THE EDUCATIONAL BREAKFAST.
MRS. PETERKIN'S nerves were so shaken by the excitement of the fall ofthe three little boys into the enclosure where the cow was kept that theeducational breakfast was long postponed. The little boys continued atschool, as before, and the conversation dwelt as little as possible uponthe subject of education.
Mrs. Peterkin's spirits, however, gradually recovered. The little boyswere allowed to watch the cow at her feed. A series of strings werearranged by Agamemnon and Solomon John, by which the little boys couldbe pulled up, if they should again fall down into the enclosure. Thesewere planned something like curtain-cords, and Solomon John frequentlyamused himself by pulling one of the little boys up or letting him down.
Some conversation did again fall upon the old difficulty of questions.Elizabeth Eliza declared that it was not always necessary to answer;that many who could did not answer questions,--the conductors of therailroads, for instance, who probably knew the names of all the stationson a road, but were seldom able to tell them.
"Yes," said Agamemnon, "one might be a conductor without even knowingthe names of the stations, because you can't understand them when theydo tell them!"
"I never know," said Elizabeth Eliza, "whether it is ignorance in them,or unwillingness, that prevents them from telling you how soon onestation is coming, or how long you are to stop, even if one asks ever somany times. It would be useful if they would tell."
Mrs. Peterkin thought this was carried too far in the horse-cars inBoston. The conductors had always left you as far as possible from theplace where you wanted to stop; but it seemed a little too much to havethe aldermen take it up, and put a notice in the cars, ordering theconductors "to stop at the farthest crossing."
Mrs. Peterkin was, indeed, recovering her spirits. She had been carryingon a brisk correspondence with Philadelphia, that she had imparted to noone, and at last she announced, as its result, that she was ready for abreakfast on educational principles.
A breakfast indeed, when it appeared! Mrs. Peterkin had mistakenthe alphabetical suggestion, and had grasped the idea that the wholealphabet must be represented in one breakfast.
This, therefore, was the bill of fare: Apple-sauce, Bread, Butter,Coffee, Cream, Doughnuts, Eggs, Fish-balls, Griddles, Ham, Ice (onbutter), Jam, Krout (sour), Lamb-chops, Morning Newspapers, Oatmeal,Pepper, Quince-marmalade, Rolls, Salt, Tea Urn, Veal-pie, Waffles,Yeast-biscuit.
Mr. Peterkin was proud and astonished. "Excellent!" he cried. "Everyletter represented except Z." Mrs. Peterkin drew from her pocket aletter from the lady from Philadelphia. "She thought you would call itX-cellent for X, and she tells us," she read, "that if you come with azest, you will bring the Z."
Mr. Peterkin was enchanted. He only felt that he ought to invite thechildren in the primary schools to such a breakfast; what a zest,indeed, it would give to the study of their letters!
It was decided to begin with Apple-sauce.
"How happy," exclaimed Mr. Peterkin, "that this should come first ofall! A child might be brought up on apple-sauce till he had masteredthe first letter of the alphabet, and could go on to the more involvedsubjects hidden in bread, butter, baked beans, etc."
Agamemnon thought his father hardly knew how much was hidden inthe apple. There was all the story of William Tell and the Swissindependence. The little boys were wild to act William Tell, but Mrs.Peterkin was afraid of the arrows. Mrs.
Peterkin proposed they should begin by eating the apple-sauce, thendiscussing it, first botanically, next historically; or perhaps firsthistorically, beginning with Adam and Eve, and the first apple.
Mrs. Peterkin feared the coffee would be getting cold, and the griddleswere waiting. For herself, she declared she felt more at home on themarmalade, because the quinces came from grandfather's, and she had seenthem planted; she remembered all about it, and now the bush came up tothe sitting-room window.
She seemed to have heard him tell that the town of Quincy, where thegranite came from, was named from them, and she never quite recollectedwhy, except they were so hard, as hard as stone, and it took you almostthe whole day to stew them, and then you might as well set them onagain.
Mr. Peterkin was glad to be reminded of the old place at grandfather's.In order to know thoroughly about apples, they ought to understand themaking of cider.
Now, they might some time drive up to grandfather's, scarcely twelvemiles away, and see the cider made. Why, indeed, should not the familygo this very day up to grandfather's, and continue the education of thebreakfast?
"Why not indeed?" exclaimed the little boys. A day at grandfather'swould give them the whole process of the apple, from the orchard to thecider-mill. In this way they could widen the field of study, even tofollow in time the cup of coffee to Java.
It was suggested, too, that at grandfather's they might study theprocesses of maple-syrup as involved in the griddle-cakes.
Agamemnon pointed out the connection between the two subjects: they wereboth the products of trees--the apple-tree and the maple. Mr. Peterkinproposed that the lesson for the day should be considered the study oftrees, and on the way they could look at other trees.
Why not, indeed, go this very day? There was no time like the present.Their breakfast had been so copious, they would scarcely be in a hurryfor dinner, and would, therefore, have the whole day before them.
Mrs. Peterkin could put up the remains of the breakfast for luncheon.
But how should they go? The carryall, in spite of its name, could hardlytake the whole family, though they might squeeze in six, as the littleboys did not take up much room.
Elizabeth Eliza suggested that she could spend the night atgrandfather's.
Indeed, she had been planning a visit there, and would not object tostaying some days. This would make it easier about coming home, but itdid not settle the difficulty in getting there.
Why not "Ride and Tie"?
The little boys were fond of walking; so was Mr. Peterkin; and Agamemnonand Solomon John did not object to their turn. Mrs. Peterkin could sitin the carriage, when it was waiting for the pedestrians to come up; or,she said, she did not object to a little turn of walking. Mr. Peterkinwould start, with Solomon John and the little boys, before the rest,and Agamemnon should drive his mother and Elizabeth Eliza to the firststopping-place.
Then came up another question,--of Elizabeth Eliza's trunk. If she stayeda few days, she would need to carry something. It might be hot, and itmight be cold.
Just as soon as she carried her thin things, she would need her heaviestwraps.
You never could depend upon the weather. Even "Probabilities" got you nofarther than to-day.
In an inspired moment, Elizabeth Eliza bethought herself of theexpressman. She would send her trunk by the express, and she left thetable directly to go and pack it. Mrs. Peterkin busied herself withAmanda over the remains of the breakfast. Mr. Peterkin and Agamemnonwent to order the horse and the expressman, and Solomon John and thelittle boys prepared themselves for a pedestrian excursion.
Elizabeth Eliza found it difficult to pack in a hurry; there were somany things she might want, and then again she might not. She mustput up her music, because her grandfather had a piano; and then shebethought herself of Agamemnon's flute, and decided to pick out a volumeor two of the Encyclopaedia. But it was hard to decide, all by herself,whether to take G for griddle-cakes, or M for maple-syrup, or T fortree. She would take as many as she could make room for.
She put up her work-box and two extra work-baskets, and she must takesome French books she had never yet found time to read. This involvedtaking her French dictionary, as she doubted if her grandfather had one.She ought to put in a "Botany," if they were to study trees; but shecould not tell which, so she would take all there were. She might aswell take all her dresses, and it was no harm if one had too many wraps.When she had her trunk packed, she found it over-full; it was difficultto shut it. She had heard Solomon John set out from the front door withhis father and the little boy
s, and Agamemnon was busy holding the horseat the side door, so there was no use in calling for help. She got uponthe trunk; she jumped upon it; she sat down upon it, and, leaning over,found she could lock it! Yes, it was really locked.
But, on getting down from the trunk, she found her dress had been caughtin the lid; she could not move away from it! What was worse, she was sofastened to the trunk that she could not lean forward far enough toturn the key back, to unlock the trunk and release herself! The lock hadslipped easily, but she could not now get hold of the key in the rightway to turn it back.
She tried to pull her dress away. No, it was caught too firmly. Shecalled for help to her mother or Amanda, to come and open the trunk. Buther door was shut.
Nobody near enough to hear! She tried to pull the trunk toward the door,to open it and make herself heard; but it was so heavy that, in herconstrained position, she could not stir it. In her agony, shewould have been willing to have torn her dress; but it was hertravelling-dress, and too stout to tear. She might cut it carefully.Alas, she had packed her scissors, and her knife she had lent to thelittle boys the day before! She called again. What silence there was inthe house! Her voice seemed to echo through the room. At length, as shelistened, she heard the sound of wheels.
Was it the carriage, rolling away from the side door? Did she hear thefront door shut? She remembered then that Amanda was to "have the day."But she, Elizabeth Eliza, was to have spoken to Amanda, to explain toher to wait for the expressman. She was to have told her as she wentdownstairs. But she had not been able to go downstairs! And Amanda musthave supposed that all the family had left, and she, too, must havegone, knowing of the expressman. Yes, she heard the wheels! She heardthe front door shut!
But could they have gone without her? Then she recalled that she hadproposed walking on a little way with Solomon John and her father, to bepicked up by Mrs. Peterkin, if she should have finished her packing intime. Her mother must have supposed that she had done so,--that shehad spoken to Amanda, and started with the rest. Well, she would soondiscover her mistake. She would overtake the walking party, and, notfinding Elizabeth Eliza, would return for her. Patience only was needed.She had looked around for something to read; but she had packed up allher books. She had packed her knitting. How quiet and still it was! Shetried to imagine where her mother would meet the rest of the family.They were good walkers, and they might have reached the two-mile bridge.But suppose they should stop for water beneath the arch of the bridge,as they often did, and the carryall pass over it without seeing them,her mother would not know but she was with them? And suppose her mothershould decide to leave the horse at the place proposed for stoppingand waiting for the first pedestrian party, and herself walk on, noone would be left to tell the rest, when they should come up to thecarryall. They might go on so, through the whole journey, withoutmeeting, and she might not be missed till they should reach hergrandfather's!
Horrible thought! She would be left here alone all day. The expressmanwould come, but the expressman would go, for he would not be able to getinto the house!
She thought of the terrible story of Ginevra, of the bride who was shutup in her trunk, and forever! She was shut up on hers, and knew notwhen she should be released! She had acted once in the ballad of the"Mistletoe Bough." She had been one of the "guests," who had sung "Oh,the Mistletoe Bough," and had looked up at it, and she had seen at theside-scenes how the bride had laughingly stepped into the trunk. But thetrunk then was only a make-believe of some boards in front of a sofa,and this was a stern reality.
It would be late now before her family would reach her grandfather's.Perhaps they would decide to spend the night. Perhaps they would fancyshe was coming by express. She gave another tremendous effort to movethe trunk toward the door.
In vain. All was still.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Peterkin sat some time at the door, wondering whyElizabeth Eliza did not come down. Mr. Peterkin had started on withSolomon John and all the little boys. Agamemnon had packed the thingsinto the carriage,--a basket of lunch, a change of shoes for Mr.Peterkin, some extra wraps,--everything Mrs.
Peterkin could think of, for the family comfort. Still Elizabeth Elizadid not come. "I think she must have walked on with your father," shesaid, at last; "you had better get in." Agamemnon now got in. "I shouldthink she would have mentioned it," she continued; "but we may as wellstart on, and pick her up!"
They started off. "I hope Elizabeth Eliza thought to speak to Amanda,but we must ask her when we come up with her."
But they did not come up with Elizabeth Eliza. At the turn beyond thevillage, they found an envelope struck up in an inviting manner againsta tree. In this way, they had agreed to leave missives for each other asthey passed on. This note informed them that the walking party was goingto take the short cut across the meadows, and would still be in frontof them. They saw the party at last, just beyond the short cut; but Mr.Peterkin was explaining the character of the oak-tree to his children asthey stood around a large specimen.
"I suppose he is telling them that it is some kind of a 'Quercus,'" saidAgamemnon, thoughtfully.
Mrs. Peterkin thought Mr. Peterkin would scarcely use such anexpression, but she could see nothing of Elizabeth Eliza. Some of theparty, however, were behind the tree, some were in front, and ElizabethEliza might be behind the tree. They were too far off to be shouted at.Mrs. Peterkin was calmed, and went on to the stopping-lace agreed upon,which they reached before long. This had been appointed near FarmerGordon's barn, that there might be somebody at hand whom they knew, incase there should be any difficulty in untying the horse. The plan hadbeen that Mrs. Peterkin should always sit in the carriage, while theothers should take turns for walking; and Agamemnon tied the horse to afence, and left her comfortably arranged with her knitting. Indeed, shehad risen so early to prepare for the alphabetical breakfast, and hadsince been so tired with preparations, that she was quite sleepy, andwould not object to a nape in the shade, by the soothing sound of thebuzzing of the flies. But she called Agamemnon back, as he started offfor his solitary walk, with a perplexing question:
"Suppose the rest all should arrive, how could they now be accommodatedin the carryall? It would be too much for the horse! Why had ElizabethEliza gone with the rest without counting up? Of course, they must haveexpected that she--Mrs. Peterkin--would walk on to the next stopping-place!"
She decided there was no way but for her to walk on. When the restpassed her, they might make a change. So she put up knitting cheerfully.It was a little joggly in the carriage, she had already found, forthe horse was restless from the flies, and she did not like being leftalone.
She walked on then with Agamemnon. It was very pleasant at first, butthe sun became hot, and it was not long before she was fatigued. Whenthey reached a hay-field, she proposed going in to rest upon one of thehay-cocks. The largest and most shady was at the other end of the field,and they were seated there when the carryall passed them in the road.Mrs. Peterkin waved parasol and hat, and the party in the carryallreturned their greetings, but they were too far apart to hear eachother.
Mrs. Peterkin and Agamemnon slowly resumed their walk.
"Well, we shall find Elizabeth Eliza in the carryall," she said, "andthat will explain all."
But it took them an hour or two to reach the carryall, with frequentstoppings for rest, and when they reached it, no one was in it. A notewas pinned up in the vehicle to say they had all walked on; it was"prime fun."
In this way the parties continued to dodge each other, for Mrs. Peterkinfelt that she must walk on from the next station, and the carryallmissed her again while she and Agamemnon stopped in a house to rest, andfor a glass of water.
She reached the carryall to find again that no one was in it. The partyhad passed on for the last station, where it had been decided all shouldmeet at the foot of grandfather's hill, that they might all arrive atthe house together.
Mrs. Peterkin and Agamemnon looked out eagerly for the party all theway, as Elizabeth Eliza mu
st be tired by this time; but Mrs. Peterkin'slast walk had been so slow, that the other party was far in advance andreached the stopping-place before them. The little boys were all rowedout on the stone fence, awaiting them, full of delight at having reachedgrandfather's. Mr.
Peterkin came forward to meet them, and, at the same moment with Mrs.Peterkin, exclaimed: "Where is Elizabeth Eliza?" Each party lookedeagerly at the other; no Elizabeth Eliza was to be seen. Where was she?What was to be done? Was she left behind? Mrs. Peterkin was convincedshe must have somehow got to grandfather's. They hurried up the hill.Grandfather and all the family came out to greet them, for they had beenseen approaching. There was great questioning, but no Elizabeth Eliza!
It was sunset; the view was wide and fine. Mr. and Mrs. Peterkin stoodand looked out from the north to the south. Was it too late to send backfor Elizabeth Eliza? Where was she?
Meanwhile the little boys had been informing the family of the objectof their visit, and while Mr. and Mrs. Peterkin were looking up and downthe road, and Agamemnon and Solomon John were explaining to each otherthe details of their journeys, they had discovered some facts.
"We shall have to go back," they exclaimed. "We are too late! Themaple-syrup was all made last spring."
"We are too early; we shall have to stay two or three months,--the cideris not made till October."
The expedition was a failure! They could study the making of neithermaple-syrup nor cider, and Elizabeth Eliza was lost, perhaps forever!The sun went down, and Mr. and Mrs. Peterkin still stood to look up anddown the road.
... Elizabeth Eliza meanwhile, had sat upon her trunk, as itseemed for ages. She recalled all the terrible stories of prisoners,--howthey had watched the growth of flowers through cracks in the pavement.She wondered how long she could live without eating. How thankful shewas for her abundant breakfast!
At length she heard the door-bell. But who could go to the door toanswer it? In vain did she make another effort to escape; it wasimpossible!
How singular!--there were footsteps. Some one was going to the door; someone had opened it. "They must be burglars." Well, perhaps that was abetter fate--to be gagged by burglars, and the neighbors informed--thanto be forever locked on her trunk. The steps approached the door. Itopened, and Amanda ushered in the expressman.
Amanda had not gone. She had gathered, while waiting at thebreakfast-table, that there was to be an expressman whom she mustreceive.
Elizabeth Eliza explained the situation. The expressman turned the keyof her trunk, and she was released!
What should she do next? So long a time had elapsed, she had given upall hope of her family returning for her. But how could she reach them?
She hastily prevailed upon the expressman to take her along until sheshould come up with some of the family. At least she would fall in witheither the walking party or the carryall, or she would meet them if theywere on their return.
She mounted the seat with the expressman, and slowly they took theirway, stopping for occasional parcels as they left the village.
But much to Elizabeth Eliza's dismay, they turned off from the main roadon leaving the village. She remonstrated, but the driver insisted hemust go round by Millikin's to leave a bedstead. They went roundby Millikin's, and then had further turns to make. Elizabeth Elizaexplained that in this way it would be impossible for her to find herparents and family, and at last he proposed to take her all the way withher trunk. She remembered with a shudder that when she had first askedabout her trunk, he had promised it should certainly be delivered thenext morning. Suppose they should have to be out all night? Where didexpress-carts spend the night? She thought of herself in a lone wood,in an express-wagon! She could hardly bring herself to ask, beforeassenting, when he should arrive.
"He guessed he could bring up before night."
And so it happened that as Mr. and Mrs. Peterkin in the late sunsetwere looking down the hill, wondering what they should do about the lostElizabeth Eliza, they saw an express wagon approaching. A female formsat upon the front seat.
"She has decided to come by express," said Mrs. Peterkin. "It is--itis--Elizabeth Eliza!"
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