THE MAGIC DOOR.
When Miss Brown said of the Big Front Door that it made her cheerful
simply to look at it, she had no idea, nor had anyone else, how much
was going to grow out of it.
First of all was the story Uncle William told one stormy Sunday
evening before the wood fire in the library.
It had been a trying day to the children, with the rain coming
steadily down, their father away, and Aunt Zelie sick with a cold.
Perhaps it was not to be wondered at that by afternoon they had grown
"cantankerous," as Sukey expressed it, and that something very like
quarrelling had gone on in the star chamber.
This was all forgotten when the early tea was over, and they gathered
around the fire with Uncle William in father's arm-chair.
The shadows were dark in the corners of the room, but the soft
wavering light gilded everything within reach, touching Grandfather's
portrait with its gentle magic, till he himself seemed to be standing
there, smiling and about to speak. The young faces turned to Uncle
William were full of quiet content.
"Do you know what Miss Brown has named our house?" Bess asked. "She
calls it the house with the Big Front Door."
"That is a very good name and reminds me of a story."
"Oh, please tell it," they all begged, and so without preface Uncle
William begun:
"Once upon a time a man built a house. He selected the materials with
greatest care, and watched every brick, stone, and beam used in its
construction, that everything might be strong and good. But it was to
the front door that he gave most thought. This was of oak after a
design of his own, and was wide and massive, with hinges of
wrought-iron and a dragon's-head knocker. Some of his neighbors
admired it, others found fault with it, objecting that it was out of
proportion and too large for a dwelling-house. But after a while they
discovered that it was more than an ordinary door. There was some
magic about it; it shed a radiance over the whole neighborhood. People
when they were perplexed would look towards it, and presently their
doubts would fade away. Those who were despondent or sorrowful were
cheered and comforted by the sight of it. In stormy weather it was
like a small neighborhood sun. And no one rejoiced more than its owner
in the strange power of the door, for he had a heart full of love and
goodwill, and he and his children were constantly doing kindnesses to
their neighbors. They were a happy family too among themselves, and
the reason seemed to be because they lived in the radiance of the
magic door.
"At length, to the sorrow of his friends, this good man died. In his
parting instructions to his children he warned them that the door
might sometime lose its power, and if its hinges should ever become
rusty, or its lock hard to turn, he directed them to a certain iron
box where they would find a key which, if used according to the
directions attached, would soon restore it. This made little or no
impression upon them at the time, for, since the oldest of them could
remember, the door had been always the same, and it seemed improbable
that it would ever change. They missed their father sadly, but for a
time continued to live as they had when he was with them. However, as
the months passed, all unconsciously at first they began to neglect
their duties; to forget the acts of neighborly kindness they had once
been so glad to perform; and saddest of all, they fell to quarrelling
among themselves. Then one day they could not open the door, try as
they would. Rust was discovered thick upon its hinges, and while they
were wondering how this could have happened, some one brought word
that complaint was general in the neighborhood that the door had lost
its magic power. The children looked at one another in dismay, till
one remembered the iron box and went in search of it. When it was
found and opened in the midst of the family there was in it simply an
ordinary key with a card tied to it, and on the card were written
these words: 'They helped every one his neighbor.'
"They were for a time at a loss to understand, when one wiser than the
rest spoke: 'Do you not see,' he said, 'that it was the spirit of
helpfulness that made our home happy, and gave our door its strange
power? We have neglected our father's teaching; have been selfish and
unloving, and so are no longer a blessing to ourselves or others.'
"Each felt in his heart that this was true, and with one accord they
made up their quarrels; one went to visit a sick neighbor, another
carried a coat to a poor man and food to his children, and in various
ways they tried to begin over again, and live as their father had
lived. Then happiness returned to their home, the key slipped easily
into the lock, the door opened wide once more, and gradually regained
its old power. So not only were they happy themselves, but they kept
alive the memory of their father, whose name was loved and honored by
all who came within the radiance of the magic door."
There was silence for a few minutes; then Bess asked, "Was Grandfather
the man who built the house?"
Uncle William smiled.
"You must find the moral for yourselves, but I acknowledge that Miss
Brown put the idea into my head."
"And you told it because we were cross this afternoon, I know," said
Louise wisely.
"Suppose Miss Brown could tell when we are bad just by looking at the
door!" Carl suggested, laughing.
"It would be dreadful," said Bess soberly.
"But it isn't true about _our_ door, is it?" Helen asked.
"Of course not, goosie," replied her brother.
"Put it the other way, and suppose that Miss Brown could tell when you
are kind and unselfish, that would not be dreadful," said their uncle.
"And I forgot to say," he added, "that the key in the story is
warranted to work like magic anywhere. It was a favorite text of your
grandfather's. When this house was built I was a little boy, hardly as
old as Helen, but I remember distinctly the first time I went through
it. I was very much delighted, and came running down the steps,
calling, 'Oh, father, what a nice house this is!' and he replied, 'I
am glad you like it, William. It is only a house now, but we are going
to try to make it a home.' I don't think I quite understood what he
meant till long afterwards, though he went on to explain that a home
is a place where love, obedience, and helpfulness grow, and are stored
up as the water is stored in Quarry Hill reservoir, to find its way
out into the world after a while, carrying comfort and cheer.
"Your grandfather did all he could to make this house a real home
while he lived, and now the responsibility rests upon you."
"I truly mean to remember the key, and try to be a helper," said Bess,
finding and marking the text in her own Bible, at Uncle William's
suggestion. "I like that part about the radiance of the magic door,"
she added.
"It is easy enough to talk about it, but it's not so easy to _be_
good," said Carl with emphasis.
"We are not here to do easy things, and, as Bess says, we can all
try," Uncle William replied, "and now we have had a sermon, let us
have some music before I go."
"Let's tell Dora about the magic door; perhaps she would like to
help!" said Louise, as she and Bess went upstairs to bed.