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[Illustration: "Get him a mirror."]
ANDIRON
TALES
BY
JOHN KENDRICK BANGS
ILLUSTRATED BY
CLARE VICTOR DWIGGINS
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.
PUBLISHERS
PHILADELPHIA
[Illustration]
COPYRIGHT, 1906,
BY
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
TOM AND THE ANDIRONS 9
CHAPTER II.
THE STORY OF EBENEZER 17
CHAPTER III.
OFF IN THE CLOUDS 25
CHAPTER IV.
THE POKER TELLS HIS STORY 38
CHAPTER V.
THE POKER CONCLUDES HIS STORY 45
CHAPTER VI.
THE LITERARY BELLOWS 52
CHAPTER VII.
THEY REACH THE CRESCENT MOON 61
CHAPTER VIII.
ON THE TROLLEY CLOUD 70
CHAPTER IX.
ON THE OSCYCLE--A NARROW ESCAPE 80
CHAPTER X.
HOME AGAIN 91
[Illustration]
ILLUSTRATIONS
BY CLARE VICTOR DWIGGINS
"GET HIM A MIRROR," SAID THE LEFTHANDIRON. _In colors Frontispiece_
"I'M NOT A DORMOUSE" 12
"A LITTLE TALE WHICH I WILL WAG FOR YOU" 15
"AND THEN DIE WITHOUT PAYING FOR IT" 20
"JUST WHAT I WANTED FOR MY LUNCH" 22
"TRIED TO BITE MY HEAD OFF" 23
"A MOUSE WITH A DOOR TO HIM" 31
"THERE'S NO BETTER PLACE THAN THIS CLOUD," SAID THE POKER.
_In colors_ 33
"IN ONE EAR AND OUT OF THE OTHER" 34
"A POKER WHO COULD ONLY POKE" 39
"No," she said, "I'm not your mother, I am a Fairy." _In colors_ 40
"DOESN'T HAVE TO LIVE IN A BATHTUB" 41
"EAGLES NEVER HAVE UMBRELLAS" 46
"ONE DAY THE WOODCUTTERS CAME" 49
"SO I REALLY LIVE HOME" 51
"WHAT'S THE USE OF FIGHTING?" 53
"I BLOW A STORY OF TWO, NOW AND THEN," SAID THE BELLOWS. _In Colors_ 54
HE GAVE A TREMENDOUS WHEEZE 58
"COLUMBUS WAS A GREAT MAN" 63
"YOU SEE, IT'S THIS SHAPE" 66
"WHY, IT'S REALLY A TROLLEY!" HE CRIED. _In colors_ 68
"IT KEEPS ME JUMPING ALL THE TIME" 72
"I HAVEN'T THE MONEY" 78
ON THE OSCYCLE. _In colors_ 80
"MY OWN PRIVATE ICEBERG" 83
THE MAN FROM SATURN JUMPED 86
TOM JUMPED, AND IN A MOMENT WAS SITTING ASTRIDE THE GREAT BIRD'S
NECK. _In colors_ 89
"UPON THE ANVIL IN HIS SANCTUM" 93
DEVOURING HIS FAVORITE AUTHOR 98
TOM IS AWAKENED BY THE AVALANCHE. _In colors_ 100
TAIL PIECE 102
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Andiron Tales
By John Kendrick Bangs
Being the Remarkable Adventures of a Boy
with a Lively Imagination
CHAPTER I.
Tom and the Andirons
It was perfectly natural in one respect, anyhow. There was really no
reason in the world why Tom should not lie upon the great bear-skin rug in
front of the library fire those cold winter nights if he wanted to, nor
need anyone be surprised that he should want to. It was indeed a most
delightful place to lie in. The bear-skin was soft and in every way
comfortable and comforting. The fireplace itself was one of those huge
hospitable affairs that might pass in some apartment houses in our narrow
cooped-up city streets for a butler's pantry or small reception room--in
fact in the summer time Tom used to sit in the fireplace and pretend he
was in his office transacting business with such of his sister's dolls as
could be induced to visit him there; giving orders to imaginary clerks and
bookkeepers and keeping an equally fanciful office boy continually on the
run. And then apart from the rug and the fireplace it was a beautiful
room in which they were. Tom's father was very fond of books, and,
although he was a great many years older than Tom, he had not forgotten
how to enjoy the very same kind of books that Tom liked. He was not
ashamed to have one little niche of his library filled with the stories
which had delighted him in his boyhood days, and which still continued to
please him, and, of course, this lent an additional charm to the library
in Tom's eyes. It held his heroes, and on some of those drowsy nights when
the only sounds to break the stillness of the room were the scratching of
his father's pen, the soft humming of some little tune by his mother
sitting and sewing by the evening lamp, and the fierce crackling of the
burning logs, Tom could almost see these heroes stepping down from the
shelves and like so many phantoms flitting in and about the room. In fact,
upon one occasion, Tom is convinced he did see these very people having a
dance upon the great tiled hearth--but of that you shall hear later.
There were many other things in the library beside his heroes that
interested Tom. There was a little Japanese ivory god that used to sit up
on the mantel shelf and gaze wisely at him, as much as to say, "Dear me,
boy, what a lot I could tell you if I only would!" Then, too, there was a
very handsome vase on top of one of the book-cases that had two remarkable
dragons climbing up its sides, the tail of one of them so fixed that if
anyone chose to use the vase for a pitcher the tail would make a very
convenient handle, at which the other dragon always appeared to be
laughing heartily, which he had no reason to do, because his own tail was
not arranged any too gracefully. But the things that, next to Jack the
Giant Killer, and Beauty and the Beast, and Tom Thumb and his other
heroes and heroines, Tom liked the most, were two great brazen Andirons
that stood in the fireplace. To Tom these Andirons, though up to the night
when our story begins he had never seen them move, seemed almost to live.
They had big, round, good-natured faces, that shone like so much gold.
Their necks were slight and graceful, but as they developed downward
toward their handsome feet the Andirons grew more portly, until finally
they came to look very much like a pair of amiable sea serpents without
much length. Tom's uncle said they looked like cats, with sunflowers for
heads, swan necks for bodies, and very little of the cat about them save
the claws. This description made Tom laugh, but the more he thought about
it the more truthful did it seem to him to be.
For so long a time as Tom could remember, summer and winter, those
Andirons had sat staring stolidly ahead in their accustomed place, and not
until that December night had they even so much as winked at him--but on
that occasion they more than made up for all their previous silence and
seeming unsociability. Tom was lying on the rug, as usual, and I am afraid
was almost asleep. The logs were burning fiercely and at first Tom thought
that the words he heard spoken were nothing but their crackling and
hissing, but in a minute he changed his mind about that for the very good
reason that the "Lefthandiron"--as Tom's uncle once called it--winked his
eye at Tom and said:
"Hullo, Sleepyhead."
Tom only returned the wink. He was too much surprised to say anything.
"His name isn't Sleepyhead," said the Righthandiron, with a grin. "It's
Thomas D. Pate."
"What's the D for?" asked the other.
"Dozy--Thomas Dozy Pate," exclaimed the Righthandiron. "His ancestors were
Sleepyheads on his mother's side, and Dozy Pates on his father's side."
"'Tisn't so at all!" cried Tom, indignantly. "My mama wasn't a Sleepyhead,
and my name isn't Dozy Pate."
"He's such a Sleepyhead he doesn't know his own name," said the
Lefthandiron.
[Illustration: "I'M NOT A DORMOUSE."]
"That's a curious thing about the Sleepyheads and the Dozy Pates. They
very seldom know their own names--and even when they do they always deny
that they are what they are. Why I really believe if I told Tom here that
he was a Dormouse he'd deny it and say he was a boy."
"I am a boy," said Tom, stoutly, "and I'm not a Dormouse."
Both of the Andirons laughed heartily at this, and the Righthandiron,
dancing a little jig, sang over and over again this couplet:
"He can't be very smart, I wis,
If he can't see that's what he is."
"Get him a mirror," said the Lefthandiron. "We can't blame him for
thinking he is a boy, because everybody has told him he is a boy except
ourselves, and being a Sleepyhead he believes as a rule what he is told if
it is pleasant to believe."
"Well, I can't see why he objects to being a Dormouse," said the
Righthandiron. "I think Dormice are very handsome and just too sweet and
amiable to live. They are much pleasanter mice than Windowmice and
Stairmice--don't you think so?"
"Indeed I do," returned the Lefthandiron, "and Tom is about the finest
Dormouse I ever saw, and I wish he'd let us get acquainted with him."
"So do I," said the other, "but if he doesn't it's his own loss. You and I
can go off to Santa Clausville by ourselves and have quite as good a time,
if not better, than if he were along with us. I've noticed one thing, my
dear Lefty, two's best anyhow.
"Two people in an omnibus
Where there's but one settee,
Can both be seated with less fuss
Than if the twain were three.
"If there is candy for but four,
This maxim still holds true,
Each one will get so much the more
If there are only two.
"Two boys upon a teeter board
Can have just twice the fun
That any seesaw can afford
If there's another one.
"So I say, what if he doesn't come? You and I will enjoy ourselves just as
much. There'll be more candy for us, we won't have to divide the good time
we have up into more than two parts, and, what is more, neither of us will
have to carry the Dormouse."
Here the two Andirons gave a sidelong glance at Tom, and saw that he was
smiling.
"What are you laughing at?" asked the Righthandiron. "Eh, Dormouse?"
"If I'll be a Dormouse will you take me off on your good time with you?"
asked Tom.
"Certainly, but we can't take anybody who denies that he is what he is or
who says that his name doesn't belong to him."
"But I can't tell a story," said Tom.
"Nobody asked you to," returned the Righthandiron. "All we ask is that
you'll say nothing about it. If we say your name is Sleepyhead you needn't
try to make people think we don't know what we are talking about by saying
that your name isn't Sleepyhead, but Tommy Wideawake, or Billy Lemonstick,
or something else; and when we choose to state that you are a Dormouse we
want you to be a Dormouse and not go crying out through the street, 'I am
a huckleberry.' In the countries we visit people think we are the wisest
of the wise, and what we say no one ever dares dispute."
"So, you see, my dear Dormouse," said the other, "we couldn't possibly
take you off with us unless you fall in with our plans and submit to our
calling you anything we please."
"I don't see why you are not willing to admit that I am a boy, though,"
insisted Tom, who, although he was extremely anxious to go off with the
Andirons, did not really like to lose sight of the fact that he was a boy.
"What good does it do you or me or anybody else for me to admit that I am
a Dormouse, for instance?"
"A little tail which I will wag for you," said the Righthandiron, "will
explain how that is. Did you ever know a boy named Ebenezer J. Carrottop?"
"No, I never heard of any person with such an absurd name as that,"
returned Tom.
[Illustration: "A LITTLE TALE WHICH I WILL WAG FOR YOU."]
"Well, you are very fortunate not to have been one of Ebenezer's
particular friends," said the Righthandiron. "If you had been, the story I
am going to tell you would have made you very unhappy. As it is, not
having known Ebenezer, and, having in fact taken a dislike to him because
of his name, the story will amuse you more than otherwise."
"Good," said Tom; "I like to be amused."
"That being the case," said the Andiron, "I will proceed at once to tell
you the story of Ebenezer."