"Not your father and mother,--the minister and the minister's wife?"
"Why, yes, and the Episcopal minister too, and his wife."
"Are you sure, Judge, that you didn't bring a fan with you?" The good
woman seemed very faint, and she looked beseechingly toward her husband.
"Here's one," shouted Susie, who ran to the cabinet and found a lovely
piece of feather work, which scattered very fine feathers over your
clothes and through the room on every motion you made with it. And as
the Judge's wife waved it back and forth the feathers began to fly.
"It looks like a snow-storm," whispered Herbert to Theodora. And soon
the feather flakes adorned their garments and floated through the air,
so that one was really reminded of a fresh fall of snow.
It took the good lady a long time to get her breath. The hall closets
were all gone; and in their places stood seven things called bicycles,
upon which the minister, his wife, and the children were said to ride.
It was awful. And Ruth was urging her to try one. Alas! the hall was
too much for her self-possession.
"Let us go into the west room," she said faintly. So they all came into
what is now the family sitting-room and library. Here everything was
strange. The door into the kitchen was covered with a high book-case
filled with literature. The small cubby-hole through which dishes and
food had been passed from dining-room to kitchen was now made into a
door. But there was one familiar object before them. In the far corner
stood the clock, grave and stalwart sentinel for the house.
"My dear, do you see the clock?" It was the Judge speaking to his wife.
He knew there must be many changes in the house. He accepted them very
quietly; but he was glad to see this old familiar friend. He had
expected to find it in the hall where it had always stood during his
day; but he was just as glad to see it here in the old dining-room. That
clock had been present on all the great occasions of life. It had
marked the hours for every event connected with the history of the
house. When the long line of famous men and women entertained by the
Judge and his wife came to mind, it was to be recollected that the clock
had seen them all, and winked and blinked at them morning, noon, and
night, and sounded his warning notes in their ears, when it was time to
rise or retire, or to eat, or to go to court, or to drive to town, or to
start for church. It was like meeting a tried and beloved friend. Both
the Judge and his wife were overjoyed.
It might have been that some indifferent family had lived in the house,
and thrown the clock out of doors or stored it in the attic. There are
people so dull and unimaginative, people with so little sentiment, that
they never care for keepsakes or heirlooms. They want everything fresh
and new about them. Antiques are a perfect bore or nuisance. Happily the
minister's family was not one of this kind. They all had a great deal of
what is called historic sense. They liked old things; and the clock was
their most sacred possession. How much they had talked about it, and
dreamed about the scenes which had passed before it! While Ruth had
invented more wild stories in connection with that one object than could
be told in many a day.
The other things in the room attracted little attention. The visitors
made their slow and stately way across to the corner where the clock
stood. As they looked up into its serene face, the object of their
interest looked down upon them with a very knowing expression, seeming
to recognize them on the instant, extending them a very hearty welcome;
for the tick, tick was louder than ever before, the very frame of the
huge thing began to tremble with suppressed excitement, and then eight
long, loud strokes sounded through the entire house, as much as to say,
"They've come," "How'd do?" "Glad t'see you," and other kind greetings.
The children had all followed the Judge and his wife, and they were
eagerly watching for the next movement on the part of the visitors.
[Illustration]
It made quite a striking picture,--the tall, solemn clock in the far
corner of the room, the Judge and the baby on his arm, and the wife
holding Ruth by the hand, standing in front of it; then the throng of
alert and wondering children bringing up in the rear, for they all felt
that something out of the ordinary was about to happen. In fact, the
whole visit of these former inhabitants of the house was rather unusual,
so that the children would naturally expect fresh marvels at any moment.
It was clear that Mrs. "Judge" was getting tired; nobody had offered her
a chair, and she had refused to get on a bicycle.
Suddenly the door of the clock swung open.
"I think you had better rest, my dear," said the Judge; "we'll step in
here."
And as he made the remark he put his foot into the clock and gave a
lively spring, filling the small doorway.
"Oh, please don't take the baby away!" screamed Ruth, as she saw them
both disappearing. "Who'll nurse him? And mamma'll feel so bad."
But it was all done so quickly that Ruth never finished her speech, for
the Judge still held his wife's hand and helped her into the clock; then
as Ruth held all the faster to the lady's hand, she was caught up too,
they all went into the clock and the door shut upon them.
The other children were struck dumb with amazement.
"I always thought it looked like a coffin," exclaimed Samuel; "but I
never expected to see four people buried alive in it."
"I've wanted to hide in it a hundred times," said Helen, "but I never
supposed"--
"Ten thousand times are hid in it," interrupted Henry.
"Times out of mind," whispered Herbert.
"Time, time," cried Samuel; and soon they indeed had a "time."
II.
CLOSETS TALK AND WALK.
II.
CLOSETS TALK AND WALK.
THE first thing that the children who were left behind did was to
examine the clock. They all made a rush for it, and pulled open the
door. "Tick, tock, tick, tock," went the huge machine. They saw the
pendulum swing back and forth. And that was all they did see. The Judge,
his wife, Ruth, and the baby had disappeared.
"I believe this house is bewitched, or we are!" exclaimed Helen. She had
read about the strange things said and done in the old town more than
two centuries ago, when witches rode through the air on broomsticks, and
very lively times stirred up the people.
"It was on this very spot, I've heard father say, that one of the
witches lived."
"Oh, pshaw!" cried Samuel, who knew everything; "there isn't any such
thing as witchcraft. They've just stepped out for a moment, and they'll
come back soon."
"I think they've stepped in," replied Henry, who stood close to the
clock when their visitors disappeared with Ruth and the baby. "Let's
play 'tag' while we're waiting for them to come back." This was a good
way to work off their nervousness; for they were all more or less
nervous, either because they really thought that the witches might be
upon them, or because they would have to answer to their parents for the
absence of Ruth and the baby.
[Illustration]
"We'll start from the piano," said Samuel. It was Christmas Eve, you
remember, and everything seemed rather uncommon and surprising. So they
all jumped upon the piano,--thirteen of them altogether,--and it made
the old instrument shiver and rattle, and try to shake them off. Then
they started on the game of "tag." Samuel sprang from the piano to the
cabinet, from the cabinet to the mantle, and from the mantle to the
glass book-case in the corner; and they all jumped after him and each
other. Then he swung himself over to the hall door, for his arms and his
legs were simply prodigious. From the top of the door he leaped to the
big picture frame between the front windows. How it swayed and creaked
and screamed! So he dropped down upon a low book-case beneath, and
balanced himself on the edges of a crystal loving-cup. But Henry and
Herbert had started in the other direction from the piano, and they came
face to face with Samuel on the loving-cup. Then this elder brother
sprang over to the marble centre-table, and then across to the piano
again, and upon the high set of book-shelves in the southwest corner of
the room. Here he began to grab the books, and throw them at the other
children as they came near him. Then they threw books back at him. And
what a commotion there was! Children were passing and repassing with the
speed of the wind. They were leaping from picture to picture, and mantle
to table, and piano to book-case, and table to chairs, and cabinet to
door; books were flying in every direction, the piano was groaning and
shaking and scolding, and there was the din of many voices, shoutings,
laughter, cries, boys' clothes and girls' clothes woven into a perfect
mass of changing colors and shapes, the bang and rattle of moving
furniture, and whatever you may be pleased to imagine.
All this time the Judge, his wife, Ruth, and the baby sat composedly
behind the face of the clock, and looked down delightedly upon the
hilarious scene. There was a hole in the clock's face which served them
for a window. Ruth had often observed it; and she had told her mother
more than a few times that she was perfectly sure there must be a big
room up there, and lots of people in it, for she had seen the flash of
their eyes when they peeped down into the room and watched (wouldn't it
be more proper to say clocked) the people. Ruth, of course, was right;
for wasn't there a big room in the top of the clock? and didn't the
Judge and his wife know all about it? It was there that they had gone to
rest.
The first thing they did was to put Mrs. "Judge" to bed. This they did
with her shoes on. The next thing was to get the baby to sleep. So the
Judge sat down in a rocking-chair, and began to sing to his little
namesake; and when he got tired of singing the Judge whistled. The baby
was just as good as he could be. He laughed, and cooed, and hit the old
gentleman on the cheek with a tiny hand, and tried to pick his eyes out
one by one, count all his teeth, and pull off his eyebrows, dig into his
ears, and find what he did with his nose, and how he kept his cravat on.
Meanwhile Ruth was looking down upon the children, and reporting their
doings to her visitors.
"I think it will do them good to have a little frolic," said the Judge.
"Yes, let them play," replied Mrs. "Judge." "It makes me feel as if we
were once more back in the old home, and had children to fill it and
bring us joy."
"But you wouldn't let your children play like that," said Ruth. "Why, I
think they're going to break every thing to pieces. And what will the
church committee say? They have charge of the house, you know."
"Let's see what they are doing!" exclaimed the Judge. So he put the baby
down by his wife while he looked through the eye of the clock. Just at
that moment the children had all jumped upon the centre-table; and it
was crowded with thirteen of them, and the lamp in the middle. There was
a brief struggle, then the lamp went out, and the noise of a great fall
and crash sounded through the room, after which darkness and silence
prevailed. Something had evidently happened.
"Don't you think we might visit the closets now?" inquired Ruth. The
Judge turned to his wife to see what she answered.
"I am too tired to go through them," she said. "But I should like to
have them come to me." Now, this was quite an original idea; but it
pleased Ruth.
"Why, yes, I think they would like to come." Ruth was speaking with
great animation. "We've named them, you know; and I think if I should
call them by their names they'd all be glad to see you. Can you sit here
by this hole in the clock?"
"Oh, yes!" replied Mrs. "Judge." "That would be very nice. And the
closets can all pass in front of us, and I can have a little talk with
them." So Ruth looked down again into the room where the children had
been playing, and saw that it was quite light and the children were all
gone. At once she called the closets.
"I've got a list of their names in my pocket," she explained to Mrs.
"Judge." "We can't remember as you can. Even as it is, mother's all the
time losing something in some of the closets, and she tries so hard to
think where she puts things. She ought to carry a blank-book with her,
and set everything down." The Judge's wife was rested now, so that she
sat up and took her place before the hole in the clock. The baby was
back again in the arms of his namesake. Then Ruth shouted out the names
of the closets. "Champagne," she cried. This was the name of the
wine-closet. It was a big black hole in the main cellar, just under the
parlor. Very soon there was a heavy tread in the west parlor where the
clock stood, and in swung Champagne. Although such a great closet he
looked very thin and dismal.
[Illustration]
"Good-evening," said the Judge's wife.
"How do you do?" replied Champagne; and there was a great deal of pain
in his voice.
"You don't seem happy," said Mrs. "Judge."
"I'm thirsty;" and the closet's voice sounded as if a fever had parched
it. "Poor folks live here now. They haven't put a bottle of wine into
me in forty years. I'm drying up. I shall cave in one of these days."
"That would be dreadful, wouldn't it?" exclaimed Ruth. "Would the house
go down if the wine-cellar caved in?"
"Hope so," answered Champagne testily. "Don't even keep wine for sick
folk. Somebody did put a couple of bottles of something into me when the
children had the measles, but somebody else came and stole it out of me.
I thought I'd help bring the measles out, but they didn't give me a
chance."
"Poor fellow!" exclaimed Mrs. "Judge." "I'm sorry for you. But these are
days of total abstinence, you know. You mustn't expect much wine. Don't
they keep butter in you?"
"No, they don't make any. And when they get some in the house it goes as
fast as it comes. This family eats an awful sight of butter."
"Well, I'll see what I can do for you, Champagne."
"We can fill him up with water," whispered Ruth. "For the cistern leaks
now, and father says the overflow all goes into the wine-cellar. I'll
call 'Greece' next." Champagne stepped one side, and stood by the front
door.
"Greece, Greece." The name was spoken with shrill, positive tones; and
Greece came hurrying down-stairs. This closet was in the attic. They
smoked the hams in him, and they sometimes put bacon and dried beef up
there.
"How do you get along?" inquired Mrs. "Judge," as the closet shambled
into the west room.
"How'd' do, ma'am?" There was a strong smell of ham when Greece made his
appearance.
"I've mostly given up smoking these days. I'm a poor, ham-sick fellow.
They are trying to starve me to death. I haven't had anything in me for
months. They won't let me say anything. They shut me up all the time."
"I think Greece smells bad, don't you?" said Ruth as she turned to her
guest. And then Ruth put her thumb and forefinger up to her nose to keep
out the bad odors that seemed to come up from poor Greece. "I'm going to
call 'China.'" So Greece stepped one side without one kind word. "China,
China, China." There was a very loud rattling of dishes, jingling of
glasses, and much music, as the long closet between the kitchen and the
dining-room stepped briskly before them.
"I'm glad to see you," said the Judge's wife by way of greeting. She was
a lover of fine ware, and the house had been filled with it.
"I'm very glad to see you," replied China. "I am living a wretched
life."
"Dear me, don't talk like that!" exclaimed the good lady, much annoyed
at all this mourning and fault-finding.
"I guess you'd talk worse than that if you had been cut down, torn to
pieces, burnt up, and boxed as I have been. Don't you see that there is
hardly anything left of me? As likely as not to-morrow they'll set to
work and do something else to me,--make me smaller yet, or drive me out
of the house. I can't tell what a day will bring forth. And just look at
the dishes. Did you ever see such a lot of nicked, broken, mismatched,
cracked, blackened, ugly old ware as they keep on my shelves? It makes
me sick. I wish you'd come back." All this time China had been talking
in a most despondent tone, giving a fresh shake of discontent to the
curious assortment of ware displayed on the shelves. It made the Judge's
wife nervous. She didn't like it. Neither did Ruth. It was not what they
expected. Such talk was hardly in keeping with Christmas Eve.
"China, you just go right out-doors and wait in the cold," said Ruth.
"I'm going to call 'Panama.' That, you know, is the closet that connects
father's study right over this room with the bedroom behind it. Come,
Panama," she cried. There was a great rustling of papers, and dust
filled the room as Panama entered.
"What does this mean?" inquired Mrs. "Judge," who began to sneeze and
feel very thirsty.
"Why, this is the closet where father keeps his sermons. I think they
must rustle and make so much noise because they are dry."
"Good-evening," said the lady in the clock as she bowed.
"Good-evening," replied Panama. "It's a long time since we've seen you,
Madam. Have you come back to stay?" And one could detect anxiety in the
manner and speech.
"Oh, no! We are here just for the evening. We thought it would be
pleasant to step down and out for a little while. We were in the
portraits on the east parlor wall, you remember. When the wind gets in
the east we shall be obliged to go back." Then Panama began to cry; and
as fast as he cried he drank up his tears.
"I don't see what's got into the closets to make them talk so and act
so!" exclaimed Ruth. "They just seem bent on being disagreeable
to-night. And I thought we'd have such a nice time with them. They're a
discontented and complaining lot. I'm going to call 'Leghorn.'"
During this little talk the Judge's wife was lost in thought. Her chin
had dropped down upon her breast, and a far-away look appeared in her
eyes.
"Leghorn, Leghorn, come here!" shouted Ruth.
The children had given this name to the east-corner closet in Mrs.
"Judge's" bedroom. She used to keep her bonnets there. One of them was a
white, beautiful Leghorn, which cost more than twenty-five dollars. This
closet was full of shelves, and it proved very useful to the minister's
family.
"Good-evening," said the lady.
Leghorn looked up with surprise. He recognized her voice.
"How do you do? When did you come? What's the news?" Leghorn spoke in a
very familiar way; for he had always stayed close to the head of the
bed in the room, and overheard all the conversation between the Judge
and his wife. There was no better informed closet in the house than
Leghorn.
"You look quite cheerful," said the lady.
"Yes'm," he replied; "I keep very busy, and have really more than I can
'tend to. You know, we have a perfect crowd of girls here in the house,
and their hats just fill me up to the brim. Hear 'em fuss as I shake
'em." And as the folks in the clock listened they heard such a racket of
straw and such a shrill chirping that they were quite startled.
"Dear me, what is that queer noise?" inquired Mrs. "Judge." "Have you a
flock of birds inside of you?"
"Oh! I know what that is," explained Ruth. "I can hear it above the
rustling of the straw. It's all the birds we have had on our hats. They
are feeling so good. For we have joined the Audubon Society, and we
can't wear any more birds. How they flutter and sing, don't they?"
"You don't mean that you really wear whole birds on a hat or a bonnet,
do you?" One could tell from the way she spoke that the visitor was
horrified.
"Why, yes; and you ought to see folks come to church with them. I've
counted seventeen kinds of feathers and nine pieces of birds on the
girls and ladies while father was preaching his sermon. We've had a
bird-class here, you know, and I can tell a great deal about 'em. There
was a blackbird and there was a bluebird; and one lady had a hawk's
wing, and another a rooster's tail, and Elizabeth had the breast and
beak of a scarlet tanager, and Helen wore heron's feathers, and mother
had ostrich plumes; and you ought to see the beautiful plumage we took
from a wild turkey sent us from the West; and we put it on Susie's hat,
and it was just too lovely for anything. But we've all joined the
Audubon Society now, and can't kill any more birds or wear many
feathers."
"I'd like to join too," interrupted Leghorn. "I'm sick of birds in me.
They make such a noise, and keep me stirred up all the time, so I don't
get good sleep. I'm very nervous, but I'm quite happy."
"There, we've found one happy closet anyway," said Ruth. "You just sit
down here and make yourself comfortable."
"Darkest Africa next," shouted Ruth. This was another of the closets
connected with the down-stairs bedroom. He came stumbling and grumbling
along.
"What do you want?" he said in a grumpy, disagreeable way. "You've kept
me in the dark so long, I've lost the use of my windows."
"Well, you needn't be so cross about it," answered Ruth. "Don't you see
it's Mrs. 'Judge' that's come back to see you?"
"What? what?" cried Darkest Africa, rubbing his eyes and speaking in his
natural voice. "Where is she?"
"Why, up here in the clock, of course. Haven't you any sense?"
[Illustration]
"Oh, such a life as we're living!" he said, turning toward the visitor.
"You remember how you used to keep all your groceries in me, and how my
shelves were heavy with every good thing,--tea, coffee, spices, fruits,
and a thousand things. Well, now they've shut the blinds, and covered
the windows, and turned me into a photograph-room. It's very nasty. Bad
smells hang all about me. Stove-pipe, pans of dirty water, chemicals,
and I don't know what, make me very unhappy. And the children run
through your bedroom just as if it were a public street. Such goings on
you never did see. I want to leave this world."
"I'm ashamed of you to talk that way, Darkest Africa. You go out on the
piazza, and wait in the cold, too, until I call you. Such talk makes
Mrs. 'Judge' feel real bad." And this closet withdrew, still mumbling
about his troubles.
"I'm going to call three together now," said Ruth; "for the baby'll wake
up before we get through, if I don't hurry." The Judge had really sung
and whistled the baby to sleep; and there the good man sat on the edge
of a cog-wheel, holding the little fellow in his arms.
[Illustration]
"Come, 'Pride,' 'Vanity,' and 'Ophir,'" screamed Ruth. One of these
closets held the clothes of the older girls--that was Pride; Vanity was
filled with the many dresses of the younger girls; and Ophir was the
closet where the present family kept their small stock of valuables,
like jewelry, silverware, and family heirlooms. These three closets came
prancing down together, and they certainly felt good. It was Christmas
Eve, and they knew it, for they were running over with all sorts of
packages; their shelves were filled; their hooks were burdened with
garments; the very floors were piled high with stuff. Mrs. "Judge" did
not know them so well by night, for she hadn't visited them for many
years before her going away. She bowed to them, and they bowed to her;
but they kept their hands in their pockets.
"Why don't you say something?" It was Ruth's remark to them as they
stood in a row before the clock.
"We're waiting for you to say something first," was the reply.
"How do you feel?" This was by way of starting the conversation.
"We feel jolly. Don't you?" Mrs. "Judge" smiled. This was pleasant to
hear, and she was very cheerful. She could see thirty-seven or fifty
dresses. There were all sizes, colors, materials, and patterns. Their
brightness and variety fascinated her.
"Look here, my dear," she said, turning to her husband.
"I can't. I should wake the baby," and he smiled in a very happy,
dignified way.
"I'll call 'Morocco,' too," said Ruth. "There's plenty of room, and I
like to see them together."