THE next day it rained, so the party of friends
did not assemble as usual. The bear stayed
in his cave, sucking his paw, and listening to the
chatter of the squirrel, who came to spend the
day with him. The raccoon, after one look at
the weather, curled himself up in his tree-house
and went to sleep. As for the woodchuck, he
never woke up at all, for nobody came to wake
him, and he could not do it for himself.
Poor Toto was very disconsolate. He never
stayed indoors for an ordinary rain, but this was a
perfect deluge; so he stood by the window and
said, “Oh, dear! oh, _dear_!! oh, dear!!!” as if he
did not know how to say anything else.
His good grandmother bore this quietly for
some time; but at length she said, “Toto, do you
know what happened to the boy who said ‘Oh,
dear!’ too many times?”
“No!” said Toto, brightening up at the prospect
of a story. “What did happen to him? Tell
me, Granny, please!”
“Come and hold this skein of yarn for me,
then,” replied the grandmother, “and I will tell
you as I wind it.
“Once upon a time there was a boy—”
“What was his name?” interrupted Toto.
“Chimborazo,” replied the grandmother. “I
should have told you his real name in a moment,
if you had not interrupted me, but now I shall
call him Chimborazo, and that will be something
for you to remember.”
Toto blushed and hung his head.
“This boy,” continued the grandmother, “invariably
put the wrong foot out of bed first when
he got up in the morning, and consequently he
was always unhappy.”
“May I speak?” murmured Toto softly.
“Yes, you may speak,” said the old lady.
“What is it?”
“Please, grandmother,” said Toto, “which _is_ the
wrong foot?”
“Don’t you know which your right foot is?”
asked the grandmother.
“Why, yes, of course,” replied Toto.
“And do you know the difference between right
and wrong?”
“Why, yes, of course,” said Toto.
“Then,” said the grandmother, “you know
which the wrong foot is.
“As I was saying, Chimborazo was a very
unhappy boy. He pouted, and he sulked, and
he said, ‘Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear! oh,
dear!’ He said it till everybody was tired of
hearing it.
“‘Chimborazo,’ his mother would say, ‘please
don’t say, “Oh, dear!” any more. It is very
annoying. Say something else.’
“‘Oh, dear!’ the boy would answer, ‘I can’t!
I don’t know anything else to say. Oh, dear! oh,
_dear_!! oh, dear!!!’
“So one day his mother could not bear it any
longer, and she sent for his fairy godmother, and
told her all about it.
“‘Humph!’ said the fairy godmother. ‘I will
see to it. Send the boy to me!’
“So Chimborazo was sent for, and came, hanging
his head as usual. When he saw his fairy
godmother, he said, ‘Oh, dear!’ for he was rather
afraid of her.
“‘“Oh, dear!” it is!’ said the godmother
sharply; and she put on her spectacles and looked
at him. ‘Do you know what a bell-punch is?’
“‘Oh, dear!’ said Chimborazo. ‘No, ma’am, I
don’t!’
“‘Well,’ said the godmother, ‘I am going to
give you one.’
“‘Oh, dear!’ said Chimborazo, ‘I don’t want
one.’
“‘Probably not,’ replied she, ‘but that doesn’t
make much difference. You have it now, in your
jacket pocket.’
“Chimborazo felt in his pocket, and took out a
queer-looking instrument of shining metal. ‘Oh,
dear!’ he said.
“‘“Oh, dear!” it is!’ said the fairy godmother.
‘Now,’ she continued, ‘listen to me, Chimborazo!
I am going to put you on an allowance of “Oh,
dears.” This is a self-acting bell-punch, and it
will ring whenever you say “Oh, dear!” How
many times do you generally say it in the course
of the day?’
“‘Oh, dear!’ said Chimborazo, ‘I don’t know.
Oh, _dear_!’
“‘_Ting! ting!_’ the bell-punch rang twice sharply;
and looking at it in dismay, he saw two little
round holes punched in a long slip of pasteboard
which was fastened to the instrument.
“‘Exactly!’ said the fairy. ‘That is the way
it works, and a very pretty way, too. Now, my
boy, I am going to make you a very liberal allowance.
You may say “Oh, dear!” forty-five times
a day. There’s liberality for you!’
“‘Oh, dear!’ cried Chimborazo, ‘I—’
“‘_Ting!_’ said the bell-punch.
“‘You see!’ observed the fairy. ‘Nothing
could be prettier. You have now had three of
this day’s allowance. It is still some hours before
noon, so I advise you to be careful. If you exceed
the allowance—’ Here she paused, and
glowered through her spectacles in a very dreadful
manner.
“‘Oh, dear!’ cried Chimborazo. ‘What will
happen then?’
“‘You will see!’ said the fairy godmother, with
a nod. ‘_Something_ will happen, you may be very
sure of that. Good-by. Remember, only forty-five!’
And away she flew out of the window.
“‘Oh, dear!’ cried Chimborazo, bursting into
tears. ‘I don’t want it! I won’t have it! Oh,
_dear_! oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!!!’
“Good-by. Remember, only forty-five!”
“‘Ting! ting! ting-ting-ting-_ting_!’ said the bell-punch;
and now there were ten round holes in
the strip of pasteboard. Chimborazo was now
really frightened. He was silent for some time;
and when his mother called him to his lessons he
tried very hard not to say the dangerous words.
But the habit was so strong that he said them unconsciously.
By dinner-time there were twenty-five
holes in the cardboard strip; by tea-time there
were forty! Poor Chimborazo! he was afraid to
open his lips, for whenever he did the words would
slip out in spite of him.
“‘Well, Chimbo,’ said his father after tea, ‘I
hear you have had a visit from your fairy godmother.
What did she say to you, eh?’
“‘Oh, dear!’ said Chimborazo, ‘she said—oh,
dear! I’ve said it again!’
“‘She said, “Oh, dear! I’ve said it again!”’
repeated his father. ‘What do you mean by
that?’
“‘Oh, dear! I didn’t mean that,’ cried Chimborazo
hastily; and again the inexorable bell rang,
and he knew that another hole was punched in
the fatal cardboard. He pressed his lips firmly
together, and did not open them again except to
say ‘Good-night,’ until he was safe in his own
room. Then he hastily drew the hated bell-punch
from his pocket, and counted the holes in the strip
of cardboard; there were forty-three! ‘Oh,
_dear_!’ cried the boy, forgetting himself again
in his alarm, ‘only two more! Oh, _dear_! oh,
dear! I’ve done it again! oh—’ ‘Ting! ting!’
went the bell-punch; and the cardboard was
punched to the end. ‘Oh, dear!’ cried Chimborazo,
now beside himself with terror. ‘Oh, dear!
oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, _dear_!! what will become
of me?’
“A strange whirring noise was heard, then a loud
clang; and the next moment the bell-punch, as if
it were alive, flew out of his hand, out of the
window, and was gone!
“Chimborazo stood breathless with terror for a
few minutes, momentarily expecting that the roof
would fall in on his head, or the floor blow up
under his feet, or some appalling catastrophe of
some kind follow; but nothing followed. Everything
was quiet, and there seemed to be nothing
to do but go to bed; so to bed he went, and
slept, only to dream that he was shot through
the head with a bell-punch, and died saying, ‘Oh,
dear!’
“The next morning, when Chimborazo came
downstairs, his father said, ‘My boy, I am going
to drive over to your grandfather’s farm this morning;
would you like to go with me?’
“A drive to the farm was one of the greatest
pleasures Chimborazo had, so he answered promptly,
‘Oh, _dear_!’
“‘Oh, very well!’ said his father, looking much
surprised. ‘You need not go, my son, if you do
not want to. I will take Robert instead.’
“Poor Chimborazo! He had opened his lips to
say, ‘Thank you, papa. I should like to go _very_
much!’ and, instead of these words, out had
popped, in his most doleful tone, the now hated
‘Oh, dear!’ He sat amazed; but was roused by
his mother’s calling him to breakfast.
“‘Come, Chimbo,’ she said. ‘Here are sausages
and scrambled eggs; and you are very fond of
both of them. Which will you have?’
“Chimborazo hastened to say, ‘Sausages, please,
mamma,’—that is, he hastened to _try_ to say it;
but all his mother heard was, ‘Oh, _dear_!’
“His father looked much displeased. ‘Give the
boy some bread and water, wife,’ he said sternly.
‘If he cannot answer properly, he must be taught.
I have had enough of this “Oh, dear!” business.’
“Poor Chimborazo! He saw plainly enough
now what his punishment was to be; and the
thought of it made him tremble. He tried to ask
for some more bread, but only brought out his
‘Oh, _dear_!’ in such a lamentable tone that his
father ordered him to leave the room. He went
out into the garden, and there he met John the
gardener, carrying a basket of rosy apples. Oh!
how good they looked!
“‘I am bringing some of the finest apples up
to the house, little master,’ said John. ‘Will you
have one to put in your pocket?’
“‘Oh, _dear_!’ was all the poor boy could say,
though he wanted an apple, oh, so much! And
when John heard that he put the apple back in
his basket, muttering something about ungrateful
monkeys.
“Poor Chimborazo! I will not give the whole
history of that miserable day,—a miserable day it
was from beginning to end. He fared no better
at dinner than at breakfast; for at the second
‘Oh, dear!’ his father sent him up to his room,
‘to stay there until he knew how to take what
was given him, and be thankful for it.’ He knew
well enough by this time; but he could not tell his
father so. He went to his room, and sat looking
out of the window, a hungry and miserable
boy.
“In the afternoon his cousin Will came up to
see him. ‘Why, Chimbo!’ he cried. ‘Why do
you sit moping here in the house, when all the
boys are out? Come and play marbles with me on
the piazza. Ned and Harry are out there waiting
for you. Come on!’
“‘Oh, dear!’ said Chimborazo.
“‘What’s the matter?’ asked Will. ‘Haven’t
you any marbles? Never mind. I’ll give you
half of mine, if you like. Come!’
“‘Oh, dear!’ said Chimborazo.
“‘Well,’ said Will, ‘if that’s all you have to say
when I offer you marbles, I’ll keep them myself.
I suppose you expected me to give you all of
them, did you? I never saw such a fellow!’ and
off he went in a huff.
“‘Well, Chimborazo,’ said the fairy godmother,
‘what do you think of “Oh, dear!” now?’
“Touching his lips with her wand.”
“Chimborazo looked at her beseechingly, but
said nothing.
“‘Finding that forty-five times was not enough
for you yesterday, I thought I would let you have
all you wanted to-day, you see,’ said the fairy
wickedly.
“The boy still looked imploringly at her, but
did not open his lips.
“‘Well, well,’ she said at last, touching his lips
with her wand, ‘I think that is enough in the way
of punishment, though I am sorry you broke the
bell-punch. Good-by! I don’t believe you will
say “Oh, dear!” any more.’
“And he didn’t.”