I.
PORTRAITS WALK AND TALK.
IT was Christmas Eve. Excitement had reached fever heat. The childrenknew nothing about Christmas in the East; and their Western festivalshad always been simple, for there was little money to use in buyinggifts. But this year friends had remembered them, and they had alsoearned several dollars by various kinds of work; so that they were sureof many nice things. Had they not been buying presents for each otherthese ten days? and was not every closet in the house made thehiding-place for some treasure?
The nervous strain on the parents was great. Such confusion and anxietypassed words. Was it possible ever to get the house and the familysettled down to plain, every-day living again?
It happened that the children had all met in the east parlor. This wasthe room where the pictures of the Judge and his wife adorned the wall.The two portraits hung on the right of the fireplace, you remember, justover the piano. A lamp was giving a faint light on the marblecentre-table, and a cheerful wood fire was burning on the hearth. Infront of the piano was the music stool.
The children were all talking. The hum and buzz of their many voicesfilled the room. One said, "I wonder if Santa Claus will bring me adoll;" and another said, "There is no such person as Santa Claus;" and athird said, "I want a new sled;" and a fourth said, "Father promised mea book about birds;" and so the talk continued.
But Ruth for once kept still. She was worn out with excitement. As sheflung herself into a big arm-chair, she turned her head towards thefire, and began to see all sorts of funny creatures dancing in and outamong the coals. Ruth was a poet, you remember, gifted with a wonderfulimagination; and she could see more strange things, and tell more wildstories, than any other child in the family; and that is saying a greatdeal, for they all had a way of telling about things which they hadheard and seen that constantly reminded their neighbors of Westernlargeness and exaggeration.
As Ruth watched the queer creatures playing in the fire her eyes grewheavy; and then she turned her head away for a moment, and her eyesbecame fixed upon the pictures of the Judge and his wife. Did her headdroop to one side, and did it fall softly upon the cushion against thearm, or did her eyes suddenly open wide with surprise, and did she gazewith startled look upon a strange scene before her?
For both the Judge and his wife seemed to be moving; and they looked sonatural and pleasant when they smiled and bowed, that Ruth said toherself, "Why, they must be alive." And the Judge reached out his handfrom the canvas which held him, and took the hand of his wife, who hadresponded to his motion, and said, "My dear, wouldn't you like to stepdown and out for a little while?"
"Yes, thank you," she replied; "I think it would rest me." And then helaid down the pen, which he holds in the picture, and stepped lightlyupon the piano, still keeping her hand in his; and then he helped herdown upon the piano, and then he stepped down to the music stool, andfinally on the floor, and she followed. This was all done with the graceand dignity that marked the usual movements both of the Judge and hiswife. And it seemed the most natural thing in the world for them to stepdown and out.
Ruth sprang toward them on the instant that they stood upon the floor.She rubbed her eyes to make sure that she was not dreaming; and then asshe saw them really before her, looking for all the world like naturalfolks, she greeted them with delight.
"Why, how do you do?" she exclaimed. "I always thought you looked as ifyou would like to talk. That, I suppose, is why people say that yourpictures are a 'speaking likeness.' But I never thought you'd get out ofthe pictures. How did you do it?" But the Judge and his wife were toomuch absorbed in the scene before them to reply immediately. The oldroom had changed since their day; they were noting the changes. And thenthis roomful of children took them by surprise.
"My dear," said the Judge to his wife, "this is delightful." "Yes,"continued Ruth, "they all belong to us. I heard the president of theDorcas Society say that when the church called this minister theyexpected him to fill the parsonage just as much as the pulpit. And wedid it."
"Yes, this is delightful," repeated the Judge. "How many are there?" Hesaid this to his wife, but Ruth answered.
"Oh! there are only fifteen of us when we are by ourselves. There are agood many more when the neighbors' children come in; and then don't wehave grand times!"
"It almost takes my breath away." Mrs. "Judge" was speaking to herhusband. "My dear, have you my fan in your pocket?" And the Judge feltin his pocket, but he didn't find any fan.
"Why, it's Christmas! You don't want a fan," said Ruth, who was bound totake part in the conversation, and play the hostess on this wonderfuloccasion. And then the Judge and his wife stood stock-still, and gazedwith increasing pleasure and interest upon the scene.
Their descent from the picture had been so noiseless and unexpectedthat Ruth was the only one to observe it. But when this keen, talkativesister began to question the guests, the other children turned theirheads, and they beheld the curious sight. There stood the Judge and hiswife exactly as they appeared in the portraits. Only they had their legson them, and the pictures didn't. But the children noticed even thesmallest details of dress, and they were the very originals of theportraits.
Suddenly the whole company stood up.
"Why, it's just like a reception or a wedding," said Ruth. "I thinkthey're all waiting to be introduced." And the children advanced oneafter another, or Ruth led the Judge and his wife to different parts ofthe room, and each brother and sister and cousin was properly presented.
"How did you get out?" inquired Ruth a second time. Everybody in theroom was now standing, and all eyes were looking for the next move inthis strange parlor drama.
"We just stepped out," replied the Judge, who seemed prepared at lengthto talk with Ruth or the other children.
"But where did you keep your legs all the time?" When Ethel asked thisquestion Mrs. "Judge" blushed. Elizabeth, the eldest daughter, pushedher way forward, and said, "S-s-s-s-h!" and Samuel said, with a nudge ofthe arm, "Keep still, can't you?" But you might as well tell thesteaming teakettle to stop boiling as it sits upon a lively fire.
"We are very glad to see you," interrupted Helen. She was a mosthospitable girl, and she had read a great deal of history; althoughHenry knew more history than she did, and he had read everything aboutthe Judge that he could lay his hands on.
"We are very glad to see you, and should like to ask about the 'HartfordConvention,'" said Henry.
"He's been talking about it for a month," continued Ruth. "I wish you'dtell him all about it, and then maybe he'd keep still. I don't careanything about it, neither do the other children. But Henry thinks he'svery smart in such things ever since he got a prize in history."
"Did you say these were all the children?" It was Mrs. "Judge" that nowspoke. And as she made the inquiry Susie ran out of the parlor, anddisappeared in the gloom of the hall.
"Why, we forgot all about the baby!" exclaimed Ruth. "He's up-stairsasleep, I guess. Dear me, you must see the baby. He's the cutest littlething you ever saw."
"Yes, we should like to see him, of course. We both like babies, goodbabies."
"Babies that don't cry I suppose you mean," said Ruth. "Well, he doesn'tcry much,--only when he's hungry, or a pin sticks into him, or he getsmad, or somebody lets him fall, or hits his head against the door or achair." Here Ruth paused for breath. Then she exclaimed, "Why, ofcourse, you must see the baby! Why, he is named for you!" This was saidto the Judge with greatest excitement. And just as Ruth was saying iteverybody turned toward the door, and there stood little Susie huggingthe baby to her breast, his nightdress dragging on the floor, her shortarms barely reaching around his plump body; both baby and Susie havingtheir faces wreathed in smiles. Staggering under the burden thisyoungest sister pressed through the company with her precious armful;and as the Judge saw her approach he stepped forward, bent down aboveher, and took the little fellow into his arms, where he settled with amost contented and happy expression. It was a very pretty sight,--thisst
ately old gentleman holding a beautiful baby on one arm, and reachingover to the lovely, dignified wife by his side with the other arm; forshe had taken hold of his hand again after he had fixed the babycomfortably on his arm, and Ruth had stationed herself close by theJudge's wife on the other side, and taken possession of the lady's freehand.
"And this is the baby, is it?" inquired Mrs. "Judge." "What a dearlittle boy he is! And what did you say you called him?" For the lady waseither deaf or absorbed so that she did not hear all that Ruth had saidabout the baby's name.
"Why, we call him after your husband. Didn't you hear me say so? He isthe "Little Judge." Just see how he clings to his namesake. Is he theJudge's namesake or the Judge his namesake? I don't know which is which,only it's something about namesake, and he's named for the Judge." Thislatter talk on the part of Ruth was quite as much to herself as to thevisitors. And all the time the Judge was gazing down into the infant'sface with earnest, wistful look, seeming almost to forget that he wasonce more standing in the old east parlor. Yes, for a moment he hadreally forgotten where he did stand; for he was thinking of the manyyears ago when two other baby boys had been placed in his arms, and withwhat hope and tenderness he had handled the small, helpless pieces ofhumanity.
"Don't you like the name?" interrupted Ruth. "We thought it would pleaseyou. What makes you look so solemn? Oh, I know!" Now, Ruth did notintend to be cruel. She was simply thoughtless like many other children.
"You had a baby boy once, didn't you? Two of 'em, didn't you?" And thenshe saw that Mrs. "Judge" seemed to feel bad too, and that she let gothe Judge's hand for a moment, and dashed away some tears from her eyes.
"I'm sorry if I've hurt your feelings," said Ruth. "I didn't mean to. Iwas just thinking about your two baby boys. They would have been awfulold if they had lived till now, wouldn't they? and we never should havelived in this house if they had lived, would we?" A hush had fallen onthe company. Neither the Judge nor his wife made any reply. They werelost in thought, while the children watched them with breathlessinterest.
"We didn't dare give him your full name," continued Ruth. "That's whatDr. Blank did to one of his baby boys, and it died. Mother was afraid ifwe called our baby after you, with the three long names, that it mightkill him, so she said; so we dropped the middle one, and I think it muchbetter, don't you?"
"Dear little boy," said the Judge affectionately, as he looked down intohis face again. "Dear little boy." And then the Judge bent down andkissed him, and the baby beamed with delight. It was almost like abaptism in church.
"I thought maybe you were going to pray over him. That's the way fatherdoes, you know." But the Judge didn't seem to hear.
"My dear," he said, turning to his wife and holding the baby toward her.She knew what he meant, for she likewise bent down over the littlefellow and printed another kiss upon his sweet, upturned, dimpled face,and then another, and a third, while the Judge stood looking on withhappy indulgence; and all the children noted every motion in thissingular drama.
"What did your boys die of?" asked Ruth, who did not wish to lose anytime, since she had so many questions to ask, and she feared that hervisitors might not stay as long as she wished them.
"Ruth!" exclaimed Samuel, who had drawn near the young inquisitor, andfelt it was time to stop her; "aren't you ashamed of yourself?" He saidthis in a low tone, thinking that the Judge and his wife might not hear.They were watching the baby with such eagerness that they had almostforgotten the rest of the company.
"I think," remarked Mrs. "Judge," as she lifted her head from the babyand glanced around the room, "that it is very pleasant in the oldhouse."
"Oh, yes; we think so too." It was Ruth again speaking. The othermembers of the family had little chance to say anything. "Can't get ina word edgewise," whispered Henry to Helen. "What a perfect nuisanceRuth is!"
"Wouldn't you like to go over the house?" Of course it was Ruth whoasked the question. She was always taking people over the house. Itmight be Monday morning when everything was in dire confusion, and allthe younger children still in bed, or it might be early evening afterthe baby and Susie had been playing in crib and bed, and things wereassuming their wonted appearance of disorder. If the notion took her shewas always ready to seize a caller by the hand, and lead him from cellarto garret.
"I think I would like to look around a little," replied the lady. "I amwondering how many closets you have now in the house."
"Oh, there is an awful lot!" exclaimed Ruth.
"We have sixty," observed Elizabeth, who liked to be precise.
"That's right, that's right," continued Mrs. "Judge." "I had that numberput in. I was afraid you might have given away some of them." When shesaid this the children looked rather queer. Who ever heard of givingaway closets? One might think they were flowers, or eggs, or peaches.
"You used to give away a great deal, didn't you?" exclaimed Ruth. "But Idon't see how you could give away closets."
And now the whole company started on a tour of sight-seeing in the oldhouse. Samuel and Elizabeth naturally took the lead, being the oldestand quite the lady and gentleman. The Judge with the baby on one arm andhis wife leaning on the other followed. Ruth still clung to the righthand of Mrs. "Judge." Then the remaining children came in a dense crowdjust behind them.
"The parlor looks much as it did when we left it, except the furniture,"said the lady. "Now let us see if they have kept the other rooms aswell."
They passed next into the hall.
"Dear me! what is this?" exclaimed the Judge. "Where are we?" For it wasnot the old hall at all. That had been rather short and small. This waslong, reaching through the house.
"Why, what has become of my bedroom?" inquired the lady. "They have madeit into this hall. And where are all the nice little closets under thestairs? You certainly have given them away. Oh, dear! oh, dear! I'm sosorry."
"I guess you're tired," said Ruth. "It makes you nervous to walk much,doesn't it? Why, yes, I know, because they say you never went up-stairsfor ever so many years. Oh, I know what we'll do! You can ride." Allthis time Mrs. "Judge" was looking about her in a dazed way, quite atsea in respect to her surroundings. For the hall had been completelychanged until it appeared about as different as different could be. Andthe good lady was really shocked.
"Do you see those things under the stairs? They are our bicycles."
And the Judge and his wife gazed with perplexed faces in the directionindicated. There was a whole row of them. Seven, altogether,--full-grown,half-grown, or any size you might wish. It was like a carriage shop.
"I think you might ride one all through the house down-stairs," saidRuth to the lady guest. "Then you wouldn't have to walk."
And as the suggestion was made, Ruth's eyes flashed, and her cheeks grewflushed with excitement. What fun it would be to push the good woman ona bicycle from room to room, and show her the present arrangements ofthe beloved house. But Mrs. "Judge" was horrified. She clung veryclosely to her husband, as if she thought that she might have to perchupon one of the machines whether she wished it or not. Her breath camefast and short. Her cheeks grew hectic.
"You don't mean to say that people ride those things!" she finallyexclaimed when her first flurry of agitation was past.
"Yes," replied Ruth delightedly; "we all ride 'em."
"Not your father and mother,--the minister and the minister's wife?"
"Why, yes, and the Episcopal minister too, and his wife."
"Are you sure, Judge, that you didn't bring a fan with you?" The goodwoman seemed very faint, and she looked beseechingly toward her husband."Here's one," shouted Susie, who ran to the cabinet and found a lovelypiece of feather work, which scattered very fine feathers over yourclothes and through the room on every motion you made with it. And asthe Judge's wife waved it back and forth the feathers began to fly.
"It looks like a snow-storm," whispered Herbert to Theodora. And soonthe feather flakes adorned their garments and floated through the air,so that one was really
reminded of a fresh fall of snow.
It took the good lady a long time to get her breath. The hall closetswere all gone; and in their places stood seven things called bicycles,upon which the minister, his wife, and the children were said to ride.It was awful. And Ruth was urging her to try one. Alas! the hall wastoo much for her self-possession.
"Let us go into the west room," she said faintly. So they all came intowhat is now the family sitting-room and library. Here everything wasstrange. The door into the kitchen was covered with a high book-casefilled with literature. The small cubby-hole through which dishes andfood had been passed from dining-room to kitchen was now made into adoor. But there was one familiar object before them. In the far cornerstood the clock, grave and stalwart sentinel for the house.
"My dear, do you see the clock?" It was the Judge speaking to his wife.He knew there must be many changes in the house. He accepted them veryquietly; but he was glad to see this old familiar friend. He hadexpected to find it in the hall where it had always stood during hisday; but he was just as glad to see it here in the old dining-room. Thatclock had been present on all the great occasions of life. It hadmarked the hours for every event connected with the history of thehouse. When the long line of famous men and women entertained by theJudge and his wife came to mind, it was to be recollected that the clockhad seen them all, and winked and blinked at them morning, noon, andnight, and sounded his warning notes in their ears, when it was time torise or retire, or to eat, or to go to court, or to drive to town, or tostart for church. It was like meeting a tried and beloved friend. Boththe Judge and his wife were overjoyed.
It might have been that some indifferent family had lived in the house,and thrown the clock out of doors or stored it in the attic. There arepeople so dull and unimaginative, people with so little sentiment, thatthey never care for keepsakes or heirlooms. They want everything freshand new about them. Antiques are a perfect bore or nuisance. Happily theminister's family was not one of this kind. They all had a great deal ofwhat is called historic sense. They liked old things; and the clock wastheir most sacred possession. How much they had talked about it, anddreamed about the scenes which had passed before it! While Ruth hadinvented more wild stories in connection with that one object than couldbe told in many a day.
The other things in the room attracted little attention. The visitorsmade their slow and stately way across to the corner where the clockstood. As they looked up into its serene face, the object of theirinterest looked down upon them with a very knowing expression, seemingto recognize them on the instant, extending them a very hearty welcome;for the tick, tick was louder than ever before, the very frame of thehuge thing began to tremble with suppressed excitement, and then eightlong, loud strokes sounded through the entire house, as much as to say,"They've come," "How'd do?" "Glad t'see you," and other kind greetings.The children had all followed the Judge and his wife, and they wereeagerly watching for the next movement on the part of the visitors.
It made quite a striking picture,--the tall, solemn clock in the farcorner of the room, the Judge and the baby on his arm, and the wifeholding Ruth by the hand, standing in front of it; then the throng ofalert and wondering children bringing up in the rear, for they all feltthat something out of the ordinary was about to happen. In fact, thewhole visit of these former inhabitants of the house was rather unusual,so that the children would naturally expect fresh marvels at any moment.It was clear that Mrs. "Judge" was getting tired; nobody had offered hera chair, and she had refused to get on a bicycle.
Suddenly the door of the clock swung open.
"I think you had better rest, my dear," said the Judge; "we'll step inhere."
And as he made the remark he put his foot into the clock and gave alively spring, filling the small doorway.
"Oh, please don't take the baby away!" screamed Ruth, as she saw themboth disappearing. "Who'll nurse him? And mamma'll feel so bad."
But it was all done so quickly that Ruth never finished her speech, forthe Judge still held his wife's hand and helped her into the clock; thenas Ruth held all the faster to the lady's hand, she was caught up too,they all went into the clock and the door shut upon them.
The other children were struck dumb with amazement.
"I always thought it looked like a coffin," exclaimed Samuel; "but Inever expected to see four people buried alive in it."
"I've wanted to hide in it a hundred times," said Helen, "but I neversupposed"--
"Ten thousand times are hid in it," interrupted Henry.
"Times out of mind," whispered Herbert.
"Time, time," cried Samuel; and soon they indeed had a "time."
The House With Sixty Closets: A Christmas Story for Young Folks and Old Children Page 10
