurt at the persistent avoidance of all those boys and girls of his own age.
"How--how do you do?" he said diffidently, but still with that beaming smile.
Again the boys shouted gleefully as they hurried forward. Several had short sticks in their hands. One had an old tomato can with a string tied to it. The tallest boy had something that he was trying to hold beneath his coat.
" 'H--how do you do?' " they mimicked. "How do you do, fiddlin' kid?"
"I'm David; my name is David." The reminder was graciously given, with a smile.
"David! David! His name is David," chanted the boys, as if they were a comic-opera chorus.
David laughed outright.
"Oh, sing it again, sing it again!" he crowed. "That sounded fine!"
The boys stared, then sniffed disdainfully, and cast derisive glances into each other's eyes--it appeared that this little sissy tramp boy did not even know enough to discover when he was being laughed at!
"David! David! His name is David," they jeered into his face again. "Come on, tune her up! We want ter dance."
"Play? Of course I'll play," cried David joyously, raising his violin and testing a string for its tone.
"Here, hold on," yelled the tallest boy. "The Queen o' the Ballet ain't ready". And he cautiously pulled from beneath his coat a struggling kitten with a perforated bag tied over its head.
"Sure! We want her in the middle," grinned the boy with the tin can. "Hold on till I get her train tied to her," he finished, trying to capture the swishing, fluffy tail of the frightened little cat.
David had begun to play, but he stopped his music with a discordant stroke of the bow.
"What are you doing? What is the matter with that cat?" he demanded.
" 'Matter'!" called a derisive voice. "Sure, nothin' 's the matter with her. She's the Queen o' the Ballet--she is!"
"What do you mean?" cried David. At that moment the string bit hard into the captured tail, and the kitten cried out with the pain. "Look out! You're hurting her," cautioned David sharply.
Only a laugh and a jeering word answered. Then the kitten, with the bag on its head and the tin can tied to its tail, was let warily to the ground, the tall boy still holding its back with both hands.
"Ready, now! Come on, play," he ordered; "then we'll set her dancing."
David's eyes flashed.
"I will not play--for that."
The boys stopped laughing suddenly.
"Eh? What?" They could scarcely have been more surprised if the kitten itself had said the words.
"I say I won't play--I can't play--unless you let that cat go."
"Hoity-toity! Won't ye hear that now?" laughed a mocking voice. "And what if we say we won't let her go, eh?"
"Then I'll make you," vowed David, aflame with a newborn something that seemed to have sprung full-grown into being.
"Yow!" hooted the tallest boy, removing both hands from the captive kitten.
The kitten, released, began to back frantically. The can, dangling at its heels, rattled and banged and thumped, until the frightened little creature, crazed with terror, became nothing but a whirling mass of misery. The boys, formed now into a crowing circle of delight, kept the kitten within bounds, and flouted David mercilessly.
"Ah, ha!--stop us, will ye? Why don't ye stop us?" they gibed.
For a moment David stood without movement, his eyes staring. The next instant he turned and ran. The jeers became a chorus of triumphant shouts then--but not for long. David had only hurried to the woodpile to lay down his violin. He came back then, on the run--and before the tallest boy could catch his breath he was felled by a stinging blow on the jaw.
Over by the church a small girl, red-haired and red-eyed, clambered hastily over the fence behind which for long minutes she had been crying and wringing her hands.
"He'll be killed, he'll be killed," she moaned. "And it's my fault, 'cause it's my kitty--it's my kitty,"
David smiled delightedly; once more he had found some one who wanted him--and it was so nice to be wanted! Truth to tell, David had felt not a little hurt at the persistent avoidance of all those boys and girls of his own age.
"How--how do you do?" he said diffidently, but still with that beaming smile.
Again the boys shouted gleefully as they hurried forward. Several had short sticks in their hands. One had an old tomato can with a string tied to it. The tallest boy had something that he was trying to hold beneath his coat.
" 'H--how do you do?' " they mimicked. "How do you do, fiddlin' kid?"
"I'm David; my name is David." The reminder was graciously given, with a smile.
"David! David! His name is David," chanted the boys, as if they were a comic-opera chorus.
David laughed outright.
"Oh, sing it again, sing it again!" he crowed. "That sounded fine!"
The boys stared, then sniffed disdainfully, and cast derisive glances into each other's eyes--it appeared that this little sissy tramp boy did not even know enough to discover when he was being laughed at!
"David! David! His name is David," they jeered into his face again. "Come on, tune her up! We want ter dance."
"Play? Of course I'll play," cried David joyously, raising his violin and testing a string for its tone.
"Here, hold on," yelled the tallest boy. "The Queen o' the Ballet ain't ready". And he cautiously pulled from beneath his coat a struggling kitten with a perforated bag tied over its head.
"Sure! We want her in the middle," grinned the boy with the tin can. "Hold on till I get her train tied to her," he finished, trying to capture the swishing, fluffy tail of the frightened little cat.
David had begun to play, but he stopped his music with a discordant stroke of the bow.
"What are you doing? What is the matter with that cat?" he demanded.
" 'Matter'!" called a derisive voice. "Sure, nothin' 's the matter with her. She's the Queen o' the Ballet--she is!"
"What do you mean?" cried David. At that moment the string bit hard into the captured tail, and the kitten cried out with the pain. "Look out! You're hurting her," cautioned David sharply.
Only a laugh and a jeering word answered. Then the kitten, with the bag on its head and the tin can tied to its tail, was let warily to the ground, the tall boy still holding its back with both hands.
"Ready, now! Come on, play," he ordered; "then we'll set her dancing."
David's eyes flashed.
"I will not play--for that."
The boys stopped laughing suddenly.
"Eh? What?" They could scarcely have been more surprised if the kitten itself had said the words.
"I say I won't play--I can't play--unless you let that cat go."
"Hoity-toity! Won't ye hear that now?" laughed a mocking voice. "And what if we say we won't let her go, eh?"
"Then I'll make you," vowed David, aflame with a newborn something that seemed to have sprung full-grown into being.
"Yow!" hooted the tallest boy, removing both hands from the captive kitten.
The kitten, released, began to back frantically. The can, dangling at its heels, rattled and banged and thumped, until the frightened little creature, crazed with terror, became nothing but a whirling mass of misery. The boys, formed now into a crowing circle of delight, kept the kitten within bounds, and flouted David mercilessly.
"Ah, ha!--stop us, will ye? Why don't ye stop us?" they gibed.
For a moment David stood without movement, his eyes staring. The next instant he turned and ran. The jeers became a chorus of triumphant shouts then--but not for long. David had only hurried to the woodpile to lay down his violin. He came back then, on the run--and before the tallest boy could catch his breath he was felled by a stinging blow on the jaw.
Over by the church a small girl, red-haired and red-eyed, clambered hastily over the fence behind which for long minutes she had been crying and wringing her hands.
"He'll be killed, he'll be killed," she moaned. "And it's my fault, 'cause it's my kitty--it's my kitty,"