AN ARTISTIC CHIMNEY SWEEPING.
Tommy hastened upstairs, and Bobsey, entering the kitchen, made various
pantomimic expressions of delight, such as inflating his cheeks,
putting out his tongue, winking one eye and setting his fingers to his
nose.
"Oh, my," he cried to the cook, "ain't he soft? I'm glad I ain't going
far away from this place, 'cos I can 'ave no end of fun with 'im."
"What you done now?" asked Susan.
"You'll hear the racket, if you listen at the foot of the stairs,"
replied Bobsey.
They both adjourned to the spot mentioned, and eagerly listened to what
was taking place above.
When Tommy entered the Rev. C. Floyd's room he found it full of thick
coal smoke, which was pouring in dense volumes from the blocked-up
chimney.
The windows were open, and so were the doors, but this only gave a
partial relief.
"What on earth is the matter with the chimney?" asked Mr. Floyd.
"I stopped it, sir," replied Tommy.
"How?"
"Put the doormat on the top of it."
"You did, did you? Wait till I catch you!" cried Mr. Floyd. "I'll teach
you to play your jokes upon me."
Tommy endeavored to escape, but Mr. Floyd caught him by the ear.
"I've got him," he exclaimed, "now pound him. Thrash him. Punch him.
Punch him severely. This will never do. He's worse than Bobsey, and
that is saying a great deal."
The Rev. C. Floyd grasped Tommy by the coat collar and shook him
so violently that four more buttons dropped off his jacket, which
consequently bulged out in front in a very dilapidated and drunken
manner, suggestive of having been on a spree, and not having had time
to put in the necessary repairs.
"Leave off!" cried Tommy.
"Are you a fool?" said Mr. Floyd.
"I don't know, but it's my opinion you're trying to make me one. Let
up--now stop! I want you to stop, or I'll kick your shins. Quit, won't
you?"
Mr. Floyd let him go and glared at him.
"Go and take the mat away, and if you play me any more tricks I'll cane
you in the presence of the young gentlemen," he exclaimed.
Tommy saw that he had made a mistake and hastened to rectify it by
removing the mat, which being done, the smoke ascended smoothly, though
the wind forced an occasional puff the wrong way.
The wrath of Mr. Floyd became mollified, and when Tommy returned he
talked to him calmly, and as became a minister and a schoolmaster.
Bobsey, however, was not satisfied with the result of the evening's
entertainment.
He caught up the kitchen cat, a fine tabby, which was snoring
peacefully on the hearth.
"My gracious!" asked the cook, "what are you going to do?"
"The guvnor's too mean to have his chimney swept, and I'm going to do
it for him."
"With what?"
"With my new patent," answered Bobsey, grinning. "I shall drop this cat
down the flue and pelt her with tiles to make her hurry down. She'll
come out in the parlor looking splendid, and the fire won't do more
than singe her fur."
"Oh, you cruel wretch! I'll tell on you."
"You will, eh?" said Bobsey, gravely. "If you do anything so rash I'll
come to your bedside in the night and cut all your hair off so short
you'll have to wear a wig."
"A wig!" repeated Susan, horrified at the mere thought of such a terror.
"You stop here, Susan, and don't never 'oller about me," said Bobsey,
imperiously.
Calling the cat such pet names as "poor tabby" and "good old Tom," he
conveyed it to the roof.
He was as good as his word.
The cat was thrown down the chimney, and in spite of its claws, forced
to descend.
Tremendous quantities of soot were dislodged in the foul chimney by its
struggles, and shot down with great velocity.
Never was a chimney more artistically or more cleanly swept.
The Rev. C. Floyd was indulging in a little lecture, which he thought
would do Tommy good.
"This, my friend," he was saying, "is the land of freedom and
intelligence. You must not allow yourself to get behind the age. Keep
pace with the times. There are people who would stifle education--who
would throw a dense pall of black ignorance over the country, and----"
At this moment a terrific avalanche of soot fell down, covering those
in front of the fire.
It flew all over the room, settling on the table, books and carpet
nearly an inch thick.
Mr. and Mrs. Floyd and Tommy, as soon as they could get their eyes
open, looked at one another in blank dismay.
They were as black as negroes, and began to sneeze and cough as if they
had suddenly caught cold.
"Dear me," said Mr. Floyd, retreating to the door.
"What in the world is it?" exclaimed Mrs. Floyd, following him.
Down came another cloud of soot, which struck Tommy full in the face.
Mr. Floyd opened the door and called for help.
Suddenly a dark object darted down the chimney, surrounded with soot,
and uttering a fiendish scream as its feet touched the coals, dashed
across the room, made one spring for the window, leaped into the street
and was seen no more.
"The devil!" muttered Mr. Floyd.
"Heaven defend us!" said his wife.
The young gentlemen came out of the schoolroom, and seeing these black,
unearthly looking objects before them, hastily retreated.
Mr. Floyd looked toward the staircase.
He saw Bobsey coming down, and a suspicion at once crowded his mind.
"Where have you been?" he asked.
"Nowhere," replied Bobsey.
"What was it you put down the chimney?"
"Vell, then, 'ere's a go?" said Bobsey, assuming an air of injured
innocence. "'Cos I'm going to leave your hemploy, I'm not to be accused
of everything. Oh! no--not much. I ain't a nigger slave."
"I'll send for a policeman," cried Mr. Floyd.
"Send for a dozen," said Bobsey, who retreated to the kitchen.
Mr. Floyd's anger was now at its height.
He seized Tommy and dragged him into the schoolroom.
"You're in the plot," he exclaimed, "and I'll cane you. Bend your back,
sir, and touch your toes with your fingers." At the same time he took a
cane from his desk.
"I won't," answered Tommy, resolutely.
The Rev. C. Floyd looked perfectly diabolical with his black face and
hands, while Tommy resembled one of the attendant imps.
All the young gentlemen were highly amused, but the discipline of the
academy was so strict that they did not dare to laugh.
Finding that Tommy would not submit to the cane, the reverend gentleman
endeavored to strike him where he stood.
The boy, however, dived between his legs, throwing him on his face, and
ran away to the kitchen, where the cook considerately washed his face
and hands, and sewed the buttons on his coat.
"Now," exclaimed Bobsey, "you look less like a Heast Hindian, and more
of a Christian. Warn't it a lark? Oh! crickey, didn't I split with
laughing ven I saw old Floyd near smothered with soot!"
"I'm afraid he'll be down on me for it," said Tommy.
"Never mind, you and me's friends, and if you get the dirty kick out,
I'll see hafter you."
"Will you, indeed?"
"Vill I? I promise that you shan't want as long as I've got a shilling
to whack up, if it's only to spite the old man," replied Bobsey.
All at once Mrs. Floyd's voice was heard calling:
"Fire! Fire!"
"Bless us and save us!" cried the cook.
"Vot's up now?" said Bobsey.
He ran upstairs to examine, and came back with the intelligence that
the parlor was on fire.
"I think," he remarked, "that the cat coming from the fire must have
caught a live coal and dropped it in the window curtain, for the front
of the room's a-blazin' away like mad."
"Won't you help put it out?" said Tommy.
"Not I. Vy should I? The engine'll be here as soon as the peeler on the
beat sees the flames, and I'm goin' out into the street to see the fun.
Come on, Yankee."
"All right, Johnny Bull," replied Tommy.
The house was now all excitement. The young gentlemen ran about with
water jugs, making feeble efforts to put out the fire.
Mrs. Floyd fainted and was carried out in the snow, while her husband,
with a small garden syringe, squirted at the flames, which were
increasing in fury and intensity every moment.
Wild Charley was the only one who had any sense.
He put on his hat and ran to the engine house, which was fortunately in
the next street, and gave the alarm.
Bobsey, with Tommy by his side, formed one of a rapidly increasing
crowd that lined the pavement opposite.
He enjoyed the fire as only boys can, and when the flames darted out of
the parlor windows, took off his cap, waved it, and cried:
"Hooray!"
Tommy was much concerned at the state of affairs, for he saw a
prospect of losing the new home that he had so recently acquired.
By and by the engine came snorting and panting up to the scene of the
fire. People all up and down the street were aroused.
The firemen got at the hydrant and fastened the hose, and soon two
streams of water were playing on the flames.
"Go it, boys! pump on her!" exclaimed Bobsey, wild with excitement.
"Let her have it. 'Ere's a jolly spree!"
The water descended in streams on the flames, but for some time did not
appear to take any effect.
All this time the feathery snow descended pitilessly.