"Quite right," responded Aunt Judy. "His mother's, of course. It
was far the most agreeable, no doubt. Keeping out of the way is a
rather difficult thing for young folks to manage."
A glance at No. 8 caused that young gentleman's face to grin all
over, and Aunt Judy proceeded:-
"After his arrival at the great hotel of the town, he found there was
to be a public dinner there that evening, which anybody might go to,
who chose to pay for it; and this he thought would be a capital
opportunity for him to begin life: so, accordingly, he went up-
stairs to dress himself out in his very best clothes for the
occasion.
"And then it was that, as he sat in front of the glass, looking at
his own face, while he was brushing his hair and whiskers, and
brightening them up with bear's-grease, he began to think of his
father and mother, and what they had said, and what he had best do.
"'An excellent, well-meaning couple, of course, but as old-fashioned
as the clocks they used to mend,' was his first thought. 'As to
papa, indeed, the poor old gentleman thinks the world has stood still
since he was a young man, thirty years ago. His stiff notions were
all very well then, perhaps, but in these advanced times they are
perfectly quizzical. Keep out of the way, indeed! Why, any
ignoramus can do that, I should think! Well, well, he means well,
all the same, so one must not be severe. As to mamma now--poor
thing--though she IS behindhand herself in many ways, yet she DOES
know a good thing when she sees it, and that's a great point. She
can appreciate the probable results of my very superior education and
appearance. To be sure, she's a little silly over that nose affair;-
-but women will always be silly about something.'
"Nevertheless, at this point in his meditations, Master Franz might
have been seen inclining his head down on one side, just as his
mother had recommended, and then giving a look at the mirror, to see
whether the vile turn-up did really disappear in that attitude. I
suspect, however, that he did not feel quite satisfied about it, for
he got rather cross, and finished his dressing in a great hurry, but
not before he had settled that there could be only one opinion as to
whose advice he should be guided by--dear mamma's.
"'Should it fail,' concluded he to himself, as he gave the last smile
at the looking-glass, 'there will be poor papa's old-world notion to
fall back upon, after all.'
"Now, you must know that Master Franz had never been at one of these
public dinners before, so there is no denying that when he entered
the large dining-hall, where there was a long table, set out with
plates, and which was filling fast with people, not one of whom he
knew, he felt a little confused. But he repeated his mother's words
softly to himself, and took courage: 'DON'T BE SHY AND DOWNCAST WHEN
YOU COME AMONG STRANGERS. ALL YOU HAVE TO THINK ABOUT, WITH YOUR
ADVANTAGES, IS TO MAKE YOURSELF AGREEABLE;' and, on the strength of
this, he passed by the lower end of the table, where there were
several unoccupied places, and walked boldly forward to the upper
end, where groups of people were already seated, and were talking and
laughing together.
"In the midst of one of these groups, there was one unoccupied seat,
and in the one next to it sat a beautiful, well-dressed young lady.
'Why, this is the very thing,' thought Mr. Franz to himself. 'Who
knows but what this is the young lady who is to make my fortune?'
"There was a card, it is true, in the plate in front of the vacant
seat, but 'as to that,' thought Franz, 'first come, first served, I
suppose; I shall sit down!'
"And sit down the young gentleman accordingly did in the chair by the
beautiful young lady, and even bowed and smiled to her as he did so.
"But the next instant he was tapped on the shoulder by a waiter.
"'The place is engaged, sir!' and the man pointed to the card in the
plate.
"'Oh, if that's all,' was Mr. Franz's witty rejoinder, 'here's
another to match!' and thereupon he drew one of his own cards from
his pocket, threw it into the plate, and handed the first one to the
astonished waiter, with the remark:-
"'The place is engaged, my good friend, you see!'
"The young goose actually thought this impudence clever, and glanced
across the table for applause as he spoke. But although Mamma
Watchmaker, if she had heard it, might have thought it a piece of
astonishing wit, the strangers at the public table were quite of a
different opinion, and there was a general cry of 'Turn him out!'
"'Turn me out!' shouted Mr. Franz, jumping up from his chair, as if
he intended to fight them all round; and there is no knowing what
more nonsense he might not have talked, but that a very sonorous
voice behind him called out,--a hand laying hold of him by the
shoulders at the same time -
"'Young man, I'll trouble you to get out of my chair, and' (a little
louder) 'out of my way, and' (a little louder still) 'to KEEP out of
my way!'
"Franz felt himself like a child in the grasp of the man who spoke;
and one glimpse he caught of a pair of coal-black eyes, two frowning
eye-brows, and a moustachioed mouth, nearly frightened him out of his
wits, and he was half way down the room before he knew what was
happening; for, after the baron let him go, the waiter seized him and
hustled him along, till he came to the bottom of the table; where,
however, there was now no room for him, as all the vacant places had
been filled up; so he was pushed finally to a side-table in a corner,
at which sat two men in foreign dresses, not one word of whose
language he could understand.
"These two fellows talked incessantly together too, which was all the
more mortifying, because they gesticulated and laughed as if at some
capital joke. Franz was very quiet at first, for the other adventure
had sobered him, but presently, with his mother's advice running in
his head, he resolved to make himself agreeable, if possible.
"So, at the next burst of merriment, he affected to have entered into
the joke, threw himself back in his chair and laughed as loudly as
they did. The men stared for a second, then frowned, and then one of
them shouted something to him very loudly, which he did not
understand; so he placed his hand on his heart, put on an expressive
smile, and offered to shake hands. Thought he, that will be
irresistible! But he was mistaken. The other man now called loudly
to the waiter, and a moment after, Franz found himself being conveyed
by the said waiter through the doorway into the hall, with the remark
resounding in his ears:-
"'What a foolish young gentleman you must be! Why can't you keep out
of people's way?'
"'My good friend,' cried Mr. Franz, 'that's not my plan at present.
I'm trying to make myself agreeable.'
"'Oh--pooh!--bother agreeable,' cried the waiter. 'What's the use of
making yourself agreeable, if you're always in the way? Here!--step
back, sir! don't you see the tray coming?'
"Franz had not noticed it, and would probably have got a thump on the
head from it, if his friend the waiter had not pulled him back. The
man was a real good-natured, smiling German, and said:-
"'Come, young gentleman, here's a candle;--you've a bed-room here, of
course. Now, you take my advice, and go to bed. You WILL be out of
the way there, and perhaps you'll get up wiser to-morrow.'
"Franz took the candlestick mechanically, but, said he:-
"'I understood there was to be dancing here tonight, and I can dance,
and--'
"'Oh, pooh! bother dancing,' interrupted the waiter. 'What's the use
of dancing, if you're to be in everybody's way, and I know you will;
you can't help it. Here, be advised for once, and go to bed. I'll
bring you up some coffee before long. Go quietly up now--mind. Good
night.'
"Two minutes afterwards, Mr. Franz found himself walking up-stairs,
as the waiter had ordered him to do, though he muttered something
about 'officious fellow' as he went along.
"And positively he went to bed, as the officious fellow recommended;
and while he lay there waiting for the coffee, he began wondering
what COULD be the cause of the failure of his attempts to make
himself agreeable. Surely his mother was right--surely there could
be no doubt that, with his advantages--but he did not go on with the
sentence.
"Well, after puzzling for some time, a bright thought struck him. It
was entirely owing to that stupid nose affair, which his mother was
so silly about. Of course that was it! He had done everything else
she recommended, but he could not keep his head down at the same
time, so people saw the snub! Well, he would practise the attitude
now, at any rate, till the coffee came!
"No sooner said than done. Out of bed jumped Mr. Franz, and went
groping about for the table to find matches to light the candle.
But, unluckily, he had forgotten how the furniture stood, so he got
to the door by a mistake, and went stumbling up against it, just as
the waiter with the coffee opened it on the other side.
"There was a plunge, a shout, a shuffling of feet, and then both were
on the floor, as was also the hot coffee, which scalded Franz's bare
legs terribly.
"The waiter got up first, and luckily it was the 'officious fellow'
with the smiling face. And said he:-
"'What a miserable young man you must be, to be sure! Why, you're
NEVER out of the way, not even when you're gone to bed!'
This last anecdote caused an uproar of delight in the fly, and so
much noise, that Aunt Judy had to call the party to order, and talk
about the horses being frightened, after which she proceeded:-
"I am sorry to say Mr. Franz did not get up next morning as much
wiser as the waiter had expected, for he laid all the blame of his
misfortunes on his nose instead of his impertinence, and never
thought of correcting himself, and being less intrusive.
"On the contrary, after practising holding his head down for ten
minutes before the glass, he went out to the day's amusements, as
saucy and confident as ever.
"Now there is no time," continued Aunt Judy, "for my telling you all
Mr. Franz's funny scrapes and adventures. When we get to the end of
the journey, you must invent some for yourselves, and sit together,
and tell them in turns, while we are busy unpacking. I will only
just say, that wherever he went, the same sort of things happened to
him, because he was always thrusting himself forward, and always
getting pushed back in consequence.
"Out of the public gardens he got fairly turned at last, because he
would talk politics to some strange gentlemen on a bench. They got
up and walked away, but, five minutes afterwards, a very odd-looking
man looked over Franz's shoulder, and said significantly, 'I
recommend you to leave these gardens, sir, and walk elsewhere.' And
poor Franz, who had heard of such things as prisons and dungeons for
political offenders, felt a cold shudder run through him, and took
himself off with all possible speed, not daring to look behind him,
for fear he should see that dreadful man at his heels. Indeed, he
never felt safe till he was in his bed-room again, and had got the
waiter to come and talk to him.
"'Dear me,' said the waiter, 'what a very silly young gentleman you
must be, to go talking away without being asked!'
"'But,' said Franz, 'you don't consider what a superior education I
have had. I can talk and make myself heard--'
"'Oh, pooh! bother talking,' interrupted the waiter; 'what's the use
of talking when nobody wants to listen? Much better go to bed.'
"Franz would not give in yet, but was comforted to find the waiter
did not think he would be thrown into prisons and dungeons; so he
dined, and dressed, and went to the theatre to console himself, where
however he MADE HIMSELF HEARD so effectually--first applauding, then
hissing, and even speaking his opinions to the people round him--that
a set of young college students combined together to get rid of him,
and, I am sorry to add, they made use of a little kicking as the
surest plan; and so, before half the play was over, Mr. Franz found
himself in the street!
"Now, then, I have told you enough of Mr. Franz's follies, except the
one last adventure, which made him alter his whole plan of
proceeding.
"He had had two letters of introduction to take with him: one to an
old partner of his father's, who had settled in the capital some
years before; another to some people of more consequence, very
distant family connections. And, of course, Mr. Franz went there
first, as there seemed a nice chance of making his fortune among such
great folks.
"And really the great folks would have been civil enough, but that he
soon spoilt everything by what HE called 'making himself agreeable.'
He was too polite, too affectionate, too talkative, too instructive,
by half! He assured the young ladies that he approved very highly of
their singing; trilled out a little song of his own, unasked, at his
first visit; fondled the pet lap-dog on his knee; congratulated papa
on looking wonderfully well for his age; asked mamma if she had tried
the last new spectacles; and, in short, gave his opinions, and
advice, and information, so freely, that as soon as he was gone the
whole party exclaimed:-
"'What an impertinent jackanapes!' a jackanapes being nothing more
nor less than a human monkey.
"This went on for some time, for he called very often, being too
stupid, in spite of his supposed cleverness, to take the hints that
were thrown out, that such repeated visits were not wanted.
"At last, however, the family got desperate and one morning when he
arrived, (having teazed them the day before for a couple of hours,)
he saw nobody in the drawing-room when he was ushered in.
"Never mind, thought he, they'll be here directly when they know I'M
come! And having brought a new song in his pocket, which he had been
practising to sing to them, he sat down to the piano, and began
performing alone, thinking how charmed they would be to hear such
beautiful sounds in the distance!
"But, in the middle of his song, he heard a discordant shout, and
jumping up, discovered the youngest little Missy hid behind the
curtain, and crying tremendously.
"Mr. Franz became quite theatrical. 'Lovely little pet, where are
your sisters? Have they left my darling to weep alone?'
"'They shut the door before I could get through,' sobbed the lovely
little pet; 'and I won't be your darling a bit!'
"Mr. Franz laughed heartily, and said how clever she was, took her on
his knee, told her her sisters would be back again directly, and
finished his remark by a kiss.
"Unfortunate Mr. Franz! The young lady immediately gave him an
unmistakable box on the ear with her small fist, and vociferated
"No, they won't, they won't, they won't! They'll never come back
till you're gone! They've gone away to get out of YOUR way, because
you won't keep out of THEIRS. And you're a forward puppy, papa says,
and can't take a hint; and you're always in everybody's way, and I'LL
get out of your way, too!'
"Here the little girl began to kick violently; but there was no
occasion. Mr. Franz set her down, and while she ran off to her
sisters, he rushed back to the hotel, and double-locked himself into
his room.
"After a time, however, he sent for his friend the waiter, for he
felt that a talk would do him good.
"But the 'officious fellow' shook his head terribly.
"'How many more times am I to tell you what a foolish young gentleman
you are?' cried he. 'Will you never get up wiser any morning of the
year?'
"'I thought,' murmured Franz, in broken, almost sobbing accents--'I
thought--the young ladies--would have been delighted--with--my song;-
-you see--I've been--so well taught--and I can sing--'
"'Oh! pooh, pooh, pooh!' interrupted the waiter once more. 'Bother
singing and everything else, if you've not been asked! Much better
go to bed!'
"Poor Franz! It was hard work to give in, and he made a last effort.
"'Don't you think--after all--that the prejudice--is owing to--what I
told you about:- people do so dislike a snub-nose?'
"'Oh, pooh! bother a snub-nose,' exclaimed the waiter; 'what will
your nose signify, if you don't poke it in everybody's way?'
"And with this conclusion Mr. Franz was obliged to be content; and he
ordered his dinner up-stairs, and prepared himself for an evening of
tears and repentance.
"But, before the waiter had been gone five minutes, he returned with
a letter in his hand.
"'Now, here's somebody asking something at last,' said he, for a
servant had brought it.
"Franz trembled as he took it. It was sure to be either a scolding
or a summons to prison, he thought. But no such thing: it was an
invitation to dinner. Franz threw it on the floor, and kicked it
from him--he would go nowhere--see nobody any more!
"The 'officious fellow' picked it up, and read it. 'Mr. Franz,' said
he, 'you mustn't go to bed this time: you must go to this dinner
instead. It's from your father's old partner--he wishes you had
called, but as you haven't called, he asks you to dine. Now you're
wanted, Mr. Franz, and must go.'
"'I shall get into another mess,' cried Franz, despondingly.
"'Oh, pooh! you've only to keep out of everybody's way, and all will
be right,' insisted the waiter, as he left the room.
"'Only to keep out of everybody's way, and all will be right,'
ejaculated Mr. Franz, as he looked at his crest-fallen face in the
glass. 'It's a strange rule for getting on in life! However,'
continued he, cheering up, 'one plan has failed, and it's only fair
to give the other a chance!'
"And all the rest of dressing-time, and afterwards as he walked along
the streets, he kept repeating his father's words softly to himself,
which was at first a very difficult thing to do, because he could not
help mixing them up with his mother's. It was the funniest thing in
the world to hear him: 'ALL YOU HAVE TO ATTEND TO, WITH YOUR
ADVANTAGES IS TO--MAKE YOURSELF--no, no! not to make myself
agreeable--IS TO--KEEP OUT OF THE WAY!--that's it!' (with a sigh.)
"When Franz arrived at the house, he rang the bell so gently, that he
had to ring twice before he was heard; and then they concluded it was
some beggar, who was afraid of giving a good pull.
"So, when he was ushered into the drawing-room, the old partner came
forward to meet him, took him by both hands, and, after one look into
his downcast face, said:-
"'My dear Mr. Franz, you must put on a bolder face, and ring a louder
peal, next time you come to the house of your father's old friend!'
"Mr. Franz answered this warm greeting by a sickly smile, and while
he was being introduced to the family, kept bowing on, thinking of
nothing but how he was to keep out of everybody's way!'
"He was tempted every five minutes, of course, to break out in his
usual style, and could have found it in his heart to chuck the whole
party under the chin, and take all the talk to himself. But he could
be determined enough when he chose; and having determined to give his
father's rule a fair chance, he restrained himself to the utmost.
"So, not even the hearty reception of the old partner and his wife,
nor the smiling faces of either daughters or sons, could lure him
into opening out. 'Yes' and 'No;' 'Do you think so?' 'I dare say;'
'Perhaps;' 'No doubt you're right;' and other such unmeaning little
phrases were all he would utter when they talked to him.
"'How shy he is, poor fellow!' thought the ladies, and then they
talked to him all the more. One tried to amuse him with one subject,
another with another. How did he like the public gardens? Were they
not very pretty?--He scarcely knew. No doubt they were, if THEY
thought so. What did he think of the theatre?--It was very hot when
he was there. Had he any friends in the town?--He couldn't say
friends--he knew one or two people a little. And the poor youth
could hardly restrain a groan, as he answered each of the questions.
"Then they chatted of books, and music, and dancing, and pressed him
hard to discover what he knew, and could do, and liked best; and when
it oozed out even from his short answers, that he had read certain
books in more than one language, and could sing--just a little; and
dance--just a little; and do several other things--just a little,
too, all sorts of nods and winks passed through the family, and they
said:-
"'Ah, when you know us better, and are not so shy of us as strangers,
we shall find out you are as clever again as you pretend to be, dear
Mr. Franz!'
"'I'll tell you what,' added the old partner, coming up at this
moment, 'it's a perfect treat to me, Mr. Franz, to have a young man
like you in my house! You're your father over again, and I can't
praise you more. He was the most modest, unobtrusive man in all our
town, and yet knew more of his business than all of us put together.'
"'No, no, I can't allow that,' cried the motherly wife.
"'Nonsense!' replied the old partner. 'However, my dear boy--for I
really must call you so--it was that very thing that made your
father's fortune; I mean that he was just as unpretending as he was
clever. Everybody trusts an unpretending man. And YOU'LL make your
fortune too in the same manner, trust me, before long. Now, boys!'
added he, turning to his sons, 'you hear what I say, and mind you
take the hint! As for the young puppies of the present day, who
fancy themselves fit to sit in the chair of their elders as soon as
ever they have learnt their alphabet, and are for thrusting
themselves forward in every company--Mr. Franz, I'll own it to you,
because you will understand me--I have no patience with such rude,
impertinent Jackanapeses, and always long to kick them down-stairs.'
"The old partner stood in front of Mr. Franz as he spoke, and
clenched his fist in animation. Mr. Franz sat on thorns. He first
went hot, and then he went cold--he felt himself kicked down-stairs
as he listened--he was ready to cry--he was ready to fight--he was
ready to run away--he was ready to drop on his knees, and confess
himself the very most impertinent of all the impertinent Jackanapes'
race.
But he gulped, and swallowed, and shut his teeth close, and nobody
found him out; only he looked very pale, which the good mother soon
noticed, and said she to her husband:-
"'My dear love, don't you see how fagged and weary it makes Mr. Franz
look, to hear you raving on about a parcel of silly lads with whom HE
has nothing in common? You will frighten him out of his wits.'
"'Mr. Franz will forgive me, I know,' cried the old partner, gently.
'Jacintha, my dear, fetch the wine and cake!'
"The kind, careful souls feared he was delicate, and insisted on his
having some refreshment; and then papa ordered the young people to
give their guest some music; and Franz sat by while the sons and
daughters went through a beautiful opera chorus, which was so really
charming, that Mr. Franz did forget himself for a minute, clapped
violently, and got half-way through the word 'encore' in a very loud
tone. But he checked himself instantly, coloured, apologized for his
rudeness, and retreated further back from the piano.
"Of course, this new symptom of modesty was met by more kindness, and
followed by a sly hint from the merry Jacintha, that Mr. Franz's turn
for singing had come now!
"Poor Mr. Franz! with the recollection of the morning's adventure on
his mind, and his father's rule ringing in his ears, he felt singing
to be out of the question, so he declined. On which they entreated,
insisted, and would listen to no refusal. And Jacintha went to him,
and looked at him with her sweetest smile, and said, 'But you know,
Mr. Franz, you said you could sing a little; and if it's ever so
little, you should sing WHEN YOU'RE ASKED!' and with that Miss
Jacintha offered him her hand, and led him to the piano.
"Franz was annoyed, though he ought to been pleased.
"'But how AM I to keep out of people's way,' thought he to himself,
'if they will pull me forward? It's the oddest thing I ever knew. I
can't do right either way.'
"Then a thought struck him:-
"'I have no music, Miss Jacintha,' said he, 'and I can't sing without
music;' and he was going back again to his chair in the corner.
"'But we have all the new music,' was her answer, and she opened a
portfolio at once. 'See, here's the last new song!' and she held one
up before the unfortunate youth, who at the sight of it coloured all
over, even to the tips of his ears. Whereupon Miss Jacintha, who was
watching him, laughed, and said she had felt sure he knew it; and
down she sat, and began to play the accompaniment, and in two minutes
afterwards Mr. Franz found himself--in spite of himself, as it were--
exhibiting in THE song, the fatal song of the morning's adventure.
"It was a song of tender sentiment, and the singer's almost tremulous
voice added to the effect, and a warm clapping of hands greeted its
conclusion.
"But by that time Mr. Franz was so completely exhausted with the
struggles of this first effort on the new plan, that he began to wish
them good-night, saying he would not intrude upon them any longer.
"They would shake hands with him, though he tried to bow himself off
without; and the old partner followed him down-stairs into the hall.
"'Mr. Franz,' said he, 'we have been delighted to make your
acquaintance, but this has been only a quiet family party. Now we
know your SORT, you must come again, and meet our friends. Wife will
fix the day, and send you word; and don't you be afraid, young man!
Mind you come, and put your best foot forward among us all!'
"Franz was almost desperate. His conscience began to reproach him.
What! was he going to accept all this kindness, like a rogue
receiving money under false pretences? He was shocked, and began to
protest:-
"'I assure you, dear sir, I don't deserve--You are quite under a
mistake--I really am not--the fact is, you think a great deal better
of me than--"
"'Nonsense!' shouted the old partner, clapping him vigorously on the
back. 'Why, you're not going to teach me at my time of life, surely?
Not going to turn as conceited as that, after all, eh? Come, come,
Mr. Franz, no nonsense! And to-morrow,' he added, 'I'll send you
letters of introduction to some of my friends, who will show you the
lions, and make much of you. You will be well received wherever you
take them, first for my sake, and afterwards for your own. There,
there! I won't hear a word! No thanks--I hate them! Good night.'
"And the old partner fairly pushed Mr. Franz through the door.
"'Oh dear, oh dear!' was the waiter's exclamation when Franz reached
the hotel, and the light of the lamp shone on his white, worn-out
face. 'Oh dear, oh dear! I fear you've been a silly young gentleman
over again! What HAVE you been doing this time?'
"'I've been trying to keep out of everybody's way all the evening,'
growled Mr. Franz, 'and they would pull me forward, in spite of
myself.'
"'No--really though?' cried the waiter, as if it were scarcely
possible.
"'Really,' sighed poor Mr. Franz.
"'Then do me the honour, sir,' exclaimed the waiter, with a sudden
deference of manner; and taking the tips of Franz's fingers in his
own, he bent over them with a salute. 'You're a wise young gentleman
now, sir, and your fortune's made. I'm glad you've hit it at last!
"And Mr. Franz had hit it at last, indeed," continued Aunt Judy, "as
appeared more plainly still by the letters of introduction which
reached him next morning. They were left open, and were to this
effect:-
"' . . . The bearer of this is the son of an old friend. One of the
most agreeable young men I ever saw. As modest as he is well
educated, and I can't say more. Procure him some amusement, that a
little of his shyness may be rubbed off; and forward his fortunes, my
dear friend, as far as you can . . . '
"Franz handed one of these letters to his friend the waiter, and the
'officious fellow' grinned from ear to ear.
"'There is only one more thing to fear,' observed he.
"'And what?' asked Franz.
"'Why, that now you're comfortable, my dear young gentleman, your
head should be turned, and you should begin to make yourself
agreeable again, and spoil all.'
"'Oh, pooh! bother agreeable; _I_ say now, as you did,' cried Franz,
laughing. 'No, no, my good friend, I'm not going to make myself
agreeable any more. I know better than that at last!'
"'Then your fortune's safe as well as made!' was the waiter's last
remark, as he was about to withdraw: but Franz followed him to the
door.
"'I found out a rather curious thing this evening, do you know!'
"'And that was?--' inquired his humble friend.
"'Why, that I was sitting all the time in that very attitude my
mother recommended--with my head a little down, you know--so that I
really don't think they noticed my snub.'
"The waiter got as far as, 'Oh, pooh!' but Franz was nervous, and
interrupted him.
"'Yes--yes! I don't believe there's anything in it myself; but it
will be a comfort to my mother to think it was her advice that made
my fortune, which she will do when I tell her that!'
"'Ah!--the ladies will be romantic now and then!' exclaimed the
waiter, with a flourish of his hand, 'and you must trim the comfort
to a person's taste.'
"And in due time," pursued Aunt Judy, "that was exactly what Mr.
Franz did. Strictly adhering to his father's rule, and encouraged by
its capital success that first night, he got so out of the habit of
being pert, and foolish, and inconsiderate, that he ended by never
having any wish to be so; so that he really became what the old
partner had imagined him to be at first. It was a great restraint
for some time, but his modest manners fitted him at last as easy as
an old shoe, and he was welcome at every house, because he was NEVER
IN THE WAY, and always knew when to retire!
"It was a jovial day for Papa and Mamma's Watchmaker when, two years
afterwards, Mr. Franz returned home, a partner in the old partner's
prosperous business, and with the smiling Jacintha for his bride.
"And then, in telling his mother of that first evening of his good
fortune, he did not forget to mention that he had hung down his head
all the time, as she had advised; and, just as he expected, she
jumped up in the most extravagant delight.
"'I knew how it would be all along!' cried she; 'I told you so! I
knew if you could only hide that terrible snub all would be well; and
I'm sure our pretty Jacintha wouldn't have looked your way if you
hadn't! See, now! you have to thank your mother for it all!'
"Franz was quite happy himself, so he smiled, and let his mother be
happy her way too; but he opened his heart of hearts to poor old-
fashioned papa, and told him--well, in fact, all his follies and
mistakes, and their cure. And if mamma was happy in her bit of
comfort, papa was not less so in his, for there is not a more
delightful thing in the world than for father and son to understand
each other as friends; and old Franz would sometimes walk up and down
in his room, listening to the cheerful young voices up-stairs, and
say to himself, that if Mother Franz--good soul as she was--did not
always quite enter into his feelings, it was his comfort to be
blessed with a son who did!"
* * *
What a long story it had been! Aunt Judy was actually tired out when
she got to the end, and could not talk about it, but the little ones
did till they arrived at the station, and had to get out.
And in the evening, when they were all sitting together before they
went to bed, there was no small discussion about the story of Mr.
Franz, and how people were to know what was really good manners--when
to come forward, and when to hold back--and the children were a
little startled at first, when their mother told them that the best
rules for good manners were to be found in the Bible.
But when she reminded them of that text, "When thou art bidden, go
and sit down in the lowest room," &c. they saw in those words a very
serious reason for not pushing forward into the best place in
company. And when they recollected that every man was to do to
others as he wished others to do to him, it became clear to them that
it was the duty of all people to study their neighbours' comfort and
pleasure as well as their own; and it was no hard matter to show how
this rule applied to all the little ins and outs of every-day life,
whether at home, or in society. And there were plenty of other
texts, ordering deference to elders, and the modesty which arises out
of that humility of spirit which "vaunteth not itself," and "is not
puffed up." There was, moreover, the comfortable promise, that "the
meek" should "inherit the earth."
Of course, it was difficult to the little ones, just at first, to see
how such very serious words could apply to anybody's manners, and
especially to their own.
But it was a difficulty which mamma, with a little explanation, got
over very easily; and before the little ones went to bed, they quite
understood that in restraining themselves from teazing and being
troublesome, they were not only not being "tiresome," but were
actually obeying several Gospel rules.
"NOTHING TO DO."
"Had I a little son, I would christen him NOTHING-TO-DO."
CHARLES LAMB.
There is a complaint which is not to be found in the doctor's books,
but which is, nevertheless, such a common and troublesome one, that
one heartily wishes some physic could be discovered which would cure
it.
It may be called the NOTHING-TO-DO complaint.
Even quite little children are subject to it, but they never have it
badly. Parents and nurses have only to give them something to do, or
tell them of something to do, and the thing is put right. A puzzle
or a picture-book relieves the attack at once.
But after the children have out-grown puzzles, and picture-books, and
nurses, and when even a parent's advice is received with a little
impatience, then the NOTHING-TO-DO complaint, if it seizes them at
all, is a serious disease, and often very difficult to cure; and, if
not cured, alas! then follows the melancholy spectacle of grown-up
men and women, who are a plague to their friends, and a weariness to
themselves; because, living under the notion that there is NOTHING
for them TO DO, they want everybody else to do something to amuse
them.
Anyone can laugh at the old story of the gentleman who got into such
a fanciful state of mind--hypochondriacal, it is called--that he
thought he was his own umbrella; and so, on coming in from a walk,
would go and lay IT in the easy-chair by the fire, while he himself
went and leant up against the wall in a corner of the hall.
But this gentleman was not a bit more fanciful and absurd than the
people, whether young or old, who look out of windows on rainy days
and groan because there is NOTHING TO DO; when, in reality, there is
so much for everybody to do, that most people leave half their share
undone.
The oddest part of the complaint is, that it generally comes on worst
in those who from being comfortably off in the world, and from having
had a great deal of education, have such a variety of things to do,
that one would fancy they could never be at a loss for a choice.
But these are the very people who are most afflicted. It is always
the young people who have books, and leisure, and music, and drawing,
and gardens, and pleasure-grounds, and villagers to be kind to, who
lounge to the rain-bespattered windows on a dull morning, and groan
because there is NOTHING TO DO.
In justice to girls in general, it should be here mentioned, that
they are on the whole less liable to the complaint than the young
lords of the creation, who are supposed to be their superiors in
sense. Philosophers may excuse this as they please, but the fact
remains, that there are few large families in England, whose
sisterhoods have not at times been teazed half out of their wits, by
the growlings of its young gentlemen, during paroxysms of the
NOTHING-TO-DO complaint; growling being one of its most
characteristic symptoms.
Perhaps among all the suffering sisterhoods it would have been
difficult to find a young lady less liable to catch such a disorder
herself, than Aunt Judy; and perhaps that was the reason why she used
to do such tremendous battle with No. 3, whenever, after his return
from school for the holidays, he happened to have an attack.
"What are you groaning at through the window, No. 3?" she inquired on
one such occasion; "is it raining?"
A very gruff-sounding "No," was the answer--No. 3 not condescending
to turn round as he spoke. He proceeded, however, to state that it
had rained when he got up, and he supposed it would rain again as a
matter-of-course, (for his especial annoyance being implied,) and he
concluded:-
"It's so horribly 'slow' here, with nothing to do."
No. 6, who was sitting opposite Aunt Judy, doing a French exercise,
here looked up at her sister, and perceiving a smile steal over her
face, took upon herself to think her brother's remark very
ridiculous, so, said she, with a saucy giggle:-
"I can find you plenty to do, No. 3, in a minute. Come and write my
French exercise for me.
No. 3 turned sharply round at this, with a frown on his face which by
no means added to its beauty, and called out:-
"Now, Miss Pert, I recommend you to hold your tongue. I don't want
any advice from a conceited little minx like you."
Miss Pert was extinguished at once, and set to work at the French
exercise again most industriously, and a general silence ensued.
But people in the nothing-to-do complaint are never quiet for long.
Teazing is quite as constant a symptom of it, as growling, so No. 3
soon came lounging from the window to the table, and began:-
"I say, Judy, I wish you would put those tiresome books, and
drawings, and rubbish away, and I think of something to do."
"But it's the books, and the drawings, and the rubbish that give me
something to do," cried Aunt Judy. "You surely don't expect me to
give them up, and go arm and arm with you round the house, bemoaning
the slowness of our fate which gives us nothing to do. Or shall we?
Come, I don't care; I will if you like. But which shall we complain
to first, mamma, or the maids?"
While she was saying this, Aunt Judy shut up her drawing book, jumped
up from her chair, drew No. 3's arm under her own, and repeated:-
"Come! which? mamma, or the maids?" while Miss Pert opposite was
labouring with all her might to smother the laugh she dared not
indulge in.
But No. 3 pushed Aunt Judy testily away.
"'Nonsense, Judy! what has that to do with it? It's all very well
for you girls--now, Miss Pert, mind your own affairs, and don't stare
at me!--to amuse yourself with all manner of--"
"Follies, of course," cried Aunt Judy, laughing, "don't be afraid of
speaking out, No. 3. It's all very well for us girls to amuse
ourselves with all manner of follies, and nonsense, and rubbish;"
here Aunt Judy chucked the drawing-book to the end of the table,
tossed a dictionary after it, and threw another book or two into the
air, catching them as they came down.
"--while you, superior, sensible young man that you are, born to be
the comfort of your family--"
"Be quiet!" interrupted No. 3, trying to stop her; but she ran round
the table and proceeded:-
"--and the enlightener of mankind; can't--no, no, No. 3, I won't be
stopt!--can't amuse yourself with anything, because everything is so
'horribly slow, there's nothing to do,' so you want to tie yourself
to your foolish sister's apron string."
"It's too bad!" shouted No. 3; and a race round the table began
between them, but Aunt Judy dodged far too cleverly to be caught, so
it ended in their resting at opposite ends; No. 6 and her French
exercises lying between them.
"No. 6, my dear," cried Aunt Judy, in the lull of exertion, "I
proclaim a holiday from folly and rubbish. Put your books away, and
put your impertinence away too. Hold your tongue, and don't be Miss
Pest; and vanish as soon as you can."
Miss Pert performed two or three putting-away evolutions with the
velocity of a sunbeam, and darted off through the door.
"Now, then, we'll be reasonable," observed Aunt Judy; and carrying a
chair to the front of the fire she sat down, and motioned to No. 3 to
do the same, taking out from her pocket a little bit of embroidery
work, which she kept ready for chatting hours.
No. 3 was always willing to listen to Aunt Judy.
He desired nothing better than to get her undivided attention, and
pour out his groans in her ear; so he sat down with a very good
grace, and proceeded to insist that there never was anything so
"slow" as "it was."
Aunt Judy wanted to know what IT was; the place or the people,
(including herself,) or what?
No. 3 could explain it no other way than by declaring that EVERYTHING
was slow; there was nothing to do.
Aunt Judy maintained that there was plenty to do.