WHAT OSCAR FOUNDED AND WHAT EMMA PLANNED.
Feklitus took very kindly to the idea of making the speech at the
Musical Festival, and told his parents at once of the coming event. This
announcement made a great sensation in the household of Mr. Bickel, who
at once ordered a new suit and a new pair of boots for the boy; and both
parents determined to go and hear him speak. A change had come over the
boy since this proposal had been made to him. He became very silent and
went about with his head bowed and his brows knit as if oppressed with
heavy thoughts.
One afternoon he came out of school and made one great spring from the
upper step to the ground. It was not from joyfulness of heart that he
made this leap, but because the sudden pressure of those who came behind
him gave him an irresistible impulse, and he could not stop for the
single steps. He did not go on with the other boys, but turned round the
corner of the school-house, and waited there till all the girls had
passed out, in groups of two and three, and, last of all, Elsli came
hurrying along alone; she had been delayed by waiting to write out her
exercise for the next day. Suddenly she felt herself seized from behind
and held fast.
“Let me go, Feklitus,” she cried; “I am in a hurry; Nora is waiting for
me.”
“I want to ask you something first,” said the boy, “and then you may
go.”
He spoke in a masterful voice, and held fast to the child’s frock.
“Tell me this; if you were going to make a speech at a musical
festival, how should you begin?”
“What a stupid question, Feklitus! when you know perfectly well that I
should never do such a thing!” And Elsli tried to pull her dress away
from the boy’s hand; but he held her fast.
“I didn’t say you would; but suppose you did,--you can suppose
anything,--how would you begin?”
“I don’t know, I’m sure; I never thought anything about it in my life.”
“Come, now, if you don’t tell me, I’ll keep you here till after dark.
Come; I’ll just make a beginning, to start you. Begin: Highly respected
gentlemen and brothers--now, what next?”
“Let me go; I really ought to go. I have no idea what to say next.”
“What an obstinate girl you are!” cried Feklitus angrily; “I’ll punish
you for this before long; when you come into the factory, you’ll catch
it; you see if you don’t!”
This vague threat frightened Elsli the more from its very vagueness; so
she thought for a moment, and then began;--
“Highly respected gentlemen and brothers! Now that we have sung
together, let us rejoice together; and enjoy a long, long festival!”
As Elsli spoke, Feklitus relaxed his hold of her, as she had hoped he
would do; and instantly she darted away like an arrow shot from a bow;
and before Feklitus had recovered from his surprise, she had gone beyond
pursuit. The boy looked thoughtfully after her retreating figure for a
few moments, and then went towards home.
On the next Sunday the great Musical Festival was to take place; and the
banner would be ready but just in season. The day before, there was to
be a rehearsal of the performance, so that Feklitus might try his
speech, and the order of the procession be arranged. A table-cloth tied
to a pole was to take the place of the unfinished banner.
It is needless to say that there was but little appetite for dinner at
Dr. Stein’s table on this Saturday; Oscar rose as soon as he could hope
to be excused, and Emma did not remain any longer. She had scarcely
taken her eyes from the clock since she sat down, and had answered at
cross purposes all dinner-time.
“What are you children about now, that you are in such a tremendous
hurry?” asked their father, as they were leaving the room. Emma did not
wait to answer.
But Oscar said:--
“You will see to-morrow. To-day we are going to put up the stand for the
speaker and to arrange the procession. You’ll be surprised, I’m sure.
Of course you’ll come and hear Feklitus speak?”
“With pleasure. Your mother and aunt will go too, I’m sure. Are you one
of the company, Fred?”
“No, indeed. I have more important things to interest me. It is of more
use to find and to study the smallest common frog than to attend a
thousand musical festivals.”
Rikli started as if she thought he was going to produce a specimen of
frog from his pocket at that moment. Oscar cast a look of pity upon his
brother, and left the room.
That afternoon as Mrs. Stein and her sister sat out in the garden, with
their work-basket on the table between them, the former said:--
“It is singular how things repeat themselves. When the children tell us
how Feklitus is constantly running after Elsli, though no one can
understand why, it reminds me of times long ago when his father, stout
Fekli, used to pursue Gritli, and how she used to run on before him,
looking back now and then and calling out with a laugh:--
“‘Come and catch me if you dare,
You big, heavy-footed bear,’”--
A piercing shriek broke in upon the laugh which followed the repetition
of this long-forgotten couplet, and they both sprang to their feet; but
immediately recognizing the voice, they sat quietly down again, and
resumed their work.
“It is only Rikli,” said her mother; “she is always in a fright about
nothing.”
“Fred is probably amusing himself at her expense with some beetle or
frog,” said the aunt. “I can’t help being sorry for the child, and it’s
too bad of Fred; but it’s useless to run to her every time she
screams.”
Just then the sound of singing arose from the other side of the garden,
apparently trying to overpower the noise of the child’s cry, and they
heard the words:--
“Hanseli is a cry-baby,
Rikli is another;
She’s so exactly like him
That he must be her brother.”
“That’s Fred!” exclaimed Mrs. Stein. “So he is certainly not with
Rikli.” And as the little girl’s shrieks grew louder she began to think
something serious was the matter, and the two ladies started away in the
direction of the sound. Poor Rikli was indeed in a wretched plight. She
was standing in a ditch, covered quite to her neck in the muddy water,
and holding up her arms above her head, in an effort to protect it from
the many little green frogs that were sporting about her. Aunty reached
her first, and, taking the little girl by the arm, she quickly rescued
her from her uncomfortable position. As soon as Rikli found herself in
safety, she exclaimed reproachfully:--
“Why didn’t you come when I called you first?”
They did not stop to answer her, but hurried her into the house, and
forthwith into the bath-tub without delay. After the necessary scrubbing
and cleansing were over, Rikli put her question again, and the
explanation she received was likely to impress upon her the folly of
unnecessary alarm, and the certainty that her cries would be unheeded as
long as she persisted in uttering them so needlessly.
All this time Oscar was occupied with assembling his chorus in the place
chosen for the festival, that the rehearsal might be conducted in due
order, except the currant-wine and gingerbread, which naturally were
reserved for the festival itself, which was to come off next day. The
stage was made of four posts, stuck into the ground, and covered with
boards.
The moment for beginning the performance arrived; Feklitus mounted the
platform.
“Highly respected gentlemen and brothers! now that we have sung together
so well, let us rejoice together; and celebrate the event with a great
feast, and all touch glasses together.”
With these words, spoken in a loud but rather hurried voice, Feklitus
bowed to the company, and came down from the stage.
“Go on, go on with your speech!” shouted every one.
“Why, that’s all; and then we must all touch glasses,” said Feklitus,
who was quite satisfied and elated at having got through so well.
But at his words arose a great uproar; the boys wanted more, and
insisted on Feklitus’ going on. Oscar alone said not a word; he was
transfixed with one thought, that had been suggested by the first words
of this brief speech. “Now that we have sung!” To be sure, it had not
occurred to him that to have a Musical Festival successful, there ought
to be some music. But it was not too late yet to repair the oversight.
Controlling his mortification at his blunder, he sprang to the platform,
and tried to call the attention of the noisy crowd.
“Here, fellows, listen to me! Be quiet! I want to tell you something
important!” and as the noise began to subside, he shouted:--
“We must have some singing! Who of you can sing? We’ll find a song, and
then learn it. Who can sing?”
But no one came forward; no one could sing! Feklitus declared that there
was no need of singing; a speech, a procession, a banner, a collation;
why did they want anything else? But Oscar was determined to have a
song, and suddenly he thought of Fani. Where was Fani? He could sing,
and should sing. But Fani was not to be found, and soon the assembly
broke up; the members scattered, and the platform raised its head in
solitary grandeur.
Oscar ran home in a state of tremendous excitement. What would become of
his much-boasted festival if he could get no music for it? His father’s
jests, Fred’s air of superiority, all the mortifying consequences
rankled in his mind. Fani must be found, and if only he would lead, the
rest must somehow be got to join in.
As he reached the house, he met Emma just coming home.
“Where is Fani?” he asked. “Have you been putting him up to something
that has made him desert us and go off with you instead?”
Emma colored, but did not reply; she went on into the house, as if she
did not hear a word that Oscar said. As she came into the sitting-room,
Kathri opened the opposite door, saying:--
“Marget is here, asking if any one has seen Fani? she wants him in a
hurry, and has been hunting everywhere for him.”
Emma’s face and neck became flaming red; she seized her aunt’s hand, and
drew her out of the room. Mrs. Stein went into the kitchen to see what
Marget’s haste was. She learned that Mr. Bickel had just been to her
house to say that he wanted Fani immediately in the factory; he had a
place for him at once. He needn’t leave school, but could come in the
afternoon and on holidays, and he would earn quite a good bit of money
directly. Marget had been trying in vain to find Fani, to come and talk
to her cousin; she was very much afraid that the great man would be
angry at being kept waiting, and Fani would lose the place.
Mrs. Stein told Marget that she would send Oscar to look everywhere for
the missing boy, and Marget went home.
Meantime, Emma had drawn her aunt into her own room, and as soon as they
were safely inside, with the door shut, she began in imploring tones:--
“Oh, aunty, help me! help me! so that no harm will come of it, and that
papa may not be angry with me, and make Fani’s mother understand how
splendid it is going to be, and that Fani will be a great painter by and
by. He has gone to Basel to-day!”
“To Basel! I hope you are not in earnest, Emma!” said her aunt, much
disturbed.
“Yes, it is really true, aunty. Do go to Fani’s mother and explain to
her that it’s all right, and don’t let her come to papa about it. I’ll
tell you just how it was, and then you can tell Marget. I saw an
advertisement in a newspaper the other day, like this, ‘A decorator in
Basel wants a lad, about twelve years of age, to do light work and learn
the business.’ Then the address was given. I showed it to Fani, and we
both thought that it would be a good chance for him to learn to paint,
and at the same time to earn something, so that he needn’t go into the
factory. Don’t you remember that you said a decorator meant a
beautifier, and Fred said it meant a scene-painter? Fani can paint roses
and flowers and garlands, and he wanted awfully to go. At first he said
he must ask his mother; but then he thought it would be no use, because
she said painting was no work at all, but only nonsense. So we planned
that he should just go off; and then, if they asked where he was, I
should tell them; and as soon as he can, he is to write and tell them
that he is going to be a painter.”
“This is terrible!” exclaimed her aunt.
“You’ve done great mischief, Emma. What will become of him, and how will
he get to Basel without money?”
Emma said she had given him all her own money, and he could certainly
reach Basel, and if only aunty would go and tell his mother about it,
all would be right. Aunty lost no time. She went directly to Heiri’s
cottage, and met Mr. Bickel coming out from the door-way.
“As I have said,” was his closing remark, “I will soon put a stop to his
loafing; for I will cut off his wages every hour that he idles.”
“You can’t cut down his wages, Cousin Bickel, before he begins to have
any,” said Marget to herself as Mr. Bickel marched off with his most
important air.
Aunty went into the little house. The outer door opened into the
kitchen, and beyond was the living-room. The door between stood open,
and through it could be seen two very old cradles, and the wash-tub
stood near the door in the kitchen, so that as she stood at her work
Marget could watch the three little boys and the baby at the same time.
Although Hans was now two years old, he still had a cradle, which served
as a bed at night, and as a means of quieting him by day. Whenever he
set up his accustomed scream, his mother laid him into the cradle,
where, soothed by the rocking motion, he soon fell asleep. The two older
brothers, Rudi and Heirli, standing one each side of the cradle, pushed
it back and forth with great good-will.
Aunty sat down by the wash-tub, and, after begging Marget to go on with
her work, she began gently to unfold her story, winding up with the
offer of writing immediately to Basel, to find out how Fani was
situated, and on what terms his master had taken him. Then, if
everything was not satisfactory, he could be brought home again. In
Marget’s ears still lingered her Cousin Bickel’s threat about cutting
down wages. Perhaps Fani wouldn’t earn much at the factory after all. If
he were in Basel, she should not have his food to provide, and if he
could earn enough to clothe himself while learning a trade, it would
probably be better than he could do at home, and no trouble to her
either. As these calculations passed through Marget’s mind, she
concluded not to oppose the boy’s wishes, and she assured her visitor
that his father would be satisfied if the doctor’s family thought it a
good arrangement, and would some of them look after the boy a little. It
was a great relief to Emma’s kind aunt that so little blame was likely
to attach to the girl for the consequences of her rash advice; and now
she concluded her visit with some inquiries about Elsli. Marget’s report
was favorable. Elsli spent all her time out of school at Oak-ridge, and
was very happy in her work. Marget got along very well with the
children, and certainly the liberal pay which Elsli brought home every
day was a great gain; to say nothing of many clothes which the sick
child could not use, and which would clothe Elsli for a long time to
come. All this was pleasant tidings, and aunty went home with a much
lighter heart. About half-way home she met Oscar coming to meet her. He
darted towards her, and at once began to pour out the story of the
unlucky musical festival; how he had entirely forgotten that there must
be music, and how he dreaded the ridicule he should encounter when the
mistake was discovered. He saw but one means of escape; if he could
change the name of the festival, so that no music need be expected;
then, by altering the motto a little, and changing some words in the
speech--didn’t aunty think it could be done?
No; she did not think that idea practicable. “You see, Oscar,” she said,
“a celebration must celebrate something, an anniversary or some
interesting event. As there is nothing of the kind in this case, I
really think your only course, since you have no music ready, is to give
up the festival entirely for the present, and wait till you have
something to celebrate.”
Poor Oscar! he was terribly disappointed; yet he could not but
acknowledge that his aunt was right, and he followed her into the house,
dreading his father’s questions and the discovery that was sure to
follow. Supper was just ready as they entered the house, so that Emma
could not satisfy her eager desire to know the result of her aunt’s
mission; so that she, as well as Oscar, sat at the table in troubled
silence, both absorbed in secret fears, and both hoping, if they did not
speak, that they should escape being spoken to. Fred noticed their
unusual demeanor, and presently he remarked, slyly:
“There is a bird called the ostrich, _Struthio_ which has a habit of
hiding its head in the sand, believing that, in so doing, he conceals
himself from the hunter. This bird is sometimes seen in this
neighborhood, and his usual food is potato-salad.”
Oscar took no notice of this bit of sarcasm, but remained intent on his
potato-salad; but his father, who was watching him, laughed and said:--
“Is he overpowered by the pleasures of the approaching festival?”
As no farther questions followed, and the supper went on without any
inquiries about Fani, both Oscar and Emma rose from the table with
easier minds. The danger was not yet over, of blame for Emma and
ridicule for Oscar; but they had gained time, and they breathed more
freely as they turned again to their aunt for help and advice.