enough for him to get into the room; but it was quite another thing for
him to move gracefully about the table, for China, you remember, was
thin, long, and rather narrow. But he managed to get to the Judge, and
drop a plate before him and the baby; and then he twisted around like a
snake, and got down to the end of the table, and dropped a plate before
Mrs. "Judge." Then he went from one child to another, and banged down a
plate before each one of them. After this was done, China stepped back
and stood by the side of Dublin, near the wall.
El Dorado came next. He brought the silver, and there was a fine display
of it. Beautiful knives and forks and spoons for every person in the
room, and ever so many little furnishings that helped to brighten the
table. How these things rattled and jumped and rang as they were tumbled
hither and thither into their rightful places. The children didn't have
to move a hand or a finger to put them in order. Every knife, fork,
spoon, salt-cellar, or other article seemed to know where to go, and got
there in less time than one could say "Jack Robinson." Then the silver
candlesticks from the mantle jumped over to the table, and took their
places with a good deal of brightness and sprightliness.
At this point the antique sideboard stepped close up to the table, and
rolled seventeen very thin cut-glass goblets upon the board. They made a
right merry sound as they jingled out their Christmas greetings.
"Don't let the baby have a goblet!" shouted Ruth. "He'd bite a piece
right out of it. That's what Elizabeth did when she was a baby, mother
says. Isn't it a wonder she didn't die?" But everybody was watching this
extraordinary way of setting the table, so that the child's remark fell
unnoticed. There was a most lively and musical ringing of bells at this
stage of the table setting. Turpentine came dancing into the room.
Turpentine was the closet in the Judge's study that had been used to
store the church-bells in. When the last wooden meeting-house had burned
they took the old bell, which rang for the last time the sad alarm of
fire on the memorable night, and they sent it away to be melted up and
made into five hundred little bells. There were dinner-bells and
tea-bells and call-bells and sleigh-bells and play-horse bells on lines,
and I don't know how many other kinds. Nearly all of these had been
sold, but thirty or forty remained in the closet. Turpentine came into
the room playing with these, and rolled one down in front of each person
at the table.
"How would you like to have the dinner served, Ruth?" inquired Mrs.
"Judge."
"Oh, served of course," she replied.
"Bells first course," shouted Samuel. The older children all snickered.
"I think you ought to call Turpentine 'Bells-ze-bub!'" Samuel whispered
to Helen. "See?" For by this time the children had all come to a
familiar footing with their visitors, and they were expressing
themselves with a good deal of freedom and having a right good time.
The Refrigerator entered the room now, and tramping heavily over to Mrs.
"Judge," swung open his door, and flung gracefully upon the table a big
dish of half-shells. No sooner were they placed where they belonged than
they began to roll about to the different plates, like a lot of marbles,
only they seemed to know how to divide themselves up so that every one
had a proper share. Then the Refrigerator dumped out another large dish
of something fresh and green; and this stuff sailed along the table, as
one sees seaweed float back and forth on the tide.
"I know what it is. They grow down by the brook. Caresses. Aren't they
nice and fresh?"
"Third course, caresses," shouted Samuel. And then he bent over and
kissed the girl next to his side; the Judge kissed the baby, Ruth kissed
Mrs. "Judge," and the rest of the children kissed each other.
"Awful sweet course!" exclaimed Henry. "Very much of it makes a fellow
sick."
This was followed by the entrance of the kitchen closet number one. A
fine brass kettle popped out upon the table. There was a great rattling
and clashing. Everybody tried to look into the bottom of it.
"That's a pretty kettle of fish," said Samuel, who was the first to get
a glance at the contents. And sure enough it was; for there were
seventeen tin fishes, such as you see floating around after a magnet on
some basin of water at Christmas time.
"Look out for bones," cried Herbert. "What next?" And then Vanity came
down-stairs, giggling and simpering, and passed something around.
"Crimps," said Ruth, "hot and steaming, straight from the irons." A very
strong odor of scorched hair pervaded the room.
"Goodness me, what a treat!" exclaimed Henry. "Give 'em to the girls.
They are fond of 'em." Kitchen closet number two came hurrying into the
room. China rushed forward with bowls which he had borrowed from the
bowling-alley; and each bowl was filled with bean porridge hot, bean
porridge cold, bean porridge in the pot nine days old.
"Here comes the spring chicken!" exclaimed Herbert, as the Refrigerator
distributed one spring with chicken attached.
"Do-nots for old-fashioned boys and girls," wheezed out Darkest Africa,
as he pushed his way into the room. The company was getting pretty
large, for all the closets had come. One stood behind each person at the
table, and the other forty-three were pressing against each other,
trying to see the table and hear the conversation, or do any little
waiting upon the merry party.
They were all busy eating, talking, drinking, having the best time in
all the world. There was an abundance of everything. I don't know what
all. But as the courses were brought on the Judge and his wife became a
little restless. They felt that the east wind was rising. And when the
clock struck twelve it was necessary for them to be back in the
pictures, whether there was any east wind or not. So there was some
confusion, considerable crowding, and a good deal of haste during the
latter part of the feast.
"I'm afraid the children will get dyspepsia, Judge," observed the
cautious lady. "The children are eating too fast. The closets are
bringing on too many things at a time."
"Time and tide wait for no man," replied the Judge, who had caught the
hilarity of the company, and was enjoying every moment of the fun. "I
wish to see this board cleared up before we clear out." Now, Mrs.
"Judge" was the least bit shocked at such undignified speech on the part
of her husband. But she knew he didn't mean any harm. He was only
entering into the spirit of the frolic. Yet she felt that he ought to
set an example of sober conversation, so that they would remember him
with the highest respect. The Judge, however, had a sense of humor that
could not be held altogether in check.
"I think we ought to have some toasts," said Samuel. "All in favor of
the nomination say, 'Dickery, dickery dock, the mouse ran up the clock,
the clock ran down, the mouse came down, dickery, dickery dock;' and
Samuel rose to propose the first toast. Kitchen closet number three came
forward, and put into his hand a nice, big toasting-fork. Flourishing
this about his head, and hitting Henry on the right ear with it, Samuel
lifted a goblet filled with hot air to his lips, and proposed the health
of the Judge and his wife. The applause was overwhelming. The children
clapped their hands, and lifted their voices on high. The dishes jumped
like mad. The bells rang so that you couldn't hear yourself think. The
closets creaked and groaned, and slammed their doors, and shook their
shelves, until it seemed that they must fall in pieces. The Judge
gathered his waterproof about him, pulled on his necktie for a moment,
cleared his throat, and then responded.
"Children and closets," he said. The children all rose and bowed, the
closets all turned around twice and stood on one corner. "This is in
some respects the greatest day of my life."
"You mean night, don't you, Judge?" interrupted Samuel.
"Oh! I beg pardon, night of my life. Correct, my son." He bowed
good-naturedly to the critic. "We haven't stayed in those portraits on
the east parlor wall for nothing all these years. We've been waiting for
such a time as this. I think the east wind is rising, and soon we shall
have to go back to our pictures; but I am glad to say that this is the
sort of family that I always had in mind when I built this house. It's
lonesome to live without children. This is a strange world. I have
observed generally that the people who want children don't have them.
And the people who have them don't always want them. And the people who
know the most about bringing them up are the people who never had any,
and never lived in a family of children when they were young. But I
really believe that one never gets much out of this world except it
comes to him through children. And now I hope that you will be such
children that when you grow to be men and women we shall not be ashamed
of you. My wife and I expect to stay in the portraits. We shall always
be on the watch for you and sometimes in the clock. There isn't anything
in the world that would give us such pleasure as to see you children
grow and become the best men and women in all the nation. I suppose you
have enough boys to make a foot-ball team, and enough girls to drain a
common pocket-book and spread it all over your backs; but you are going
to make something better than idlers and spendthrifts. Some of you will
take to one thing, and some to another, but you will all take to the
right. I expect to see you filling up the house with nice friends, going
off to college, and bringing back good company and great honors. By and
by you will all settle in life, and have homes of your own; but we shall
keep at home here on the wall, and look for your frequent visits. Ruth
has made me very happy. I'll tell you how. She has said some of the
things to me that people have said to her about me,--kind things, sweet
praises, words of happy remembrance. Now, I hope that you will live and
love in such a true way that when you get into a picture and stay a
hundred years, and then step down and out for a little while, people
will say just as noble things about you. 'Tis sweet to be remembered.
And I feel very anxious to do something for all you children. This is
the first time we ever kept Christmas. We're going to make you some
Christmas presents. But they shall be put in your stockings."
"I'll hang up my hip boots," interrupted Samuel.
"I'll hang up my golf stockings," exclaimed Henry.
"I'll hang my trousers; and you, Elizabeth, can hang your bicycle
bloomers." The Judge smiled, and waited a moment, and then continued.
"These presents are different from the ordinary gifts you receive.
You'll have plenty of candy and dolls and such things. We shall give you
things that you can always keep and carry with you. And they will be
worth more than money, in case you use them according to directions. And
remember that we give them because we have learned to love you, even if
we do live in pictures, and that we expect you will honor the house, the
people, and the State." The Judge swallowed a tear. "We never had boys
and girls to go out into the world to make their mark. Our two boys,"
and here the Judge's voice was feeble and trembling, and he stopped for
a moment and wiped away two or three tears, "Our boys were sick, and
after quite a good many years they went away forever. Children, I want
you to fill their places, and more. I expect that you will go out into
the world, and do so much good, and serve your country with such zeal
and wisdom, that people will by and by come here to see the house, and
say, 'This is where Samuel and Henry, George or Herbert, William,
Nathaniel, or the "Little Judge" lived, and were brought up.' Or 'This
was the childhood home of Elizabeth, Helen, Miriam, Theodora, Grace,
Ruth, Ethel, or Susie. I wonder who slept in that room, and if this was
the favorite window, and which one of the family planted this shrub or
vine or tree, and what was the best-loved play nook,' and all sorts of
questions. Don't you think it will be nice? And then my wife and I will
say, or try to say, or make them understand in some way, that you
belonged to us next to belonging to your parents, and that we guarded
the house day and night, for you know that in the picture we are always
awake; come into the east parlor at any hour of the twenty-four and we
always have our eyes open, and we know everything that is going on.
We'll make them understand that a part of the love and thanks they feel
belongs to us, and we shall be so happy, and when we meet again we
shall have so many things to tell each other. Now Ruth will see to the
presents, for we are not educated up to a belief in Santa Claus. Ruth
will"--Just at this point the clock began to strike twelve.
Now, the Judge and his wife were the most polite, really the
best-mannered people in all the world. But that striking of the clock
seemed to knock all the manners out of them. The Judge sprang from the
table quick as a flash, and in his haste turned the clothes-basket with
the "Little Judge" in it bottom side up. Mrs. "Judge" jumped up as spry
as a girl, and ran toward the Judge, who grabbed her by the hand, and
pushed her hard against the closets in the way, and struggled to get
into the hall.
[Illustration]
There was the greatest confusion imaginable in the house. The children
were all hitting the dishes, scattering the silver, overturning the
goblets, tumbling over the chairs. The closets all made a rush for the
door, and jammed themselves so close together that Samuel and Henry had
to raise the front windows, and jump out on the piazza, and climb in at
the parlor windows, and the other children followed them pell-mell.
There was the greatest noise you ever heard in a house. The clock
sounded with terrific strikes. The front door-bell, the dinner-bell, and
all the other bells rang an alarm. Things in the closets seemed breaking
themselves to pieces or going into fits. The piano roared and shrieked
like a hurricane. Every board and brick and nail and bit of glass,
metal, or wood squeaked or rattled. The very carpets shook with dust and
fear. And then, as the children caught a glimpse of the Judge and his
wife back again in the portraits, the clock struck the twelfth stroke,
the lights all went out, the children were back in bed, and silence
reigned throughout the old mansion.
V.
STOCKINGS
FILLED
WITH
MUSIC,
RAINBOWS,
SENSE,
BACKBONE,
SUNSETS,
IMPULSES,
GOLD SPOON, IDEALS, SUNSHINE,
STAR, MANTLE, FLOWERS,--AND
THE LIKE QUEER STUFF.
V.
STOCKINGS FILLED WITH MUSIC, RAINBOWS, SENSE,
BACKBONE, SUNSETS, IMPULSES, GOLD SPOON, IDEALS,
SUNSHINE, STAR, MANTLE, FLOWERS,--AND THE LIKE QUEER
STUFF.
RUTH was the only one left awake in the house. And it was very lonesome
for her. But she had promised to distribute the presents. Mrs. "Judge"
told her that the man in the moon would bring them at twelve o'clock,
and that he would put them in Turpentine.
Ruth didn't like to go into the Judge's old study, but that was where
she would find Turpentine; so she ran and got the baby, who had red
hair, and served the purpose of a light, and then she bravely went into
the far away part of the parsonage. She took Satan, the cat, because his
eyes were like coals of fire, and helped to drive away the darkness; and
she had Turk for company's sake. The baby was soon astride his back,
crowing like a good fellow.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
When they got into the old study the light shone right through the door
that led into Turpentine. It frightened Ruth. She thought the house
might be on fire. But the door swung open of itself; and she and the
baby, Satan and Turk, all entered. The little room was a blaze of glory.
She had to put her hands up to her eyes and shade them, because the
light was so strong. It all came from a row of packages arranged on the
shelves. And such a wonderful, mysterious, lovely sight you never saw.
The packages were various shapes and sizes. They were all done up in
nothing with greatest care, and each was tied with a narrow piece of
something or other. Several packages had strings of blue sky around
them, ending in curious bows. Three packages were tied with real little
rainbows. They were beautiful objects. The rest of them had sunsets
twisted about them, gorgeous colors streaming from them in all
directions. Do you wonder that Ruth's eyes were dazzled?
A singular thing about the packages was, that being done up in nothing,
and bound with such tenuous and transparent stuff as blue sky, sunsets,
and rainbows, one could see straight through these coverings and
fastenings, and gaze upon the beautiful things within. Each present had
a label of light above it. For instance, there were the shining letters,
S,A,M,U,E,L, worked upon the background of darkness over the present for
Samuel. The letters seemed to hover above the package just as you see
light hover above children's heads in some pictures of the old masters.
So it was very easy for Ruth to pick out the different gifts, and put
them where they belonged. There were seventeen of them. One for each
child, one for the minister, and one for his wife.
"How nice to remember father and mother!" said Ruth to the dog, the cat,
and the baby. "I never thought of that. Now, how shall I carry them?"
For she felt that she would like to show them to the Judge and his wife.
So she raised the window that connected this closet with the parlor, and
taking each gift, carried it to the piano, and arranged the whole show
where Mr. and Mrs. "Judge" might see it from the pictures. The baby,
Turk, and Satan watched her while she made the change. The parlor was
warm; and just as soon as she brought the marvellous presents into the
room, every nook and cranny was a perfect splendor of brightness. "Dear
me!" exclaimed the child, "I must go up-stairs and get some colored
glasses or I shall lose my eyesight." She was gone and back again in one
minute and thirteen seconds. The green goggles gave her a wise and aged
appearance, and she seemed to feel the importance of the occasion.
"Here are the presents, Judge." She was now addressing the pictures.
"They are just too sweet for anything. How nice it is that I don't have
to undo any of them, but can look right straight through their covers,
and see what's in every package!" The Judge and his wife were both wide
awake, taking in every word that Ruth spoke.
"Now, what is this for Samuel? A flower, I do believe. He can wear it in
his buttonhole. Oh, how sweet and beautiful it is! The house seems full
of its sweetness. I love it." Ruth bent over to kiss the airy, fragile
thing. "Why, here's a name under it, and a sentence. Did you write it
Judge?" And the picture seemed to nod as much as to say "Yes."
"Courtesy." "To be worn all one's waking hours. It will make the wearer
welcome."
The next package was shaped round like a ball. The bow on it was blue
sky. "It looks to me like a--what is it you call it, when you look into
a mirror? Oh! I've got it. It's a reflection. Now, that must be for
Helen. Yes, I see her name in fine letters of flame above. H,E,L,E,N.
You didn't send the curls, did you?" Ruth looked anxiously at Mrs.
"Judge." "I suppose you thought that as Helen was going to write a book
she needed reflection more than the curls."
The third package was long. The thing within was long, and it looked
like nothing that one had ever seen.
"What can it be?" said Ruth to herself. As she took it and felt of it,
she found that it was sensitive, yet quite firm. The object was pure
white, not a spot or wrinkle on it. The floating label above the package
spelled out the letters H,E,R,B,E,R,T. Ruth read the name. "That can't
be backbone. It's too light for that. And yet how strong it is. How in
the world can he ever get that inside of him where it belongs?" The
fourth package was about seven inches in length, rather narrow, and
larger at one end than the other. "I do believe it's a spoon," shouted
Ruth. "It must be for Theodora. They've found her gold spoon, and sent
it to her. And yet it doesn't look like gold. How funny! When I feel of
it I don't feel of anything. It isn't so pretty as I thought it would
be. It has a kind of dull look. But how much better one feels to hold
it." Ruth had taken the curious object in her hand, and was putting it
up to her lips, and going through various motions with it. "Here is some
writing. The spoon is marked. What big letters they are! Theodora hasn't
all those initials. C,O,N,T,E,N,T,M,E,N,T. Well, that beats me. But I
suppose she'll know what it means."
The child now picked up her own present. They all seemed so bright and
wonderful that she had forgotten to choose her own first. Ruth's package
had a great many sides to it. Every color imaginable appeared on the
surface. It was tied with several little rainbows, and there were ever
so many streamers and rosettes upon it. She saw her name above; and she
saw some letters printed into the leaves of the flower, for it was a
lovely, shining little blossom that was contained within her package. It
seemed to her that all the colors of all the rainbows in the sky had
been woven into this matchless posey. There were nine leaves to it, and
each leaf was made up of half a dozen shades of one or another color.
And then on each leaf there was distinctly seen a letter done in diamond
embroidery; so that the light which shot forth from such delicate
tracery was almost as bright as the sun. One leaf had S, a second E, a
third N, a fourth T, a fifth I, a sixth M, a seventh E, an eighth N, and
the ninth and last T. Ruth spelled it out carefully. S,E,N,T,--here she
paused and thought a moment. "Why, to be sure!" she exclaimed; "it has a
very sweet scent. I think it smells quite as good as Samuel's. But I
told you, you remember" (she was now addressing the pictures), "that
father said I needed sense. I'm afraid he'll say that one 'sent' isn't
enough." Then she continued her spelling. "I, MENT. Well, now, isn't
that queer? 'I meant.'" She repeated it several times. "I meant cent.
Were you trying to correct me, Judge? When I said sense did I mean (what
is it they call it), oh, singular, not plural? Everybody says I've got a
great deal of imagination, but I lack (father says sense but that isn't
what I mean now)--I lack."... And then Ruth looked at the flower again;
and spelled the word, and spoke it aloud. "'SENTIMENT,' that's it.
Sentiment. I know what it is. I shall certainly be a poet. They all say
so. Thank you, dear Judge and Mrs. 'Judge.' I'm going to begin to-morrow
and write poetry. I feel as if I could write some now. But I must go
through the presents and put them in the children's stockings first." So
Ruth put down her package of "Sentiment," and examined the other gifts.
She took the one marked H,E,N,R,Y into her hands, and the room was
filled with the most heavenly music. The package was the shape of a
cylinder. It had a transparent cylinder within it. And this cylinder
was written all over with strange characters, exactly as you see or feel
on the cylinder of a graphophone. Only it didn't seem to be made of
anything, and when Ruth took the object into her hands it was like
holding a pinch of air. It appeared to run of its own accord. Ruth was
enchanted with the melodies. They made her think of everything good "in
the heavens above, and in the earth beneath, and in the waters under the
earth." She was so happy that she cried. Every tear that she dropped
went into the machine, and made the music all the sweeter. Then she read
the words under the package. "Music in the soul;" and she felt as if it
were really stealing into her, and as if it were impossible to keep it
there, and she must let this music in the soul go in every direction.
"Isn't this lovely!" she exclaimed. "I never dreamed music in the soul
was so sweet. Why Henry'll be the happiest boy in all the world."
Ruth then took into her hands a heart-shaped package. It was tied up
with a sunset that was gorgeous with a great many shades of red. "I
know what's inside that package without looking," she said. Although of
course she had looked, and seen the form of the present, and noted the
colors used in tying it up. "That's a heart; and it's for George. Isn't
it cunning? Why, what a little thing it is? and it's soft. Will this
make George soft-hearted and tender-hearted and good-hearted? I hope so.
It's real nice of you to send it."