"Something'll have to be done," said Merry; and he put his elbows on the
table, and dropped his chin into his palms.
Beside Merry's elbows stood the remains of a very scanty breakfast. The
remains were scanty too, consisting of a single roasted potato, a dish
of salt, and a bit of bread. This was all the food there was in the
little brown house by the creek where America Andrew and his mother
lived. The rent, too, was a whole quarter in arrears, and Mr. Colley,
their landlord, was beginning to screw up his lips and frown whenever he
met them.
So, with all this in mind, it was small wonder that Merry, with his
elbows on the table and his chin in his palms, decided "Something'll
have to be done!"
"Yes," said Mrs. Andrew, looking into Merry's bright face which poverty
had not been able to make a whit less plump or rosy, as if in hopes to
catch a gleam of sunshine there.
Merry saw this, for he smiled a brave, bright smile back into his
mother's faded blue eyes and care-worn face.
"Now don't you worry, mother. Summer's coming right along. Folks will be
wanting their yards cleaned up. Mrs. Quipp told me last night, you know,
if I'd clean hers up she'd have Mr. Quipp give credit for twenty-five
cents on the grocery account. I'll go now, and I'll bring you half--the
biggest half--of my dinner, sure."
With that Merry left a kiss on his mother's cheek, for he hadn't got
over showing that he loved her very dearly, and trudged away up the
hill, whistling "Bonnie Dundee" in his own merry way.
When he had left the gate a little way behind he heard the whistle of
the down train, and it occurred to him that he would go round by way of
the station and see if there wasn't a portmanteau to carry for somebody.
There was not much hope of it, since the occasional stranger which the
on-going train dropped into the sleepy old town usually preferred to
carry his own luggage. But to-day, strange to relate, a gentleman stood
on the platform with a large portmanteau in one hand, and a still larger
valise in the other.
"Hello, my man!" he called; "can you give me a lift?"
"Yes, sir," answered Merry, shouldering the portmanteau and trying to
appear as if carrying large packages were an every-day affair with him.
This one, however, happened to be very heavy, even for its size, and he
shifted it once or twice uneasily. The strange gentleman looked down at
him with a quizzical twinkle, which Merry did not see.
"Don't do that again," said a very small voice from the interior of the
portmanteau. "I've got feelings as well as other folks."
"Eh?" ejaculated Merry, gazing about in wide-eyed amazement.
"Yes, I have," pursued the small voice; "and I've a mind to punch your
head for banging me so."
Merry gave a little gasp, and stopped. He put the portmanteau down
gently, so astonished that he could not speak, because he never in all
his life had heard a ventriloquist, and this Professor Wagner happened
to be a remarkably good one.
"Well?" said the Professor, with an inquiring smile.
"I--I can't carry it," stammered Merry.
Professor Wagner laughed until his deep-set blue eyes were twinkling
like stars on a frosty night.
"Never mind," said he; "Jack sha'n't trouble you any more; so pick up
the portmanteau again, my lad. I show here to-night. Haven't you seen
the bills?"
Merry, taking up his load, began to understand. He had seen the bills.
"Was it you, sir?" he asked, doubtfully.
"I think it was," answered the Professor, who was a very kind, genial
gentleman. When they reached the hotel the Professor gave Merry a silver
quarter. Then he said, with a laugh, "I think you've earned something
more;" and he took from his pocket two sky-blue complimentary tickets.
"Bring your mother, if she'll come," said he.
But Merry's mother shook her head at sight of the sky-blue tickets; and
it was little Jack Hennessey whom one of them carried into enchanted
land--little Jack, who might otherwise as well have wished for a trip to
the moon.
How funny and fine it all was! How Merry held his breath, and clapped
his hands, and laughed aloud, by turns, in his excitement, to see his
friend the Professor pick eggs by the dozen from Mr. Colley's hat; and
follow the eggs with feathers enough for a bed; and send Mr. Quipp's
watch into Deacon Wilson's pocket, to the great discomfiture of the
Deacon, and the great enjoyment of everybody else; and perform all
manner of impossible feats with the ease of a veritable magician! And to
cap the climax of his delight, Merry heard again the small voice which
had spoken to him from the portmanteau--only now it was the very gruff
voice of a very sleepy landlord whom the Professor was vainly trying to
arouse.
Oh, it was wonderful! and Merry rehearsed it so faithfully to his mother
that she declared it was much better than seeing it herself with not
half the trouble. And he went over it all again in dreams, and his mind
was still full of it when he ran up to the hotel next morning to carry
the Professor's portmanteau to the station. The Professor, walking along
beside him, and looking down at Merry's face, laughed to see the
unfeigned admiration in the black eyes.
"Why don't you get up something of the sort," he asked, "and ask the
boys round five cents a-piece to go in? I used to earn a good many dimes
that way when I was a youngster." And when they reached the station, and
found that the train was not in, the Professor emphasized his advice by
one or two simple lessons in sleight-of-hand. "Now all you need is
practice on that," said he. "Here's my train. Good-by. Be a good boy,
and take care of your mother." And that was the last of Professor
Wagner.
But it wasn't the last of the Professor's idea, which grew and grew
until it filled Merry's head completely, and ran over at his lips when
he stopped to expend the precious thirty-five cents at Mr. Quipp's
counter on his way home. And Mr. Quipp, who might not have been
altogether disinterested, said:
"You'd better tidy up my place overhead, Merry, and use that for your
fandango. I've been wantin' it cleared out this good while."
Well, I haven't space to tell you of all the doings in all the days that
followed--how Merry, after having obtained his mother's consent to a
trial of his project, went to work with Jack Hennessey and one or two
other boys; how he soon became well skilled in a few simple
sleight-of-hand performances; how Mr. Quipp's place was tidied up, and a
little platform arranged at one end, after the Professor's model; how at
length the boy public came to understand, by means of an immense placard
printed in burnt cork, that Merry Andrew would give an entertainment, to
include speeches, recitations, sleight-of-hand tricks, and
ventriloquism, in Mr. Quipp's chamber, on the night of April 1; that the
admission price would be five cents for boys, and ten cents for grown
folks, and that if anybody _was not satisfied he should have his money
back_.
Everybody was interested, for Merry was well liked by everybody in town;
and when the first night of April came, there were not a few people in
the little room over Mr. Quipp's shop.
Merry's heart jumped into his throat, choking him, and bringing the
tears to his eyes, when he stood on the little platform behind the lamp
which Mr. Quipp had loaned for the occasion. But he went bravely through
with his simple performances--with the ring trick, and the magic coin
trick, in which a big copper could never be found when looked for, but
turned up in the most unexpected places. Then there were speeches, some
funny and some otherwise. Then there was more sleight-of-hand. And how
everybody laughed when Merry, having gained a great deal of courage,
borrowed Mr. Colley's hat, and pulled out of it a pair of stockings, a
bunch of feathers, a green silk handkerchief, and several other things.
The entertainment was pretty well concluded, but on the platform was a
box, bottom up, not more than eight inches high, but perhaps twice eight
inches square. Upon this box Merry, his eyes shining with excitement,
knocked.
"Hello, Jack," said he.
"What do you want?"
How everybody started, and leaned forward, and stared at everybody else
then!
"I want my cat," said Merry.
"I ain't got yer cat."
"Yes you have. Hear that?" and Merry turned triumphantly to his
audience, as there sounded an unmistakable "Me-ow."
"I tell you that boy's a genius," whispered Mr. Colley, excitedly, to
Mr. Quipp. "He might make a fortune. He beats Wagner all to pieces."
The mock dialogue went briskly on; and Merry's eyes sparkled as his
demand for his cat grew more and more eager, and Jack's refusal grew
more and more decided, and the cat added her voice to the general
tumult, and the whole small audience got upon its feet with a rustling,
excited murmur, and at last--
"You're a coward," cried Merry, with a great deal of make-believe anger.
"Take it up, if you dare."
Quick as a flash away went the box, and out popped, like a veritable
Jack-in-the-box, the head and shoulders of Jack Hennessey, who, getting
very much in earnest, had forgotten his part, and let his temper run
away with him.
"Take yer cat, then!" he cried, and he pulled a big black cat up through
the hole in the platform, where he was standing, and flung her at Merry.
And then, because his temper had suddenly cooled, he doubled himself
into his place again; but not before the murmur had grown into a
rushing, roaring shout, which threatened to carry Mr. Quipp's roof
completely away. And somebody called out, "Fraud!"
"It isn't fraud," cried Merry, in his loudest tone. "Jack was going to
show himself, though not so soon. It was only for fun and an April-fool.
That's why I said I'd pay back if anybody wanted me to."
But nobody wanted him to. The first day of April was a day of jokes in
Cherrythorpe. Even Mrs. Quipp, who was old enough to know better, had
given Mr. Quipp cornmeal mustard on his boiled beef for dinner; and Mrs.
Deacon Wilson had treated her family to a baked saw-dust pudding.
And Merry--surely Merry had fooled them all with his "Jack" and his cat.
"How about that fortune Merry's going to make, eh, neighbor?" cried Mr.
Quipp, clapping Mr. Colley's shoulder. "Well, well, I don't say he won't
do it some day."
Mr. Quipp was right. The little store of dimes and half-dimes helped
Merry and his mother over the hard places and into smoother ways. And
years after, when Merry's industry and genial ways had carried him
through school, and made him a great business man, the day came when the
people of the State in which he lived called him "Governor Andrew."