The double face.

The cat-erect.

Map of Brookdale.

The dinner in the woods.

Mary and the picture-book.

The stage-coach.

Hunting for birds’ nests.

OSCAR.

CHAPTER I.

A KITCHEN SCENE.

Bridget, the Irish servant girl, had finished the house-work for the day, and sat down to do a little mending with her needle.  The fire in the range, which for hours had sent forth such scorching blasts, was now burning dim; for it was early in October, and the weather was mild and pleasant.  The floor was swept, and the various articles belonging in the room were arranged in their proper places, for the night.  The mistress of the kitchen,—­for Bridget claimed this as her rank, if not her title,—­was humming a queer medley of tunes known only to herself, as her clumsy fingers were trying to coax the needle to perform some dextrous feat that it did not seem inclined to do in her hands.  What she was thinking about, is none of our business; but whatever it was, her revery was suddenly disturbed, and the good nature that beamed from her face dispelled, by the noisy clattering of more than one pair of little boots on the stairs.  In a moment, the door opened with a jerk and a push, and in bounded three boys, with as little display of manners or propriety as so many savages might exhibit.  The oldest directed his steps to the closet, singing, as he peered round among the eatables: 

  “Eggs, cheese, butter, bread,—­
  Stick, stock, stone-dead.”

“Biddy,” he continued, “I ’m hungry—­give me something to eat, quick.”

Bridget paid no attention to this demand, but only twitched her needle with a little more energy.

“I say, Biddy,” continued the boy, “what did you have for supper?  Come, give me some, I ’m half starved.”

“And why did n’t ye come when the supper was ready, if ye wanted any?” said Bridget.  “If ye won’t ate with the rest, it’s not me that will wait upon ye, Master Oscar.”

“Well,” continued Oscar, “if you won’t help me, I guess I can help myself.  Ralph, what did you have for supper?”

The boy addressed named over several articles, among which were cake and mince-pie, neither of which could Oscar find in the closet.

“Where did you put the pie, Biddy?” he inquired.

“It ’s where ye won’t find it,” replied Bridget, “that’s jist where it is.”