Such a hubbub as ensued in the old homestead on the top of Deer Hill
mountain, when, a half-hour later, “Fritzy Nunky” arrived with his
other charges, would baffle description; for the kindly German was one
of those overflowing, effervescing mortals who go bouncing through the
world as if their only mission were to “stir up” other quieter folk.
But it was such a happy, generous stirring up that they who had once
experienced it generally desired to have it again.
He was idolized by his nieces and his small nephew, to whom he stood in
place of the half remembered parents, who had perished in a steamship
disaster the last time they had left Germany to visit the mother’s
native land. For their sakes he had never married, lest his devotion to
them should have to be less; and he had persistently done his utmost to
spoil them, so far as unlimited indulgence tends that way.
Only to Paula he was a trial,--Paula, the eldest of the brood, who had
artistic and literary tendencies; and who, having reached the mature
age of sixteen, felt that she had wisdom and experience sufficient to
sit in judgment on all her “betters.” Strangely enough, “Fritzy Nunky”
appeared to agree with her, and if there was one person of whom his
sunshiny nature stood in awe it was of Fräulein Paula Pickel.
On Paula’s pretty features, then, there rested an expression of grave
disapproval during that supper which followed the arrival of the
stranger grandchildren; for Uncle Fritz was so lost in admiration of
his lovely old hostess, and so relieved to find The Snuggery such a
delightful home for his darlings, that he was even more boisterous than
ever.
Had Grandmother Capers and her invalid been present, there is no
knowing what might have happened; but as soon as the noise of their
arrival reached Melville’s sitting-room, he had caused word to be sent
to Grandmother Kinsolving that supper for himself and Mrs. Capers must
be served apart from the others.
The gentle old hostess had been rather glad of this than otherwise, but
Aunt Ruth, Friend as she was, had tossed her shapely head with a quaint
air of disdain which boded a certain piece of her mind to be delivered
at the fitting occasion and in the hearing of the two Capers.
“But, and my little jar of ‘mixed pickles’ will season your quiet life
finely. And it amazes me that you two ladies should live here in this
great house alone, with this young Fräulein!” exclaimed Uncle Fritz,
sweeping his eyes over the feminine trio, whom he supposed constituted
the family at the The Snuggery.
“But, it is not alone, Fritzy Nunky,” corrected Paula, severely. “Our
Aunt Ruth has told you twice already that a Mrs. Capers and our cousin
Melville, her grandson, are also members of the family.”
“Ah! so? Then I beg Miss Ruth’s sweet pardon. Paula finds me ever a
blunderer, dear madam,” he concluded, looking deprecatingly toward the
hostess’s sympathetic face.
Grandmother Kinsolving smiled. “Thee is a blunderer of the happy sort,
then, Fritz. I can understand now why my Lydia used to speak of her
brother-in-law with such affection.”
“Is it so?” queried Uncle Fritz, his big blue eyes filling at mention
of the dead woman who had been a true sister to him. “And, but we
thought not of the ‘in-law.’ Franz was always deep in my heart’s love,
and when Lydia came, she nestled close beside him. Christina, there,
is the mother made anew for us. Thou wilt find comfort in little
Christina,” he added fondly, laying his broad hand on the flaxen
braids of his youngest niece, who blushed and smiled gratefully at the
commendation.
“And what of me, Fritzy Nunky? Am I not a comfort, also?” asked the
tall Octave, demurely.
“Praise goes unsought, sweetheart. It never answers to bidding, thou
witch! Octave will make thee great care, Frau Kinsolving. She has a big
heart and a head full of heedless ways. Octave is my brother Franz, as
little Christina is my sister Lydia.”
Again the grave tenderness fell upon the spirits of those who best
remembered the dead. Content felt herself almost an alien, since all
were strangers to her save the grandmother and aunt whom she had known
but three short days. A moment’s longing for her own absent father who
was the one son of the house stole over her, and she turned her eyes
westward through the open window, as if looking toward him brought her
nearer to the missionary in far-away Japan.
But there was no division in Amy Kinsolving’s heart, and the lonesome
look of her little Content touched her heart, as she leaned forward to
lay her hand kindly upon the girl’s slender one. “A strange reunion,
Fritz; a strange ruling of Providence that all my children’s children
should have been brought to the old nest at one and the same time.
Benjamin has sent us his motherless Content, that we may rear her to
good and housewifely ways; Harriet’s poor crippled lad and his paternal
grandmother have dwelt with us these three years; and now thee comes
bringing a whole--”
“Jar of mixed pickles!” interrupted Octave, with no intention of
disrespect, but in the heedlessness which was her characteristic.
“Octave!” cried Paula; “apologize to grandmother!”
“Apologize yourself!” retorted Octave, pertly; then blushed furiously,
remembering to whom she had been discourteous. “I do apologize, dear,
sweet little grandma. Not for Paula’s tongue, though, but because I
wouldn’t do a shabby thing to you if I could help it. But I never
shall do any better; I’m born to be horrid,” she concluded with such
complacent serenity that Content laughed.
“What you laughing at?” demanded Fritz, junior, stopping his noisy
consumption of a third bowl of milk. “I like to know all the fun.”
“I’m afraid you would not understand this; but I was not laughing at
any one,” returned Content, flushing a bit at her lack of self-control.
“But you can tell, can’t you? You’ve got a tongue.”
“Well, then, it struck me as very funny that Octave and your own small
self have already decided that there is no use in trying to improve
yourselves, and are so perfectly satisfied that it should be so.”
Fritzy’s puzzled little face, after this long explanation, showed that
he had not comprehended it as well as he expected; but a swift, keen
glance from Octave’s dark eyes intercepted one from Content, and a bond
of interest was instantly formed between these two stranger cousins
whose training had been so different.
Fritz slipped down from his chair, when he had at length filled himself
to the utmost capacity with his Aunt Ruth’s good things, and sauntered
carelessly out of the room. No one thought to forbid his exploring
any part of the house which attracted his curiosity, and Aunt Ruth
disdained, while Grandmother Amy forgot, Melville’s fretful request
that he should not be disturbed by any family visits that night.
Melville Capers was accustomed to consider his word as law, and for the
sake of peace it generally was such. His anger and astonishment then
was great when, as he had just composed himself for a nap, the door of
his sitting-room opened, and a small person in dusty knickerbockers
walked coolly in.
The fourteen-year-old boy on the sofa had a voice suited to a man,
or at least to a youth of much stronger physical development than its
owner’s, and when this voice demanded in its fiercest tones, “Why
are you intruding here?” it surprised, if it did not intimidate, the
visitor.
Now old Oliver Kinsolving had been, according to his neighbors’ dictum,
“a man of a great substance”; which meant not so much substance of
money, though he was rich enough, but rather substance of character,
will power, honesty, and kindliness. It was curious to note how each
of his descendants possessed at least one factor of their grandsire’s
“substance,” to wit, his will; and little Fritz, though he was the
smallest of the flock, was yet to demonstrate that he inherited not the
smallest share of this same quality.
The child had said to himself, as he left the dining-room, that
he would see every nook and cranny of the big, new home before he
went to sleep that night. He was not, therefore, to be balked of
his project simply because a big boy on a lounge roared at him. His
momentary hesitation vanished, and his retort came so promptly that no
hesitation had really been perceived by the questioner.
“I ain’t intruding; I’m ’specting of my grandmother’s house. I should
like to know who you are, anyhow.”
“I’ll teach you who I am if you don’t get out of here pretty sudden!”
“Pooh! Who’s afraid?” demanded Fritz, coolly and impudently.
“You. Five seconds, now! Then get!”
“Get yourself!”
“I will,--cripple as I am,--if you don’t leave here instanter!”
“Cripple? That’s a boy without feet or hands. I seed one once at the
Museum in Munich. My! but he wasn’t like you. He had a voice. Cracky!
how that crippler did sing! You cripple, can you sing, too, as well as
holler?”
“Clear out, I tell you! You infernal little imp!”
“Ain’t a imp. Imps goes down traps and holes in theatres. I’ve seen
’em. Ginger! ain’t you a cross-looking boy?”
The child had come fearlessly forward, and was bestowing upon the
invalid a critical scrutiny, which naturally made its sensitive
recipient writhe.
“Clear out, quick! or I’ll throw this book at your head!”
“You dassent!”
For answer the volume of Dickens with which Melville had been passing
away his tedious afternoon, whizzed past the intruder’s curly pate.
In an instant all his fiery temper had roused. The child was used
only to kindness and indulgence; his few “fights” had been with poor
children on the city street in that distant home in Germany, and he
had never attempted one with “an equal.” His little chest swelled, his
head tossed back, his voice took on a new tone. “You coward, you! If I
had Fritzy Nunky’s Winchester here, I’d blow your head right square off
you! You--you--mean thing!”
“Will you go?”
“No!”
“What will you do?”
“Come and pound you! That is, if you can’t get off your old lounge!”
“Come on!” sneered Melville, little dreaming that his menace would be
accepted.
But it was; and in another second the round, dirty fists of little
Fritz were beating and punching the face and sides of the really
helpless invalid. Melville defended himself as best he could, and cried
aloud for his grandmother. But that unsuspecting woman was taking her
evening constitutional at a good distance from the house, and did not
hear him.
As he saw his adversary evidently weakening the belligerent Fritz felt
his courage grow apace, and he became quite carried away with his own
prowess.
But after a considerable interval, he realized that his blows were no
longer parried, and that Melville’s claw-like hands lay supinely on the
robe which half covered him.
“Humph! Thought I couldn’t lick you, didn’t you? And I showed you
diffrunt! Humph! Got enough, haven’t you?” And with immeasurable
contempt Fritz stepped back and regarded the motionless figure upon the
lounge. He stood thus for a long, long time; then suddenly the memory
of a story his uncle had told him of a boy who killed his brother in a
“fight” rushed into his mind.
Had he killed this boy of the roaring voice? A quick little sob escaped
his babyish lips, and in an awful terror he turned and fled.
They were just rising from their long, after table talk when the door
of the supper-room opened furiously, and a small boy with a very white
face appeared on its threshold. The big, staring eyes and the quivering
lips did not seem to belong to their little Fritz, and every one paused
in expectation, as he cried in his terrified treble: “There’s a homely,
great boy on a lounge, and I’ve just killed him!”