THE PERIWINKLE FAMILY
That night Sally couldn’t go to sleep.
She tossed and turned in her little white bed. She watched Snow White’s
wings move lazily to and fro on the window-sill. She had two drinks of
water. But still she couldn’t go to sleep.
‘Mother,’ called Sally, ‘Mother, I can’t go to sleep.’
So Mother came to smooth Sally’s pillow and to tuck in the bed covers
that were sadly tumbled and twisted about.
‘Shut your eyes,’ said Mother softly, with a hand on Sally’s forehead,
‘and think of little white sheep jumping over a wall, one after
another, one after another, until you fall asleep.’
Sally shut her eyes just as Mother said and tried to count the little
white sheep. But instead of jumping nicely over the wall, the little
white sheep ran round and round the field as fast as ever they could,
and this made Sally feel so wide awake that her blue eyes flew open
with a jerk and she sat straight up in bed.
‘Mother,’ she called again, ‘Mother, I want a drink of water.’
It was Father, not Mother, who came into Sally’s room this time, and he
must have known that Sally wanted company more than she wanted a drink
of water. For he lay down beside Sally on the bed and took her hand in
his.
‘Once upon a time,’ began Father, in the most comfortable kind of a
way, ‘there lived a family of Periwinkles under a rock on the edge of
the sand.’
Now a story was just what Sally had been wishing for, and at this
pleasant beginning she snuggled down in bed without a word and closed
her eyes, the better to enjoy the tale.
‘There was Mother Periwinkle,’ went on Father. ‘She stayed at home and
kept the house. There was Father Periwinkle, too. He scurried round to
find food for the family.’
‘I never saw a periwinkle scurry,’ interrupted Sally. ‘I thought they
could only creep.’
‘You never saw Father Periwinkle out hunting sand-bugs for dinner,’ was
Father’s answer.
‘No, I never did,’ agreed Sally, with the tiniest kind of a yawn.
‘Then there were the children, Peri and Winkle,’ continued Father.
‘Peri was a sweet little girl and Winkle was a good little boy. That
is, he was almost always good. But one morning he woke up naughty. I
don’t know why, I am sure, but it was so.’
Sally nodded as if she understood. No doubt she did understand, for
sometimes the same thing happened to her.
‘What did he do naughty?’ she asked with interest.
‘Everything,’ replied Father, ‘everything he could think of to do. His
mother was hurrying round, cleaning up the house, because they were
all going to take dinner that day with Grandmother Periwinkle who lived
up the beach. But Winkle wouldn’t help his mother at all. He might
have dusted or straightened up the rooms. But he didn’t. Instead, he
kept standing in his mother’s way until twice she nearly tripped over
him and fell. Then when his little sister Peri was just getting over a
crying spell--’
‘What did she cry for?’ interrupted Sally again.
‘She cried when she was having her face washed,’ said Father, ‘for
she was like some little girls I know, only instead of saying that
her mother put soap in her eyes, she said salt, for of course she was
washed in salt water from the sea.’
‘Oh!’ said Sally, hiding her face on Father’s shoulder, ‘oh!’
‘Well, what do you think Winkle did to her then?’ asked Father.
‘I don’t know,’ said Sally eagerly, lifting her head. ‘What did he do?’
‘Why, instead of smiling at Peri and trying to keep her cheerful and
happy as any good little brother would,’ went on Father, ‘he put his
head in the air and called “Whimper-cat! Whimper-cat!” and stuck his
horns out at her, which for a periwinkle is just as bad as sticking his
tongue out is for a child.’
‘Oh,’ said Sally, delighted with Winkle’s naughtiness, ‘oh, I wouldn’t
do that, would I?’
‘No, indeed, you wouldn’t,’ replied Father. ‘Well, when Peri stopped
crying, and they were both washed and dressed and their horns nicely
curled, they started off. First Winkle crawled so fast that he bumped
into Peri and knocked her down. Her shell was all covered with sand,
and right there on the beach she had another crying spell. You might
think, now, he had done enough mischief. But while his mother was
brushing the sand off Peri with her horns, he gave his little sister
another push that toppled her over into a pool of water.’
Sally drew a long breath. ‘Wasn’t he naughty?’ said she, giving
Father’s hand a little squeeze.
‘He was,’ said Father, ‘and this last push made Mother Periwinkle very
angry.
‘“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Winkle,” said she, severely.
“You know your sister sneezed three times last night. Do you want to
give her a cold in her nose? Answer me that.”’
‘Her nose,’ said Sally laughing. ‘I would like to see a periwinkle’s
nose.’
‘Well, that is what Mother Periwinkle said,’ went on Father. ‘Winkle
didn’t answer his mother at all. Instead, just to be disagreeable, he
began to creep as slowly as he could. He scarcely seemed to move. He
crept so slowly that Mother Periwinkle was afraid they would all be
late to dinner.
‘“I don’t know what your grandmother will say if we are late,” said
she, looking anxious. “Do hurry, Winkle. You are as slow as a snail.”’
‘Why, periwinkles are snails,’ spoke up Sally, opening her eyes in
surprise.
‘Of course they are,’ answered Father, ‘but Mother Periwinkle didn’t
think of that. Anyway, Winkle wouldn’t hurry. So, first, Mother
Periwinkle coaxed him.
‘“You are the quickest little Periwinkle I know. Let me see how fast
you can crawl, Winkle,” said she.
‘But that didn’t make Winkle hurry.
‘Then she scolded him.
‘“Shame on you, Winkle Periwinkle. How can you be so naughty?”
‘But that didn’t make Winkle hurry.
‘Then Mother Periwinkle thought she would give him a shaking. But
Winkle, in a flash, drew himself inside his shell where no one could
reach him, not even his mother. So after tapping on his shell with her
horns to let him know how naughty he was, Mother Periwinkle and Peri
moved along and left Master Winkle sitting alone on the sand.
‘For a long, long time he sat there, just thinking of all he had done.
He was pleased that he had found so many naughty things to do. But
presently he began to feel hungry.
‘“I wonder what Grandmother will have for dinner,” thought he. “Perhaps
I had better go now. Peri will eat everything I like.”
‘Before he had time to start Winkle heard a Voice behind him, a big,
deep Voice that said,
‘“Move on, move on there. Move along at once.”
‘This made Winkle angry. He was a tempery little snail, you see. Who
could it be, talking to him in this rude fashion?
‘He moved round, shell and all, of course, to see who it was, but the
big Voice moved round, too, and kept behind Winkle no matter how fast
he turned.
‘Round and round went Winkle and round and round went the Voice, still
calling out,
‘“Move on, move on there, move on.”
‘Winkle was so angry that he made up his mind he would be saucy and
stick out his horns, when suddenly the Voice said something that made
him change his mind.
‘“Periwinkle Pie!” said the Voice. “Periwinkle Pie! Made of naughty
little Periwinkle boys. How I like Periwinkle Pie!”
‘For a moment Winkle Sat quite still.
‘“Periwinkle Pie?” said he to himself. “We never have Periwinkle Pie at
home. I have heard of Clam Pie and Lobster Pie and Fish Pie, but never
Periwinkle Pie.”
‘And then came the deep Voice again, “Periwinkle Pie! Made of naughty
little Periwinkle boys! Periwinkle Pie for dinner!”
‘Winkle didn’t wait to hear any more. He started off down the beach
toward Grandmother Periwinkle’s as fast as ever he could creep.
‘He made up his mind that if Grandmother asked him why he was so late
he would tell the truth and say he was sorry, for he didn’t mean to be
a naughty little Periwinkle boy any more.
‘Periwinkle Pie! Made of naughty little Periwinkle boys!
‘Ugh! The very idea made him shake inside his shell.
‘But good Grandmother Periwinkle didn’t ask any questions.
‘They were eating dessert, seaweed blanc mange and jelly-roll,
when Winkle came in, and he slipped into his seat and began to eat
jelly-roll, too, without saying a word.
‘“Won’t you have a little Clam Pie, Winkle?” asked Grandmother politely.
‘Winkle grew quite pale and shook his head. The very thought of pie
made him feel ill.
‘Father Periwinkle was late to dinner, too. He came in soon after
Winkle, and he ate Clam Pie with relish, two shellfulls, for the
Periwinkles use shells, of course, instead of plates.
‘All the rest of the day Winkle was the very best little Periwinkle boy
along the shore.
‘That night before he went to sleep he told his mother what had
happened to him, and whenever after that he began to be naughty, all
Mother or Father Periwinkle had to say to him was “Periwinkle Pie!” to
turn him into a good little Periwinkle boy again.’
‘What was the big Voice?’ asked Sally sleepily.
Her eyes were closing and opening and closing again.
‘It was his own father,’ was Father’s reply. ‘Mother Periwinkle met him
on the way to Grandmother’s and told him how badly Winkle was behaving.
So Father Periwinkle crept up behind him and talked in a deep bass
voice that Winkle didn’t know at all.’
‘His own father,’ murmured Sally, too sleepy to be surprised. ‘Now tell
me--tell me--’
‘I will tell you good-night,’ said Father softly, as he slipped out of
the room.
And Sally didn’t answer, for she was sound asleep.