Turk scene was over, could give his attention to the rest of the
charade.
Elizabeth Eliza and Ann Maria went on as rival hostesses, trying to
draw Solomon John, Agamemnon, and John Osborne into their several
inns. The little boys carried valises, hand-bags, umbrellas, and
bandboxes. Bandbox after bandbox appeared, and when Agamemnon sat down
upon his the applause was immense. At last the curtain fell.
"Now for the whole," said John Osborne, as he made his way off the
stage over a heap of umbrellas.
"I can't think why the lady from Philadelphia did not send me the
whole," said Elizabeth Eliza, musing over the letter.
"Listen, they are guessing," said John Osborne. "'_D-ice-box._' I
don't wonder they get it wrong."
"But we know it can't be that!" exclaimed Elizabeth Eliza, in agony.
"How can we act the whole if we don't know it ourselves?"
"Oh, I see it!" said Ann Maria, clapping her hands. "Get your whole
family in for the last scene."
Mr. and Mrs. Peterkin were summoned to the stage, and formed the
background, standing on stools; in front were Agamemnon and Solomon
John, leaving room for Elizabeth Eliza between; a little in advance,
and in front of all, half kneeling, were the little boys, in their
india-rubber boots.
The audience rose to an exclamation of delight, "The Peterkins!"
"P-Turk-Inns!"
It was not until this moment that Elizabeth Eliza guessed the whole.
"What a tableau!" exclaimed Mr. Bromwick; "the Peterkin family
guessing their own charade."
[Illustration]
THE PETERKINS ARE OBLIGED TO MOVE.
Agamemnon had long felt it an impropriety to live in a house that was
called a "semi-detached" house, when there was no other "semi" to it.
It had always remained wholly detached, as the owner had never built
the other half. Mrs. Peterkin felt this was not a sufficient reason
for undertaking the terrible process of a move to another house, when
they were fully satisfied with the one they were in.
But a more powerful reason forced them to go. The track of a new
railroad had to be carried directly through the place, and a station
was to be built on that very spot.
Mrs. Peterkin so much dreaded moving that she questioned whether they
could not continue to live in the upper part of the house and give up
the lower part to the station. They could then dine at the restaurant,
and it would be very convenient about travelling, as there would be no
danger of missing the train, if one were sure of the direction.
But when the track was actually laid by the side of the house, and the
steam-engine of the construction train puffed and screamed under the
dining-room windows, and the engineer calmly looked in to see what the
family had for dinner, she felt, indeed, that they must move.
But where should they go? It was difficult to find a house that
satisfied the whole family. One was too far off, and looked into a
tan-pit; another was too much in the middle of the town, next door to
a machine-shop. Elizabeth Eliza wanted a porch covered with vines,
that should face the sunset; while Mr. Peterkin thought it would not
be convenient to sit there looking towards the west in the late
afternoon (which was his only leisure time), for the sun would shine
in his face. The little boys wanted a house with a great many doors,
so that they could go in and out often. But Mr. Peterkin did not like
so much slamming, and felt there was more danger of burglars with so
many doors. Agamemnon wanted an observatory, and Solomon John a shed
for a workshop. If he could have carpenters' tools and a workbench he
could build an observatory, if it were wanted.
But it was necessary to decide upon something, for they must leave
their house directly. So they were obliged to take Mr. Finch's, at the
Corners. It satisfied none of the family. The porch was a piazza, and
was opposite a barn. There were three other doors,--too many to please
Mr. Peterkin, and not enough for the little boys. There was no
observatory, and nothing to observe if there were one, as the house
was too low, and some high trees shut out any view. Elizabeth Eliza
had hoped for a view; but Mr. Peterkin consoled her by deciding it was
more healthy to have to walk for a view, and Mrs. Peterkin agreed that
they might get tired of the same every day.
[Illustration]
And everybody was glad a selection was made, and the little boys
carried their india-rubber boots the very first afternoon.
[Illustration]
Elizabeth Eliza wanted to have some system in the moving, and spent
the evening in drawing up a plan. It would be easy to arrange
everything beforehand, so that there should not be the confusion that
her mother dreaded, and the discomfort they had in their last move.
Mrs. Peterkin shook her head; she did not think it possible to move
with any comfort. Agamemnon said a great deal could be done with a
list and a programme.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: THE PETERKINS ARE MOVED.--Page 126.]
Elizabeth Eliza declared if all were well arranged a programme would
make it perfectly easy. They were to have new parlor carpets, which
could be put down in the new house the first thing. Then the parlor
furniture could be moved in, and there would be two comfortable
rooms, in which Mr. and Mrs. Peterkin could sit while the rest of the
move went on. Then the old parlor carpets could be taken up for the
new dining-room and the downstairs bedroom, and the family could
meanwhile dine at the old house. Mr. Peterkin did not object to this,
though the distance was considerable, as he felt exercise would be
good for them all. Elizabeth Eliza's programme then arranged that the
dining-room furniture should be moved the third day, by which time one
of the old parlor carpets would be down in the new dining-room, and
they could still sleep in the old house. Thus there would always be a
quiet, comfortable place in one house or the other. Each night, when
Mr. Peterkin came home, he would find some place for quiet thought and
rest, and each day there should be moved only the furniture needed for
a certain room. Great confusion would be avoided and nothing
misplaced. Elizabeth Eliza wrote these last words at the head of her
programme,--"Misplace nothing." And Agamemnon made a copy of the
programme for each member of the family.
The first thing to be done was to buy the parlor carpets. Elizabeth
Eliza had already looked at some in Boston, and the next morning she
went, by an early train, with her father, Agamemnon, and Solomon John,
to decide upon them.
They got home about eleven o'clock, and when they reached the house
were dismayed to find two furniture wagons in front of the gate,
already partly filled! Mrs. Peterkin was walking in and out of the
open door, a large book in one hand, and a duster in the other, and
she came to meet them in an agony of anxiety. What should they do? The
furniture carts had appeared soon after the rest had left for Boston,
and the men had insisted upon beginning to move the things. In vain
had she shown Elizabeth Eliza's programme; in vain had she insisted
they must take only the parlor furniture. They had declared they must
put the heavy pieces in the bottom of the cart, and the lighter
furniture on top. So she had seen them go into every room in the
house, and select one piece of furniture after another, without even
looking at Elizabeth Eliza's programme; she doubted if they could have
read it if they had looked at it.
[Illustration]
Mr. Peterkin had ordered the carters to come; but he had no idea they
would come so early, and supposed it would take them a long time to
fill the carts.
[Illustration]
But they had taken the dining-room sideboard first,--a heavy piece of
furniture,--and all its contents were now on the dining-room tables.
Then, indeed, they selected the parlor bookcase, but had set every
book on the floor. The men had told Mrs. Peterkin they would put the
books in the bottom of the cart, very much in the order they were
taken from the shelves. But by this time Mrs. Peterkin was considering
the carters as natural enemies, and dared not trust them; besides, the
books ought all to be dusted. So she was now holding one of the
volumes of Agamemnon's Encyclopaedia, with difficulty, in one hand,
while she was dusting it with the other. Elizabeth Eliza was in
dismay. At this moment four men were bringing down a large chest of
drawers from her father's room, and they called to her to stand out of
the way. The parlors were a scene of confusion. In dusting the books
Mrs. Peterkin neglected to restore them to the careful rows in which
they were left by the men, and they lay in hopeless masses in
different parts of the room. Elizabeth Eliza sunk in despair upon the
end of a sofa.
"It would have been better to buy the red and blue carpet," said
Solomon John.
"Is not the carpet bought?" exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin. And then they
were obliged to confess they had been unable to decide upon one, and
had come back to consult Mrs. Peterkin.
"What shall we do?" asked Mrs. Peterkin.
Elizabeth Eliza rose from the sofa and went to the door, saying, "I
shall be back in a moment."
Agamemnon slowly passed round the room, collecting the scattered
volumes of his Encyclopaedia. Mr. Peterkin offered a helping hand to a
man lifting a wardrobe.
Elizabeth Eliza soon returned. "I did not like to go and ask her. But
I felt that I must in such an emergency. I explained to her the whole
matter, and she thinks we should take the carpet at Makillan's."
"Makillan's" was a store in the village, and the carpet was the only
one all the family had liked without any doubt; but they had supposed
they might prefer one from Boston.
The moment was a critical one. Solomon John was sent directly to
Makillan's to order the carpet to be put down that very day. But where
should they dine? where should they have their supper? and where was
Mr. Peterkin's "quiet hour"? Elizabeth Eliza was frantic; the
dining-room floor and table were covered with things.
It was decided that Mr. and Mrs. Peterkin should dine at the
Bromwicks, who had been most neighborly in their offers, and the rest
should get something to eat at the baker's.
Agamemnon and Elizabeth Eliza hastened away to be ready to receive the
carts at the other house, and direct the furniture as they could.
After all there was something exhilarating in this opening of the new
house, and in deciding where things should go. Gayly Elizabeth Eliza
stepped down the front garden of the new home, and across the piazza,
and to the door. But it was locked, and she had no keys!
"Agamemnon, did you bring the keys?" she exclaimed.
No, he had not seen them since the morning,--when--ah!--yes, the
little boys were allowed to go to the house for their india-rubber
boots, as there was a threatening of rain. Perhaps they had left some
door unfastened--perhaps they had put the keys under the door-mat. No,
each door, each window, was solidly closed, and there was no mat!
"I shall have to go to the school to see if they took the keys with
them," said Agamemnon; "or else go home to see if they left them
there." The school was in a different direction from the house, and
far at the other end of the town; for Mr. Peterkin had not yet changed
the boys' school, as he proposed to do after their move.
"That will be the only way," said Elizabeth Eliza; for it had been
arranged that the little boys should take their lunch to school, and
not come home at noon.
She sat down on the steps to wait, but only for a moment, for the
carts soon appeared, turning the corner. What should be done with the
furniture? Of course the carters must wait for the keys, as she should
need them to set the furniture up in the right places. But they could
not stop for this. They put it down upon the piazza, on the steps, in
the garden, and Elizabeth Eliza saw how incongruous it was! There was
something from every room in the house! Even the large family chest,
which had proved too heavy for them to travel with, had come down from
the attic, and stood against the front door.
And Solomon John appeared with the carpet woman, and a boy with a
wheelbarrow, bringing the new carpet. And all stood and waited. Some
opposite neighbors appeared to offer advice and look on, and Elizabeth
Eliza groaned inwardly that only the shabbiest of their furniture
appeared to be standing full in view.
[Illustration]
It seemed ages before Agamemnon returned, and no wonder; for he had
been to the house, then to the school, then back to the house, for one
of the little boys had left the keys at home, in the pocket of his
clothes. Meanwhile the carpet-woman had waited, and the boy with the
wheelbarrow had waited, and when they got in they found the parlor
must be swept and cleaned. So the carpet-woman went off in dudgeon,
for she was sure there would not be time enough to do anything.
And one of the carts came again, and in their hurry the men set the
furniture down anywhere. Elizabeth Eliza was hoping to make a little
place in the dining-room, where they might have their supper, and go
home to sleep. But she looked out, and there were the carters bringing
the bedsteads, and proceeding to carry them upstairs.
In despair Elizabeth Eliza went back to the old house. If she had been
there she might have prevented this. She found Mrs. Peterkin in an
agony about the entry oil-cloth. It had been made in the house, and
how could it be taken out of the house? Agamemnon made measurements;
it certainly could not go out of the front door! He suggested it
might be left till the house was pulled down, when it could easily be
moved out of one side. But Elizabeth Eliza reminded him that the whole
house was to be moved without being taken apart. Perhaps it could be
cut in strips narrow enough to go out. One of the men loading the
remaining cart disposed of the question by coming in and rolling up
the oil-cloth and carrying it off on top of his wagon.
Elizabeth Eliza felt she must hurry back to the new house. But what
should they do?--no beds here, no carpets there! The dining-room table
and sideboard were at the other house, the plates, and forks, and
spoons here. In vain she looked at her programme. It was all reversed;
everything was misplaced. Mr. Peterkin would suppose they were to eat
here and sleep here, and what had become of the little boys?
Meanwhile the man with the first cart had returned. They fell to
packing the dining-room china.
They were up in the attic, they were down in the cellar. Even one
suggested to take the tacks out of the parlor carpets, as they should
want to take them next. Mrs. Peterkin sunk upon a kitchen chair.
"Oh, I wish we had decided to stay and be moved in the house!" she
exclaimed.
Solomon John urged his mother to go to the new house, for Mr. Peterkin
would be there for his "quiet hour." And when the carters at last
appeared, carrying the parlor carpets on their shoulders, she sighed
and said, "There is nothing left," and meekly consented to be led
away.
They reached the new house to find Mr. Peterkin sitting calmly in a
rocking chair on the piazza, watching the oxen coming into the
opposite barn. He was waiting for the keys, which Solomon John had
taken back with him. The little boys were in a horse-chestnut tree, at
the side of the house.
Agamemnon opened the door. The passages were crowded with furniture,
the floors were strewn with books; the bureau was upstairs that was to
stand in a lower bedroom; there was not a place to lay a table,--there
was nothing to lay upon it; for the knives and plates and spoons had
not come, and although the tables were there they were covered with
chairs and boxes.
[Illustration]
At this moment came a covered basket from the lady from Philadelphia.
It contained a choice supper, and forks and spoons, and at the same
moment appeared a pot of hot tea from an opposite neighbor. They
placed all this on the back of a bookcase lying upset, and sat around
it. Solomon John came rushing in from the gate.
"The last load is coming! We are all moved!" he exclaimed; and the
little boys joined in a chorus, "We are moved! we are moved!"
Mrs. Peterkin looked sadly round; the kitchen utensils were lying on
the parlor lounge, and an old family gun on Elizabeth Eliza's hat-box.
The parlor clock stood on a barrel; some coal-scuttles had been placed
on the parlor table, a bust of Washington stood in the door-way, and
the looking-glasses leaned against the pillars of the piazza. But they
were moved! Mrs. Peterkin felt, indeed, that they were very much
moved.
THE PETERKINS DECIDE TO LEARN THE LANGUAGES.
Certainly now was the time to study the languages. The Peterkins had
moved into a new house, far more convenient than their old one, where
they would have a place for everything and everything in its place. Of
course they would then have more time.
Elizabeth Eliza recalled the troubles of the old house; how for a long
time she was obliged to sit outside of the window upon the piazza,
when she wanted to play on her piano.
Mrs. Peterkin reminded them of the difficulty about the table-cloths.
The upper table-cloth was kept in a trunk that had to stand in front
of the door to the closet under the stairs. But the under table-cloth
was kept in a drawer in the closet. So, whenever the cloths were
changed, the trunk had to be pushed away under some projecting shelves
to make room for opening the closet-door (as the under table-cloth
must be taken out first), then the trunk was pushed back to make room
for it to be opened for the upper table-cloth, and, after all, it was
necessary to push the trunk away again to open the closet-door for the
knife-tray. This always consumed a great deal of time.
Now that the china-closet was large enough, everything could find a
place in it.
Agamemnon especially enjoyed the new library. In the old house there
was no separate room for books. The dictionaries were kept upstairs,
which was very inconvenient, and the volumes of the Encyclopaedia could
not be together. There was not room for all in one place. So from A to
P were to be found downstairs, and from Q to Z were scattered in
different rooms upstairs. And the worst of it was, you could never
remember whether from A to P included P. "I always went upstairs after
P," said Agamemnon, "and then always found it downstairs, or else it
was the other way."
Of course, now there were more conveniences for study. With the books
all in one room there would be no time wasted in looking for them.
Mr. Peterkin suggested they should each take a separate language. If
they went abroad this would prove a great convenience. Elizabeth Eliza
could talk French with the Parisians; Agamemnon, German with the
Germans; Solomon John, Italian with the Italians; Mrs. Peterkin,
Spanish in Spain; and perhaps he could himself master all the Eastern
languages and Russian.
Mrs. Peterkin was uncertain about undertaking the Spanish; but all the
family felt very sure they should not go to Spain (as Elizabeth Eliza
dreaded the Inquisition), and Mrs. Peterkin felt more willing.
Still she had quite an objection to going abroad. She had always said
she would not go till a bridge was made across the Atlantic, and she
was sure it did not look like it now.
Agamemnon said there was no knowing. There was something new every
day, and a bridge was surely not harder to invent than a telephone,
for they had bridges in the very earliest days.
Then came up the question of the teachers. Probably these could be
found in Boston. If they could all come the same day three could be
brought out in the carryall. Agamemnon could go in for them, and could
learn a little on the way out and in.
Mr. Peterkin made some inquiries about the Oriental languages. He was
told that Sanscrit was at the root of all. So he proposed they should
all begin with Sanscrit. They would thus require but one teacher, and
could branch out into the other languages afterward.
But the family preferred learning the separate languages. Elizabeth
Eliza already knew something of the French. She had tried to talk it,
without much success, at the Centennial Exhibition, at one of the
side-stands. But she found she had been talking with a Moorish
gentleman who did not understand French. Mr. Peterkin feared they
might need more libraries if all the teachers came at the same hour;
but Agamemnon reminded him that they would be using different
dictionaries. And Mr. Peterkin thought something might be learned by
having them all at once. Each one might pick up something beside the
language he was studying, and it was a great thing to learn to talk a
foreign language while others were talking about you. Mrs. Peterkin
was afraid it would be like the Tower of Babel, and hoped it was all
right.
Agamemnon brought forward another difficulty. Of course they ought to
have foreign teachers, who spoke only their native languages. But, in
this case, how could they engage them to come, or explain to them
about the carryall, or arrange the proposed hours? He did not
understand how anybody ever began with a foreigner, because he could
not even tell him what he wanted.
Elizabeth Eliza thought a great deal might be done by signs and
pantomime. Solomon John and the little boys began to show how it might
be done. Elizabeth Eliza explained how "_langues_" meant both
"languages" and "tongues," and they could point to their tongues. For
practice, the little boys represented the foreign teachers talking in
their different languages, and Agamemnon and Solomon John went to
invite them to come out and teach the family by a series of signs.
Mr. Peterkin thought their success was admirable, and that they might
almost go abroad without any study of the languages, and trust to
explaining themselves by signs. Still, as the bridge was not yet made,
it might be as well to wait and cultivate the languages.
Mrs. Peterkin was afraid the foreign teachers might imagine they were
invited out to lunch. Solomon John had constantly pointed to his mouth
as he opened it and shut it, putting out his tongue; and it looked a
great deal more as if he were inviting them to eat than asking them to
teach. Agamemnon suggested that they might carry the separate
dictionaries when they went to see the teachers, and that would show
that they meant lessons, and not lunch.
Mrs. Peterkin was not sure but she ought to prepare a lunch for them,
if they had come all that way; but she certainly did not know what
they were accustomed to eat.
Mr. Peterkin thought this would be a good thing to learn of the
foreigners. It would be a good preparation for going abroad, and they
might get used to the dishes before starting. The little boys were
delighted at the idea of having new things cooked. Agamemnon had heard
that beer-soup was a favorite dish with the Germans, and he would
inquire how it was made in the first lesson. Solomon John had heard
they were all very fond of garlic, and thought it would be a pretty
attention to have some in the house the first day, that they might be
cheered by the odor.
Elizabeth Eliza wanted to surprise the lady from Philadelphia by her
knowledge of French, and hoped to begin on her lessons before the
Philadelphia family arrived for their annual visit.
There were still some delays. Mr. Peterkin was very anxious to obtain
teachers who had been but a short time in this country. He did not
want to be tempted to talk any English with them. He wanted the latest
and freshest languages, and at last came home one day with a list of
"brand-new foreigners."
They decided to borrow the Bromwicks' carryall to use, beside their
own, for the first day, and Mr. Peterkin and Agamemnon drove into town
to bring all the teachers out. One was a Russian gentleman,
travelling, who came with no idea of giving lessons, but perhaps he
would consent to do so. He could not yet speak English.
Mr. Peterkin had his card-case, and the cards of the several gentlemen
who had recommended the different teachers, and he went with Agamemnon
from hotel to hotel collecting them. He found them all very polite,
and ready to come, after the explanation by signs agreed upon. The
dictionaries had been forgotten, but Agamemnon had a directory, which
looked the same, and seemed to satisfy the foreigners.
Mr. Peterkin was obliged to content himself with the Russian instead
of one who could teach Sanscrit, as there was no new teacher of that
language lately arrived.
[Illustration]