WHAT MADE MR. TOMPKINS LAUGH.
One afternoon, when the Jimmyjohns were playing in the back-yard, Mr.
Doty, the funny man as we sometimes call him, came jogging along.
When he saw the little boys, he stopped, and began to push his hat up
on one side, and to scratch his head, and to twinkle the corners of
his eyes. Then he began:—
“Oh! you’re out here, so you are. What are you doing?”
“Making a flow,” they answered, looking up from the mud and water in
which they stood.
“Hem! well, why don’t you go somewhere?”
“Ma won’t let us.”
“Won’t she? Oh, no, she won’t! will she? Well, hem! Why don’t you
have a party?”
“’Tisn’t our birthday yet!” cried Johnny, hopping up and down with
the pump-handle.
“Well, why not have a cocoanut-party?”
“We haven’t got any cocoanut.”
“Oh! I’ll find a cocoanut” (holding up one). “See here! Where are you
going so fast?”
“To ask ma!” they shouted, running in doors.
The funny man’s eyes twinkled, and up went his hand to scratch his
head again. Presently they popped their heads out, and asked,—
“When shall we have it?”
“Have it now,” said Mr. Doty.
“Have it now,” they told their mother.
“Where?” asked Mrs. Plummer.
“She says, ‘_Where?_’” shouted the Jimmies.
“Out here on the grass,” said Mr. Doty.
“Out here on the grass,” the Jimmies repeated.
“Who’s to be invited?” asked Mrs. Plummer.
“Who’s to be invited?” asked the Jimmies.
“Well—hem! Invite—anybody,” said Mr. Doty. “I’ll come: that makes
one.”
“And I’ll make two,” cried Annetta, looking out of the window.
“What is it?—a party?” asked Hiram, stepping down from a high
wood-pile with his long legs. “Oh, I’ll come! I’ll make three and a
half. What kind of a party is it?—a birthday-party?”
“Oh, no, indeed!” said Mr. Doty. “Nothing of that sort. ’Tis a
cocoanut-party.”
Just then little Effie came trotting along with her arm-basket.
“Can you come to our party?” asked Mr. Doty.
“No, I tan’t tum,” said Effie very soberly.
“What! not come to a cocoanut-party?” cried Hiram.
“No, I tan’t, tause my tittens’ eyes haven’t tum opened ’et,” said
Effie.
“Ask the Jimmyjohns to wait till your kittens’ eyes come open,” said
Hiram.
Little Effie went close to the Jimmies, looked up in their faces, and
said, “Dimmydons, will oo wait till my tittens’ eyes tum opened?”
The Jimmies laughed; and so did another little fellow who was then
coming out of the house. This was Clarence,—a poor boy who came every
day with his basket to get what food was to be given away. Some
people called him “the little gentleman,” because he had very good
manners.
“Do you want to stay to the party?” Mr. Doty asked Clarence.
“If the Jimmyjohns will let me,” he said.
“Yes, yes, you may come!” they shouted.
“Can’t cousin Floy be invited?” asked Annetta. “She’s here playing
with me.”
“By all means,” said Hiram. “And there’s Mr. Tompkins: maybe he’ll
come to the party.”
Mr. Tompkins, the lobster man, had dropped his wheelbarrow, and come
to look over the fence.
“Mr. Tompkins can’t leave his lobsters,” said Mr. Doty.
“Party?—yes, yes; always go to parties; boy’ll mind wheelbarrow,”
said Mr. Tompkins in his short, quick way. “When is it going to
begin?”
“Right off,” said Mr. Doty.
“What do you do first?” asked Hiram.
“Set the table,” said Mr. Doty.
“The girls must set the table,” said Hiram.
“Where is it?” asked cousin Floy.
“There it is: don’t you see it?” Hiram was pointing to a wagon-body
which lay there without its wheels. He turned it upside down.
“There’s your table,” said he.
After the pieces of cocoanut were placed on the _table_, Mr. Doty
told the Jimmyjohns to ask their ma if she didn’t want to come to
their party.
“I am longing to come,” cried Mrs. Plummer, appearing at the door. “I
have thought of nothing else ever since it was first mentioned. Would
baby disturb the party, do you think?”
“Not at all,” said Hiram. “Pray invite Josephus.”
“I wish some of you would be kind enough to bring him out,” said Mrs.
Plummer. “He is fastened in his straw chair.”
“I will,” said Hiram.
Hiram brought out Josephus, then a rocking-chair, and then some
common chairs for Mr. Doty and Mr. Tompkins. The children ran in for
crickets. Snip capered after the Jimmies every step they took, and
came near being trodden on.
There were seventeen sat down to table,—twelve that were in plain
sight, and five that could not be seen very plainly. The twelve
who were in plain sight were Mr. Doty, Mr. Tompkins, Mrs. Plummer,
Josephus, Hiram, cousin Floy, Annetta, Effie, Clarence, Jimmy,
Johnny, and Snip. The five who could not be seen very plainly were
the cat and her four kittens. These were invited on Effie’s account,
and came in their own private box.
Just as the cocoanut was being passed round, Mr. Plummer appeared
from the orchard, and asked what was going on.
“A _party_!” shouted the children.
“Well,” said Mr. Plummer, “I must say that it is rather strange that
I have not been invited!”
“Won’t you come? Oh, do come!” the children called out.
“In my own yard too!—very strange indeed!” said Mr. Plummer.
“But _won’t_ you come?”
“I haven’t had any invitation.”
“Take one; _do_ come!” they shouted.
Mr. Plummer laughed, and went and sat down on a roller-cart close by
Josephus.
“Will the party be done right away after supper?” asked Hiram as they
all nibbled cocoanut.
“Oh, not so soon!” cried Annetta.
“It hasn’t lasted five minutes,” said Mrs. Plummer.
“Play charades; do, please do!” cried Floy. “I went to a real party
last night, and they played charades. One charade was ‘Mother Goose.’”
“How do you play it?” asked Annetta.
“Oh, easy enough! Somebody has to be ‘mother;’ and then somebody has
to be ‘goose;’ and then somebody has to be ‘Mother Goose,’ and say,
‘Sing song a sixpence, pocketful of rye.’”
“I speak not to be the ‘goose!’” cried Hiram.
“Who’ll be ‘mother’?” asked cousin Floy.
“You be ‘mother,’” said Annetta.
“Well, I’ll be ‘mother,’” said cousin Floy. “Who’ll be my little
girl? There must be a little girl to keep coming in, and saying
‘Mother,’ and asking me for things.”
“I’ll be little girl,” said Hiram.
“Hoo, hoo! he, he! you don’t know how! you’re too tall!” shouted the
children.
“Oh, yes! I know how. Come, Floy, let’s get ready.” And away they
went into the house.
In about five minutes cousin Floy came out, dressed in Mrs. Plummer’s
things,—shawl, bonnet, and skirt,—and with a serious face took her
seat in a chair which had been placed upon the wagon. Then came
Hiram, with Floy’s hat on, the elastic under his chin. For a sack he
had turned his coat, which was lined with red, wrong side out; and he
had pinned a shawl around his waist in a way which made it look like
a dress-skirt.
Floy told him he must keep coming in to ask her something, and must
call her “mother” every time. He did just as she had told him. He
trotted out of the house and back, taking little short steps, asking
a question each time, and imitating the voice of a small child.
“Mother, may I have a cent?” “Mother, may I go out to play?” “Mother,
may I wear my new shoes?” “Mother, may I make corn-balls?” “Mother,
may I have a doughnut?”
At each question the “mother” would shake her head very soberly, and
say, “No, my daughter;” or, “Not at present, my daughter.”
“Good!” cried Mr. Tompkins,—“very good for ‘mother’! Now who’s going
to be ‘goose’?”
“I will,” said Clarence.
“Come, then,” said Floy. “If cousin Hiram will help me, I’ll dress
you up for ‘goose’ in the way they dressed up their ‘goose’ last
night.”
Hiram and Floy took Clarence into the house, and got an old
light-colored calico dress of Mrs. Plummer’s, and held it bottom up,
and told Clarence to step in, and put his legs through the sleeves.
Next they gathered the bottom of the skirt around his neck, keeping
his arms inside. Then they tied a thin pocket-handkerchief over his
head, covering face and all. Then they fastened a tin tunnel to the
front side of his head, and called that the “bill of the goose;” and
then pinned on two feather fans for wings, and hung a feather duster
on behind for a tail. Floy told him he must stoop far over, and go
waddling around, pecking with his bill like a goose.
The instant the “goose” appeared, all the people began to laugh:
and when they saw it waddling around in the grass, pecking with its
bill as if it were pecking at little bugs, they fairly shouted; some
crying out, “Oh, what a goose!—oh, what a goose!” Josephus shouted
too, and made his feet fly and his hands fly, and patted cakes enough
for his supper. Snip barked, and ran this way and that way; keeping
away from the “goose,” though.
The next thing was to put the two words together, and act “Mother
Goose.”
“Mr. Tompkins,” said Mr. Doty, “why don’t you be ‘Mother Goose’?”
“I don’t believe Mr. Tompkins could keep from laughing,” said Hiram.
“Oh, yes, I could! I could keep from laughing,” said Mr. Tompkins;
“but my nose is too short.”
“That Mother Goose’s nose last night,” said Floy, “had wax on it to
make it long.”
“Nice way that,” said Hiram. “But, Mr. Tompkins, are you sure you can
keep from laughing?”
Hiram had a reason for asking this question.
“Oh, yes! perfectly, perfectly sure,” said Mr. Tompkins. “Make me
laugh, I’ll pay forfeit.”
Mr. Tompkins was so eager to show that he could keep from laughing,
that he agreed to pay any kind of forfeit, and to dress in any kind
of way.
Hiram took him into the house, and dressed him. First he lengthened
out his nose with a piece of warm wax; then he tied a handkerchief
over his head for a cap (for a cap-border he pinned on some strips of
newspaper); and then he put a large round cape over his shoulders. A
black shawl served for a skirt. When all this was done, he told Mr.
Tompkins that he might sit down in the house and wait a few moments.
He had a reason for telling him that.
Cousin Floy, a little while before, when the “goose” was being
dressed, told Hiram of a way by which one of the actors was made to
laugh at the “real party” she went to; and Hiram thought it would be
fun to try it with Mr. Tompkins.
So, while Mr. Tompkins was sitting down to wait a few moments, they
went into another room, and got a pillow, and dressed it up to look
like an old woman. First they tied a string around the pillow,
near one end, to make a head. On one side of this head they marked
eyes, nose, and mouth with a piece of charcoal. Then they took a
waterproof, stuffed out the sleeves for arms, and put that on the
pillow-woman. Then they went up into grandma Plummer’s room, and
borrowed an old cap, black bonnet, and spectacles, and put those on.
When the pillow-woman was ready, Floy ran and told them all to be
sure and not laugh loudly when they saw what was coming, for fear
Mr. Tompkins might hear them. The pillow-woman was then taken out by
Hiram, and seated in a chair among the other people. He introduced
her to them as “Mrs. Mulligachunk.” He pinned together the wrists of
her stuffed arms, and let them drop in her lap, and placed a bundle
on them to cover the place where there should have been hands. The
bundle was tied up in a handkerchief. Then he placed a pair of shoes
just where they would seem to be her feet, stood an umbrella by her
side, and tipped her head back just a little; so that, when Mr.
Tompkins should be standing on the wagon, she would appear to be
looking him in the face.
“Come, Mother Goose!” cried Hiram; and Mr. Tompkins, in his funny
rig, walked from the house, took his stand upon the wagon, and with a
very sober face began:—
“Sing a song a sixpence, pocketful of rye;
Four and twenty blackbirds baked into a pie:
When the pie was opened, the birds be”—
At that moment his eye fell upon “Mrs. Mulligachunk.” She sat there
in a row with the others, and seemed to be listening just the same as
anybody. The people, who were all on the watch, burst out laughing;
and Mr. Tompkins had to laugh too, in spite of all he could do.
Hiram sprang up. “Mother Goose,” cried he, “let me introduce you to
Mrs. Mulligachunk.”
Mother Goose replied by taking off her things, and throwing them at
Mrs. Mulligachunk.
Then Hiram asked the Jimmies if they didn’t want to take Mrs.
Mulligachunk to ride.
“Yes, yes! yes, yes!” they shouted.
Hiram then put Mrs. Mulligachunk into the roller-cart,—bundle,
umbrella, and all. The Jimmies caught hold of the handle, and away
they ran like two smart little ponies, Snip barking behind with all
his might.
Mr. Tompkins was about to follow; when Annetta and cousin Floy
suddenly called out, “Forfeit, forfeit! You’ll have to be judged!”
Mr. Tompkins gave his penknife for a forfeit.
“Then judge me quick!” said he; “for I must be going.”
“To dance a jig!” cried Hiram.
“To tell a story!” cried cousin Floy.
“Yes, yes! that’s it!” cried Annetta.
“Oh, no! no, no! take too long,” said Mr. Tompkins.
But Mr. Plummer and Mrs. Plummer, and all the rest, kept shouting,
“Story, story, story!”
“Well, well, story ’tis,” said Mr. Tompkins; “a small one, though.”
And then Mr. Tompkins began to tell a small story about a hen named
Teedla Toodlum, who lived in a far-away country,—the name of which
country was so strange, that not one of the people could remember
it five minutes afterward. In the next chapter you shall have Mr.
Tompkins’s story.