Madame Bonnet's shop was so small that if you hadn't known it was there
you might easily have walked past it and never seen it at all.
It was one story high, with a low front door, and panes of glass in the
one window so tiny that it was difficult to see the wares that Madame
Bonnet had for sale. But if you shut one eye and pressed the other close
to the glass, you were well repaid for your trouble, for Madame Bonnet
kept a toy shop the like of which was not to be found anywhere, though
you traveled the world over in search of it.
It was not that the shop was large, because it wasn't. It was not that
Madame Bonnet had many toys for sale, because she hadn't. But the
children said you could buy at Madame Bonnet's what you couldn't buy
anywhere else. And though the grown people sometimes stated, and perhaps
truly, that Madame Bonnet hadn't bought a penny's worth of new stock in
twenty-five years, the children were well satisfied, and no doubt that
is the true test of a toy shop, after all.
"Oh, Phil," cried Susan, pressing one eye against the window, "do look
at the china doll carriage, and the little doll's lamp with a pink shade
and all, and that beautiful pair of vases that would just go on the
mantel in my doll's house. I mean if I had a doll's house," added Susan
truthfully.
But Phil, twisting and turning and almost standing on his head, was
calling out:
"Look at the china boy rowing in the boat--with all his bundles, too.
What do you think is in them, Susan? Do tell me. What is in that yellow
striped bundle? What do you think is in that one?"
"Something for him to eat, I guess," said Susan sensibly. "Let's go
inside and look around."
Madame Bonnet was comfortably knitting in the rear of the shop, and
didn't think of getting up to wait upon her customers.
"Well, Susan Whiting," said she, gazing at the children over her
spectacles. "How do you do? Is your grandmother well? And so your
grandfather is going to call by for you. I suppose he came in to the
Court-House on business. And this is the little boy who has come to live
next door to you, is it? Well, my dears, I hope you will find something
you like here. Just walk around, and if you want to know about anything
bring it to me. My knee has been so bad with rheumatism that I don't get
up if I can help it."
And Madame Bonnet returned to her knitting, apparently forgetting the
children, who walked about on tiptoe eyeing the toys and handling
everything within reach.
Madame Bonnet had been born and brought up in the town of Green Valley
and had never journeyed farther away than fifty miles. People were
somewhat surprised, therefore, when, one fine day, the girl they had
always known as Mary Bonnet had opened her little shop, and had raised
over the front door a sign which boldly read, "Madame Bonnet."
"There is French blood in me somewhere, I'm sure," said she. "And I
don't see why I shouldn't call myself 'Madame,' if I like."
And now that Madame Bonnet was an old lady with white hair and
spectacles, most people had forgotten that she had ever borne any other
name.
"Phil," said Susan, standing entranced before a low shelf, "won't you
come and look at this doll?"
In the center of a large square of cardboard was sewed a bisque doll,
whose long flaxen braid hung over one shoulder and reached to the tips
of her dimpled toes. Surrounding her, also sewed on the card, was her
wardrobe, consisting of a pink dress, a pink hat, and a pair of pink kid
boots, a similar costume in blue, a Red Riding Hood cape, and a green
silk umbrella.
Susan fairly held her breath before this vision of loveliness. But Phil
was spellbound at the other end of the shop--and no wonder.
In a long glass tube, full of water, was a little red imp, even to horns
and tail, and, instructed by Susan how to press upon the rubber top,
Phil soon learned to make the imp execute a gay dance or move slowly up
and down in his narrow, watery prison.
"Come along," urged Susan, tugging at Phil's arm. "There are lots more
things to see. Look at this little piano. It has four
keys--_tink-a-link-a-link_! And here's a swimming boy--how pretty he
is!" And Susan carefully lifted the light little figure, who lay with
rosy hands and feet outstretched all ready for a splash.
"I like the animals."
And Phil paused before a table laden with small trays on each of which
reposed a family of tiny bisque animals. There sat demure Mrs. Pussy and
her five tortoise-shell kittens. Four timid little lambs huddled close
to the Mother Sheep as if asking protection from a herd of big gray
elephants, who, in turn, trumpeted silently with upturned trunks, at the
disgrace of being placed next a placid family of black-and-white pigs.
There were ducks and chickens, camels and donkeys, cows and
horses--sitting, standing, and lying side by side in a peaceful and
united frame of mind not often to be met with in this world.
Phil carried a tray of fat snub-nosed little animals back to Madame
Bonnet to find out what they were.
"Land sakes!" exclaimed Madame Bonnet. "Don't you know what they are?
They're dogs, pug dogs. Didn't you ever see one? Susan, didn't you ever
see a pug dog? Well, I don't know as they are as common as they used to
be. Ladies used to like them for pets." And Madame Bonnet shook her head
over the way times had changed since she was a girl.
The children wandered round and round, entranced afresh at each table
and shelf.
There was a small wooden clock, like the timepiece in Susan's kitchen at
home, whose pendulum swung gayly to and fro if only you helped it a
little with your finger. There were dolls' hats made by Madame Bonnet
herself, that varied in style from a knitted tam-o'-shanter to a strange
turban-like affair with a jaunty chicken feather in the top. There was
sheet after sheet of paper dolls that surely belonged to the days of
long ago, for the ladies wore their hair in a way that Grandmother would
have recognized as a waterfall, and the little girl dolls had droll
pantalettes hanging below their skirts.
There was a beautiful sawdust and china doll, whose wavy black china
hair was piled high upon her head, whose strapped china boots gracefully
took "first position" when she was held upright, and whose rosy lips
smiled sweetly in spite of the fact that her bright green silk dress was
neatly pasted on, so that it wouldn't come off, no matter what the
emergency. Perhaps the fancy gilt paper trimming on dolly's frock kept
her cheerful. Perhaps Susan's open admiration warmed her chilly little
china heart and helped her to forget any discomfort she might suffer.
At any rate, Susan passed reluctantly from her side to view the doll's
furniture, and there she entered into such a delightful wilderness of
chairs, beds, tables, and sofas as would be difficult to describe.
Parlor sets with red and blue velvet trimmings; bedroom sets quite
complete, down to the cradle rocking comfortably away beside the
mother's big bed; rocking-chairs; baby's high chair; a bookcase filled
with tiny paper books; a stove with lids that really lifted off.
"Oh, I can't go home!" cried Susan, when Grandfather opened the door
and, stooping low to save his head, came into the shop.
"Five minutes more," said Grandfather, as he sat down for a little talk
with his old friend Madame Bonnet.
"Oh, Phil, only five minutes more." And in that five minutes Susan flew
around like a distracted hen, making up her mind what her purchase
should be.
Phil had been absorbed for some time in a pile of paper books with gay
red-and-white pictured covers, and he now came forward with his
selection. "The Story of Naughty Adolphus," read Grandfather, and gazed
with interest upon the picture of Adolphus, to whom "naughty" seemed a
mild word to apply. For not only was Adolphus dancing up and down in a
fit of temper, and all but striking his meek and shrinking little nurse
who stood terror stricken close by; but it was very evident that
Adolphus refused to have his hair brushed, his face washed, or finger
nails trimmed. All this the picture showed quite plainly, and innocent
Phil gazed at it with a virtuous air, for, in his worst moments, he felt
sure he had never even approached "Naughty Adolphus."
"It looks interesting," announced Grandfather soberly. "I think you've
made a good choice. Susan, are you ready?"
"Look," murmured Susan, faint with admiration. "Look what I've found."
It was a white china egg, and, lifting off the top, there lay a little
dolly, as snug as could be.
"It's beautiful," said Susan. And bold with gratitude, she stood on
tiptoe and placed a kiss upon Madame Bonnet's wrinkled cheek.
"Well!" said Madame Bonnet, taken aback for the moment, but liking it
nevertheless. "If I had a good knee I'd step down cellar for a bottle of
my raspberry vinegar to treat you all. How are your knees, Mr. Whiting?"
"Young as a boy's," returned Grandfather, rubbing them as he spoke. "But
here's Parson Drew. Suppose we let him step down. He doesn't know that
he has any knees."
So Parson Drew, as fond as Susan of raspberry vinegar, obligingly
"stepped down cellar," and brought up a tall rosy bottle the contents of
which, under Madame Bonnet's careful eye, he poured into thin little
glasses with a gold band about the top.
"Well," said Grandfather, after he had actually turned the bottle upside
down to prove to Susan and Phil that there was not a single drop left in
it, "I'm afraid the time has come for us to go."
And after many good-byes and messages for Grandmother, the party moved
toward the door.
Parson Drew led the way, and, as he opened the door, something from
outside, with a clatter and clash, darted into the shop, whirled down
the aisle, and subsided with a jangle into a dark corner at the back of
the store.
Madame Bonnet, completely forgetting her bad knee, mounted her chair in
a twinkling and stood holding her skirts about her feet, calling--
"Help! Help! Help!"
Susan, clutching tight to her eggshell baby, tried to climb up into
Grandfather's arms, while Phil, making himself as small as possible, hid
under a convenient table.
Grandfather was peering into the dark corner where the clattering
object, now silent and motionless, could be faintly seen.
Suddenly Grandfather put back his head and laughed.
"It's a cat," said he; "a poor forlorn little gray cat. And we were all
afraid of a cat."
He gave a second look, and then he spoke in a different tone.
"Tut, tut, tut," said Grandfather, as if he were angry.
He gently moved toward the trembling pussy, but before Madame Bonnet
could step down from her chair or Phil come out from under the table, in
from the street walked Mr. Drew, whom no one had missed until now. He
held by the coat-collar a freckled, red-headed boy, and he was pushing
him along in no very gentle way.
"This is the boy who did the deed," said Mr. Drew, and he sounded angry
in the same way Grandfather did. "I thought I would catch him enjoying
his fun if I stepped outside, and, sure enough, there he was, doubled up
with laughter and slapping himself on the knee at the joke. A fine
joke," added Mr. Drew, giving the boy a little shake, "a fine
joke--tormenting a poor cat."
"The other boys were in it, too," whined the culprit, squirming, "only
they ran away."
"That doesn't excuse you," answered Mr. Drew sternly. "I have a notion
to tie the tin can on you. 'It's only for a joke,' you know. That is
what you told me."
"No, no," whimpered the boy, jerking and twisting about. "Let me go.
I'll give you five cents if you do. I'll give you ten cents if you let
me go." And he pulled from his pocket a handful of coins and held them
out on his grimy palm.
"Is it yours?" asked Mr. Drew. "Is it your money?"
The boy nodded.
"Good!" said Mr. Drew. "Then I'll take it." And he coolly slipped the
coins into his pocket.
"Now," said he to the boy, tightening his grip on his collar, "you come
with me, and we will spend this money on a treat for poor pussy. And you
shall watch her enjoy it, too."
When Mr. Drew returned with his unwilling companion, he found Madame
Bonnet composedly knitting in her chair, the rest of the group eyeing
pussy, still motionless in her corner.
"Now, Tim," said Parson Drew cheerfully, to his sulky, red-haired
friend, "you shall have the pleasure of giving pussy the milk and the
cat-meat which you bought for her with your money."
Tim silently spread the feast and retreated a few steps.
"Come, puss, puss," encouraged Madame Bonnet in her comfortable voice,
"drink your milk."
And pussy timidly put out her pink tongue and drank the milk thirstily.
"You needn't be afraid to leave her to me," observed Madame Bonnet to
Grandfather, who was looking at his watch. "I like a cat, when I know
it's a cat and not a whirlwind. I'll take off the can when she is more
used to me, and I'll keep her here a bit till I find her a home."
Outside the shop, the party halted once more.
"Don't play any more tricks like this, will you, Tim?" asked Mr. Drew.
"And shake hands."
Tim nodded and thrust out his hard little hand. He grinned cheerfully up
at Mr. Drew, and was off down the street, whistling shrilly between his
fingers as he ran.
"When I get home," confided Susan in Grandfather's ear, as she sat on
his lap on the homeward ride, "I'm going to tell Snowball all about it,
and about that bad boy, and then I guess she will be glad that she has
lost her tail. Don't you?"