Tip:
Highlight text to annotate it
X
HELEN'S BABIES
By JOHN HABBERTON
Part 4
In stepped Mike, with an air of the greatest secrecy, handed me a
letter and the identical box in which I had sent the flowers to Miss
Mayton. What COULD it mean? I hastily opened the envelope, and at the
same time Toddie shrieked:—
"Oh, darsh my dolly's k'adle—dare 'tish!" snatched and opened the box,
and displayed—his doll! My heart sickened, and did NOT regain its
strength during the perusal of the following note:—
"Miss Mayton herewith returns to Mr. Burton the package which just
arrived, with his card. She recognizes the contents as a portion of the
apparent property of one of Burton's nephews, but is unable to
understand why it should have been sent to her. "June 20, 1875."
"Toddie," I roared, as my younger nephew caressed his loathsome doll,
and murmured endearing words to it, "where did you get that box?"
"On the hat-wack," replied the youth, with perfect fearlessness; "I
keeps it in ze book-case djawer, an' somebody took it 'way an' put
nasty ole flowers in it."
"Where are those flowers?" I demanded.
Toddie looked up with considerable surprise but promptly replied:—
"I froed 'em away—don't want no ole flowers in my dolly's k'adle.
That's ze way she wocks—see!" And this horrible little destroyer of
human hopes rolled that box back and forth with the most utter
unconcern, as he spoke endearing words to the substitute for my
beautiful bouquet!
To say that I looked at Toddie reprovingly is to express my feelings in
the most inadequate language, but of language in which to express my
feelings to Toddie. I could find absolutely none. Within two or three
short moments I had discovered how very anxious I really was to merit
Miss Mayton's regard, and how very different was the regard I wanted
from that which I had previously hoped might be accorded me. It seemed
too ridiculous to be true that I, who had for years had dozens of
charming lady acquaintances, and yet had always maintained my common
sense and self-control; I, who had always considered it unmanly for a
man to specially interest himself in ANY lady until he had an income of
five thousand a year; I who had skilfully, and many times, argued, that
life-attachments, or attempts thereat, which were made without a
careful preliminary study of the mental characteristics of the partner
desired, was the most unpardonable folly,—I had transgressed every one
of my own rules, and, as if to mock me for any pretended wisdom and
care, my weakness was made known to me by a three-year-old marplot and
a hideous rag-doll!
That merciful and ennobling dispensation by which Providence enables us
to temper the severity of our own sufferings by alleviating those of
others, came soon to my rescue. Under my stern glance Toddie gradually
lost interest in his doll and its cradle, and began to thrust forth and
outward his piteous lower lip and to weep copiously.
"Dee Lord, not make me sho bad," he cried through his tears. I doubt
his having had any very clear idea of what he was saying, or whom he
was addressing; but had the publican of whose prayer Toddie made so
fair a paraphrase worn such a face when he offered his famous petition,
it could not have been denied for a moment. Toddie even retired to a
corner and hid his face in self-imposed penance.
"Never mind, Toddie," said I, sadly; "you didn't mean to do it, I know."
"I wantsh to love you," sobbed Toddie.
"Well, come here, you poor little fellow," said I, opening my arms, and
wondering whether 'twas not after contemplation of some such sinner
that good Bishop Tegner wrote:—
"Depths of love are atonement's depths, for love is atonement"
Toddie came to my arms, shed tears freely upon my shirt-front, and
finally, after heaving a very long sigh, remarked:—
"Wantsh YOU to love ME"
I complied with his request. Theoretically, I had long believed that
the higher wisdom of the Creator was most frequently expressed through
the medium of his most innocent creations. Surely here was a
confirmation of my theory, for who else had ever practically taught me
the duty of the injured one toward his offender? I kissed Toddie and
petted him, and at length succeeded in quieting him; his little face,
in spite of much dirt and many tear-stains, was upturned with more of
beauty in it than it ever held when its owner was full of joy; he
looked earnestly, confidingly, into my eyes, and I congratulated myself
upon the perfection of my forgiving spirit, when Toddie suddenly
re-exhibited to me my old unregenerate nature, and the incompleteness
of my forgiveness, by saying:—
"Kish my dolly, too."
I obeyed. My forgiveness was made complete, but so was my humiliation.
I abruptly closed our interview. We exchanged "God bless you's,"
according to Budge's instructions of the previous night, and at least
one of the participants in this devotional exercise hoped the petitions
made by the other were distinctly heard. Then I dropped into an
easy-chair in the library, and fell to thinking. I found myself really
and seriously troubled by the results of Toddie's operation with my
bouquet. I might explain the matter to Miss Mayton—I undoubtedly
could, for she was too sensible a woman to be easily offended merely by
a ridiculous mistake, caused by a child. But she would laugh at ME—how
could she help it?—and to be laughed at by Miss Mayton was a something
the mere thought of which tormented me in a manner that made me fairly
ashamed of myself. Like every other young man among young men, I had
been the butt of many a rough joke, and had borne them without wincing;
it seemed cowardly and contemptible that I should be so sensitive under
the mere thought of laughter which would probably be heard by no one
but Miss Mayton herself. But the laughter of a mere acquaintance is
likely to lessen respect for the person laughed at. Heavens! the
thought was unendurable! At any rate, I must write an early apology.
When I was correspondent for the house with which I am now salesman I
reclaimed many an old customer who had wandered off—certainly I might
hope by a well-written letter to regain in Miss Mayton's respect
whatever position I had lost. I hastily drafted a letter, corrected it
carefully, copied it in due form, and forwarded it by the faithful
Michael. Then I tried to read, but without the least success. For hours
I paced the piazza and consumed cigars; when at last I retired it was
with many ideas, hopes, fears, and fancies which had never before been
mine. True to my trust, I looked into my nephews' room; there lay the
boys, in postures more graceful than any which brush or chisel have
ever reproduced. Toddie, in particular, wore so lovely an expression
that I could not refrain from kissing him. But I was none the less
careful to make use of my new key, and to lock my other door also.
The next day was the Sabbath. Believing fully in the binding force and
worldly wisdom of the Fourth Commandment, so far as it refers to rest,
I have conscientiously trained myself to sleep two hours later on the
morning of the holy day than I ever allowed myself to do on business
days. But having inherited, besides a New England conscience, a New
England abhorrence of waste, I regularly sit up two hours later on
Saturday nights than on any others; and the night preceding this
particular Sabbath was no exception to the rule, as the reader may
imagine from the foregoing recital. At about 5.30 A. M., however, I
became conscious that my nephews were not in accord, with me on the
Sinaitic law. They were not only awake, but were disputing vigorously,
and, seemingly, very loudly, for I heard their words very distinctly.
With sleepy condescension I endeavored to ignore these noisy
irreverents, but I was suddenly moved to a belief in the doctrine of
vicarious atonement, for a flying body, with more momentum than weight,
struck me upon the not prominent bridge of my nose, and speedily and
with unnecessary force accommodated itself to the outline of my eyes.
After a moment spent in anguish, and in wondering how the missive came
through closed doors and windows, I discovered that my pain had been
caused by one of the dolls, which, from its extreme uncleanness, I
suspected belonged to Toddie; I also discovered that the door between
the rooms was open.
"Who threw that doll?" I shouted, sternly. There came no response.
"Do you hear?" I roared.
"What is it, Uncle Harry?" asked Budge, with most exquisitely polite
inflection.
"Who threw that doll?"
"Huh?"
"I say, who threw that doll?"
"Why, nobody did it."
"Toddie, who threw that doll?"
"Budge did," replied Toddie in muffled tones, suggestive of a brotherly
hand laid forcibly over a pair of small lips.
"Budge, what did you do it for?"
"Why—why—I—because—why, you see—because, why, Toddie froo his
dolly in my mouth; some of her hair went in, any how, an' I didn't want
his dolly in my mouth, so I sent it back to him, an' the foot of the
bed didn't stick up enough, so it went from the door to your
bed—that's what for."
The explanation seemed to bear marks of genuineness, albiet the pain of
my eye was not alleviated thereby, while the exertion expended in
eliciting the information had so thoroughly awakened me that further
sleep was out of the question. Besides, the open door,—had a burglar
been in the room? No; my watch and pocketbook were undisturbed. "Budge,
who opened that door?"
After some hesitation, as if wondering who really did it, Budge
replied:—
"Me."
"How did you do it?"
"Why, you see we wanted a drink, an' the door was fast, so we got out
the window on the parazzo roof, an' comed in your window." (Here a
slight pause.) "An' 'twas fun. An' then we unlocked the door, an' comed
back."
Then I should be compelled to lock my window-blinds—or theirs, and
this in the summer season, too! Oh, if Helen could have but passed the
house as that white-robed procession had filed along the piazza-roof! I
lay pondering over the vast amount of unused ingenuity that was locked
up in millions of children, or employed only to work misery among
unsuspecting adults, when I heard light footfalls at my bedside, and
saw a small shape with a grave face approach and remark:—
"I wants to come in your bed."
"What for, Toddie?"
"To fwolic; papa always fwolics us Sunday mornin's. Tum, Budgie, Ocken
Hawwy's doin' to fwolic us."
Budge replied by shrieking with delight, tumbling out of bed, and
hurrying to that side of my bed not already occupied by Toddie. Then
those two little savages sounded the onslaught and advanced
precipitately upon me. Sometimes, during the course of my life, I have
had day-dreams which I have told to no one. Among these has been
one—not now so distinct as it was before my four years of
campaigning—of one day meeting in deadly combat the painted Indian of
the plains; of listening undismayed to his frightful war-whoop, and of
exemplifying in my own person the inevitable result of the pale-face's
superior intelligence. But upon this particular Sunday morning I
relinquished this idea informally, but forever. Before the advance of
these diminutive warriors I quailed contemptibly, and their battle-cry
sent more terror to my soul than that member ever experienced from the
well-remembered rebel yell. According to Toddie, I was going to
"fwolic" THEM; but from the first they took the whole business into
their own little but effective hands. Toddie pronounced my knees,
collectively a-horsie "bonnie," and bestrode them, laughing gleefully
at my efforts to unseat him, and holding himself in position by digging
his pudgy fingers into whatever portions of my anatomy he could most
easily seize. Budge shouted, "I want a horsie, too!" and seated himself
upon my chest. "This is the way the horsie goes," explained he, as he
slowly rocked himself backward and forward. I began to realize how my
brother-in-law, who had once been a fine gymnast, had become so
flat-chested. Just then Budge's face assumed a more spirited
expression, his eyes opened wide and lightened up, and, shouting, "This
the way the horsie TROTS," he stood upright, threw up his feet, and
dropped his forty-three avoirdupois pounds forcibly upon my lungs. He
repeated this operation several times before I fully recovered from the
shock conveyed by his combined impudence and weight; but pain finally
brought my senses back, and with a wild plunge I unseated my demoniac
riders and gained a clear space in the middle of the floor.
"Ah—h—h—h—h—h—h," screamed Toddie, "I wants to wide horshie
backen."
"Boo—oo—oo—oo—," roared Budge, "I think you're real mean. I don't
love you at all."
Regardless alike of Toddie's desires, of Budge's opinion, and the
cessation of his regard, I performed a hasty toilet. Notnwithstanding
my lost rest, savagely thanked the Lord for Sunday; at church, at
least, I could be free from my tormentors. At the breakfast-table both
boys invited themselves to accompany me to the sanctuary, but I
declined without thanks. To take them might be to assist somewhat in
teaching them one of the best of habits, but I strongly doubted whether
the severest Providence would consider it my duty to endure the
probable consequences of such an attempt. Besides I MIGHT meet Miss
Mayton. I both hoped and feared I might, and I could not, endure the
thought of appearing before her with the causes of my pleasant
REMEMBRANCE. Budge protested and Toddie wept, but I remained firm,
although I was so willing to gratify their reasonable desires that I
took them out for a long ante-service walk. While enjoying this little
trip I delighted the children by killing a snake and spoiling a slender
cane at the same time, my own sole consolation coming from the
discovery that the remains of the staff were sufficient to make a cane
for Budge. While returning to the house and preparing for church I
entered into a solemn agreement with Budge, who was usually recognized
as the head of this fraternal partnership. Budge contracted, for
himself and brother, to make no attempts to enter my room; to refrain
from fighting; to raise loose dirt only with a shovel, and to convey it
to its destination by means other than their own hats and aprons; to
pick no flowers; to open no water-faucets; to refer all disagreements
to the cook, as arbitrator, and to build no houses of the new books
which I had stacked upon the library table. In consideration of the
promised faithful observance of these conditions I agreed that Budge
should be allowed to come alone to Sabbath school, which convened
directly after morning service, he to start only after Maggie had
pronounced him duly cleansed and clothed. As Toddie was daily kept in
bed from eleven to one, I felt that I might safely worship without
distracting fears, for Budge could not alone, and in a single hour,
become guilty of any particular sin. The church at Hillcrest had many
more seats than members, and as but few summer visitors had yet
appeared in the town, I was conscious of being industriously stared at
by the native members of the congregation. This was of itself
discomfort enough, but not all to which I was destined, for the usher
conducted me quite near to the altar, and showed me into a pew whose
only other occupant was Miss Mayton! Of course the lady did not
recognize me—she was too carefully bred to do anything of the sort in
church, and I spent ten uncomfortable minutes in mentally abusing the
customs of good society. The beginning of the service partially ended
my uneasiness, for I had no hymn-book,—the pew contained none,—so
Miss Mayton kindly offered me a share in her own. And yet so
faultlessly perfect and stranger-like was her manner that I wondered
whether her action might not have been prompted merely by a sense of
Christian duty; had I been the Khan of Tartary she could not have been
more polite and frigid. The music to the first hymn was an air I had
never heard before, so I stumbled miserably through the tenor, although
Miss Mayton rendered the soprano without a single false note. The
sermon was longer than I was in the habit of listening to, and I was
frequently conscious of not listening at all. As for my position and
appearance, neither ever seemed so insignificant as they did throughout
the entire service.
The minister reached "And finally, dear brethren," with my earnest
prayers for a successful and speedy finale. It seemed to me that the
congregation sympathized with me, for there was a general rustle behind
me as these words were spoken. It soon became evident, however, that
the hearers were moved by some other feeling, for I heard a profound
titter or two behind me. Even Miss Mayton turned her head with more
alacrity than was consistent with that grace which usually
characterized her motions, and the minister himself made a pause of
unusual length. I turned in my seat, and saw my nephew Budge, dressed
in his best, his head irreverently covered, and his new cane swinging
in the most stylish manner. He paused at each pew, carefully surveyed
its occupants, seemed to fail in finding the object of his search, but
continued his efforts in spite of my endeavors to catch his eye.
Finally, he recognized a family acquaintance, and to him he unburdened
his *** by remarking, in tones easily heard throughout the church:—
"I want to find my uncle."
Just then he caught my eye, smiled rapturously, hurried to me and laid
his rascally soft cheek confidingly against mine, while an audible
sensation pervaded the church. What to do or say to him I scarcely
knew; but my quandary was turned to wonder, as Miss Mayton, her face
full of ill-repressed mirth, but her eyes full of tenderness, drew the
little scamp close to her, and Mssed him soundly. At the same instant,
the minister, not without some little hesitation, said, "Let us pray."
I hastily bowed my head, glad of a chance to hide my face; but as I
stole a glance at the cause of this irreligious disturbance, I caught
Miss Mayton's eye. She was laughing so violently that the contagion was
unavoidable, and I laughed all the harder as I felt that one
mischievous boy had undone the mischief caused by another.
After the benediction, Budge was the recipient of a great deal of
attention, during the confusion of which I embraced the opportunity to
say to Miss Mayton:—
"Do you still sustain my sister in her opinion of my nephews, Miss
Mayton?"
"I think they're too funny for anything," replied the lady, with great
enthusiasm. "I DO wish you would bring them to call upon me. I'm
longing to see an ORIGINAL young gentleman."
"Thank you," said I. "And I'll have Toddie bring a bouquet by way of
atonement."
"Do," she replied, as I allowed her to pass from the pew. The word was
an insignificant one, but it made me happy once more.
"You see, Uncle Harry," exclaimed Budge, as we left the church
together, "the Sunday-school wasn't open yet, an' I wanted to hear if
they'd sing again in church; so I came in, an' you wasn't in papa's
seat, an' I knew you was SOMEwhere, so I LOOKED for you."
"Bless you," thought I, snatching him into my arms as if to hurry him
into Sabbath school, but really to give him a kiss of grateful
affection, "you did right—EXACTLY right."
My Sunday dinner was unexceptional in point of quantity and quality,
and a bottle of my brother-in-law's claret proved to be most excellent;
yet a certain uneasiness of mind prevented my enjoying the meal as
thoroughly as under other circumstances I might have done. My
uneasiness came of a mingled sense of responsibility and ignorance. I
felt that it was the proper thing for me to see that my nephews spent
the day with some sense of the requirements and duties of the Sabbath;
but how I was to bring it about, I hardly knew. The boys, were too
small to have Bible-lessons administered to them, and they were too
lively to be kept quiet by any ordinary means. After a great deal of
thought, I determined to consult the children themselves, and try to
learn what their parents' custom had been.
"Budge," said I, "what do you do Sundays when your papa and mama are
home? What do they read to you,—what do they talk about?"
"Oh, they swing us—lots!" said Budge, with brightening eyes.
"An' zey takes us to get jacks," observed Toddie.
"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Budge; "jacks-in-the-pulpit—don't you know?"
"Hum—ye—es; I do remember some such thing in my youthful days. They
grow where there's plenty of mud, don't they?"
"Yes, an' there's a brook there, an' ferns, an' birch-bark, an' if you
don't look out you'll tumble into the brook when you go to get birch."
"An' we goes to Hawksnest Rock," piped Toddie, "an' papa carries us up
on his back when we gets tired."
"An' he makes us whistles," said Budge.
"Budge," said I, rather hastily, "enough. In the language of the poet
"'These earthly pleasures I resign,'
and I'm rather astonished that your papa hasn't taught you to do
likewise. Don't he ever read to you?"
"Oh, yes," cried Budge, clapping his hands, as a happy thought struck
him. "He gets down the Bible—the great BIG Bible, you know—an' we all
lay on the floor, an' he reads us stories out of it. There's David, an'
Noah, an' when Christ was a little boy, an' Joseph, an'
turnbackPharo'sarmyhallelujah—"
"And what?"
"TurnbackPharo'sarmyhallelujah," repeated Budge. "Don't you know how
Moses held out his cane over the Red Sea, an' the water went way up one
side, an' way up the other side, and all the Isrulites went across?
It's just the same thing as DROWNoldPharo'sarmyhallelujah—don't you
know?"
"Budge," said I, "I suspect you of having heard the Jubilee Singers."
"Oh, and papa and mama sings us all those Jubilee songs—there's 'Swing
Low,' an' 'Roll Jordan,' an' 'Steal Away,' an' 'My Way's Cloudy,' an'
'Get on Board, Childuns,' an' lots. An' you can sing us every one of
'em."
"An' papa takes us in the woods, an' makesh us canes," said Toddie.
"Yes," said Budge, "and where there's new houses buildin', he takes us
up ladders."
"Has he any way of putting an extension on the afternoon?" I asked.
"I don't know what that is," said Budge, "but he puts an India-rubber
blanket on the grass, and then we all lie down an' make b'lieve we're
soldiers asleep. Only sometimes when we wake up papa stays asleep, an'
mama won't let us wake him. I don't think that's a very nice play."
"Well, I think Bible stories are nicer than anything else, don't you?"
Budge seemed somewhat in doubt. "I think swingin' is nicer," said
he—"oh, no;—let's get some jacks—I'LL tell you what!—make us
whistles an' we can blow on 'em while we're goin' to get the jacks.
Toddie, dear, wouldn't YOU like jacks and whistles?"
"Yesh—an' swingin'—an' birch—an' wantsh to go to Hawksnesh Rock,"
answered Toddie.
"Let's have Bible stories first," said I. "The Lord mightn't like it if
you didn't learn anything good to-day."
"Well," said Budge, with the regulation religious-matter-of-duty-face, "let's. I guess I like 'bout Joseph best."
"Tell us 'bout Bliaff," suggested Toddie.
"Oh, no, Tod," remonstrated Budge; "Joseph's coat was just as bloody as
Goliath's head was." Then Budge turned to me and explained that "all
Tod likes Goliath for is 'cause when his head was cut off it was all
bloody." And then Toddie—the airy sprite whom his mother described as
being irresistibly drawn to whatever was beautiful—Toddie glared upon
me as a butcher's apprentice might stare at a doomed lamb, and
remarked:—
"Bliaff's head was all bluggy, an' David's sword was all bluggy—bluggy
as everyfing."
I hastily breathed a small prayer, opened the Bible, turned to the
story of Joseph, and audibly condensed it as I read:—
"Joseph was a good little boy whose papa loved him very dearly. But his
brothers didn't like him. And they sold him, to go to Egypt. And he was
very smart, and told the people what their dreams meant, and he got to
be a great man. And his brothers went to Egypt to buy corn, and Joseph
sold them some, and then he let them know who he was. And he sent them
home to bring their papa to Egypt, and then they all lived there
together."
"That ain't it," remarked Toddie, with the air of a man who felt
himself to be unjustly treated. "Is it, Budge?"
"Oh, no," said Budge, "you didn't read it good a bit; I'LL tell you how
it is. Once there was a little boy named Joseph, an' he had eleven
budders—they was AWFUL eleven budders. An' his papa gave him a new
coat, an' his budders hadn't nothin' but their old jackets to wear. An'
one day he was carryin' 'em their dinner, an' they put him in a deep,
dark hole, but they didn't put his nice new coat in—they killed a kid,
an' dipped the coat—just think of doin' that to a nice new coat—they
dipped it in the kid's blood, an' made it all bloody."
"All bluggy," echoed Toddie, with ferocious emphasis. Budge continued:—
"But there were some Ishmalites comin' along that way, and the awful
eleven budders took him out of the deep dark hole, an' sold him to the
Ishmalites, an' they sold him away down in Egypt. An' his poor old papa
cried, an' cried, 'cause he thought a big lion ate Joseph up; but he
wasn't ate up a bit; but there wasn't no post-office nor choo-choos,
[Footnote: railway cars] nor stages in Egypt, an' there wasn't any
telegraphs, so Joseph couldn't let his papa know where he was; an' he
got so smart an' so good that the king of Egypt let him sell all the
corn an' take care of the money; an' one day some men came to buy some
corn, an' Joseph looked at 'em an' there they was his own budders! An'
he scared 'em like everything; I'D have SLAPPED 'em all if I'D been
Joseph, but he just scared 'em, an' then he let 'em know who he was,
an' he kissed 'em an' he didn't whip 'em, or make 'em go without their
breakfast, or stand in a corner, nor none of them things; an' then he
sent 'em back for their papa, an' when he saw his papa comin', he ran
like everything, and gave him a great big hug and a kiss. Joseph was
too big to ask his papa if he'd brought him any candy, but he was awful
glad to see him. An' the king gave Joseph's papa a nice farm, an' they
all had real good times after that."
"And they dipped the coat in the blood; an' made it all bluggy,"
reiterated Toddie.
"Uncle Harry," said Budge, "what do you think MY papa would do if he
thought I was all ate up by a lion? I guess he'd cry AWFUL, don't you?
Now tell us another story—oh, I'LL tell you—read us 'bout—"
"'Bout Bliaff," interrupted Toddie.
"YOU tell ME about him, Toddie," said I.
"Why," said Toddie, "Bliaff was a brate bid man, an' Dave was brate
little man, an' Bliaff said, 'Come over here'n an' I'll eat you up,'
an' Dave said, '_I_ ain't fyaid of you.' So Dave put five little stones
in a sling an' asked de Lord to help him, an' let ze sling go *** into
bequeen Bliaff's eyes an' knocked him down dead, an' Dave took Bliaff's
sword an' sworded Bliaff's head off, an' made it all bluggy, an' Bliaff
runned away." This short narration was accompanied by more spirited and
unexpected gestures than Mr. Gough ever puts into a long lecture.
"I don't like 'bout Goliath at all," remarked Budge. "I'D like to hear
'bout Ferus."
"Who?"
"Ferus; don't you know?"
"Never heard of him, Budge."
"Why—y—y—!" exclaimed Budge; "didn't you have no papa when you was a
little boy?"
"Yes, but he never told me about any one named Ferus; there's no such
person named in Anthon's Classical Dictionary, either. What sort of a
man was he?"
"Why, once there was a man, an' his name was Ferus—Offerus, an' he
went about fightin' for kings, but when any king got afraid of anybody,
he wouldn't fight for him no more. An' one day he couldn't find no
kings that wasn't afraid of nobody. An' the people told him the Lord
was the biggest king in the world, an' he wasn't afraid of nobody or
nothing. An' he asked 'em where he could find the Lord, and they said
he was way up in heaven so nobody couldn't see him but the angels, but
he liked folks to WORK for him instead of fight. So Ferus wanted to
know what kind of work he could do, an' the people said there was a
river not far off, where there wasn't no ferry-boats, cos the water run
so fast, an' they guessed if he'd carry folks across, the Lord would
like it. So Ferus went there, and he cut him a good, strong cane, an'
whenever anybody wanted to go across the river he'd carry 'em on his
back.
"One night he was sittin' in his little house by the fire, and smokin'
his pipe an' readin' the paper, an' 'twas rainin' an' blowin' an'
hailin' an' stormin', an' he was so glad there wasn't anybody wantin'
to go 'cross the river, when he heard somebody call out 'Ferus!' An' he
looked out the window, but he couldn't see nobody, so he sat down
again. Then somebody called 'Ferus!' again, and he opened the door
again, an' there was a little bit of a boy, 'bout as big as Toddie. An'
Ferus said, 'Hullo, young fellow, does your mother know you're out?'
An' the little boy said, 'I want to go 'cross the river.'—'Well,' says
Ferus, 'you're a mighty little fellow to be travelin' alone, but hop
up.' So the little boy jumped up on Ferus's back, and Ferus walked into
the water. Oh, my—WASN'T it cold? An' every step he took that little
boy got heavier, so Ferus nearly tumbled down an' they liked to both
got drownded. An' when they got across the river Ferus said, 'Well, you
ARE the heaviest small fry I ever carried,' an' he turned around to
look at him, an' 'twasn't no little boy at all—'twas a big man—'twas
Christ. An' Christ said, 'Ferus, I heard you was tryin' to work for me,
so I thought I'd come down an' see you, an' not let you know who I was.
An' now you shall have a new name; you shall be called CHRISTofferus,
cos that means Christ-carrier.' An' everybody called him Christofferus
after that, an' when he died they called him SAINT Christopher, cos
Saint is what they called good people when they're dead."
Budge himself had the face of a rapt saint as he told this story, but
my contemplation of his countenance was suddenly arrested by Toddie,
who, disapproving of the unexciting nature of his brother's recital,
had strayed into the garden, investigated a hornet's nest, been stung,
and set up a piercing shriek. He ran in to me, and as I hastily picked
him up, he sobbed:—
"Want to be wocked. [Footnote: Rocked.] Want 'Toddie one boy day.'"
I rocked him violently, and petted him tenderly, but again he sobbed:—
"Want 'Toddie one boy day.'"
"What DOES the child mean?" I exclaimed.
"He wants you to sing to him about 'Charley boy one day,'" said Budge.
"He always wants mamma to sing that when he's hurt, an' then he stops
crying."
"I don't know it," said I. "Won't 'Roll, Jordan,' do, Toddie?"
"I'LL tell you how it goes," said Budge, and forthwith the youth sang
the following song, a line at a time, I following him in words and
air:—
"Where is my little bastik [Footnote: Basket.] gone?"
Said Charley, one boy day; "I guess some little boy or girl
Has taken it away.
"An' kittie, too—where ISH she gone? Oh dear, what shall I do?
I wish I could my bastik find, An' little kittie, too.
"I'll go to mamma's room an' look; Perhaps she may be there;
For kittie likes to take a nap In mamma's easy chair.
"O mamma, mamma, come an' look See what a little heap!
Here's kittie in the bastik here, All cuddled down to sleep."
Where the applicability of this poem to my nephew's peculiar trouble
appeared, I could not see, but as I finished it, his sobs gave place to
a sigh of relief.
"Toddie," said I, "do you love your Uncle Harry?"
"Esh, I DO love you."
"Then tell me how that ridiculous song comforts you."
"Makes me feel good, an' all nicey," replied Toddie.
"Wouldn't you feel just as good if I sang, 'Plunged in a gulf of dark
despair'?"
"No, don't like dokdishpairs; if a dokdishpair done anyfing to me, I'd
knock it right down dead."
With this extremely lucid remark, our conversation on this particular
subject ended; but I wondered, during a few uneasy moments, whether the
temporary mental aberration which had once afflicted Helen's
grandfather and mine was not reappearing in this, his youngest
descendant. My wondering was cut short by Budge, who remarked, in a
confident tone:—
"Now, Uncle Harry, we'll have the whistles, I guess."
I acted upon the suggestion, and led the way to the woods. I had not
had occasion to seek a hickory sapling before for years; not since the
war, in fact, when I learned how hot a fire small hickory sticks would
make. I had not sought wood for whistles since—gracious, nearly a
quarter of a century ago! The dissimilar associations called up by
these recollections threatened to put me in a frame of mind which might
have resulted in a bad poem, had not my nephews kept up a lively
succession of questions such as no one but children can ask. The
whistles completed, I was marched, with music, to the place where the
"Jacks" grew. It was just such a place as boys instinctively delight
in—low, damp, and boggy, with a brook hiding treacherously away under
overhanging ferns and grasses. The children knew by sight the plant
which bore the "Jacks," and every discovery was announced by a piercing
shriek of delight. At first I looked hurriedly toward the brook as each
yell clove the air; but, as I became accustomed to it, my attention was
diverted by some exquisite ferns. Suddenly, however, a succession of
shrieks announced that something was wrong, and across a large fern I
saw a small face in a great deal of agony. Budge was hurrying to the
relief of his brother, and was soon as deeply imbedded as Toddie was in
the rich black mud, at the bottom of the brook. I dashed to the rescue,
stood astride the brook, and offered a hand to each boy, when a
treacherous tuft of grass gave way, and, with a glorious splash, I went
in myself. This accident turned Toddie's sorrow to laughter, but I
can't say I made light of my misfortune on that account. To fall into
CLEAN water is not pleasant, even when one is trout-fishing; but to be
clad in white pants, and suddenly drop nearly knee-deep in the lap of
mother Earth is quite a different thing. I hastily picked up the
children, and threw them upon the bank, and then wrathfully strode out
myself, and tried to shake myself as I have seen a Newfoundland dog do.
The shake was not a success—it caused my trouser-leg to flap dismally
about my ankles, and sent the streams of loathsome ooze trickling down
into my shoes. My hat, of drab felt, had fallen off by the brookside,
and been plentifully spattered as I got out. I looked at my youngest
nephew with speechless indignation.
"Uncle Harry," said Budge, "'twas real good of the Lord to let you be
with us, else Toddie might have been drownded."
"Yes," said I, "and I shouldn't have much—"
"Ocken Hawwy," cried Toddie, running impetuously toward me, pulling me
down, and patting my cheek with his muddy black hand, "I LOVES you for
takin' me out de water."
"I accept your apology," said I, "but let's hurry home." There was but
one residence to pass, and that, thank fortune, was so densely screened
by shrubbery that the inmates could not see the road. To be sure, we
were on a favorite driving road, but we could reach home in five
minutes, and we might dodge into the woods if we heard a carriage
coming. Ha! There came a carriage already, and we—was there ever a
sorrier-looking group? There were ladies in the carriage, too—could it
be—of course it was—did the evil spirit, which guided those children
always, send an attendant for Miss Mayton before he began operations?
There she was, anyway—cool, neat, dainty, trying to look collected,
but severely flushed by the attempt. It was of no use to drop my eyes,
for she had already recognized me; so I turned to her a face which I
think must have been just the one—unless more defiant—that I carried
into two or three cavalry charges.
"You seem to have been having a real good time together," said she,
with a conventional smile, as the carriage passed. "Remember, you're
all going to call on me tomorrow afternoon."
Bless the girl! Her heart was as quick as her eyes—almost any other
young lady would have devoted her entire energy to laughing on such an
occasion, but SHE took her earliest opportunity to make me feel at
ease. Such a royal hearted woman deserves to—I caught myself just
here, with my cheeks growing quite hot under the mud Toddie had put on
them, and I led our retreat with a more stylish carriage than my
appearance could possibly have warranted, and then I consigned my
nephews to the maid with very much the air of an officer turning over a
large number of prisoners he had captured. I hastily changed my soiled
clothing for my best—not that I expected to see any one, but because
of a sudden increase in the degree of respect I felt toward myself.
When the children were put to bed, and I had no one but my thoughts for
companions, I spent a delightful hour or two in imagining as possible
some changes of which I had never dared to think before.
On Monday morning I was in the garden at sunrise. Toddie was to carry
his expiatory bouquet to Miss Mayton that day, and I proposed that no
pains should be spared to make his atonement as handsome as possible. I
canvassed carefully every border, bed, and detached flowering plant
until I had as accurate an idea of their possibilities as if I had
inventoried the flowers in pen and ink. This done, I consulted the
servant as to the unsoiled clothing of my nephews. She laid out their
entire wardrobe for my inspection, and after a rigid examination of
everything I selected the suits which the boys were to wear in the
afternoon. Then I told the girl that the boys were going with me after
dinner to call on some ladies, and that I desired that she should wash
and dress them carefully.
"Tell me just what time you'll start, sir, and I'll begin an hour
beforehand," said she. "That's the only way to be sure that they don't
disgrace you."
For breakfast we had, among other things, some stewed oysters served in
soup-plates.
"O Todd," shrieked Budge, "there's the turtle-plates again—oh, AIN'T I
glad!"
"Oo—ee—turtle pyates," squealed Toddie.
"What on earth do you mean, boys?" I demanded.
"I'll show you," said Budge, jumping down from his chair and bringing
his plate of oysters cautiously toward me. "Now you just put your head
down underneath my plate, and look up, and you'll see a turtle."
For a moment I forgot that I was not at a restaurant, and I took the
plate, held it up, and examined its bottom.
"There!" said Budge, pointing to the trademark, in colors, of the
makers of the crockery, "don't you see the turtle?"
I abruptly ordered Budge to his seat, unmoved even by Toddie's remark,
that—
"Dey ish turtles, but dey can't knawl awound like udder turtles."
After breakfast I devoted a great deal of fussy attention to myself.
Never did my own wardrobe seem so meager and ill-assorted; never did I
cut myself so many times while shaving; never did I use such
unsatisfactory shoe-polish. I finally gave up in despair my effort to
appear genteel, and devoted myself to the bouquet. I cut almost flowers
enough to dress a church, and then remorselessly excluded every one
which was in the least particular imperfect. In making the bouquet I
enjoyed the benefit of my nephews' assistance and counsel and took
enforced part in conversation which flowers suggested.
"Ocken Hawwy," said Toddie, "ish heaven all like this, wif pretty
f'owers? Cos I don't see what ze angels ever turns out for if 'tis."
"Uncle Harry," said Budge, "when the leaves all go up and down and
wriggle around so, are they talking to the wind?"
"I—I guess so, old fellow."
"Who are you making that bouquet for, Uncle Harry?" asked Budge.
"For a lady—for Miss Mayton—that lady that saw us all muddy yesterday
afternoon," said I.
"Oh, I like her," said Budge. "She looks so nice and pretty—just like
a cake—just as if she was good to eat—Oh, I just love her, don't YOU?"
"Well, I respect her very highly, Budge."
"'Spect? What does 'spect mean?"
"Why, it means that I think she's a lady—a real pleasant lady-just the
nicest sort of lady in the world—the sort of person I'd like to see
every day, and like to see her better than any one else."
"Oh, why, 'spect an' love means just the same thing, don't they, Uncle
Har—"
"Budge," I exclaimed, somewhat hastily "run ask Maggie for a piece of
string—quick!"
"All right," said Budge, moving off, "but they DO, don't they?"
At two o'clock I instructed Maggie to dress my nephews, and at three we
started to make our call. To carry Toddie's bouquet, and hold a hand of
each boy so as to keep them from darting into the hedges for
grasshoppers, and the gutters for butterflies, was no easy work, but I
managed to do it. As we approached Mrs. Clarkson's boarding-house I
felt my hat was over one ear, and my cravat awry, but there was no
opportunity to rearrange them, for I saw Alice Mayton on the piazza,
and felt that she saw me. Handing the bouquet to Toddie, and promising
him three sticks of candy if he would be careful and not drop it, we
entered the garden. The moment we were inside the hedge and Toddie saw
a man going over the lawn with a lawn-mower, he shrieked: "Oh, deresh a
cutter-grass!" and dropped the bouquet with the carelessness born of
perfect ecstasy. I snatched it before it reached the ground, dragged
the offending youth up the walk, saluted Miss Mayton, and told Toddie
to give the bouquet to the lady. This he succeeded in doing, but as
Miss Mayton thanked him and stooped to kiss him he wriggled off the
piazza like a little eel, shouted, "Tum on!" to his brother, and a
moment later my nephews were following the "cutter-grass" at a
respectful distance in the rear.
"Those are my sister's best children in the world, Miss Mayton," said I.
"Bless the little darlings!" replied the lady; "I DO love to see
children enjoying themselves."
"So do I," said I, "when I'm not responsible for their well-being; but
if the effort I've expended on those boys had been directed toward the
interests of my employers, those worthy gentlemen would consider me
invaluable."
Miss Mayton made some witty reply, and we settled to a pleasant chat
about mutual acquaintances, about books, pictures, music, and the
gossip of our set. I would cheerfully have discussed Herbert Spencer's
system, the Assyrian Tablets, or any other dry subject with Miss
Mayton, and felt that I was richly repaid by the pleasure of seeing
her. Handsome, intelligent, composed, tastefully dressed, without a
suspicion of the flirt or the languid woman of fashion about her, she
awakened to the uttermost every admiring sentiment and every manly
feeling. But, alas, my enjoyment was probably more than I deserved, so
it was cut short. There were other ladies boarding at Mrs. Clarkson's,
and as Miss Mayton truthfully observed at our first meeting, men were
very scarce at Hillcrest. So the ladies, by the merest accident, of
course, happened upon the piazza, and each one was presented to me, and
common civility made it impossible for me to speak to Miss Mayton more
than once in ten minutes. At any other time and place I should have
found the meeting of so many ladies a delightful experience, but now—
Suddenly a compound shriek arose from the lawn, and all the ladies
sprang to their feet. I followed their example, setting my teeth firmly
and viciously, hoping that whichever nephew had been hurt was BADLY
hurt. We saw Toddie running towards us with one hand in his mouth,
while Budge ran beside him, exclaiming:—
"POOR little Toddie! Don't cry! DOES it hurt you awful? Never
mind—Uncle Harry'll comfort you. Don't cry, Toddie DE-ar!"
Both boys reached the piazza steps, and clambered up, Budge
exclaiming:—
"O, Uncle Harry, Toddie put his fingers in the little wheels of the
cutter-grass, an' it turned just the least little biddie, an' it hurted
him."
But Toddie ran up to me, clasped my legs, and sobbed.
"Sing 'Toddie one boy day.'"
My blood seemed to freeze. I could have choked that dreadful child,
suffering though he was. I stooped over him, caressed him, promised him
candy, took out my watch and gave it to him to play with, but he
returned to his original demand. A lady—the homeliest in the
party—suggested that she should bind up his hand, and I inwardly
blessed her, but he reiterated his request for "Toddie one boy day,"
and sobbed pitifully.
"What DOES he mean?" asked Miss Mayton.
"He wants Uncle Harry to sing, 'Charley boy one day,'" explained Budge;
"he always wants that song when he's hurt any way."
"Oh, do sing it to him, Mr. Burton," pleaded Miss Mayton; and all the
other ladies exclaimed, "Oh, do!"
I wrathfully picked him up in my arms, and hummed the air of the
detested song.
"Sit in a wockin'-chair," sobbed Toddie.
I obeyed; and then my tormentor remarked:—
"You don't sing the wydes (words),—I wants the wydes."
I sang the words as softly as possible with my lips close to his ear,
but he roared:—
"Sing louder."
"I don't know any more of it, Toddie," I exclaimed in desperation.
"Oh, I'll tell it all to you, Uncle Harry," said Budge. And there,
before that audience, and HER, I was obliged to sing that dreadful
doggerel, line for line, as Budge repeated it. My teeth were set tight,
my brow grew clammy, and I gazed upon Toddie with terrible thoughts in
my mind. No one laughed—I grew so desperate that a titter would have
given relief. At last I heard some one whisper:—
"SEE how he loves him! Poor man!—he's in perfect agony over the little
fellow."
Had not the song reached its natural end just then, I believe I should
have tossed my wounded nephew over the piazza rail. As it was, I set
him upon his feet, announced the necessity of our departure, and began
to take leave, when Miss Mayton's mother insisted that we should stay
to dinner.
"For myself, I should be delighted, Mrs. Mayton," said I; "but my
nephews have hardly learned company manners yet. I'm afraid my sister
wouldn't forgive me if she heard I had taken them out to dinner."
"Oh, I'll take care of the little dears," said Miss Mayton; "they'll be
good with ME, I KNOW."
"I couldn't be so unkind as to let you try it, Miss Mayton," I replied.
But she insisted, and the pleasure of submitting to her will was so
great that I would have risked even greater mischief. So Miss Mayton
sat down to dinner with Budge upon one side and Toddie on the other,
while I was fortunately placed opposite, from which position I could
indulge in warning winks and frowns. The soup was served. I signaled
the boys to tuck their napkins under their chins, and then turned to
speak to the lady on my right. She politely inclined her head toward
me, but her thoughts seemed elsewhere; following her eyes, I beheld my
youngest nephew with his plate upraised in both hands, his head on the
table-cloth, and his eyes turned painfully upward. I dared not speak,
for fear he would drop the plate. Suddenly he withdrew his head, put on
an angelic smile, tilted his plate so part of its contents sought
refuge in the fold of Miss Mayton's dainty, snowy dress, while the
offender screamed:—
"Oo—ee—!—zha turtle on my pyate!—Budgie, zha turtle on my pyate!"
Budge was about to raise the plate when he caught my eye and desisted.
Poor Miss Mayton actually looked discomposed for the first time in her
life, so far as I knew or could imagine. She recovered quickly,
however, and treated that wretched boy with the most Christian
forbearance and consideration during the remainder of the meal. When
the dessert was finished she quickly excused herself, while I removed
Toddie to a secluded corner of the piazza, and favored him with a
lecture which caused him to howl pitifully, and compelled me to caress
him and undo all the good which my rebukes had done. Then he and Budge
removed themselves to the lawn, while I awaited Miss Mayton's
reappearance, to offer an apology for Toddie, and to make our adieus.
It was the custom of the ladies at Mrs. Clarkson's to stroll about the
lovely rural walks after dinner and until twilight; and on this
particular evening they departed in twos and threes, leaving me to make
my apology without witnesses. I was rather sorry they went; it was not
pleasant to feel that I was principally responsible for my nephews'
blunder, and to have no opportunity to allay my conscience-pangs by
conversation. It seemed to me Miss Mayton was forever in appearing; I
even called up my nephews to have some one to talk to.
Suddenly she appeared, and in an instant I fervently blessed Toddie and
the soup which the child had sent upon its aimless wanderings. I would
rather pay the price of a fine dress than try to describe Miss Mayton's
attire; I can only say that in style, color and ornament it became her
perfectly, and set off the beauties of a face which I had never before
thought was more than pleasing and intelligent. Perhaps the anger which
was excusable after Toddie's graceless caper had something to do with
putting unusual color into her cheeks, and a brighter sparkle than
usual in her eyes. Whatever was the cause, she looked queenly, and I
half imagined that I detected in her face a gleam of satisfaction at
the involuntary start which her unexpected appearance caused me to
make. She accepted my apology for Toddie with queenly graciousness, and
then, instead of proposing that we should follow the other ladies, as a
moment before I had hoped she would, she dropped into a chair. I
accepted the invitation; the children should have been in bed half an
hour before, but my sense of responsibility had departed when Miss
Mayton appeared. The little scamps were safe until they should perform
some new and unexpected act of impishness. They retired to one end of
the piazza, and busied themselves in experiments upon a large
Newfoundland dog, while I, the happiest man alive, talked to the
glorious woman before me, and enjoyed the spectacle of her radiant
beauty. The twilight came and deepened, but imagination prevented the
vision from fading. With the coming of the darkness and the starlight,
our voices unconsciously dropped to lower tones, and HER voice seemed
purest music. And yet we said nothing which all the world might not
have listened to without suspecting a secret. The ladies returned in
little groups, but either out of womanly intuition or in answer to my
unspoken but fervent prayers, passed us and went into the house. I was
affected by an odd mixture of desperate courage and despicable
cowardice. I determined to tell her all, yet I shrank from the task
with more terror than ever befell me in the first steps of a charge.
Suddenly a small shadow came from behind us and stood between us, and
the voice of Budge remarked:—
"Uncle Harry 'spects you, Miss Mayton."
"Suspects me?—of what, pray?" exclaimed the lady, patting my nephew's
cheek.
"Budge!" said I—I feel that my voice rose nearly to a scream—"Budge,
I must beg of you to respect the sanctity of confidential
communications."
"What is it, Budge?" persisted Miss Mayton; "you know the old adage,
Mr. Burton: 'Children and fools speak the truth.' Of what does he
suspect me, Budge?"
"'Tain't SUS-pect at all," said Budge, "it's es-pect."
"Expect?" echoed Miss Mayton.
"No, not 'ex,' it's ES-spect. I know all about it, 'cause I asked him.
Espect is what folks do when they think you're nice, and like to talk
to you, and—"
"Respect is what the boy is trying to say, Miss Mayton," I interrupted,
to prevent what I feared might follow. "Budge has a terrifying faculty
for asking questions, and the result of some of them, this morning, was
my endeavor to explain to him the nature of the respect in which
gentlemen hold ladies."
"Yes," continued Budge, "I know all about it. Only Uncle Harry don't
say it right. What he calls espect _I_ calls LOVE."
End of Section 6 �