AUNT AMANDA AND THE TWO OLD CODGERS
"Here's Aunt Amanda," said the hunchback, standing before the lady who
was sitting near the window, and letting go of Freddie's hand, "and
here's a boy that Mr. Punch pretty near got hold of, if I hadn't come
along just in time and hustled him in here. Just look out of that
window, Aunt Amanda, and see if Mr. Punch has moved yet."
The lady did not look out of the window, but stared at Freddie with her
mouth shut tight. She had very thin lips and she pressed them tight
together; and without opening them more than a wee mite she said to the
hunchback, sternly:
"Obelilackyoomuptwonyerix."
Freddie could not understand this at all. He looked at her closely. She
was very thin, and had a high beaked nose and reddish hair and a reddish
skin, and on the left side of her chin was a mole, with three little
reddish hairs sticking out of it; she wore a rusty black dress, very
tight above the waist and very wide below, and in the bosom of this
dress were sticking dozens, maybe hundreds, for all Freddie could tell,
of pins and needles. She must have been very tall when she stood up. A
cane leaned against the back of her chair; she was a little lame; not
very lame, but enough to make her limp when she walked, and to make her
cane useful in getting about. If she had had a stiff starched ruff about
her neck and a lace thing on her head pointed in front, she would have
done very well for Queen Elizabeth, the one you see the picture of in
that history-book. There was a thimble on the second finger of her right
hand, and a pair of scissors hung by a tape at her waist; and around her
neck she wore a measuring tape. On the floor at her feet lay a pile of
goods, and some of it was in her lap; the kind of goods that Mother has
around her when she is turning and making over that old blue serge, and
gathers up out of Father's way when she hears him coming in towards the
sitting-room.
At Aunt Amanda's elbow stood an oval marble-topped table, and besides a
work-basket there were several fascinating things on it. In the center
was a glass dome, and under the glass dome was the most beautiful basket
of wax flowers--calla lilies mostly, with a wonderful yellow spike like
a finger sticking up out of each one. On one side of the wax flowers was
a thick book with blue plush covers, and the word "Album" across it in
slanting gold letters. On the other side was a kind of a--well, it had a
handle under a piece of wood to hold it up by, and a frame at one end to
stick up a picture in, and two pieces of thick glass in a frame at the
other end to look through at the picture and make the picture look
all--_you_ know!--as if the people in the back of it were a long way
behind, and the people in front right close up in front, and all that;
Freddie's father had one.
The chairs in the room had thin curved legs and those slippery
horse-hair seats which Freddie hated to sit on. On the walls were
portraits in oval frames of men with chin-whiskers and no mustaches, and
ladies in shawls and bonnets; but there was one square frame, and it had
no picture under its glass, but a sheaf of real wheat, standing up as
natural as life, with some kind of curly writing over it; it was simply
beautiful. There was a clock on the marble mantel-piece, tall and
square-cornered, with a clear circle in the glass below where you could
see the round weight of the pendulum go back and forth, and a picture
of the sun on the face, very red, with a big nose and eyes, and stiff
red hair floating off from it.
Aunt Amanda stuck a pin in the goods in her lap and folded her hands.
Freddie, after glancing around the room, looked at her again and
wondered who she was; plain sewing she was, that was sure, also an aunt;
and besides that, although Freddie did not know it, she was an old--I
hate to say it, though it wasn't anything really against her, if you
come to that,--an old--well, you know what you call them behind their
backs, or shout after them as they go down the street and then whip
around the corner when they turn, just simply because they haven't ever
been married, like Mother,--well, then, an Old Maid.
Being an Old Maid, she of course wore no wedding ring; but on her
wedding-finger, the third finger of her left hand, there was a mark at
the place where a wedding ring would have been; a kind of birth-mark,
ruby red, in shape and size like the ruby stone of a ring. Freddie
looked at it often afterwards.
"Now you look here, Aunt Amanda," said her nephew, taking hold of
Freddie's hand again, "you know well enough I can't understand you with
all them pins--"
Aunt Amanda put a hand to her lips and drew out of her mouth a pin and
stuck it in the bosom of her dress. She put her hand to her lips again
and drew forth another pin and stuck it in the bosom of her dress. She
drew forth another and another, and stuck each one in her dress.
Freddie's eyes opened wide; did this lady eat pins? Her mouth seemed to
be full of them; didn't they hurt? It didn't seem possible she could eat
them, and yet there they were. No wonder she couldn't talk plainly.
There seemed to be no end to the pins, but there was, and at last her
mouth was clear of them so that she could talk.
"Toby Littleback," said she, "you're up to one o' your tricks again.
Ain't you ashamed of yourself?" That was what she had meant by saying,
"Obelilackyoomuptwonyerix," with her mouth full of pins.
Toby was quite crestfallen. "Well," he said, "I guess it ain't no
hangin' matter. All I done was to bring the boy in to see you. 'N' this
is what I get fer it every time. I ain't a-going to bring 'em in any
more, that's flat."
"Let go o' the child," said Aunt Amanda, sharply. "Can't you see you're
hurting his hand? Come here, boy."
Mr. Littleback dropped Freddie's hand and walked over to the table
beside his aunt. Freddie came forward timidly and stood at Aunt Amanda's
knee. She examined him carefully.
"It's the best one yet," she said. "Boy, do you know you're as pretty as
a--Well, anyway, what is your name?"
If there was one thing Freddie loathed, it was to be called pretty; he
had heard it before, in the parlor at home, when he had been trotted out
to be inspected by female visitors, and he had tried many a time to
scrub off the rosy redness from his cheeks, but he had found it only
made it worse. He hung his head a little, and could not find his voice.
Aunt Amanda took his chin in her hand and gently held up his head.
"It's all right, my dear," said she. "What is your name, now?"
"Fweddie," said the Little Boy.
"It ain't neither!" cried Mr. Littleback. "There ain't no such name.
It's Freddie! Come on, now, say Freddie!"
"Fweddie," said the Little Boy.
"No, no!" cried Toby. "Try it again, now. Say Freddie!"
"Toby," said Aunt Amanda, "shut up. Freddie, I haven't any little boy,
and I don't get out very much, and I'd like you to come and see me
sometimes. Would you like to do that?"
Freddie stared at her, and said, "Yes'm."
"I hope you will, often. Be sure you do. I suppose you don't like
gingerbread? Toby."
The little hunchback went out briskly through a back door and returned
with a slice of gingerbread. "Baked today," said his aunt. "But what
time is it? Quarter to six. Too near suppertime. You mustn't eat it now,
Freddie. Toby, wrap it up."
Toby went into the shop and returned with a paper sack, and putting the
gingerbread into it gave it to Freddie.
"Now," said Aunt Amanda, "take it home with you and eat it after supper.
Will you come to see me?"
"Yes'm," said Freddie as if he meant it. You couldn't get gingerbread at
home between meals every day in the week.
"That's a good boy. Now run away home."
"Please, sir," said Freddie, holding out the money in his hand, "my
farver wants half a pound of Cage-Roach Mitchner."
"What? Oh!" said Toby. "I see. Half a pound of Stage-Coach Mixture. All
right, young feller, come along into the shop."
"Good-bye, Freddie, and don't break the gingerbread before you get
home," said Aunt Amanda, taking into her mouth a palmful of pins with a
back toss of her head. Had she swallowed them? Freddie stared at her in
alarm.
"Ain't you never comin' for the tobacco?" said Toby. "I can't keep all
them customers in the shop waiting all day."
Freddie followed him into the shop.
"You'll have to wait your turn, young feller," said Toby. "I can't keep
these customers waiting no longer. What'll you have, Mr. Applejohn?"
Freddie looked around for Mr. Applejohn, but so far as he could see
there was no one in the shop but himself and Mr. Littleback. The
hunchback went through the swinging gate and stood behind the counter,
and looked over it (his head and shoulders just came over the top) at
Mr. Applejohn.
"No," said Toby, "we're just out of it. Very sorry. But I have something
just as good. No? Well, then, come around tomorrow; yes, sir; between
ten and eleven. Now, then, Tom, it's your turn. You want what? No, sir,
I won't sell no cigarettes to no boy, so you can clear out. You ought to
be ashamed o' yourself, smoking cigarettes at your age. No use arguin',
I won't do it. You can get right out o' here." The big wooden-looking
head winked an eye at Freddie. "That's the way I treat 'em. Did you see
how he skipped off in a hurry? You saw him go, didn't you?"
Freddie looked at the door. He hadn't seen anybody, but after all that
talk there must have been somebody there; he couldn't be sure; probably
he had been mistaken about it; grown-up people ought to know what they
were talking about; perhaps he _had_ seen somebody. He hesitated.
"I--I think so; I believe so; yes, sir."
"Don't you fool yourself, young man. You can't smoke cigarettes if you
ever want to grow up. Look at me. Do you see this?" He turned his back
and reached over his shoulder to his hump. "Cigarettes. That's what done
it. Cigarettes. I smoked 'em along with my bottle of milk, regular, when
I was a kid, and look at me now, not much bigger than Mr. Punch out
there. Cigarettes. Maybe you might think it was the bottle o' milk done
it, instead of the cigarettes, being as they was at the same time; but
don't you never believe it. Cigarettes! You keep off of 'em. Now
pipe-tobacco! That's a different thing. If I'd only stuck to a pipe,
along with that bottle o' milk, look how high I'd 'a' been now! What
kind o' tobacco did you say your farver wanted? Housewife's Favorite?"
"No, sir," said Freddie. "My farver he wants half a pound of Cage-Roach
Mitchner."
"That's it," said Toby. "I don't see how I come to forget that name.
Your father's a man o' good common sense. Nothing like Cage-Roach. Here
it is." He turned to the shelf behind him and mounted a little ladder
and took down a large tin. While he was scooping out the tobacco at the
counter and weighing it on the scales and doing it up, he was singing to
himself, and Freddie stared at him with rapt attention.
"Some day," said Mr. Littleback, without pausing in his work or looking
at Freddie, "them eyes of yourn will pop right out of your head, if you
ain't careful. Did you ever hear that song?"
"No, sir," said Freddie.
"Would you like to hear it?"
"Yes, sir," said Freddie.
"It's about two old codgers--friends of mine; they come in here regular.
One of 'em's a good customer and pays spot cash; the other one never
buys nothing; and I can't say which one of 'em I like worse. Anyway,
here's how it goes:
"Oh-h-h! There was an old codger, and he had a wooden leg,
And he never bought tobacco when tobacco he could beg."
"Don't you never let yourself get into that habit, young man. Always buy
your tobacco fair and square. I've known 'em--this feller and many
another one--never have a grain o' tobacco left in their pouch--just
used up the very last bit two minutes before, and always a-beggin' a
pipeful, and right here in my own shop too, where I _sell_ tobacco, mind
you--I'd like 'em better if they sneaked in and _stole_ it, I would, any
day. But the other one! I don't know that I'd want to be him neither, if
I had to choose between 'em,--however--
"Another old codger, as sly as a fox!
And he always had tobacco in his old tobacco box.
"Count on him for that! _He_ never begs no tobacco, nor gives away none
either. However, he ain't such a general nuisance as the other one, and
he pays spot cash. I'll have to say that much for him. But in spite o'
everything and all, I can't seem to make myself care for him, much.
Anyway--
"Said the one old codger, Won't ye gimme a chew?
Said the other old codger, I'll be hanged if I do!
"They're a fine pair now, ain't they? One of 'em a nuisance and the
other one a grouch. You'll see 'em here both in my shop one o' these
days, when you're a-visitin' Aunt Amanda, and one of them times--you see
the way I bounced that boy that wanted cigarettes, didn't you? Well,
that's what I'm goin' to do to them two old codgers one of these days,
you watch and see if I don't; yes, sir; both of 'em, as sure as I've got
a hump on my back. But it's pretty good advice, after all, what the song
says,--
"So save up your pennies and put away your rocks,
And you'll always have tobacco in your old tobacco box!
"Here's your Cage-Roach. Gimme your money. There's your change; five,
ten, fifteen, seventeen. Now run along. Come back again; what did you
say your name was?"
"Fweddie."
"You mean Freddie, don't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Why don't you say what you mean? Well, Freddie, there's plenty of
tobacco left in this shop, so you can come in whenever the old tobacco
box at home runs out. And don't forget to come in to see Aunt Amanda.
Plenty of goods left in the shop whenever--you see all that?" He pointed
up towards the shelves. "I'll tell you something I ain't told to but
mighty few people before. There's a jar of smoking tobacco up there
that's just plain magic. Magic! You know what that means?"
Freddie started, and looked up at the shelves in alarm. He nodded.
"It's that one, on the middle shelf; the Chinaman's head. Do you see
it?"
He pointed to a white porcelain jar, shaped like a human head. Freddie
could see that it was the head of some foreign kind of man, with a
little round blue cap on top, which was probably the lid.
"That tobacco in that Chinaman's head is magic, as sure as you're alive.
I wouldn't smoke it if you'd give me all the plum puddings in this city
next Christmas; no, sir; and I wouldn't allow nobody else to smoke it,
neither: I just naturally wouldn't dare to. Do you know where that
tobacco come from? A sailor off of one them ships down there in the
harbor, that come all the way from China--yes, sir, _China!_--give it to
me once for a quid of plug-cut; what you might call broke, he was, and
it wasn't any use to him because he didn't smoke, but he did chew; and
he told me all about it; he stole it from an old sorcerer in China,
where he'd just come from. Don't you never touch it! I wouldn't want to
be in your boots if you ever smoked that tobacco in that there
Chinaman's head! You can steal anything else in this shop, and it
wouldn't do much harm to anybody; but you keep your hands off of that
Chinaman's tobacco, mind what I'm telling you!"
"Yes, sir," said Freddie. He had never thought about smoking before, in
connection with himself, but now for the first time he began to wish
that he knew how to smoke. It would be worth risking something to take a
whiff or two of the magic tobacco in that Chinaman's head, just to see
what would happen.
"Do you think you'd better go home now?" said Mr. Littleback.
"Yes, sir," said Freddie. "My farver told me to hurry."
"Oh, he did! Indeed!"
The hunchback followed Freddie to the door, and they looked up together
at the clock in the church-tower.
"Ah!" said Toby. "You're safe. Just six o'clock. Mr. Punch's father
can't come out for about half an hour yet."
Freddie looked back as he crossed the street, and saw the live hunchback
leaning against the wooden hunchback, with one foot crossed over the
other; he could hardly tell which was which, except for the coat and
breeches. He went on up the street with his package of tobacco in one
hand and his package of gingerbread in the other. As he passed the
church, he lingered a moment to stare at the great fat man with
spectacles, who was sitting on the pavement in a chair tilted back
against the church-wall, smoking a long pipe and reading a newspaper;
could this be the "sextant" of the church, whom Mr. Toby had mentioned,
and who had heard the queer noises from the top of the tower when Mr.
Punch and his father were up there having their high jinks? He tried to
get up his courage to ask the fat man about it, but he could not get the
words out. He stared so long that the fat man finally put down his paper
and took the pipe from his mouth and looked over his spectacles and
said:
"If you're considerin' making a bid for the property, young man, I'll
see what the senior Churchwarden has to say about it. How much do you
offer?"
"No, sir," said Freddie, blushing in confusion, and went on up the
street. He understood nothing of what the fat man had said, but he
caught the word "churchwarden," and remembered it.
He did not walk very fast, for he had a good deal to think about; so
many things had never happened to him in one day before. He dwelt
especially, in his mind, on the two old codgers who were friends of Mr.
Toby, and he supposed that his own father never saved up his pennies,
otherwise his old tobacco box would not be empty every now and then.
However, he was glad that his father was a spendthrift, because it would
give him a chance to go to the Old Tobacco Shop sometimes for more
tobacco for the box; and apart from Aunt Amanda and her gingerbread, he
was very anxious to look again at the Chinaman's head in which lay the
magic tobacco which he must not touch. One thing was sure; he would
never go without looking carefully first at the hands of the clock. He
wished he knew how to smoke; only not cigarettes; he shivered when he
thought of the terrible consequences.
When he came to the street-car track, the horse-car was going past; at
least, it was coming down the street, and he did not want to be run over
by that horse; he had better wait, for the horse was trotting; his
mother had warned him about it; he sat down on the curb. He had quite a
moment or two to wait, and there would be time to give a hasty glance at
the gingerbread. He laid the tobacco-sack beside him on the curb, and
opened the other package; the car-horse had dropped into a walk and his
bell was hardly jingling; there was no hurry after all; it would never
do to cross in front of that horse even though he was walking. He looked
at the gingerbread; it was fresh and soft, and its smell, when held
close to the nose, was nothing less than heavenly; it was a pity it had
to be hidden away again in the sack, but the horse was going by and the
danger would soon be past. He held the gingerbread under his nose,
merely to smell it; the edge of it touched his upper lip by chance, and
there was something peculiar about the feel of it, he couldn't tell
exactly what; it was very interesting; he touched it with the tip of his
tongue, to see if it felt the same to his tongue as to his lip; it was
just the same; perhaps teeth would be different; his teeth sank into it,
just for a trial. The horse was going by now, and the driver was looking
at him. He forgot what he was about, in watching the horse and his
driver, as they went on past him; the gingerbread completely slipped his
mind, and when he turned his head back from the horse-car and came to
himself he found, to his amazement, that his mouth was full of
gingerbread. He wondered at first how it got there, but there was no use
in wondering; there it was, and it had to be swallowed; his mother would
never approve of his spitting it out; and so, to please his mother, he
swallowed it. The horse-car was nearly a square away; he could cross the
track at any time now; there was no hurry.
When he came into the fine two-story brick house where he lived, with
only one package in his hand, his mother threw up her hands and said:
"Why, Freddie! Where on earth have you been? Did you get lost? Are you
hungry?"
"No'm. Yes'm," said Freddie.
"Frederick," said his father, looking at him with that look, "where have
you been? Didn't I tell you to hurry?"
"Yes, sir, to Mr. Punch's, and I didn't see his farver at all, but the
hands come'd right over on top of each other and he didn't get down off
of his perch, he didn't, so Mr. Toby took me in to see Aunt Namanda and
she eats pins, and it's cigarettes that gives you that hump on the back,
only tobacco's all right 'cause you smoke it in a pipe and it doesn't do
you any harm at all, and that's what Mr. Toby says and he ought to know
'cause he's got one on his back his own self, but you mustn't touch that
tobacco in the head 'cause it's magic and the sailor said so, and here's
the Cage-Roach Mitchner, and that's all."
You will notice that he said nothing about the gingerbread.