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Seventeen, a novel by Booth Tarkington

CHAPTER IX. LITTLE SISTERS HAVE BIG EARS

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_ The confidential talk between mother and
daughter at noon was not the last to take
place that day. At nightfall--eight o'clock in
this pleasant season--Jane was saying her
prayers beside her bed, while her mother stood
close by, waiting to put out the light.

``An' bless mamma and papa an'--'' Jane
murmured, coming to a pause. ``An'--an' bless
Willie,'' she added, with a little reluctance.

``Go on, dear,'' said her mother. ``You
haven't finished.''

``I know it, mamma,'' Jane looked up to say.
``I was just thinkin' a minute. I want to tell
you about somep'm.''

``Finish your prayers first, Jane.''

Jane obeyed with a swiftness in which there
was no intentional irreverence. Then she jumped
into bed and began a fresh revelation.

``It's about papa's clo'es, mamma.''

``What clothes of papa's? What do you
mean, Jane?'' asked Mrs. Baxter, puzzled.

``The ones you couldn't find. The ones you
been lookin' for 'most every day.''

``You mean papa's evening clothes?''

``Yes'm,'' said Jane. ``Willie's got 'em on.''

``What!''

``Yes, he has!'' Jane assured her with emphasis.
``I bet you he's had 'em on every single
evening since Miss Pratt came to visit the
Parchers! Anyway, he's got 'em on now, 'cause
I saw 'em.''

Mrs. Baxter bit her lip and frowned. ``Are
you sure, Jane?''

``Yes'm. I saw him in 'em.''

``How?''

``Well, I was in my bare feet after I got
undressed--before you came up-stairs--mamma,
an' I was kind of walkin' around in the hall--''

``You shouldn't do that, Jane.''

``No'm. An' I heard Willie say somep'm kind
of to himself, or like deckamation. He was inside
his room, but the door wasn't quite shut.
He started out once, but he went back for
somep'm an' forgot to, I guess. Anyway, I
thought I better look an' see what was goin' on,
mamma. So I just kind of peeked in--''

``But you shouldn't do that, dear,'' Mrs.
Baxter said, musingly. ``It isn't really quite
honorable.''

``No'm. Well, what you think he was do-
in'?'' (Here Jane's voice betrayed excitement
and so did her eyes.) ``He was standin' up
there in papa's clo'es before the lookin'-glass, an'
first he'd lean his head over on one side, an' then
he'd lean it over on the other side, an' then he'd
bark, mamma.''

``He'd what?''

`Yes'm!'' said Jane. ``He'd give a little,
teeny BARK, mamma--kind of like a puppy,
mamma.''

``What?'' cried Mrs. Baxter.

``Yes'm, he did!'' Jane asserted. ``He did it
four or five times. First he'd lean his head way
over on his shoulder like this--look, mamma!--
an' then he'd lean it way over the other shoulder,
an' every time he'd do it he'd bark. `Berp-
werp!' he'd say, mamma, just like that, only not
loud at all. He said, `Berp-werp! BERP-WERP-
WERP!' You could tell he meant it for barkin',
but it wasn't very good, mamma. What you
think he meant, mamma?''

``Heaven knows!'' murmured the astonished
mother.

``An' then,'' Jane continued, ``he quit barkin'
all of a sudden, an' didn't lean his head over any
more, an' commenced actin' kind of solemn, an'
kind of whispered to himself. I think he was
kind of pretendin' he was talkin' to Miss Pratt,
or at a party, maybe. Anyways, he spoke out
loud after while not just exactly LOUD, I mean,
but anyway so's 't I could hear what he said.
Mamma--he said, `Oh, my baby-talk lady!' just
like that, mamma. Listen, mamma, here's the
way he said it: `Oh, my baby-talk lady!' ''

Jane's voice, in this impersonation, became
sufficiently soft and tremulous to give Mrs. Baxter
a fair idea of the tender yearning of the original.
`` `OH, MY BABY-TALK LADY!' '' cooed the terrible Jane.

``Mercy!'' Mrs. Baxter exclaimed. ``Perhaps
it's no wonder Mr. Parcher--'' She broke off
abruptly, then inquired, ``What did he do next,
Jane?''

``Next,'' said Jane, ``he put the light out, an' I
had to--well, I just waited kind of squeeged up
against the wall, an' he never saw me. He went
on out to the back stairs, an' went down the
stairs tiptoe, mamma. You know what I think,
mamma? I think he goes out that way an'
through the kitchen on account of papa's clo'es.''

Mrs. Baxter paused, with her hand upon the
key of the shaded electric lamp. ``I suppose so,''
she said. ``I think perhaps--'' For a moment
or two she wrapped herself in thought. ``Perhaps''--
she repeated, musingly--``perhaps we'll
keep this just a secret between you and me for a
little while, Jane, and not say anything to papa
about the clothes. I don't think it will hurt
them, and I suppose Willie feels they give him a
great advantage over the other boys--and papa
uses them so very little, especially since he's
grown a wee bit stouter. Yes, it will be our
secret, Jane. We'll think it over till to-morrow.''

``Yes'm.''

Mrs. Baxter turned out the light, then came
and kissed Jane in the dark. ``Good night,
dear.''

``G' night, mamma.'' But as Mrs. Baxter
reached the door Jane's voice was heard again.

``Mamma?''

``Yes?'' Mrs. Baxter paused.

``Mamma,'' Jane said, slowly, ``I think--I
think Mr. Parcher is a very nice man. Mamma?''

``Yes, dear?''

``Mamma, what do you s'pose Willie barked at
the lookin'-glass for?''

``That,'' said Mrs. Baxter, ``is beyond me.
Young people and children do the strangest
things, Jane! And then, when they get to be
middle-aged, they forget all those strange things
they did, and they can't understand what the
new young people--like you and Willie mean
by the strange things THEY do.''

``Yes'm. I bet _I_ know what he was barkin'
for, mamma.''

``Well?''

``You know what I think? I think he was
kind of practisin'. I think he was practisin' how
to bark at Mr. Parcher.''

``No, no!'' Mrs. Baxter laughed. ``Who ever
could think of such a thing but you, Jane!
You go to sleep and forget your nonsense!''

Nevertheless, Jane might almost have been
gifted with clairvoyance, her preposterous idea
came so close to the actual fact, for at that very
moment William was barking. He was not
barking directly at Mr. Parcher, it is true, but
within a short distance of him and all too well
within his hearing. _

Read next: CHAPTER X. MR. PARCHER AND LOVE

Read previous: CHAPTER VIII. JANE

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