THE DICTIONARY.
One evening, Lucy was playing in the parlor where her mother was at
work sewing. Lucy was sitting upon a cricket, looking over a book.
Presently she found, between the leaves of the book, a small piece of
white paper.
“O mother! I’ve found a piece of paper,” said she.
Her mother did not answer.
“I wish I had a pen and ink,” said Lucy again, in a tone intermediate
between talking to herself and to her mother; “then I would write a
letter on this piece of paper.”
“And what would you do with your letter?” said her mother.
“Why, I would play that I was the postman, and so I would carry it
about.”
Just then Lucy happened to recollect that her father was in his room
writing; and so she concluded that she would go in and ask him to
write her a letter. She accordingly rose from her seat, and went to
the door of her father’s room.
The door was open a little way, and Lucy had a great mind to go in
without knocking. But, then, she remembered that it was proper for
her to knock at her father’s door, and she accordingly did so. Nobody
answered. Then Lucy pushed the door a little, so as to open it wider,
in order to see whether her father was there.
He was not there. There was nobody there. Lucy pushed the door open
farther, and walked in.
There was a lamp burning upon a table which stood against the window.
Several books and papers were upon the table. One great book was lying
open. There was a round, black inkstand not far from the book. It had a
large, conical hole in the middle of it, which led down to the ink; and
there were several smaller holes around, near the edge, to put the pen
into. There was a pen with its point in one of these holes, the top of
it leaning over to one side.
“Now, here’s a pen and ink all ready,” said Lucy; “but where’s my
father?”
Lucy walked up to the table, and began to look at the book which was
lying open. “What a great book!” she said. “I wonder if I can read in
such a great book. Here are some big letters on the top. I can read
such big letters as these.”
There were three big letters, in two places, on the top of each page;
and Lucy began to read them.
“H-o-n,” said Lucy, reading--“H-o-n spells _hon_; but I don’t know what
_hon_ means. I wonder what this book is about.”
But Lucy could not find out what it was about, and so she thought
that, as her father was away, she would take the pen and write herself
a letter. She accordingly put her paper down upon the corner of the
table, and then, reaching over the great book, she dipped the pen
carefully into the conical hole in the middle of the inkstand. She then
drew the pen very slowly and cautiously to the paper, secretly feeling,
however, all the time, that she was doing wrong.
Lucy made several marks upon her paper, and then the ink in her pen
failed. She accordingly reached back to the inkstand to get some more.
She thought that she did not dip her pen far enough down before, and
that that was the reason why the ink failed so quick. She, therefore,
this time, dipped the pen in so far that the point of it touched the
bottom of the inkstand; and so, when it came up, it was full of ink.
It was too full of ink, in fact, so that a little drop hung from the
point just ready to fall; and very unfortunately, just as Lucy had got
the pen almost across the great book, the drop did fall, and it made
quite a large, round spot upon the middle of one of the pages.
Lucy was very much frightened at this occurrence. She put the pen back
in its place, and began to walk as fast as she could go out of the
room. In a moment, however, she reflected that, as soon as her father
came in, he would see the ink spot, and would at once inquire who made
it. So she thought that she would come and shut the book up, and that
would keep the ugly-looking blot out of sight. She accordingly came
back hastily to the table, shut the book up, and then went immediately
away.
But, notwithstanding this ingenious precaution, her mind continued in a
state of great agitation and alarm. She went back to her cricket, and
began to look over her book again; but she felt very wretched. Finally,
she came to the very wise conclusion of going back at once, and finding
her father, and telling him all about the affair.
She put her book down upon the cricket, and went again towards her
father’s room. She found her father just going into the room, with a
large book of maps under his arm.
“Well, Lucy,” said her father, “are you coming to see me?”
Lucy walked slowly towards him, with a downcast look, but she said
nothing. “What is the matter, Lucy?” said her father.
“Why,--why,” said Lucy, in a very low and timid voice,--“the ink has
got on your great book.”
“My great book? What book?” said her father.
“Your great book on the table;--_that_ great book.”
So saying, Lucy pointed to the book upon the table; for by this time
they had got into the room where they could see the table and the book
upon it.
“Where?” said her father. “Where is the ink?”
“Somewhere in the middle of it,” said Lucy. “But I don’t suppose I can
find it now.”
Her father took up the great book, and began turning over the leaves;
but he did not find the ink spot.
“But, Lucy,” said he, “how did you get the ink upon my book?”
“Why, father,” said Lucy, “you see, I was going to write me a letter,
and the ink wouldn’t stay in the pen.”
“Now, Lucy, that was very wrong. You ought not to come to my table, and
to take my pen and ink without leave. How big was the blot?”
“’Twas pretty big,” said Lucy, timidly.
“I can’t find the place,” said her father. “O, now I remember. It must
have been at _horizon_. I was looking _horizon_, to see how it was
accented.”
“No, sir, it was at _hon_. I remember now myself; it was at _hon_.”
Her father made no reply, but, after turning over a few leaves, he came
at once to the place, and there, to Lucy’s utter astonishment, there
were _two_ blots, instead of one; there was one on each page. They were
very large, too, much larger than the one which Lucy had seen.
“Now, there are two blots,” said Lucy; “how came that other one there?”
“Why, that was made by shutting up the book,” said her father. “How
came the book shut up?”
“Why, I shut it, sir,” said Lucy.
“What did you shut it for?” said her father.
“Because,” said Lucy, speaking in a very timid voice again, “I did not
want you to see the blot.”
“Then what did you come and tell me for?” said her father.
“Why, I thought it would be better to come and tell you,” said Lucy.
“You first shut the book in order to conceal it, and then you altered
your mind, and so came and told me; was that it?”
“Yes, sir,” said Lucy.
“Well,” said her father, “that was honest, at any rate. And the blot, I
see, is on the very word _honesty_. What a curious coincidence!”
“I don’t know what you mean by _coincidence_,” said Lucy.
“Why, you were honest in coming to tell me of the blot, and the blot
happens to be upon the word _honesty_. That’s a coincidence. I am glad
you were honest; but, then, you did very wrong to come and attempt to
write with my pen. You have done me a great deal of mischief.”
“Can’t you get the blots out, any possible way?” asked Lucy.
“No, I presume not,” he replied. “I might try an acid, however,” he
added, in a low voice, as if talking to himself.
“I wish you would, father,” said Lucy. “Do try an acid, father.”
Lucy did not know what an acid was, nor how her father was going to
attempt to remove the ink stains by means of it; but she was very eager
to have him try any thing which promised any chance of success.
“I don’t think I can take the spots out entirely,” said her father;
“but perhaps I can change their color, so that they will not be quite
so conspicuous.”
As he said this, he took the lamp and went away, Lucy following him.
He went to a closet which was in another room, and took down a small
phial, and poured out a few drops of the liquid which was in it, into a
tea-cup. Then he got some water, and poured about a spoonful into the
tea-cup too. Then he came back with Lucy into his own room.
“First,” said he, “we will try it upon another piece of paper.”
So saying, he took a small piece of newspaper, and made a blot upon it
about as large as those which Lucy had made in the book. Then he held
the newspaper to the fire until the blot was dry.
“Now I must make a little brush,” said he.
“How can you make a brush?” said Lucy.
Her father only said in reply, “You will see.” He went to his closet,
and took a quill out from a bunch which was there. He cut off the top,
and put the quill back, and then brought the top to the table. Then he
stripped off all the feathers except a small tuft at the end, and that,
he said, was his brush.
This brush he dipped into the tea-cup, and then very carefully washed
over the ink spot upon the newspaper. Lucy saw that it made the spot
look much more dim. Then her father washed over the spots in the book
in the same way. The spots grew faint, and turned of a reddish color;
but he could not get them out entirely.
“It looks a great deal better,” said her father, “but I cannot get them
out entirely. There they must stay forever. I shall see them a great
many times, for they are in my dictionary, and I am often turning over
the leaves. And always when I see them I shall remember how they came
there. One of them will remind me of your heedlessness, and the other
of your honesty.”
THE END.
Transcriber’s Note:
Punctuation has been standardised; hyphenation retained as it appears
in the original publication.
Page 23
put back n good order _changed to_
put back in good order
Page 53
a screaming, chiruping, chattering, _changed to_
a screaming, chirruping, chattering,
Page 91
go to mill in his sleigh _changed to_
go to the mill in his sleigh
Page 139
Royal and William said that _changed to_
Royal and Thomas said that
Page 143
you an’t any bears at all _changed to_
you a’n’t any bears at all
Page 145
he is’nt going _changed to_
he isn’t going