THE FAIR.
Poor Charlie! His life did not seem to him to be altogether agreeable.
Being fat and good-natured, the boys were rather disposed to pick on him.
Then a standing vexation at school was his arithmetic. In addition to
these things, he had a special trouble one day to grieve him. His class
was reading a selection called the "Miller." The teacher, Mr. Armstrong,
permitted the members of the class to remain in their desks and there
read. Charlie abused this privilege by clapping his head below his desk,
and while the boys in another part of the room were reading, he was doing
his best to pack away a corn-ball.
"Time enough," he had concluded, "before it is my time to read, to have
something good to pay for my old arithmetic."
His mouth was full of corn-ball and preparing itself to take in more, when
his teacher, watching the long detention of Charlie's head in such a
humble posture, and suspicious of the real reason, stole softly up behind
Charlie and, looking over his shoulder, was puzzled to decide whether the
corn-ball was going into Charlie or he into the corn-ball. He quietly
stole back to his desk and there abruptly shouted, "Macomber, you may read
about the 'Miller' at once."
The shot struck. Charlie bounded up in great confusion, his month full of
corn-ball!
"Hold, Macomber!" said the master, in a very sarcastic way. "It must be
evident to you that a man cannot successfully read about the grinding of
corn, and yet be grinding corn in his mouth at the same time." Then he
broke out into a roar, "Stand out in the floor! You may do any further
grinding there. Stop after school, also!"
Unfortunate Charlie! When he went home at a late hour Aunt Stanshy was
disposed to rebuke him for his tardiness. This was too much for Charlie.
He broke out into a whimper: "I think I have a sad life, only scoldings at
home and scoldings and arithmetic at school."
"O, no!" said Aunt Stanshy, soothingly, guessing that the little fellow
had had some trouble that day, and had been sufficiently punished for any
fault; "O, no! not so bad as that! Haven't you a pleasant home?"
"Yes--you--you are kind, I know, real kind."
"Well, don't think any thing more about it. Here is a big piece of mince
pie."
He had not eaten more than one half of his lunch when he felt very much
comforted, and the outside world brightened very perceptibly. To comfort
him still further Aunt Stanshy allowed him to go after several boys and
bring them to the barn, and it was in connection with this gathering that
a new and important enterprise was suggested by one of the boys.
"It's something that will pay," said Sid.
Every body wanted to believe it and was willing to help it along. Soon
Charlie came running from the barn into the kitchen.
"Aunt Stanshy, will you please lend me your scales?"
"My what?"
"Your scales for weighing, please."
"What on earth is it now?" exclaimed Aunt Stanshy. It was a--so the
placard on the barn door stated--it was A FAIR!
Charlie did not have much to say about it, but through the remainder of
the day often hummed, or smiled and chuckled complacently. When Aunt
Stanshy had lighted the kerosene lamp that had a big lion's claw for a
base and boasted a yellow shade covered with green shepherdesses and blue
sheep, then Charlie sat down at the center-table and for an hour was
exceedingly busy. About eight he held up an object to Aunt Stanshy.
"What is that, Aunt Stanshy?" he asked.
"A rag-man," she replied, promptly.
The artisan's face dropped and a pout came out. A smile though quickly
smoothed down the pout, and he exclaimed, in triumph, "Santa Claus! He's a
friend of our club! We thought we would be in season for Christmas, and
people could buy their presents of us, and--and--will you buy?"
"I will--buy--that."
"You will? I'll give you a kiss for that," and Aunt Stanshy's young lover
came up to her and in his delight gave her a kiss. Of a tuft of cotton
Charlie had made a head. Another tuft furnished a body; two more supplied
arms to work with, and two more supplied legs to stand on. Charlie put a
three-cornered hat on Santa's head and tied together the parts of his body
with a girdle of pink worsted. A card on Santa announced the fact that he
could be bought for TWO CENTS.
Charlie trembled when Aunt Stanshy's eyes were directed toward the price
lest she might not think it worth the money.
"What's that?"
"Two cents," replied Charlie, in fear.
"O! Well, I'll give that."
"You will?" said Charlie, in delight. "I'll give you another kiss."
"Charlie," said the blushing Constantia, "you'll make a fool of an old
woman like me."
In the night the lips of the sleeping Charlie parted as he said, with a
smile, "Two cents!" When this good news of the first sale was announced to
the club in the morning, it threw the members into a feverish excitement.
"First-rate opening, fellers," declared the president, "even before we
have opened any thing."
"We don't open," said the governor, "till school is out to-night."
"Let's open now," said Billy Grimes, in the excitement of his enthusiasm
over the news;
"What a booby!" said the governor, in plain language. "We have got no
things here yet, and there are no buyers, and we must all clear out to
school in ten minutes."
The governor's massive logic crushed the foolish Billy at once.
"Let's open in good style," said the president, "and do it to-night."
By fifteen minutes after four, just as soon as a lot of scampering,
shouting boys could get to the barn, bringing pockets stuffed with
"articles," the fair was declared "opened."
"But how dark it is!" said the president.
So it was. The boys had forgotten how early the sun was setting in the
November days.
"Let's postpone it till to-morrow afternoon, when there's no school," said
Charlie.
"Who's agreed?" asked the president.
"Me!" responded the club, vociferously. They all had prudently concluded
to wait for the advent of more daylight, and, withdrawing from the barn,
went down the yard talking as busily as if they were a lot of hens
cackling after a successful venture at egg-laying. It had been left to
Charlie to put above the notice, "FAIR," the word "POSTPONED."
"That will prevent any rush till morning, and save folks from being
disappointed," Sid had declared.
In the afternoon every thing was under way, and Aunt Stanshy went out to
see the fair.
"I should never know the place, I must say," remarked Aunt Stanshy, as her
eyes swept the spot. There were several so-called "tables," such as an old
window-blind and a disused shelf propped up by various supports like boxes
and barrels. These tables were covered with pieces of the old curtain, now
doing service for the last time.
"Here is the confectionery table," shouted Juggie. There were now on the
table three pieces of molasses candy made by his grandmother. He had had
twelve to start with, and, as he had sold none, the disposition of the
missing nine pieces was a matter of grave suspicion.
"Here's the toy table!" called out Charlie. He had a few paper dolls and a
few "hand-painted" shells, the decorator being Sid, and prominent on the
table was the cotton image of that friend of the club, Santa Claus.
"Buy a corner-copier stuffed wid candy!" shouted Juggie, holding up a
brown paper tunnel into which he was about dropping a solitary piece of
candy.
The governor had the "harvest table," which was groaning under the weight
of three pears and two papers of seed.
"What's this?" asked Aunt Stanshy, stopping before a discarded
mantel-piece resting on a rabbit-box and a coal-hod. On this "table" were
autumn leaves, sprigs of hemlock, a few ferns, and one chrysanthemum
blossom.
"Thith?" replied Pip, who, like all the others, had put on a "Sunday
smile" to attract customers. "Thith ith a flower table. Will you buy a
flower?"
"If I can see one," said Aunt Stanshy, laughing.
"There," said Pip, triumphantly holding up the lonely chrysanthemum. "One
thent only! Thomething rare!"
"I'll buy it, and here is the cent."
"Cath!" sang out Pip, in tones of command, addressed to a supposed
cash-boy.
No one responded.
"Cath!"
"Why, you are the cash-boy," said the president, "and you bring the money
to me, for I am the cashier."
"I tend a counter," squeaked Pip. A serious misunderstanding as to
positions in the fair here threatened to arise, but it was all averted by
the obliging Tony, who undertook to transport all bullion from the tables
to the cashier's office.
There now appeared the president's little sister, "Callie Doodles," as she
was familiarly called.
"O, boys, she's got a cent, for mother promised it to her! She isn't a
nail-one!" shouted her brother.
Nail-ones belonged to an inferior caste. This class included those who had
been about the streets and yards, back of barns and in old corner-lots,
picking up nails or cast-away bits of iron. Their currency was the more
common. A hard-cash customer was about as common as bobolinks in December.
"Callie, come here and buy some fruit!"
"Don't you want some candy, Callie?"
"Buy a toy, Callie!"
"Flowerth! flowerth!" were the various shouts greeting the cash customer.
She was saluted eagerly, as hack-men hail the arrivals in the trains at a
city station. Callie made no reply, but stubbed in a demure, dignified
way, from table to table, finally halting where children's strongest
passion is sure to take them, at the candy table. Here she traded away her
cash.
"And wont you try a piece?" said Juggie to Aunt Stanshy, displaying his
stock of two pieces of candy. "Try dese goods."
She graciously took the sample.
"How do you sell candy?"
"Cent a stick."
"Well, I'll take it."
"Two cents," said Juggie, prudently charging for the piece given on trial
also.
As Aunt Stanshy left this enterprising trader, she heard a vigorous
summons:
"Cash! cash!"
At the supper-table that night Charlie asked, "Aunty, what do you suppose
we are going to have now in our club? Something at our fair, I mean?"
"A tornado."
"No, a refreshment saloon; and the boys said they knew you would be in
every day to buy something."
"O dear!" groaned Aunt Stanshy, inwardly.
"We are going to have ice-cream, too, may be. We couldn't afford it in
summer."
"Not in summer? Why, that's the time when people want it most."
"But we make ours out of snow, you know, and could only have it in cold
weather."
"Then I hope, for your sake, we may have some snow, and I see that the
clouds look like it. But the weather is getting colder nowadays, and if
you have your snow, and so can make your ice-cream, it may be so cold that
you will have no customers."
"We will risk _that_. Ice-cream always pays. Ours does, at any rate."
"Snow is coming, I guess, for it looks like a change in the weather."
A change, indeed, was setting in. The river indicated it. It was as smooth
and glassy as if Aunt Stanshy's flat iron had been over it and pressed
every wrinkle and ripple down. The air was light. The smoke from the
houses and the steam from the only tug that the commerce of the town could
afford to support fell, and fluttered downward in thin veils. Overhead
there was a mass of gray cloud halting directly above the town, and
looking too lazy ever to stir again.
"Storm comin'!" declared Simes Badger to all his cronies at Silas
Trefethen's store. "Wind is sou' already."
It did not stay "sou'," but swung around to the east, then worked into the
north-east, and then all through the night the wind was sifting
cotton-wool down on all the streets as if carpeting them, on all the roofs
as if blanketing them, into all the cracks in the walls of houses and
barns as if it would chink them up and make them tight for winter.
Chancing to look out of the window as soon as he was awake the morning
after the storm, Charlie shouted,
"Ice-cream!"
"Yes, all you want," said Aunt Stanshy, who, leaving her coffee-pot, her
pan of fried potatoes, and batch of biscuit on the kitchen stove, had
mounted the stairs to wake the sleepy Charlie.
"Boys will soon be here to make it."
"I warrant you! They will make their ice-cream before shoveling the folks'
paths at home."
It looked so, for half a dozen boys were out in the yard by eight o'clock,
shouting "ice-cream" to Charlie, who had not finished his breakfast.
With the help of Aunt Stanshy's "essences" enough snow was flavored to
meet the demands of customers, who, quickly notified, quickly appeared,
bringing the contents of all the nail-boxes at their homes. Even Aunt
Stanshy was prevailed upon to buy a dish, and she consistently paid cash
for it.
Her boarder, Will Somers, was induced to promise more extensive patronage.
"Will, we all think you a first-rate feller," said the artful president;
"and just to help us out at the fair, couldn't you take your meals at our
restaurant? Our mothers say they will cook us things--steak, you know, and
so on."
"Y--e--s, I will try it for--the present."
For some reason the "things" said to have been promised--"steak, you know,
and so on," did not arrive. Will gave out soon after noon the first day.
"Aunt Stanshy, I shall starve if I stay there," said Will, appearing at
her pantry door; "and if I didn't starve, they would kill me with their
abominable 'cream' that they make me buy, though they say it is at a
reduced price."
The restaurant was given up very soon. The president said that people had
left the sea-side for the city, and they could hardly expect enough home
trade to make it pay.
Pip thought he could make his table pay if he had some flowers to set it
off. But that was not all; he was envious of others' success. The fair had
been characterized by the usual amount of "human nature" displayed on such
occasions, and Pip now exhibited his peculiarities. For ten cents he
bought a few white flowers at a hot-house, and then thought he would get
ahead of the boys and be at the barn at an early hour, making sure for
himself any possible customers.
"To give all an equal chance," declared the president, "to make it the
same for those who get up early and those who lie abed, the barn will be
open at nine o'clock, except on holidays, when we will accommodate the
public at an earlier hour."
Pip thought he would be on hand by eight one morning. He would then be
sure to catch any "nail custom," as that was a class apt to be astir
early, hunting up currency before other people had a chance at it. But the
weather had stiffened since the storm. It was too cold to be agreeable,
and even the nail-customers, usually so early at the barn, were now at
home hugging the kitchen stove. Pip stood alone at the grand flower table.
His blossoms lay unsought upon the table.
"Pip! Pip!"
It was the governor down in the yard.
"We are going to see them skate on the pond back of the mill. Come, go!"
Pip could hardly be coming and going at the same time, but he left his
table and left his flowers. That day, the cold increased steadily.
"It is nippin' cold," said Aunt Stanshy to a neighbor, and what did Jack
Frost do but take out his nippers and clap them on Pip's flowers! The next
morning, Pip found a little heap of frozen petals on the "flower-table."
He could no more make them into flowers than if they had been petals of
snow!
That day, "owing to the weather," the "Fair" was closed. The boys divided
the little heap of cash and the large heap of nails, and each knight took
his share. The club now ceased to have an active existence. It became like
any other stick that is laid aside and set up in the corner. It seemed as
if the knights had forgotten that they belonged to a club whose expressive
title suggested energetic movement.