Our Aunt Esta poked Carol twice with her wand. "Pitiful Wretch!" said
our Aunt Esta. "It is now two o'clock.--Unless you are back here exactly
at three o'clock--bearing a _Pink Breeze_ in your hands--you shall be
turned for all time and eternity into a _Slimy Green Frog_!--Go hence!"
Carol went hence. He henced as far as the Mulberry Tree on the front
lawn. He sat down on the grass with the card in his hand. He read the
card. And read it. And read it. It puzzled him very much.
"Pitiful Wretch, go _hence_!" cried our Aunt Esta.
He henced as far as the Larch Tree this time. And sat down all over
again. And puzzled. And puzzled.
"Go _hence_, I say, Pitiful Wretch!" insisted our Aunt Esta.
My Mother didn't like Carol to be called a "Pitiful Wretch."--It was
because he was dumb, I suppose. When my Mother doesn't like anything it
spots her cheek-bones quite red. Her cheek-bones were spotted very red.
"Stop your fussing!" said our Aunt Esta. "And attend to your own
business!"
My Mother attended to her own business. The business of her card said
"SILVER BIRD" and "HORSE'S HOOF."
Even our Aunt Esta looked a bit flabbergasted.
"Oh, dear--oh, dear," said our Aunt Esta. "I certainly am sorry that it
was you who happened to draw that one!--And all dressed up in white too
as you are! But after all--" she jerked with a great toss of her
scraggly wig, "a Game is a Game! And there can be no concessions!"
"No, of course not!" said my Mother. "Lead me to the Slaughter!"
"There is not necessarily any slaughter connected with it," said our
Aunt Esta very haughtily. But she hit my Mother only once with her wand.
"Frail Creature," she said. "On the topmost branch of the tallest tree
in the world there is a silver bird with a song in his throat that has
never been sung! Unless you bring me this bird _singing_ you are hereby
doomed to walk with the clatter of a Horse's Hoof!"
"Horse's Hoof?" gasped my Mother. "With the clatter of a Horse's Hoof?"
My Father was pretty mad. "Why, it's impossible!" he said. "She's as
light as Thistle-Down! Even in her boots it's like a Fairy passing!"
"Nevertheless," insisted our Aunt Esta. "She shall walk with the clatter
of a Horse's Hoof--unless she brings me the Silver Bird."
My Mother started at once for the Little Woods. "I can at least search
the Tallest Tree in _my_ world!" she said.
It made my Father nervouser and nervouser. "Now don't you _dare_," he
called after her, "climb _anything_ until I come!"
"Base Interloper!" said our Aunt Esta. "Keep Still!"
"Who?" said my Father.
"_You!_" said our Aunt Esta.
I giggled. Our Aunt Esta was very mad. She turned me into a White
Rabbit. I was made of white canton flannel. I was very soft. I had long
ears. They were lop-ears. They were lined with pink velvet. They hung
way down over my shoulders so I could stroke them. I liked them very
much. But my legs looked like white night-drawers. "Ruthy-the-Rabbit"
was my name. Our Aunt Esta scolded it at me.
"Because of your impudence, Ruthy-the-Rabbit," she said, "you shall not
be allowed to roam the woods and fields at will. But shall stay here in
captivity close by my side and help the Foul Menial do the chores!"
The Rich Man seemed very much pleased. He winked an eye. He pulled one
of my lop-ears. It was nice to have somebody pleased with me.
Everybody was pleased with Rosalee's bewitchment. It sounded so restful.
All Rosalee had to do was to be very pretty,--just exactly as she was!
And seventeen years old,--just exactly as she was! And sit on the big
gray rock by the side of the brook just exactly as it was! And see
whether it was a Bright Green Celluloid Fish or a Bright Red Celluloid
Fish that came down the brook first! And if it was a Bright Green
Celluloid Fish she was to catch it! And slit open its stomach! And take
out all its Directions! And follow 'em! And if it was a Bright Red
Celluloid Fish she was to catch _it_! And take out all its Directions
and follow _them_!--In either case her card said she would need rubbers
and a trowel.--It sounded like Buried Treasure to me! Or else Iris
Roots! Our Aunt Esta is very much interested in Iris Roots.
It was my Father's Bewitchment that made the only real trouble. Nothing
at all was postponed about my Father's Bewitchment. It happened all at
once. It was because my Father knew too much. It was about the Alphabet
that he knew too much. The words on my Father's card said "ALPHABET."
And "BACKWARDS." And "PINK SILK FAIRY." And "TIN LOCOMOTIVE HEAD." And
"THREE MINUTES." Our Aunt Esta turned my Father into a Pink Silk Fairy
with White Tarlatan Wings because he was able to say the Alphabet
backwards in three minutes! My Father refused to turn! He wouldn't! He
wouldn't! He swore he wouldn't! He said it was a "cruel and unnecessary
punishment!" Our Aunt Esta said it wasn't a Punishment! It was a Reward!
It was the Tin Locomotive Head that was the punishment! My Father said
he wouldn't have cared a rap if it had been the Tin Locomotive Head!--He
could have smoked through that! But he _wouldn't_ be a Pink Silk Fairy
with White Tarlatan Wings!
The Rich Man began right away to untie the black velvet ribbon on his
leg, and go home! He looked very cheated! He scorned my Father with
ribald glances! "Work?" he gloated. "_Of course_ it won't work! I knew
all the time it wouldn't work!--Two hundred dollars! And forty-three
cents?" he gloated. "_H-a!_"
Our Aunt Esta cried! She put her hand on my Father's arm. It was a very
small hand. It didn't look a bit like a Witch's hand. Except for having
no lovingness in it, it looked a good deal like my Mother's hand.
My Father consented to be turned a little! But not much! He consented to
wear the white tarlatan wings! And the gold paper crown! But not the
garland of roses! He would carry the pink silk dress on his arm, he
said. But he would _not_ wear it!
The Rich Man seemed very much encouraged. He stopped untying the black
velvet ribbon from his leg. He grinned a little.
My Father told him what he thought of him. The Rich Man acknowledged
that very likely it was so. But he didn't seem to mind. He kept right on
grinning.
My Father stalked away in his gold paper crown with the pink dress over
his arm. He looked very proud and noble. He looked as though even if
dogs were sniffing at his heels he wouldn't turn. His white wings
flapped as he walked. The spangles shone. It looked very holy.
The Rich Man made a funny noise. It sounded like snorting.
My Father turned round quicker than _scat_. He glared right through the
Rich Man at our Aunt Esta. He told our Aunt Esta just what he thought of
_her_!
The Rich Man said it wasn't so at all! That the Game undoubtedly was
perfectly practical if----
"If _nothing_!" said my Father. "It's you yourself that are spoiling the
whole effect by running around playing you're a Black Slave with
nothing on but a velvet ribbon round one knee! The very _least_ you
could do," said my Father, "is to have your face blacked! And wear a
plaid skirt!"
"_Eh?_" said the Rich Man.
Our Aunt Esta was perfectly delighted with the suggestion.
The Rich Man took her delight coldly.
He glared at my Father. "I don't think I need any outside help," he
said, "in the management of my affairs.--As the Owner indeed of one of
the largest stores in the world I----"
"That's all right," said my Father. "But you never yet have tried to
manage the children's Aunt Esta.--Nothing can stop her!"
Nothing could! She pinned an old plaid shawl around the Rich Man's
waist! She blacked his face! He had to kneel at her feet while it was
being blacked! He seemed to sweat easily! But our Aunt Esta blacked
very easily too! He looked lovely! Even my Father thought he looked
lovely! When he was done he wanted to look in a mirror. My Father
advised him not to. But he insisted. My Father got up from making
suggestions and came and stood behind him while he looked. They looked
only once. Something seemed to hit them. They doubled right up. It was
laughter that hit them. They slapped each other on the back. They
laughed! And laughed! And laughed! They made such a noise that my Mother
came running!
It seemed to make our Aunt Esta a little bit nervous to have my Mother
come running. She pointed her wand. She roared her voice.
"Where is the Silver Bird?" she roared.
My Mother looked just as swoone-y as she could. She fell on her knees.
She clasped her hands.
"Oh, Cruel Witch," she said. "I _saw_ the bird! But I couldn't reach
him! He was in the Poplar Tree!--However in the world did you put him
there?--Was that what you were bribing the Butcher's Boy about this
morning? Was that----?"
"Hush!" roared our Aunt Esta. "Your Doom has overtaken you! Go hence
with the clatter of a Horse's Hoof until such time as your Incompetent
Head may----"
"Oh, it wasn't my head that was incompetent," said my Mother. "It was my
legs. The Poplar Tree was so very tall! So very fluffy and undecided to
climb! So----"
"With the clatter of a Horse's Hoof!" insisted our Aunt Esta. "There can
be no mercy!"
"None?" implored my Mother.
"None!" said our Aunt Esta.
She gave my Mother two funny little wooden cups. They were something
like clappers. You could hold them in your hand so they scarcely showed
at all and make a noise like a horse galloping across a bridge! Or
trotting! Or anything! It made quite a loud noise! It was wonderful! My
Mother started right away for the village. She had on white shoes. Her
feet were very small. She sounded like a great team horse stumbling up
the plank of a ferry-boat. "I think I'll go get the mail!" she said.
"Like that?" screamed my Father.
My Mother turned around. Her hair was all curly. There were laughs in
her eyes.
"I _have_ to!" she said. "I'm bewitched!"
"I'll go with you!" said my Father.
My Mother turned around again. She looked at my Father! At his golden
crown! At his white spangled wings! At the pink silk skirt over his arm!
"Like--that?" said my Mother.
My Father decided not to go.
The Rich Man said he considered the decision very wise.
They glared.
Way over on the other side of the green lilac hedge we heard my Mother
trotting down the driveway. _Clack_-clack--_clack_--clack sounded the
hoof-beats!
"My Lord--she's pacing!" groaned my Father.
"Clever work!" said the Rich Man. "Was she ever in a Band? In a Jazz
Band, you know, with Bantam Rooster whistles? And drums that bark like
dogs?"
"In a _what_?" cried my Father. He was awful mad.
Our Aunt Esta tried to soothe him with something worse. She turned to
me.
"Now, Ruthy-the-Rabbit," she said. "Let us see what _you_ can do to
redeem the ignominy of your impudent giggling!" She handed me the Bright
Green and the Bright Red Celluloid fishes. She poked her wand at me.
"Hopping all the way," she said. "Every step of the way, you
understand,--bear these two fish to the Head-Waters of the Magic
Brook,--the little pool under the apple tree will do,--and start them
ex--ex--peditiously down the Brook towards Rosalee!"
"Yes'm," I said.
Our Aunt Esta turned to the Rich Man.
"Foul Menial," she said. "Push my chariot a little further down the Lawn
into the shade!"
The Foul Menial pushed it.
My Father pushed a little too.
I hopped along beside them flopping my long ears. Our Aunt Esta looked
_ex_-actly like a Witch! The Rich Man's black face was leaking a little
but not much! It would have been easier if he hadn't tripped so often on
his plaid shawl skirt! My Father's white wings flapped as he pushed! He
looked like an angel who wasn't quite hatched! It was handsome!
When we got to the thickest shade there was a man's black felt hat
bobbing along the top of the Japonica Hedge. It was rather a
soft-boiled looking hat. It was bobbing just as fast as it could towards
the house.
When our Aunt Esta saw the hat she screamed! She jumped from her chariot
as though it had been flames! She tore the scraggly gray wig from her
head! She tore the hump from her back! She kicked off her wooden shoes!
Her feet were silk! She ran like the wind for the back door!
My Father ran for the Wood-Shed!
The Rich Man dove into the Lilac Bush!
When the Rich Man was all through diving into the Lilac Bush he seemed
to think that he was the only one present who hadn't done anything!
"What you so scared about, Ruthy?" he said. "What's the matter with
everybody? Who's the Bloke?"
"It's the New Minister," I said.
"Has he got the Cholera or anything?" said the Rich Man.
"No, not exactly," I explained. "He's just our Aunt Esta's Suitor!"
"Your Aunt Esta's _Suitor_?" cried the Rich Man. "_Suitor?_" He clapped
his hand over his mouth. He burst a safety-pin that helped lash the
plaid shawl around him. "What do you mean,--_'Suitor?'_" he said.
It seemed queer he was so stupid.
"Why a Suitor," I explained, "is a Person Who Doesn't Suit--so he keeps
right on coming most every day to see if he does! As soon as he suits,
of course, he's your husband and doesn't come any more at all--because
he's already there! The New Minister," I explained very patiently, "is a
Suitor for our Aunt Esta's hand!"
We crawled through the Lilac Bush. We peeped out.
Our Aunt Esta hadn't reached the back door at all. She sat all huddled
up in a little heap on the embankment trying to keep the New Minister
from seeing that she was in her stocking-feet. But the New Minister
didn't seem to see anything at all except her hands. Being a Suitor for
her hands it was natural, I suppose, that he wasn't interested in
anything except her hands. Her hands were on her hair. The scraggly gray
wig had rumpled all the seriousness out of her hair. It looked quite
jolly. The New Minister stared! And stared! And stared! Except for
having no lovingness in them, her hands looked _very_ much like my
Mother's.
"Our Aunt Esta's got--nice hands," I said.
The Rich Man burst another safety pin.
"Yes, by Jove," he said. "And nice feet, too!" He seemed quite
surprised. "How long's this minister fellow been coming here?" he said.
"Oh, I don't know," I said. "He comes whenever our Aunt Esta comes."
The Rich Man made a grunt. He looked at the Minister's hat.
"Think of courting a woman," he said, "in a hat like that!"
"Oh, our Aunt Esta doesn't care anything at all about hats," I said.
"It's time she did!" said the Rich Man.
"We'll go out if you say so," I suggested, "and help them have a
pleasant time."
The Rich Man was awful mad. He pointed at his plaid shawl! He pointed at
his black face!
"_What?_" he said. "Go out like _this_? And make a fool of myself before
that Ninny-Hat?"
"Why, he'd love it!" I said.
The Rich Man choked.
"That's quite enough reason!" he said.
There was a noise in the wood-shed. We could see the noise through the
window. It was my Father trying to untie his wings. He couldn't.
The Rich Man seemed to feel better suddenly. He began to mop his face.
"It's a great Game, all right," he said, "if you don't weaken!" He
pulled my ears. "But why in the world, Ruthy----" he worried, "did she
have to go and tuck that forty-three cents on to the end of the bill?"
"Why, that's her profit!" I explained.
"Her--profit?" gasped the Rich Man. "Her _Profit_?"
"Why, she had to have something!" I explained. "She was planning to have
more, of course! She was planning to go to Atlantic City! But everything
costs so big! Even toys! It's----"
"Her _Profit_?" gasped the Rich Man. "Forty-three cents on a two hundred
dollar deal?" He began to laugh! And laugh! "And she calls herself a
Business Woman?" he said. "Why, she ought to be in an Asylum!--All
women, in fact, ought to be in Asylums--or else in homes of their own!"
Quite furiously he began to pull my ears all over again. "_Business
Woman_," he said. "And both her feet would go at once in the hollow of
my hand! _Business Woman!_"
Out in the roadway suddenly somebody sneezed.
It made the Rich Man jump awfully.
"Ruthy, stay where you are!" he ordered.
"I can't!" I called back. "I'm already hopped out!"
From my hop-out I could see the Person Who Sneezed! Anybody would have
known that it was Posie-with-the-Sick-Bones! She was sitting in an
automobile peering through the hedge! There was a black woman with her!
The Rich Man crackled in the bushes. He reached out and grabbed my foot.
He pulled me back. His face looked pretty queer.
"Yes, she's been there all the time," he whispered. "But not a soul
knows it!--I wanted her to see it work!--I wanted to be sure that she
liked it--But I was afraid to bring her in! She catches everything so!
And I knew there were children here! And I was afraid there might be
something contagious!"
He peered out through the Lilac Branches. There was quite a good deal to
peer at.
Down in the meadow Rosalee was still running up and down the soft banks
of the brook trying to catch the Celluloid Fish. She had on a green
dress. It was a slim dress like a willow wand. She had her shoes and
stockings in one hand. And a great bunch of wild blue Forget-me-Nots in
the other. Her hair was like a gold wave across her face. She looked
pretty. The Springtime looked pretty too.--Out in the wood-shed my
Father was still wrestling with his wings.
Up on the green mound by the house our Aunt Esta was still patting her
hair while the New Minister stared at her hands.
The Rich Man turned very suddenly and stared at me.
"_Contagious?_" he gasped out suddenly. "Why, upon my soul, Ruthie--it's
just about the most contagious place that I ever was in--in my life!"
He gave a funny little laugh. He glanced back over his shoulder towards
the road. He groaned.
"But I shall certainly be ruined, Ruthie," he said, "if my little
daughter Posie or my little daughter Posie's Black Woman ever see me at
close range--in these clothes!" He took my chin in his hands. He looked
very deep into my eyes. "Ruthie," he said, "you seem to be a _very_
intelligent child.--If you can think of any way--_any_ way, I say--by
which I can slink off undetected into the house--and be washed----"
"Oh Shucks! That's easy!" I said. "We'll _make_ Posie be the Witch!"
When I hopped out this time I stayed hopped! I hopped right up on the
wall! And stroked my ears!
When Posie-with-the-Sick-Bones saw me she began to laugh! And clap her
hands! And kick the Black Woman with her toes!
"Oh, I want to be the Witch!" she cried. "I want to be the Witch for
ever and ever! And change everybody into everything! I'm going to wear
it home in the automobile! And scare the Cook to Death! I'm going to
change the Cook into a cup of Beef Tea! And throw her down the sink! I'm
going to change my Poodle Dog into a New Moon!" she giggled. "I'm going
to change my Doctor into a Balloon! And cut the string!"
The Rich Man seemed perfectly delighted. I could see his face in the
bushes. He kept rubbing his hands! And nodding to me to go ahead!