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[Illustration: THE HOUSE WITH SIXTY CLOSETS
BY FRANK SAMUEL CHILD
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. RANDOLPH BROWN]
[Illustration: THE CHILDREN TAKE POSSESSION OF THE HOUSE. Page 13.]
THE HOUSE WITH SIXTY CLOSETS
A Christmas Story for Young Folks and Old Children
by
FRANK SAMUEL CHILD
Author of "An Old New England Town" "The Colonial Parson
of New England" "A Colonial Witch"
"A Puritan Wooing" etc.
With Illustrations by J. Randolph Brown
Boston
Lee and Shepard Publishers
1899
Copyright, 1899, by Lee and Shepard
All rights reserved
THE HOUSE WITH SIXTY CLOSETS
To
Frank
and
Bess
and
Arthur
and
Theodora
and
Grace
and
Ruth
and
Amy
and
the "Little Judge"
and
All
Their
Merry
Friends
ALL ABOUT IT
A
PAGE
HOUSE, PEOPLE, THINGS 11
B
THE HOUSE THAT THE JUDGE BUILT 15
C
THE PEOPLE WHO LIVE IN THE HOUSE THAT THE JUDGE BUILT 33
D
THE THINGS THAT HAPPENED
TO THE PEOPLE WHO LIVE
IN THE HOUSE THAT THE JUDGE BUILT 53
I
PORTRAITS WALK AND TALK 57
II
CLOSETS TALK AND WALK 85
III
THE PROCESSION OF GOAT, DOG, CAT, BICYCLES, PORTRAITS,
CLOSETS, RUTH, AND THE "LITTLE JUDGE" 113
IV
THE PARTY WITH SUPPER FOR SEVENTEEN, AND TOASTS WITH
A TOASTING-FORK 141
V
STOCKINGS FILLED WITH MUSIC, RAINBOWS, SENSE,
BACKBONE, SUNSETS, IMPULSES, GOLD SPOON, IDEALS,
SUNSHINE, STAR, MANTLE, FLOWERS,--AND THE LIKE
QUEER STUFF 185
E
HAPPY DAY 215
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
THE CHILDREN TAKING POSSESSION OF THE HOUSE _Frontispiece._
INITIAL O 15
MRS. "JUDGE" PLANNING THE CLOSETS 19
MRS. "JUDGE'S" LIVING-ROOM 24
CANDLESTICK AND BIBLE 29
INITIAL I 33
NAILING FLAG TO CHIMNEY 41
THE CHILDREN TAKING A RIDE 44
INITIAL I 57
RUTH SEES FIGURES IN THE FIRE 59
STEPPING OUT OF THE FRAMES 61
SUSIE AND LITTLE JUDGE 67
ENTERING THE CLOCK 80
INITIAL T 85
PLAYING TAG 87
CHAMPAIGN COMPLAINING 93
THE CLOSETS TALK AND WALK 103
THE JUDGE SITTING ON THE COG-WHEEL 105
INITIAL I 113
BILLY EATING FUNERAL CLOTH AND WREATH 114
THE PROCESSION STARTS 121
BILLY, SATAN, AND TURK TAKING A RIDE 126
MRS. "JUDGE" AND MAN IN MOON 132
RETURNING FROM THE CHURCH 135
INITIAL W 141
THE WALK AROUND 163
THERE WAS THE GREATEST CONFUSION 180
INITIAL R 185
RUTH AND SATAN 186
THE ROOM WAS A BLAZE OF GLORY 187
THE ROOM STUDDED WITH TWINKLING, RADIANT STARS 211
A
HOUSE, PEOPLE, THINGS
_I will first describe the house._
_Then I will tell something about the people that live
in it._
_After that I will speak of the very strange things
which happened there the night before Christmas._
B
THE HOUSE THAT THE JUDGE BUILT
B.
THE HOUSE THAT THE JUDGE BUILT.
ONCE upon a time there lived a good Judge in an old New England town.
People said the reason that he was so good was because his father was a
minister. But he may have gotten his goodness from his mother. I don't
know. Or he may have had it from his uncle who took him into his family
and sent him to college. For the minister was poor, and like many of his
brethren he had a big family; so his brother who was a rich lawyer and a
statesman helped his nephew get his education.
Now, this son of a minister and nephew of a great man studied law and
became a Judge. He was liked by every one who knew him. People felt that
he was an honest, noble man who had mastered all the law books, and
showed more common sense than any other person in the State. So they
made him Judge. This man who started poor and had to make his own way in
the world earned a great deal of money. People came to him from all
parts of the country, and sought his advice. They put into his hands the
most important law cases. Only sometimes he would not have anything to
do with the cases that he was asked to manage because he thought them
wrong.
As years went by he saved his money, and the time came when he was ready
to build a house. The Judge had become the most honored and the best
known man in the State. He had many friends among the great people of
the land. He enjoyed company, and was a famous host. So it seemed well
to him and his wife that they build a house which should be large enough
to hold their friends, and fine enough to satisfy the taste of the
society in which they moved.
The Judge was not moved by pride or a wish to make a show. He wished to
do the right thing. Everybody said that he ought to have the largest and
the finest house in town. He was not only a lawyer and rich, but he was
deacon in the church and the leading man in society. He was likewise a
great scholar; and many people said that he was the most eloquent
speaker of his State. Such a person must live in a generous way. So the
Judge built this house.
Now, when it came to drawing plans the wife had a good deal to say about
it; for the house was to be her home just as much as his; and he always
tried to do what he knew was for the pleasure of his wife. "I think,"
said she when they began to talk about building, "that it should have a
great many closets." Had you been a friend of Mrs. "Judge" you would
have seen why she said this. She was not only a woman who liked to have
all her friends come to visit her, but she was also very liberal and
kind. She was always doing some nice thing for people, and always giving
presents.
She was able to do this because she had the things to give away. I know
men and women who would make a great many presents if they had the money
to buy them--at least they say that they would. Such people like to tell
how they would act if they had all the money that some neighbor has
saved. They are great on giving away things that do not belong to them.
Now, the Judge's wife was the best giver in town; and she gave to her
friends, and the poor, and everybody that was in need, all sorts of
things. But in order to do this she must buy the gifts that she
scattered so freely; and when she bought things she wanted a place to
keep them until the time came for her to give them away. This was why
she spoke to the Judge about the closets.
[Illustration]
"Well, my dear," said the Judge (he was always kind and polite), "you
may have just as many closets as you wish." So she began her plans of
the house by drawing the closets. I don't know exactly how she managed
to arrange it on paper. Very likely she said to herself, "I shall want
thirty closets." And then she would divide the number into four parts
and say, "Let me see, I suppose that four will be enough for the
cellar. Then I shall need ten on the first floor, and twelve on the
second floor, and six in the attic. That makes--why, that makes
thirty-two. Dear me! I wonder if that will be enough?" And as she thinks
over the various uses to which she will put her closets, and the many
things she will store in them, she says, on the next day, "Well, I
believe that I must have five or six more closets." So she starts her
drawing by marking down thirty-eight closets. After she has settled it
that the main floor shall have thirteen of them, she puts upon the paper
some dots showing the size of each little room; then she draws the other
rooms about them, and so she gets one story arranged.
But no sooner does she begin the plans for the next floor, than she
thinks of one or two more closets which she needs for the first, and so
goes back to her work of yesterday, and does it all over again, making
several changes. And so very likely the weeks are spent in making paper
closets, and drawing the halls and parlors and bedrooms and other rooms
about them, until she puts her plans by the side of the Judge's plans;
then they get an architect; and then she asks for four more closets,
which makes forty-four.
After a time the men begin to build; and she sends for the builder, and
tells him of course that she finds she will certainly need five more
closets,--one in the cellar, two on the first story, and three on the
second. He is a pleasant man; and the changes are made. But ere the
house is half built other needs appear, and Mrs. "Judge" insists upon
three new closets, which make fifty-two. And without doubt on the very
week that the carpenters leave the handsome mansion, she asks them for
several changes and three closets more. And will you believe it, they
move into the new house, get nicely settled, and everything running in
good order, when the generous housewife finds that the carpenter must
come, for she still wishes five new closets, which added to the others
make sixty. And so you have the house with sixty closets. It seems to
me that I have made it clear how there came to be so many of these
curious rooms and spaces in the Judge's house. At least you know all
that I know about it; and I do not believe that ever another house was
built in such a way.
But I must tell you how the house was divided. A plan of each story will
be the best means of fixing this in the mind; and then you can turn back
to it whenever you lose your way in the house, and wish to get what are
called "your bearings." We must begin at the bottom and work toward the
top. The cellar was really three cellars,--a big one, a fair-sized one,
and the wine cellar. There was a small closet in this deep, dark place
where they kept certain kinds of liquor. The main cellar was divided
lengthwise through the middle, and there were two closets for provisions
on each side.
The main floor had twenty-seven closets. For my own part, I think that
woman is a remarkable person who can invent and arrange such a number
of little nooks and rooms. But if this is a mark of genius, what shall
we say when it comes to keeping track of all the closets and their
contents? Why, I should be obliged to carry a plan of the whole house
with me, and every few minutes I should pull it out and study it. The
Judge's wife was a most wonderful woman. She built her closets, and then
she filled them, and then she remembered all about them and their
contents. Here is the plan of the first floor. A hall through the
middle. On the left as you enter is the library. There was one closet
connected with this room, and a door opened into it from the northeast
corner. Back of the library was the dining-room. It had three closets
connected with it; doors leading to them from three corners of the room.
To the left of the dining-room you passed into a side entry. Three doors
opened into three large closets. The kitchen adjoined the dining-room.
There was one closet in it, and two closets out of it to the right, and
these two latter had one closet and two closets respectively.
[Illustration]
On the right of the hall was the parlor. It had one closet. A large
window reaching to the floor gave entrance to this room near the
northeast corner. Back of the parlor was a long, dark closet which made
a passage-way from the hall to the schoolroom. Back of this closet was a
first-floor chamber with three closets. The third of these closets
opened into the chamber from the north. It was formerly Mrs. "Judge's"
store-room. Another large closet was connected with it, and these two
large closets contained two small closets. To the east of this chamber
was the schoolroom (formerly the Judge's library). This room had two
closets in it, and two closets out of it. The room to the north of the
schoolroom was the annex to the Judge's library, and it held his books
bequeathed to the minister. It also held two closets. And now my first
story is ended.
The short hall on the second floor opens at the rear into a long, narrow
hall. There are five chambers in this part of the house. The front room
on the right as you look toward the street is the "Study," and it has
two closets, one on each side of the big chimney. The two chambers back
and to the left as you face the chimney are without a single closet; but
the lack is made up when you pass to the other side of the house. The
front chamber has two closets, one on each side of the chimney. As you
pass into the one on the right (you face the chimney, remember) a door
opens to the right and leads you into another large closet with a window
in it. Going across this closet to the right another door opens into a
big, dark closet; turning to the street and stepping back three paces
you open a door into another closet; passing into this one (there is a
small window in it) you open a door into the linen closet. Withdrawing
from this series of small rooms, you get into the Betsey-Bartram room,
and there you find on the south side two doors leading into two large
closets. North of this room is another bedroom. One closet lies in the
southeast corner, and one opens to you from the west side of the room.
The thirteenth closet on this floor is at the end of the back hall, and
the fourteenth is by the side of the chimney in the room above the
down-stairs chamber. The attic was one big room with five closets
scattered around the chimneys. They hung hams in the larger one. It was
a fine place to smoke meat. There was always a greasy, smothered flavor
to the air in that place.
Now, if you have kept track of the closets you will see that we number
only fifty-one. There had been three neat, retired little closets under
the stairs in the first-floor hall. When the hall was enlarged these
poor things were taken out. It was on this occasion that Samuel said:
"See how rich we are; for we have closets to burn." And still there are
six closets missing. Well, the closet with the skeleton in it is a
mystery, and I do not like to speak of it. Three closets were found one
day carefully tucked away in a corner of the attic. The other two
missing ones have simply grown up and become big rooms with windows in
them. They put on a good deal of style, and look down upon the other
closets.
What a lovely time the Judge's wife had in furnishing her new home. I
have been reading the bills, yellow-stained and time-worn. She had a
taste for handsome things. As the house was a colonial building, the
grandest in that part of the country, she tried to get furniture that
matched.
There were mahogany chairs and tables, sofas and bedsteads, cabinets
and stands. She paid $155 in gold for her gilt-framed looking-glass,
which stood between the front windows in the parlor, and $125 for her
Grecian sofa with cushions. There were twelve fancy-chairs and two
arm-chairs. Her rocker cost $25. Then she had another little work-table,
for which they paid $20.75.
Her parlor carpet was made in England. The Judge had it made to order;
so you may believe it was uncommonly fine. The curtains were yellow
damask, lined with chintz. During the summer these curtains were stored
away on long shelves in one of the closets, and lace curtains hung in
their places.
Every large room in the house had a fireplace, and the supply of
andirons was enormous. Some of them cost $19 and $20. Then there were
venetian blinds in the parlor; and on the centre table stood an astral
bronzed lamp worth $18, and on the mantle, high silver candlesticks. A
plated pair cost them $18, and the snuffers and tray $8 more. There
were the best Brussels carpets, the most fashionable china and silver,
the richest linen for the table,--a vast amount of things needed to make
a house pleasant and comfortable.
[Illustration]
C.
THE PEOPLE WHO LIVE IN THE HOUSE THAT THE JUDGE BUILT.
C.
THE PEOPLE WHO LIVE IN THE HOUSE THAT THE JUDGE BUILT.
IT was on this wise that the present family came to live in the
parsonage. The church had been without a pastor for several months, and
the people were tired of hearing Tom, Dick, and Harry in the pulpit. But
what was to be done? They had found no man that suited them. One
minister was too young, and another too old. The first candidate had a
very long neck, a sort of crane neck, and it made some of the ladies
nervous. The last candidate was fat, and everybody said he must be lazy.
Several were so anxious to come that the congregation turned against
them. There was always some reason why each man was not liked. So it
began to look as if they might never get another minister.
The society finally asked the ladies their views upon the subject. It
was one afternoon when the Dorcas Daughters were sewing for the poor.
The president of the little band had been reading a missionary letter.
"Well," she said, "I have heard so much about filling the pulpit that I
am sick of it. I think it's about time that we filled the parsonage.
Just see what kind of ministers we have had for the last thirty years.
Two bachelors, and one married man without a chick or a child. I say
that it's time for us to call a man to fill the parsonage."
"Why, that's what I think!" remarked one of the mothers present. "It is
a shame to have that great house given over to the rats and mice. And I
know that not a minister has been in it for all these years that used
more'n half or two-thirds of the room. But, dear me, it would take a
pretty big family to fill the parsonage! Let me see; there are
twenty-seven rooms and sixty closets, aren't there?"
"So they say," replied the president. "I never counted them. But that
would just suit some folks."
"Where is that letter that you read us at the last meeting?" inquired
one of the sisters. "How many children did that man say he had? I
remember that we never sent another box like it to a home missionary in
all the history of this church." "I've got the letter right here in my
hand," said the president, "and I've had that man in mind for a week.
He's got fifteen children,--eight of his own, and seven of his deceased
sister. I shouldn't wonder if he was the very one we want." One of the
younger women nodded. She was thinking of playmates for her boys and
girls. "And then if they overflowed the house," continued the president,
"there is the little building in the yard. They might start a cottage
system. You know that is the way they do in schools these days. Divide
up the young folks, and set them in small companies. The minister might
do it; and if the family expanded we might build two or three extra
cottages."
"Now, Mrs. President," said one of the ladies, "I fear you are making
fun. But I think that letter from the missionary with fifteen children
in the family was the best we ever had. A man that could write such a
letter must be very much of a man."
"He is," replied the president. "I have looked him up in the Year Book,
and I have written to the secretary of the Missionary Society. He's a
very good man. Nobody has done better work in that frontier country."
So the ladies said that they would ask the church to call this parson
with the big family. When the meeting was held and everybody was
talking, one gentleman arose, and told the people that the ladies had a
candidate. His name being proposed, the president of the Dorcas Society
explained how she felt, that they ought to have a man to fill the
parsonage, and this man whom they named was the one to do it; therefore
the meeting voted unanimously to call him.
"I think we had better charter a train to bring them from the West,"
said one of the deacons. But it was finally decided to engage a car; so
everything was arranged, and in four weeks they came.
When the train stopped at the station, the church committee was on hand
with three carryalls. It reminded one of an orphanage, or a company of
Fresh-air children. But a hearty welcome was given; they were hurried
into the carriages, and soon the whole family was in the parsonage.
A nice dinner had been prepared by the ladies of the parish. After the
travellers had washed and made some slight changes, they all sat down to
the feast.
It was a happy thing that the church and the Judge furnished the
parsonage. This poor, large-hearted missionary brought nothing with him
but books and children; his library was really a very fine one, and it
had filled the small house in the West. His own family of children had
been increased by the seven orphans left when his sister and her husband
died. There was nothing for him to do but adopt them; so they had been
packed into the little home until one was reminded of a box of sardines.
But this sort of kindness was like the good man. He was ready to share
the last crust with any one who needed it.
"Why, what a big house it is!" exclaimed Grace. "Just see; I guess we
could put the whole of our Western house right here in the parlor." And
I think they could if they had only brought it along with them. When
dinner was over the children scattered all through the mansion and the
grounds.
What a delightful sense of freedom and importance they had. Could it be
possible that all these things belonged to them? Were the ten acres of
lawn, garden, orchard, field, and pasture really for their use and
pleasure? As parents and children wandered through the big rooms, and
peered into the sixty closets, and looked out of the numerous windows,
it seemed to them like a dream. And yet the dreamy sensation soon
passed; for the parson and his wife, happening to look out of a front
window, were struck with the expression of alarm, amusement, or interest
shown by several people going along the street. It was caused by the way
in which the family was showing its presence and possession. There were
three children on the front piazza standing in a row gazing at the sea;
four of the younger ones were climbing in and out of the windows on the
second floor, running along the tin roof of the piazza; two boys had
already climbed a tree looking for birds' nests; three children had
hurried through the attic to the roof, and leaned against the big
chimneys that towered over the house. With curious interest they were
taking a general survey of the town and country, quite unconscious that
their rashness attracted any attention. The other youngsters were
having a frolic in the yard, walking along the top of the picket-fence,
jumping from one gate-post to another, shouting with healthful lungs,
and making the very welkin ring.
Had a pack of wild Indians swooped down upon the house, they could not
have made themselves more evident, or excited any greater concern in
town. It was clear that the minister who was called to fill the
parsonage answered the purpose. He filled it; and the contents were
overflowing from doors and windows on to piazzas and roofs, or into yard
and trees and street. What a waking up for the rats and mice it was! The
mere racket and clatter were enough to drive them out of their holes.
But what a shaking up for the old town!
The house stood on the main street. It was an object of historic
veneration. Everybody knew all about it, and had a sort of watch-care
over it. Anything that went on in that house belonged to the whole
neighborhood. So that it was not long before all the people were
talking about the new arrivals. Men, women, and children felt an impulse
to walk or ride by the parsonage on that eventful day. And it was a
startling sight; for the minister's family seemed to think that the
house really belonged to them, and they were to enjoy it just the way
they pleased. This running all through the many rooms, and popping out
of the many windows upon the piazza, and climbing up to the roof, and
playing tag in the yard, and hunting for birds' nests, and walking on
the tops of the pickets along the fence, was their way of enjoying the
place.
[Illustration]
"Let's nail the flag to the chimney," shouted Harry, the third boy. They
had carried the flag in hand all through their journey from the West.
"Yes," shouted the other boys, who were wildly patriotic. "Come on! come
on!" So they all came on except the youngest; and she finally came in
the arms of her father, who followed the mother, who followed the
children, to see what was doing in the attic or on the roof. And just at
this time the most important man in the church and town drove by with
his family. Do you wonder that this important man and his family gazed
with surprise and alarm at the sight? There on the roof of the house was
the whole family. Henry was nailing the flag to the tallest chimney. But
when the children saw this kind man pass along the street (he was one of
the committee that met them at the station, and it was his horses that
had carried them to the parsonage), they waved their hands, and shook
their handkerchiefs, and shouted "Hurrah! hurrah!" with such spirit that
the gentleman must needs take off his hat, smile and bow, and turn to
his family with some pleasing remark. There was no doubt in his mind or
in the mind of the passer-by that the town was captured. The West had
made a sudden onset; and the standard of victory now floated from the
chimney of the Judge's mansion. The only thing for the natives to do was
to submit and make the best of the situation.
As I said, the good people of the parish furnished the parsonage. The
carpets were down, and the chairs, tables, sofas, bedsteads, stands,
book-cases, and other things, were put in their places. All the
minister's wife had to do was to unpack her trunks, and divide up their
contents among the closets. All the minister had to do was to unpack his
boxes, and arrange his books in the study. So they were settled in a
trice.
Here is the picture of the children. You must know them in order to
understand what happened in the house. Elizabeth was the oldest. She
must have been seventeen or eighteen. She was ready for college. It was
hard for the mother to get along without her, since she had brought up
all the younger ones, and given her mother a chance to go round with her
father in his work. Elizabeth was very mature, but she had all the
frankness and cordiality of a typical Westerner. She seemed almost too
free and easy in her manners for the slow East. But you couldn't help
liking her. A little Western gush does good in the town.
[Illustration]
Samuel came next. He knew everything. He was ready for college too. He
was slow, and not always just as agreeable as one would like to have
him. It has been said that somebody stepped on his toes when he was a
very little child, and that he still has spells of being angry about
it. Samuel was a mechanic. He kept things in order,--machines, carts,
clocks, and like objects,--when he hadn't any girls to tease; for he was
an awful tease, and so was liked in a general way by all of them. His
manner toward the younger members of the family was rather severe and
overbearing. But what would you expect from a big boy who knows so much,
and has such a host of children to live with?
Helen was the third one. She was literary, and gave a great deal of time
to books. She hated to darn stockings above all things, and would often
read a story to the children, or write one for them, if she could get
somebody to do her darning for her. I think she will make an author. The
family hadn't been in the house one day before she said that the closets
must be named. Her mother or the children would never be able to keep
track of them, unless they were reduced to a system, and properly
numbered like rooms in a hotel, or labelled like drugs in a store.
Henry and Miriam were twins. They were just about as unlike as you could
make them,--one light and the other dark; the first lean and the second
fat; he quick and she slow. And so we might go through a long list of
things, and find that one was opposite to the other. For this reason
they got along well together and were very happy.
Then came cousin George, who was fond of music and could sing like a
lark; and Theodora, who was born to be a lady, and always took the part
of Mrs. Rothschild or Mrs. Astor in their plays; and cousin Herbert, who
will be a doctor, and who was so ingenious about getting into mischief
that I think he will be able to invent enough bad doses to cure the very
worst sicknesses; and cousin Ethel, the pink of propriety, who never got
a spot on her dress, and always said, "Will you please give me this or
that?" or "Thank you," when she took anything; and cousin Grace, the
demure and quiet puss who had a wonderful faculty for stirring up the
whole family, and yet freeing herself from trouble; and cousin Susie,
who is always sweet and good-tempered, and loves everybody; and cousin
William, the precocious (I mean very smart), who will be president of
the United States; and cousin Nathaniel, who was said by his brothers
and sisters and cousins to be "just too cute for anything," flying
hither and thither like a humming-bird, never two minutes in one place
except when his aunt got him into his nest at night. How many does that
make? Let me count them up. Have I mentioned them all but Ruth? Ruth was
seven years old. She could ask more questions in five minutes than any
lawyer in cross-examining witnesses. And when she was tired of asking
questions she would tease for more things in a second five minutes than
any twenty children rolled into one. And not only would she ask the same
question seventeen times at once, or tease for the same thing thirteen
times without stopping, but she did it in just the same unvarying,
shrill tone of voice; so that it was like the monotonous rasping of a
saw, and had a tendency to drive a sensitive person out of his head. How
many times did the older members of the family run from her as though
she had a contagious disease, so that they might get relief from that
endless asking and teasing? And yet she had many good traits, and was
certainly very bright. If there had been some comfortable way of putting
a muzzle upon talkative and tedious children, her parents would probably
have done it; but they simply used all the powers of restraint that they
had and let it go at that. Ruth was evidently cut out for a poet or a
woman's rights speaker; for she was all the time getting up rhymes, or
talking in a high key and impulsive way to such members of the family as
would listen to her.
When the baby came everybody said that he must be called "The Little
Judge," in honor of the good man who gave the house to the church for
the minister.
No sooner was the family really settled than the children began to ask
about this famous Judge. They had never lived in an old, historic house
before, and they were interested. They knew how the Judge and his wife
looked, for their portraits hung in the east parlor. What fine old
people they must have been! If those oil paintings did them justice they
were about as nice-looking as anybody that you see preserved in oil in
the great galleries of the world.
Whenever the children stood before the pictures, they asked questions:
Who was the Judge? what did he do? how much of a family did he have? did
he like children? when did he die? who attended the funeral? where was
he buried? what became of his things? and a hundred other questions. So
the minister began to read about the Judge and his work. And the more he
read, the more he admired and loved. The enthusiasm which the minister
showed in his attempts to learn all he could about the generous giver of
the parsonage excited the curiosity of the children to such an extent
that they begged their father and uncle to write a book about him.
Helen herself talked about doing something of the kind.
"I've found out more things in the life of the Judge," the minister
would say; and then all the children gathered around him just after
supper, as the fire burned gayly on the hearth in his study, and he
would tell them some fresh incident, and add a few lines to his pen
portrait of the man. So the months chased each other; and the Judge and
his wife made not only the most common topic of conversation, but they
became as real to the young people in the parsonage as the boys and
girls they met on the street. I suppose it was because they thought and
talked so much about them that the strange things which I am to relate
happened (or didn't happen) in the house.
They had not lived many weeks in the house before they got into all
sorts of trouble about the closets. They kept losing something, or
losing themselves, or losing the closets.
"We'll number them," suggested Herbert.
"No; let's name them," cried William. They had all met to talk the
matter over; so it was decided to do both. When names run out they would
fall back on numbers.
"I feel like Adam when he named all the cattle and the fowls and the
beasts," exclaimed Helen.
"We'll hang a plan of the house on each floor, and then we can refer to
it without running up-and down-stairs." This was Samuel's remark. He was
always for saving steps. So names were suggested, plans were drawn,
every closet was given its dues, and the atmosphere was thick with
Champagne, Darkest Africa, Turpentine, Leghorn, Daisy, Pansy, Violet,
Rose, Panama, China, Greece, Dublin, Clementine, Serpentine, Argentine,
Morocco, and other appropriate names.
D.
THE THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO THE PEOPLE WHO LIVE IN THE HOUSE THAT THE
JUDGE BUILT.
I.
PORTRAITS WALK AND TALK.
I.
PORTRAITS WALK AND TALK.
IT was Christmas Eve. Excitement had reached fever heat. The children
knew nothing about Christmas in the East; and their Western festivals
had always been simple, for there was little money to use in buying
gifts. But this year friends had remembered them, and they had also
earned several dollars by various kinds of work; so that they were sure
of many nice things. Had they not been buying presents for each other
these ten days? and was not every closet in the house made the
hiding-place for some treasure?
The nervous strain on the parents was great. Such confusion and anxiety
passed words. Was it possible ever to get the house and the family
settled down to plain, every-day living again?
It happened that the children had all met in the east parlor. This was
the room where the pictures of the Judge and his wife adorned the wall.
The two portraits hung on the right of the fireplace, you remember, just
over the piano. A lamp was giving a faint light on the marble
centre-table, and a cheerful wood fire was burning on the hearth. In
front of the piano was the music stool.
The children were all talking. The hum and buzz of their many voices
filled the room. One said, "I wonder if Santa Claus will bring me a
doll;" and another said, "There is no such person as Santa Claus;" and a
third said, "I want a new sled;" and a fourth said, "Father promised me
a book about birds;" and so the talk continued.
But Ruth for once kept still. She was worn out with excitement. As she
flung herself into a big arm-chair, she turned her head towards the
fire, and began to see all sorts of funny creatures dancing in and out
among the coals. Ruth was a poet, you remember, gifted with a wonderful
imagination; and she could see more strange things, and tell more wild
stories, than any other child in the family; and that is saying a great
deal, for they all had a way of telling about things which they had
heard and seen that constantly reminded their neighbors of Western
largeness and exaggeration.
[Illustration]
As Ruth watched the queer creatures playing in the fire her eyes grew
heavy; and then she turned her head away for a moment, and her eyes
became fixed upon the pictures of the Judge and his wife. Did her head
droop to one side, and did it fall softly upon the cushion against the
arm, or did her eyes suddenly open wide with surprise, and did she gaze
with startled look upon a strange scene before her?
For both the Judge and his wife seemed to be moving; and they looked so
natural and pleasant when they smiled and bowed, that Ruth said to
herself, "Why, they must be alive." And the Judge reached out his hand
from the canvas which held him, and took the hand of his wife, who had
responded to his motion, and said, "My dear, wouldn't you like to step
down and out for a little while?"
[Illustration]
"Yes, thank you," she replied; "I think it would rest me." And then he
laid down the pen, which he holds in the picture, and stepped lightly
upon the piano, still keeping her hand in his; and then he helped her
down upon the piano, and then he stepped down to the music stool, and
finally on the floor, and she followed. This was all done with the grace
and dignity that marked the usual movements both of the Judge and his
wife. And it seemed the most natural thing in the world for them to step
down and out.
Ruth sprang toward them on the instant that they stood upon the floor.
She rubbed her eyes to make sure that she was not dreaming; and then as
she saw them really before her, looking for all the world like natural
folks, she greeted them with delight.
"Why, how do you do?" she exclaimed. "I always thought you looked as if
you would like to talk. That, I suppose, is why people say that your
pictures are a 'speaking likeness.' But I never thought you'd get out of
the pictures. How did you do it?" But the Judge and his wife were too
much absorbed in the scene before them to reply immediately. The old
room had changed since their day; they were noting the changes. And then
this roomful of children took them by surprise.
"My dear," said the Judge to his wife, "this is delightful." "Yes,"
continued Ruth, "they all belong to us. I heard the president of the
Dorcas Society say that when the church called this minister they
expected him to fill the parsonage just as much as the pulpit. And we
did it."
"Yes, this is delightful," repeated the Judge. "How many are there?" He
said this to his wife, but Ruth answered.
"Oh! there are only fifteen of us when we are by ourselves. There are a
good many more when the neighbors' children come in; and then don't we
have grand times!"
"It almost takes my breath away." Mrs. "Judge" was speaking to her
husband. "My dear, have you my fan in your pocket?" And the Judge felt
in his pocket, but he didn't find any fan.
"Why, it's Christmas! You don't want a fan," said Ruth, who was bound to
take part in the conversation, and play the hostess on this wonderful
occasion. And then the Judge and his wife stood stock-still, and gazed
with increasing pleasure and interest upon the scene.
Their descent from the picture had been so noiseless and unexpected
that Ruth was the only one to observe it. But when this keen, talkative
sister began to question the guests, the other children turned their
heads, and they beheld the curious sight. There stood the Judge and his
wife exactly as they appeared in the portraits. Only they had their legs
on them, and the pictures didn't. But the children noticed even the
smallest details of dress, and they were the very originals of the
portraits.
Suddenly the whole company stood up.
"Why, it's just like a reception or a wedding," said Ruth. "I think
they're all waiting to be introduced." And the children advanced one
after another, or Ruth led the Judge and his wife to different parts of
the room, and each brother and sister and cousin was properly presented.
"How did you get out?" inquired Ruth a second time. Everybody in the
room was now standing, and all eyes were looking for the next move in
this strange parlor drama.
"We just stepped out," replied the Judge, who seemed prepared at length
to talk with Ruth or the other children.
"But where did you keep your legs all the time?" When Ethel asked this
question Mrs. "Judge" blushed. Elizabeth, the eldest daughter, pushed
her way forward, and said, "S-s-s-s-h!" and Samuel said, with a nudge of
the arm, "Keep still, can't you?" But you might as well tell the
steaming teakettle to stop boiling as it sits upon a lively fire.
"We are very glad to see you," interrupted Helen. She was a most
hospitable girl, and she had read a great deal of history; although
Henry knew more history than she did, and he had read everything about
the Judge that he could lay his hands on.
"We are very glad to see you, and should like to ask about the 'Hartford
Convention,'" said Henry.
"He's been talking about it for a month," continued Ruth. "I wish you'd
tell him all about it, and then maybe he'd keep still. I don't care
anything about it, neither do the other children. But Henry thinks he's
very smart in such things ever since he got a prize in history."
"Did you say these were all the children?" It was Mrs. "Judge" that now
spoke. And as she made the inquiry Susie ran out of the parlor, and
disappeared in the gloom of the hall.
"Why, we forgot all about the baby!" exclaimed Ruth. "He's up-stairs
asleep, I guess. Dear me, you must see the baby. He's the cutest little
thing you ever saw."
"Yes, we should like to see him, of course. We both like babies, good
babies."
[Illustration]
"Babies that don't cry I suppose you mean," said Ruth. "Well, he doesn't
cry much,--only when he's hungry, or a pin sticks into him, or he gets
mad, or somebody lets him fall, or hits his head against the door or a
chair." Here Ruth paused for breath. Then she exclaimed, "Why, of
course, you must see the baby! Why, he is named for you!" This was said
to the Judge with greatest excitement. And just as Ruth was saying it
everybody turned toward the door, and there stood little Susie hugging
the baby to her breast, his nightdress dragging on the floor, her short
arms barely reaching around his plump body; both baby and Susie having
their faces wreathed in smiles. Staggering under the burden this
youngest sister pressed through the company with her precious armful;
and as the Judge saw her approach he stepped forward, bent down above
her, and took the little fellow into his arms, where he settled with a
most contented and happy expression. It was a very pretty sight,--this
stately old gentleman holding a beautiful baby on one arm, and reaching
over to the lovely, dignified wife by his side with the other arm; for
she had taken hold of his hand again after he had fixed the baby
comfortably on his arm, and Ruth had stationed herself close by the
Judge's wife on the other side, and taken possession of the lady's free
hand.
"And this is the baby, is it?" inquired Mrs. "Judge." "What a dear
little boy he is! And what did you say you called him?" For the lady was
either deaf or absorbed so that she did not hear all that Ruth had said
about the baby's name.
"Why, we call him after your husband. Didn't you hear me say so? He is
the "Little Judge." Just see how he clings to his namesake. Is he the
Judge's namesake or the Judge his namesake? I don't know which is which,
only it's something about namesake, and he's named for the Judge." This
latter talk on the part of Ruth was quite as much to herself as to the
visitors. And all the time the Judge was gazing down into the infant's
face with earnest, wistful look, seeming almost to forget that he was
once more standing in the old east parlor. Yes, for a moment he had
really forgotten where he did stand; for he was thinking of the many
years ago when two other baby boys had been placed in his arms, and with
what hope and tenderness he had handled the small, helpless pieces of
humanity.
"Don't you like the name?" interrupted Ruth. "We thought it would please
you. What makes you look so solemn? Oh, I know!" Now, Ruth did not
intend to be cruel. She was simply thoughtless like many other children.
"You had a baby boy once, didn't you? Two of 'em, didn't you?" And then
she saw that Mrs. "Judge" seemed to feel bad too, and that she let go
the Judge's hand for a moment, and dashed away some tears from her eyes.
"I'm sorry if I've hurt your feelings," said Ruth. "I didn't mean to. I
was just thinking about your two baby boys. They would have been awful
old if they had lived till now, wouldn't they? and we never should have
lived in this house if they had lived, would we?" A hush had fallen on
the company. Neither the Judge nor his wife made any reply. They were
lost in thought, while the children watched them with breathless
interest.
"We didn't dare give him your full name," continued Ruth. "That's what
Dr. Blank did to one of his baby boys, and it died. Mother was afraid if
we called our baby after you, with the three long names, that it might
kill him, so she said; so we dropped the middle one, and I think it much
better, don't you?"
"Dear little boy," said the Judge affectionately, as he looked down into
his face again. "Dear little boy." And then the Judge bent down and
kissed him, and the baby beamed with delight. It was almost like a
baptism in church.
"I thought maybe you were going to pray over him. That's the way father
does, you know." But the Judge didn't seem to hear.
"My dear," he said, turning to his wife and holding the baby toward her.
She knew what he meant, for she likewise bent down over the little
fellow and printed another kiss upon his sweet, upturned, dimpled face,
and then another, and a third, while the Judge stood looking on with
happy indulgence; and all the children noted every motion in this
singular drama.
"What did your boys die of?" asked Ruth, who did not wish to lose any
time, since she had so many questions to ask, and she feared that her
visitors might not stay as long as she wished them.
"Ruth!" exclaimed Samuel, who had drawn near the young inquisitor, and
felt it was time to stop her; "aren't you ashamed of yourself?" He said
this in a low tone, thinking that the Judge and his wife might not hear.
They were watching the baby with such eagerness that they had almost
forgotten the rest of the company.
"I think," remarked Mrs. "Judge," as she lifted her head from the baby
and glanced around the room, "that it is very pleasant in the old
house."
"Oh, yes; we think so too." It was Ruth again speaking. The other
members of the family had little chance to say anything. "Can't get in
a word edgewise," whispered Henry to Helen. "What a perfect nuisance
Ruth is!"
"Wouldn't you like to go over the house?" Of course it was Ruth who
asked the question. She was always taking people over the house. It
might be Monday morning when everything was in dire confusion, and all
the younger children still in bed, or it might be early evening after
the baby and Susie had been playing in crib and bed, and things were
assuming their wonted appearance of disorder. If the notion took her she
was always ready to seize a caller by the hand, and lead him from cellar
to garret.
"I think I would like to look around a little," replied the lady. "I am
wondering how many closets you have now in the house."
"Oh, there is an awful lot!" exclaimed Ruth.
"We have sixty," observed Elizabeth, who liked to be precise.
"That's right, that's right," continued Mrs. "Judge." "I had that number
put in. I was afraid you might have given away some of them." When she
said this the children looked rather queer. Who ever heard of giving
away closets? One might think they were flowers, or eggs, or peaches.
"You used to give away a great deal, didn't you?" exclaimed Ruth. "But I
don't see how you could give away closets."
And now the whole company started on a tour of sight-seeing in the old
house. Samuel and Elizabeth naturally took the lead, being the oldest
and quite the lady and gentleman. The Judge with the baby on one arm and
his wife leaning on the other followed. Ruth still clung to the right
hand of Mrs. "Judge." Then the remaining children came in a dense crowd
just behind them.
"The parlor looks much as it did when we left it, except the furniture,"
said the lady. "Now let us see if they have kept the other rooms as
well."
They passed next into the hall.
"Dear me! what is this?" exclaimed the Judge. "Where are we?" For it was
not the old hall at all. That had been rather short and small. This was
long, reaching through the house.
"Why, what has become of my bedroom?" inquired the lady. "They have made
it into this hall. And where are all the nice little closets under the
stairs? You certainly have given them away. Oh, dear! oh, dear! I'm so
sorry."
"I guess you're tired," said Ruth. "It makes you nervous to walk much,
doesn't it? Why, yes, I know, because they say you never went up-stairs
for ever so many years. Oh, I know what we'll do! You can ride." All
this time Mrs. "Judge" was looking about her in a dazed way, quite at
sea in respect to her surroundings. For the hall had been completely
changed until it appeared about as different as different could be. And
the good lady was really shocked.
"Do you see those things under the stairs? They are our bicycles."
And the Judge and his wife gazed with perplexed faces in the direction
indicated. There was a whole row of them. Seven, altogether,--full-grown,
half-grown, or any size you might wish. It was like a carriage shop.
"I think you might ride one all through the house down-stairs," said
Ruth to the lady guest. "Then you wouldn't have to walk."
And as the suggestion was made, Ruth's eyes flashed, and her cheeks grew
flushed with excitement. What fun it would be to push the good woman on
a bicycle from room to room, and show her the present arrangements of
the beloved house. But Mrs. "Judge" was horrified. She clung very
closely to her husband, as if she thought that she might have to perch
upon one of the machines whether she wished it or not. Her breath came
fast and short. Her cheeks grew hectic.
"You don't mean to say that people ride those things!" she finally
exclaimed when her first flurry of agitation was past.