"Such a long morning! Seems as if dinner-time would never come!" sighed
Tony, as he wandered into the dining-room for a third pick at the nuts
and raisins to beguile his weariness with a little mischief.
It was Thanksgiving Day. All the family were at church, all the
servants busy preparing for the great dinner; and so poor Tony, who had
a cold, had not only to stay at home, but to amuse himself while the
rest said their prayers, made calls, or took a brisk walk to get an
appetite. If he had been allowed in the kitchen, he would have been
quite happy; but cook was busy and cross, and rapped him on the head
with a poker when he ventured near the door. Peeping through the slide
was also forbidden, and John, the man, bribed him with an orange to keep
out of the way till the table was set.
That was now done. The dining-room was empty and quiet, and poor Tony
lay down on the sofa to eat his nuts and admire the fine sight before
him. All the best damask, china, glass, and silver was set forth with
great care. A basket of flowers hung from the chandelier, and the
sideboard was beautiful to behold with piled-up fruit, dishes of cake,
and many-colored finger-bowls and glasses.
"That's all very nice, but the eating part is what _I_ care for. Don't
believe I 'll get my share to-day, because mamma found out about this
horrid cold. A fellow can't help sneezing, though he can hide a sore
throat. Oh, hum! nearly two more hours to wait;" and with a long sigh
Tony closed his eyes for a luxurious yawn.
When he opened them, the strange sight he beheld kept him staring
without a thought of sleep. The big soup-ladle stood straight up at the
head of the table with a face plainly to be seen in the bright bowl. It
was a very heavy, handsome old ladle, so the face was old, but round and
jolly; and the long handle stood very erect, like a tall thin gentleman
with a big head.
"Well, upon my word that's queer!" said Tony, sitting up also, and
wondering what would happen next.
To his great amazement the ladle began to address the assembled forks
and spoons in a silvery tone very pleasant to hear:--
"Ladies and gentlemen, at this festive season it is proper that we
should enjoy ourselves. As we shall be tired after dinner, we will at
once begin our sports by a grand promenade. Take partners and fall in!"
At these words a general uprising took place; and before Tony could get
his breath a long procession of forks and spoons stood ready. The
finger-bowls struck up an airy tune as if invisible wet fingers were
making music on their rims, and led by the stately ladle like a
drum-major, the grand march began. The forks were the gentlemen, tall,
slender, and with a fine curve to their backs; the spoons were the
ladies, with full skirts, and the scallops on the handles stood up like
silver combs; the large ones were the mammas, the teaspoons were the
young ladies, and the little salts the children. It was sweet to see the
small things walk at the end of the procession, with the two silver
rests for the carving knife and fork trotting behind like pet dogs. The
mustard-spoon and pickle-fork went together, and quarrelled all the way,
both being hot-tempered and sharp-tongued. The steel knives looked on,
for this was a very aristocratic party, and only the silver people could
join in it.
"Here 's fun!" thought Tony, staring with all his might, and so much
interested in this remarkable state of things that he forgot hunger and
time altogether.
Round and round went the glittering train, to the soft music of the
many-toned finger-bowls, till three turns about the long oval table had
been made; then all fell into line for a contradance, as in the good old
times before every one took to spinning like tops. Grandpa Ladle led
off with his oldest daughter, Madam Gravy Ladle, and the little salts
stood at the bottom prancing like real children impatient for their
turn. When it came, they went down the middle in fine style, with a
cling! clang! that made Tony's legs quiver with a longing to join in.
It was beautiful to see the older ones twirl round in a stately way,
with bows and courtesies at the end, while the teaspoons and small forks
romped a good deal, and Mr. Pickle and Miss Mustard kept every one
laughing at their smart speeches. The silver butter-knife, who was an
invalid, having broken her back and been mended, lay in the rack and
smiled sweetly down upon her friends, while the little Cupid on the lid
of the butter-dish pirouetted on one toe in the most delightful manner.
When every one had gone through the dance, the napkins were arranged as
sofas and the spoons rested, while the polite forks brought sprigs of
celery to fan them with. The little salts got into grandpa's lap; and
the silver dogs lay down panting, for they had frisked with the
children. They all talked; and Tony could not help wondering if real
ladies said such things when they put _their_ heads together and nodded
and whispered, for some of the remarks were so personal that he was much
confused. Fortunately they took no notice of him, so he listened and
learned something in this queer way.
"I have been in this family a hundred years," began the soup-ladle; "and
it seems to me that each generation is worst than the last. My first
master was punctual to a minute, and madam was always down beforehand to
see that all was ready. Now master comes at all hours; mistress lets
the servants do as they like; and the manners of the children are very
bad. Sad state of things, very sad!"
"Dear me, yes!" sighed one of the large spoons; "we don't see such nice
housekeeping now as we did when we were young. Girls were taught all
about it then; but now it is all books or parties, and few of them know
a skimmer from a gridiron."
"Well, I 'm sure the poor things are much happier than if they were
messing about in kitchens as girls used to do in your day. It is much
better for them to be dancing, skating, and studying than wasting their
young lives darning and preserving, and sitting by their mammas as prim
as dishes. _I_ prefer the present way of doing things, though the girls
in this family _do_ sit up too late, and wear too high heels to their
boots."
The mustard-spoon spoke in a pert tone, and the pickle-fork answered
sharply,--
"I agree with you, cousin. The boys also sit up too late. I 'm tired
of being waked to fish out olives or pickles for those fellows when they
come in from the theatre or some dance; and as for that Tony, he is a
real pig,--eats everything he can lay hands on, and is the torment of
the maid's life."
"Yes," cried one little salt-spoon, "we saw him steal cake out of the
sideboard, and he never told when his mother scolded Norah."
"So mean!" added the other; and both the round faces were so full of
disgust that Tony fell flat and shut his eyes as if asleep to hide his
confusion. Some one laughed; but he dared not look, and lay blushing
and listening to remarks which plainly proved how careful we should be
of our acts and words even when alone, for who knows what apparently
dumb thing may be watching us.
"I have observed that Mr. Murry reads the paper at table instead of
talking to his family; that Mrs. Murry worries about the servants; the
girls gossip and giggle; the boys eat, and plague one another; and that
small child Nelly teases for all she sees, and is never quiet till she
gets the sugar-bowl," said Grandpa Ladle, in a tone of regret. "Now,
useful and pleasant chat at table would make meals delightful, instead
of being scenes of confusion and discomfort."
"I bite their tongues when I get a chance, hoping to make them witty or
to check unkind words; but they only sputter, and get a lecture from
Aunt Maria, who is a sour old spinster, always criticising her
neighbors."'
As the mustard-spoon spoke, the teaspoons laughed as if they thought
_her_ rather like Aunt Maria in that respect.
"I gave the baby a fit of colic to teach her to let pickles alone, but
no one thanked me," said the pickle-fork.
"Perhaps if we keep ourselves so bright that those who use us can see
their faces in us, we shall be able to help them a little; for no one
likes to see an ugly face or a dull spoon. The art of changing frowns
to smiles is never old-fashioned; and lovely manners smooth away the
little worries of life beautifully." A silvery voice spoke, and all
looked respectfully at Madam Gravy Ladle, who was a very fine old spoon,
with a coat of arms on it, and a polish that all envied.
"People can't always be remembering how old and valuable and bright they
are. Here in America we just go ahead and make manners and money for
ourselves. _I_ don't stop to ask what dish I 'm going to help to; I
just pitch in and take all I can hold, and don't care a bit whether I
shine or not. My grandfather was a kitchen spoon; but I'm smarter than
he was, thanks to my plating, and look and feel as good as any one,
though I have n't got stags' heads and big letters on my handle."
No one answered these impertinent remarks of the sauce-spoon, for all
knew that she was not pure silver, and was only used on occasions when
many spoons were needed. Tony was ashamed to hear her talk in that rude
way to the fine old silver he was so proud of, and resolved he 'd give
the saucy spoon a good rap when he helped himself to the cranberry.
An impressive silence lasted till a lively fork exclaimed, as the clock
struck, "Every one is coasting out-of-doors. Why not have our share of
the fun inside? It is very fashionable this winter, and ladies and
gentlemen of the best families do it, I assure you."
"We will!" cried the other forks; and as the dowagers did not object,
all fell to work to arrange the table for this agreeable sport. Tony
sat up to see how they would manage, and was astonished at the ingenuity
of the silver people. With a great clinking and rattling they ran to and
fro, dragging the stiff white mats about; the largest they leaned up
against the tall caster, and laid the rest in a long slope to the edge
of the table, where a pile of napkins made a nice snowdrift to tumble
into.
"What _will_ they do for sleds?" thought Tony; and the next minute
chuckled when he saw them take the slices of bread laid at each place,
pile on, and spin away, with a great scattering of crumbs like
snowflakes, and much laughter as they landed in the white pile at the
end of the coast.
"Won't John give it to 'em if he comes in and catches 'em turning his
nice table topsy-turvy!" said the boy to himself, hoping nothing would
happen to end this jolly frolic. So he kept very still, and watched the
gay forks and spoons climb up and whiz down till they were tired. The
little salts got Baby Nell's own small slice, and had lovely times on a
short coast of their own made of one mat held up by grandpa, who smiled
benevolently at the fun, being too old and heavy to join in it.
They kept it up until the slices were worn thin, and one or two upsets
alarmed the ladies; then they rested and conversed again. The mammas
talked about their children, how sadly the silver basket needed a new
lining, and what there was to be for dinner. The teaspoons whispered
sweetly together, as young ladies do,--one declaring that rouge powder
was not as good as it used to be, another lamenting the sad effect of
eggs upon her complexion, and all smiled amiably upon the forks, who
stood about discussing wines and cigars, for both lived in the
sideboard, and were brought out after dinner, so the forks knew a great
deal about such matters, and found them very interesting, as all
gentlemen seem to do.
Presently some one mentioned bicycles, and what fine rides the boys of
the family told about. The other fellows proposed a race; and before
Tony could grasp the possibility of such a thing, it was done. Nothing
easier, for there stood a pile of plates, and just turning them on their
edges, the forks got astride, and the big wheels spun away as if a whole
bicycle club had suddenly arrived.
Old Pickle took the baby's plate, as better suited to his size. The
little salts made a tricycle of napkin-rings, and rode gayly off, with
the dogs barking after them. Even the carving-fork, though not invited,
could not resist the exciting sport, and tipping up the wooden
bread-platter, went whizzing off at a great pace, for his two prongs
were better than four, and his wheel was lighter than the china ones.
Grand-papa Ladle cheered them on, like a fine old gentleman as he was,
for though the new craze rather astonished him, he liked manly sports,
and would have taken a turn if his dignity and age had allowed. The
ladies chimed their applause, for it really was immensely exciting to
see fourteen plates with forks astride racing round the large table with
cries of, "Go it, Pickle! Now, then, Prongs! Steady, Silver-top!
Hurrah for the twins!"
The fun was at its height when young Prongs ran against Pickle, who did
not steer well, and both went off the table with a crash. All stopped
at once, and crowded to the edge to see who was killed. The plates lay
in pieces, old Pickle had a bend in his back that made him groan
dismally, and Prongs had fallen down the register.
Wails of despair arose at that awful sight, for he was a favorite with
every one, and such a tragic death was too much for some of the
tender-hearted spoons, who fainted at the idea of that gallant fork's
destruction in what to them was a fiery volcano.
"Serves Pickle right! He ought to know he was too old for such wild
games," scolded Miss Mustard, peering anxiously over at her friend, for
they were fond of one another in spite of their tiffs.
"Now let us see what these fine folks will do when they get off the
damask and come to grief. A helpless lot, I fancy, and those fellows
deserve what they 've got," said the sauce-spoon, nearly upsetting the
twins as she elbowed her way to the front to jeer over the fallen.
"I think you will see that gentle people are as brave as those who make
a noise," answered Madam Gravy, and leaning over the edge of the table
she added in her sweet voice, "Dear Mr. Pickle, we will let down a
napkin and pull you up if you have strength to take hold."
"Pull away, ma'am," groaned Pickle, who well deserved his name just
then, and soon, thanks to Madam's presence of mind, he was safely laid
on a pile of mats, while Miss Mustard put a plaster on his injured back.
Meanwhile brave Grandpapa Ladle had slipped from the table to a chair,
and so to the floor without too great a jar to his aged frame; then
sliding along the carpet, he reached the register. Peering down that
dark, hot abyss he cried, while all listened breathlessly for a reply,
"Prongs, my boy, are you there?"
"Ay, ay, sir; I 'm caught in the wire screen. Ask some of the fellows to
lend a hand and get me out before I 'm melted," answered the fork, with
a gasp of agony.
Instantly the long handle of the patriarchal Ladle was put down to his
rescue, and after a moment of suspense, while Prongs caught firmly hold,
up he came, hot and dusty, but otherwise unharmed by that dreadful fall.
Cheers greeted them, and every one lent a hand at the napkin as they
were hoisted to the table to be embraced by their joyful relatives and
friends.
"What did you think about down in that horrid place?" asked one of the
twins.
"I thought of a story I once heard master tell, about a child who was
found one cold day sitting with his feet on a newspaper, and when asked
what he was doing, answered, 'Warming my feet on the "Christian
Register."' I hoped my register would be Christian enough not to melt
me before help came. Ha! ha! See the joke, my dears?" and Prongs
laughed as gayly as if he never had taken a header into a volcano.
"What did you see down there?" asked the other twin, curious, as all
small people are.
"Lots of dust and pins, a doll's head baby put there, Norah's thimble,
and the big red marble that boy Tony was raging about the other day.
It's a regular catch-all, and shows how the work is shirked in this
house," answered Prongs, stretching his legs, which were a little
damaged by the fall.
"What shall we do about the plates?" asked Pickle, from his bed.
"Let them lie, for we can't mend them. John will think the boy broke
them, and he'll get punished, as he deserves, for he broke a tumbler
yesterday, and put it slyly in the ash-barrel," said Miss Mustard,
spitefully.
"Oh! I say, that's mean," began Tony; but no one listened, and in a
minute Prongs answered bravely,--
"I 'm a gentleman, and I don't let other people take the blame of my
scrapes. Tony has enough of his own to answer for."
"I'll have that bent fork for mine, and make John keep it as bright as a
new dollar to pay for this. Prongs is a trump, and I wish I could tell
him so," thought Tony, much gratified at this handsome behavior.
"Right, grandson. I am pleased with you; but allow me to suggest that
the Chinese Mandarin on the chimney-piece be politely requested to mend
the plates. He can do that sort of thing nicely, and will be charmed
to oblige us, I am sure."
Grandpapa's suggestion was a good one; and Yam Ki Lo consented at once,
skipped to the floor, tapped the bits of china with his fan, and in the
twinkling of an eye was back on his perch, leaving two whole plates
behind him, for he was a wizard, and knew all about blue china.
Just as the silver people were rejoicing over this fine escape from
discovery, the clock struck, a bell rang, voices were heard upstairs,
and it was very evident that the family had arrived. At these sounds a
great flurry arose in the dining-room, as every spoon, fork, plate, and
napkin flew back to its place. Pickle rushed to the jar, and plunged in
head first, regardless of his back; Miss Mustard retired to the caster;
the twins scrambled into the salt-cellar; and the silver dogs lay down
by the carving knife and fork as quietly as if they had never stirred a
leg; Grandpapa slowly reposed in his usual place; Madam followed his
example with dignity; the teaspoons climbed into the holder, uttering
little cries of alarm; and Prongs stayed to help them till he had barely
time to drop down at Tony's place, and lie there with his bent leg in
the air, the only sign of the great fall, about which he talked for a
long time afterward. All was in order but the sauce-spoon, who had
stopped to laugh at the Mandarin till it was too late to get to her
corner; and before she could find any place of concealment, John came in
and caught her lying in the middle of the table, looking very common and
shabby among all the bright silver.
"What in the world is that old plated thing here for? Missis told Norah
to put it in the kitchen, as she had a new one for a present
to-day--real silver--so out you go;" and as he spoke, John threw the
spoon through the slide,--an exile forevermore from the good society
which she did not value as she should.
Tony saw the glimmer of a smile in Grand-papa Ladle's face, but it was
gone like a flash, and by the time the boy reached the table nothing was
to be seen in the silver bowl but his own round rosy countenance, full
of wonder.
"I don't think any one will believe what I 've seen, but I mean to tell,
it was so _very_ curious," he said, as he surveyed the scene of the late
frolic, now so neat and quiet that not a wrinkle or a crumb betrayed
what larks had been going on.
Hastily fishing up his long-lost marble, the doll's head, and Norah's
thimble, he went thoughtfully upstairs to welcome his cousins, still
much absorbed by this very singular affair.
Dinner was soon announced; and while it lasted every one was too busy
eating the good things before them to observe how quiet the usually
riotous Tony was. His appetite for turkey and cranberries seemed to
have lost its sharp edge, and the mince-pie must have felt itself sadly
slighted by his lack of appreciation of its substance and flavor. He
seemed in a brown-study, and kept staring about as if he saw more than
other people did. He examined Nelly's plate as if looking for a crack,
smiled at the little spoon when he took salt, refused pickles and
mustard with a frown, kept a certain bent fork by him as long as
possible, and tried to make music with a wet finger on the rim of his
bowl at dessert.
But in the evening, when the young people sat around the fire, he amused
them by telling the queer story of the silver party; but he very wisely
left out the remarks made upon himself and family, remembering how
disagreeable the sauce-spoon had seemed, and he privately resolved to
follow Madam Gravy Ladle's advice to keep his own face bright, manners
polite, and speech kindly, that he might prove himself to be pure
silver, and be stamped a gentleman.
[Illustration: "Presently she sat down and let them tap her
cheeks."--PAGE 82.]