Once a Cake would go seek his fortune in the world, and he took his
leave of the Pan he was baked in.
"I know my destiny," said the Cake. "I must be eaten, since to that
end I was made; but I am a good cake, if I say it who should not, and
I would fain choose the persons I am to benefit."
"I don't see what difference it makes to you!" said the Pan.
"But imagination is hardly your strong point!" said the Cake.
"Huh!" said the Pan.
The Cake went on his way, and soon he passed by a cottage door where
sat a woman spinning, and her ten children playing about her.
"Oh!" said the woman, "what a beautiful cake!" and she put out her
hand to take him.
"Be so good as to wait a moment!" said the Cake. "Will you kindly tell
me what you would do with me if I should yield myself up to you?"
"I shall break you into ten pieces," said the woman, "and give one to
each of my ten children. So you will give ten pleasures, and that is a
good thing."
"Oh, that would be very nice, I am sure," said the Cake; "but if you
will excuse me for mentioning it, your children seem rather dirty,
especially their hands, and I confess I should like to keep my
frosting unsullied, so I think I will go a little further."
"As you will!" said the woman. "After all, the brown loaf is better
for the children."
So the Cake went further, and met a fair child, richly dressed, with
coral lips and eyes like sunlit water. When the child saw the Cake, he
said like the woman, "Oh, what a beautiful Cake!" and put out his hand
to take it.
"I am sure I should be most happy!" said the Cake. "And you will not
take it amiss, I am confident, if I ask with whom you will share me."
"I shall not share you with any one!" said the child. "I shall eat you
myself, every crumb. What do you take me for?"
"Good gracious!" cried the Cake. "This will never do. Consider my
size,--and yours! You would be very ill!"
"I don't care!" said the child. "I'd rather be ill than give any
away." And he fixed greedy eyes on the Cake, and stretched forth his
hand again.
"This is really terrible!" cried the Cake. "What is one's frosting to
this? I will go back to the woman with the ten children."
He turned and ran back, leaving the child screaming with rage and
disappointed greed. But as he ran, a hungry Puppy met him, and swallowed
him at a gulp, and went on licking his chops and wagging his tail.
"Huh!" said the Pan.
"OH, DEAR!"
Chimborazo was a very unhappy boy. He pouted, and he sulked, and
he said, "Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!" He said it till
everybody was tired of hearing it.
"Chimborazo," his mother would say, "please don't say, 'Oh, dear!' any
more. It is very annoying. Say something else."
"Oh, dear!" the boy would answer, "I can't! I don't know anything else
to say. Oh, dear! Oh, _dear_!! oh, DEAR!!!"
One day his mother could not bear it any longer, and she sent for his
fairy godmother, and told her all about it.
"Humph!" said the fairy godmother. "I will see to it. Send the boy to
me!"
So Chimborazo was sent for, and came, hanging his head as usual. When
he saw his fairy godmother, he said, "Oh, dear!" for he was rather
afraid of her.
"'Oh, dear!' it is!" said the godmother sharply; and she put on her
spectacles and looked at him. "Do you know what a bell-punch is?"
"Oh, dear!" said Chimborazo. "No, ma'am, I don't!"
"Well," said the godmother, "I am going to give you one."
"Oh, dear!" said Chimborazo, "I don't want one."
"Probably not," replied she, "but that doesn't make much difference.
You have it now, in your jacket pocket."
Chimborazo felt in his pocket, and took out a queer-looking instrument
of shining metal. "Oh, dear!" he said.
"'Oh, dear!' it is!" said the fairy godmother. "Now," she continued,
"listen to me, Chimborazo! I am going to put you on an allowance
of 'Oh, dears.' This is a self-acting bell-punch, and it will ring
whenever you say 'Oh, dear!' How many times do you generally say it in
the course of the day?"
"Oh, dear!" said Chimborazo, "I don't know. Oh, _dear_!"
"_Ting! ting!_" the bell-punch rang twice sharply; and looking at it
in dismay, he saw two little round holes punched in a long slip of
pasteboard which was fastened to the instrument.
"Exactly!" said the fairy. "That is the way it works, and a very
pretty way, too. Now, my boy, I am going to make you a very liberal
allowance. You may say 'Oh, dear!' forty-five times a day. There's
liberality for you!"
"Oh, dear!" cried Chimborazo, "I----"
"_Ting!_" said the bell-punch.
"You see!" observed the fairy. "Nothing could be prettier. You have
now had three of this day's allowance. It is still some hours before
noon, so I advise you to be careful. If you exceed the allowance----"
Here she paused, and glowered through her spectacles in a very
dreadful manner.
"Oh, dear!" cried Chimborazo. "What will happen then?"
"You will see!" said the fairy godmother, with a nod. "_Something_
will happen, you may be very sure of that. Good-by. Remember, only
forty-five!" And away she flew out of the window.
"Oh, dear!" cried Chimborazo, bursting into tears. "I don't want it! I
won't have it! Oh, _dear_! oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, DEAR!!!"
"Ting! ting! ting-ting-ting-_ting_!" said the bell-punch; and now
there were ten round holes in the strip of pasteboard. Chimborazo
was now really frightened. He was silent for some time; and when
his mother called him to his lessons he tried very hard not to say
the dangerous words. But the habit was so strong that he said them
unconsciously. By dinnertime there were twenty-five holes in the
cardboard strip; by tea-time there were forty! Poor Chimborazo! he was
afraid to open his lips, for whenever he did the words would slip out
in spite of him.
"Well, Chimbo," said his father after tea, "I hear you have had a
visit from your fairy godmother. What did she say to you, eh?"
"Oh, dear!" said Chimborazo, "she said--oh, dear! I've said it again!"
"She said, 'Oh, dear! I've said it again!'" repeated his father. "What
do you mean by that?"
"Oh, dear! I didn't mean that," cried Chimborazo hastily; and again
the inexorable bell rang, and he knew that another hole was punched
in the fatal cardboard. He pressed his lips firmly together, and did
not open them again except to say "Good-night," until he was safe
in his own room. Then he hastily drew the hated bell-punch from his
pocket, and counted the holes in the strip of cardboard; there were
forty-three! "Oh, _dear_!" cried the boy, forgetting himself again in
his alarm, "only two more! Oh, _dear_! oh, DEAR! I've done it again!
oh----" "Ting! ting!" went the bell-punch; and the cardboard was
punched to the end. "Oh, dear!" cried Chimborazo, now beside himself
with terror. "Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, _dear_!! what will
become of me?"
A strange whirring noise was heard, then a loud clang; and the next
moment the bell-punch, as if it were alive, flew out of his hand, out
of the window, and was gone!
Chimborazo stood breathless with terror for a few minutes, momentarily
expecting that the roof would fall in on his head, or the floor blow
up under his feet, or some appalling catastrophe of some kind follow;
but nothing followed. Everything was quiet, and there seemed to be
nothing to do but go to bed; and so to bed he went, and slept, only to
dream that he was shot through the head with a bell-punch, and died
saying, "Oh, dear!"
The next morning, when Chimborazo came downstairs, his father said,
"My boy, I am going to drive over to your grandfather's farm this
morning; would you like to go with me?"
A drive to the farm was one of the greatest pleasures Chimborazo had,
so he answered promptly, "Oh, _dear_!"
"Oh, very well!" said his father, looking much surprised. "You need
not go, my son, if you do not want to. I will take Robert instead."
Poor Chimborazo! He had opened his lips to say, "Thank you, papa. I
should like to go _very_ much!" and, instead of these words, out had
popped, in his most doleful tone, the now hated "Oh, dear!" He sat
amazed; but was roused by his mother's calling him to breakfast.
"Come, Chimbo," she said. "Here are sausages and scrambled eggs: and
you are very fond of both of them. Which will you have?"
Chimborazo hastened to say, "Sausages, please, mamma,"--that is, he
hastened to _try_ to say it; but all his mother heard was, "Oh, _dear_!"
His father looked much displeased. "Give the boy some bread and water,
wife," he said sternly. "If he cannot answer properly, he must be
taught. I have had enough of this 'oh, dear!' business."
Poor Chimborazo! He saw plainly enough now what his punishment was
to be; and the thought of it made him tremble. He tried to ask for
some more bread, but only brought out his "Oh, _dear_!" in such a
lamentable tone that his father ordered him to leave the room. He went
out into the garden, and there he met John the gardener, carrying a
basket of rosy apples. Oh! how good they looked!
"I am bringing some of the finest apples up to the house, little
master," said John. "Will you have one to put in your pocket?"
"Oh, _dear_!" was all the poor boy could say, though he wanted an
apple, oh, so much! And when John heard that he put the apple back in
his basket, muttering something about ungrateful monkeys.
Poor Chimborazo! I will not give the whole history of that miserable
day,--a miserable day it was from beginning to end. He fared no better
at dinner than at breakfast; for at the second "Oh, dear!" his father
sent him up to his room, "to stay there until he knew how to take what
was given him, and be thankful for it." He knew well enough by this
time; but he could not tell his father so. He went to his room, and
sat looking out of the window, a hungry and miserable boy.
In the afternoon his cousin Will came up to see him. "Why, Chimbo!" he
cried. "Why do you sit moping here in the house, when all the boys are
out? Come and play marbles with me on the piazza. Ned and Harry are
out there waiting for you. Come on!"
"Oh, dear!" said Chimborazo.
"What's the matter?" asked Will. "Haven't you any marbles? Never mind.
I'll give you half of mine, if you like. Come!"
"Oh, DEAR!" said Chimborazo.
"Well," said Will, "if that's all you have to say when I offer you
marbles, I'll keep them myself. I suppose you expected me to give you
all of them, did you? I never saw such a fellow!" and off he went in a
huff.
* * * * *
"Well, Chimborazo," said the fairy godmother, "what do you think of
'Oh, dear!' now?"
Chimborazo looked at her beseechingly, but said nothing.
"Finding that forty-five times was not enough for you yesterday, I
thought I would let you have all you wanted to-day, you see," said the
fairy wickedly.
The boy still looked imploringly at her, but did not open his lips.
"Well, well," she said at last, touching his lips with her wand, "I
think that is enough in the way of punishment, though I am sorry you
broke the bell-punch. Good-by! I don't believe you will say 'Oh,
dear!' any more."
And he didn't.