It was wonderful! We all thought of it at the same moment! We shut our
eyes perfectly tight and played we were blinded all the way home!
Our Father and Mother had to lead us. It was pretty bumpy! I peeped
some! Rosalee walked with her hands stretched way out in front of her as
though she was reaching for something. She looked like a picture. It was
like a picture of something very gentle and wishful that she looked
like. It made me feel queer. Carol walked with his nose all puckered up
as though he was afraid something smelly was going to hit him. It didn't
make me feel queer at all. It made me laugh.
It didn't make my Father laugh.
"Now see here, you young Lunatics," said my Father. "If you think your
Mother and I are going to drag you up the main village street--acting
like this?"
We were sorry, we explained! But it _had_ to be!
When we got to the village street we bumped right into the Old Doctor.
We bumped him pretty hard! He had to sit down! I climbed into his lap.
"Of course I don't know that it's _you_," I said. "But I think it is!"
The Old Doctor seemed pretty astonished. He snatched at my Father and my
Mother.
"Great Zounds, Good People!" he cried. "What fearful calamity has
overtaken your offspring?"
"Absolutely nothing at all," said my Father, "compared to what is
_going_ to overtake them as soon as I get them home!"
"We're playing _blinded_," said Rosalee.
"We've been to see the Blinded Lady!" I explained.
"We're going to get prizes," said Rosalee. "Real prizes! A Peacock
Feather Fan!"
"And the Choice of Cats!" I explained.
"For telling the Blinded Lady next Saturday," cried Rosalee, "the
prettiest thing that we've ever seen!"
"Not just the prettiest!" I explained. "But the most preciousest!"
"So we thought we'd shut our eyes!" said Rosalee. "All the way home! And
find out what Sight it was that we missed the most!--_Sunshine_ I think
it is!" said Rosalee. "_Sunshine_ and all the pretty flickering little
shadows! And the way the slender white church spire flares through the
Poplar Trees! Oh I shall make up a picture about _sunshine_!" said
Rosalee.
"Oh, Sh--h!" said my Mother. "You mustn't tell each other what you
decide. That would take half the fun and the surprise out of the
competition!"
"Would--it?" said Rosalee. "Would it?" She turned to the Old Doctor. She
slipped into the curve of his arm. The curve of his arm seemed to be all
ready for her. She reached up and patted his face. "You Old Darling,"
she said. "In all the world what is the most beautiful--est sight that
_you_ have ever seen?"
The Old Doctor gave an awful swallow.
"_Youth!_" he said.
"Oh, youth Fiddle-sticks!" said my Father. "How ever would one make a
picture of _that_? All arms and legs! And wild ideas! Believe me that if
I ever once get _these_ wild ideas and legs and arms home to-day there
will be----"
We never heard what there would be! 'Cause we bumped into the
Store-Keeping Man instead! And had to tell _him_ all about it!
Nobody kissed the Store-Keeping Man. He smelt of mice and crackers. We
talked to him just as we would have talked to Sugar or Potatoes.
"Mr. Store-Keeping Man," we said. "You are very wise! You have a store!
And a wagon! And a big iron safe! And fly-papers besides!--In all the
world--what is the most beautifulest thing that you have ever seen?"
The Store-Keeping Man didn't have to worry about it at all. He never
even swallowed. The instant he crossed his hands on his white linen
stomach he _knew_!
"My Bank Book!" he said.
My Father laughed. "_Now_ you naughty children," said my Father, "I
trust you'll be satisfied to proceed home with your eyes open!"
But my Mother said no matter how naughty we were we couldn't go home
without buying pop-corn at the pop-corn stand!
So we had to tell the Pop-Corn Man all about it too! The Pop-Corn Man
was very little. He looked like a Pirate. He had black eyes. He had gold
rings through his ears. We loved him a good deal!
"In all the world--" we asked the Pop-Corn Man, "what is the most
beautiful--est sight that you have ever seen?"
It took the Pop-Corn Man an awful long time to think! It took him so
long that while he was thinking he filled our paper bags till they
busted! It was a nice bustedness!
"The most beautifulest thing--in all zee world?" said the Pop-Corn Man.
"In all zee world? It was in my Italy! In such time as I was no more
than one bambino I did see zee peacock, zee great blue peacock stride
out through zee snow-storm of apple-blossoms! And dance to zee sun!"
"O--h," said Rosalee. "How pretty!"
"Pretty?" said the Pop-Corn Man. "It was to zee eyes one miracle of
remembrances! Zee blue! Zee gold! Zee dazzle! Zee soft fall of zee
apple-blossoms!--Though I live to be zee hundred! Though I go blind!
Though I go prison! Though my pop-corn all burn up! It fade not! Not
never! That peacock! That apple-blossom! That shiver!"
"Our supper will all burn up," said my Mother, "if you children don't
open your eyes and run home! Already I _think_ I can smell scorched
Ginger-bread!"
We children all opened our eyes and ran home!
My Mother laughed to see us fly!
My Father laughed a little!
We thought about the Peacock as we ran! We thought quite a little about
the Ginger-bread! We wished we had a Peacock! We hoped we had a
Ginger-bread!
Our Home looked nice. It was as though we hadn't seen it for a long
while. It was as though we hadn't seen anything for a long while! The
Garden didn't look like Just a Garden any more! It looked like a
_Bower_! Carol's tame crow came hopping up the gravel walk! We hadn't
remembered that he was so black! The sun through the kitchen window was
real gold! There _was_ Ginger-bread!
"Oh dear--Oh dear--Oh _dear_!" said Rosalee. "In a world so full of
beautiful things--however shall we choose what to tell the Blinded
Lady?"
Carol ran to the desk. He took a pencil. He took a paper. He slashed the
words down. He held it out for us to see.
"I know what I'm going to choose," said the words.
He took his pencil. He ran away.
Rosalee took her pencil. She ran away. Over her shoulder she called back
something. What she called back was "Oh Goody! I know what _I'm_ going
to choose!"
I took my Father's pencil. I ran away. I didn't run very far. I found a
basket instead. It was a pretty basket. I made a nest for the White
Kitten in case I should win it! I lined the nest with green moss. There
was a lot of sunshine in the moss. And little blue flowers. I forgot to
come home for supper. That's how I chose what I was going to write!
When we woke up the next morning we all felt very busy. It made the day
seem funny.
It made every day that happened seem funny.
Every day somebody took somebody's pencil and ran away! My Mother
couldn't find anything! Not children! Not pencils!
Rosalee took the Dictionary Book besides.
"Anybody'd think," said my Father, "that this was a Graduation Essay you
were making instead of just a simple little word-picture for a Blinded
Lady!"
"Word-picture?" said Rosalee. "What I'm trying to make is a Peacock
Feather Fan!"
"I wish there were three prizes instead of two!" said my Mother.
"Why?" said my Father.
Carol came and kicked his feet on the door. His hands were full of
stones. He wanted a drink of water. All day long when he wasn't sitting
under the old Larch Tree with a pencil in his mouth he was carrying
stones! And kicking his feet on the door! And asking for a drink of
water!
"Whatever in the world," said my Mother, "are you doing with all those
stones?"
Carol nodded his head that I could tell.
"He's building something," I said. "Out behind the barn!--I don't know
what it is!"
Carol dropped his stones. He took a piece of chalk. He knelt down on the
kitchen floor. He wrote big white letters on the floor.
"It's an Ar--Rena," is what he wrote.
"An Arena?" said my Mother. "An _Arena_?" She looked quite sorry. "Oh
Laddie!" she said. "I did so want you to win a prize!--_Couldn't_ you
have kept your mind on it just a day or two longer?"
It was the longest week I ever knew! It got longer every day! Thursday
was twice as long as Wednesday! I don't seem to remember about Friday!
But Saturday came so early in the morning I wasn't even awake when my
Mother called me!
We went to the Blinded Lady's house right after dinner. We couldn't wait
any longer.
The Blinded Lady pretended she was surprised to see us.
"Mercy me!" she said. "What? Have these children come again? Muddy feet?
Chatter? And all?" She thumped her cane! She rocked her chair! She
billowed her skirts!
We weren't frightened a bit! We sat on the edge of our chairs and
laughed! And laughed!
There was a little white table spread with pink-frosted cookies! There
were great crackly glasses of raspberry vinegar and ice! Old Mary had on
a white apron!--That's why we laughed! We _knew_ we were expected!
My Father explained it to everybody.
"As long as Carol couldn't speak his piece," he said, "It didn't seem
fair that any of the children should speak 'em! So the children have all
written their pieces to read aloud and----"
"But as long as Carol wasn't able to read his aloud," cried my Mother,
"it didn't seem fair that any of 'em should read theirs aloud! So the
children's father is going to read 'em. And----"
"Without giving any clue of course," said my Father, "as to which child
wrote which. So that you won't be unduly influenced at all--in any way
by--gold-colored hair, for instance or--freckles----"
"Or _anything_!" said my Mother.
"U-m-m-m," said the Blinded Lady.
"Understanding of course," said my Father, "that we ourselves have not
seen the papers yet!"
"Nor assisted in any way with the choice of subject," said my Mother.
"Nor with the treatment of it!"
"U-m-m," said the Blinded Lady.
"I will now proceed to read," said my Father.
"So do," said the Blinded Lady.
My Father so did.
He took a paper from his pocket. He cleared his throat. He put on his
eye-glasses. He looked a little surprised.
"The first one," he said, "seems to be about 'Ginger-bread'!"
"_Ginger-bread?_" said the Blinded Lady.
"Ginger-bread!" said my Father.
"Read it!" said the Blinded Lady.
"I will!" said my Father.
Ginger-bread is very handsome! It's so brown! And every time
you eat a piece you have to have another! That shows its
worth as well as its handsomeness! And besides you can smell
it a long way off when you're coming home! Especially when
you're coming home from school! It has molasses in it too.
And that's very instructive! As well as ginger! And other
spices! The Geography is full of them! Molasses comes from
New Orleans! Spices come from Asia! Except Jamaica Ginger
comes from Drug Stores! There are eggs in ginger-bread too!
And that's Natural History and very important! They have to
be hen's eggs I think! I had some guineas once and they
looked like chipmunks when they hatched. You can't make
ginger-bread out of anything that looks like chipmunks! It
takes three eggs to make ginger-bread! And one cupful of
sugar! And some baking soda! And----
"Oh Tush!" said the Blinded Lady. "That isn't a picture! It's a
recipe!--Read another!"
"Dear me! Dear me!" said my Mother. "Now some child is suffering!" She
looked all around to see which child it was.
Carol kicked Rosalee. Rosalee kicked me. I kicked Carol. We all looked
just as queer as we could outside.
"Read _on_!" thumped the Blinded Lady.
My Father read on.
"This next one," he said, "seems to be about Soldiers!"
"Soldiers?" said the Blinded Lady. "Soldiers?" She sat up very straight.
She cocked her head on one side. "Read it!" she said.
"I'm reading it!" said my Father.
The most scrumptious sight I've ever seen in my life is
Soldiers Marching! I saw them once in New York! It was
_glorious_! All the reds and the blues and the browns of the
Uniforms! And when the Band played all the different
instruments it seemed as though it was really _gold_ and
_silver_ music they were playing! It makes you feel so
brave! And so unselfish! But most of all it makes you wish
you were a milk-white pony with diamond hoofs! So that you
could _sparkle_! And _prance_! And _rear_! And _run away_
just for fun! And _run_ and _run_ and _run_ down clattery
streets and through black woods and across green pastures
_snorting fire_--till you met more Soldiers and more Bands
and more Gold and Silver Music! So that you could _prance_
and _sparkle_ and _rear_ and _run away_ all over
again,--with _flags flying_!
"U-m-m," said the Blinded Lady. "That _is_ pretty! And spirited
too!--But--But it doesn't exactly warm the heart.--And no one but a boy,
anyway, would _want_ to think about soldiers every day.--Read the next
one!" said the Blinded Lady.
"Oh all right," said my Father. "Here's the last one."
"Read it!" said the Blinded Lady.
"I'm trying to!" said my Father. He cleared his throat and put on his
eye-glasses all over again. "Ahem!" he said.
"The most beautifulest thing I've ever seen in all my life
is my Mother's face. It's so----"
"_What?_" cried my Mother.
My Father looked at her across the top of his glasses. He smiled. "_Your
face!_" he said.
"W--what?" stammered my Mother.
My Father cleared his throat and began all over again.
The most beautifulest thing I've ever seen in all my life is
my Mother's face! It's so pleasant! It tries to make
everything so pleasant! When you go away it smiles you away!
When you come home it smiles you home! When you're sick it
smiles you well! When you're bad it smiles you good! It's so
pretty too! It has soft hair all full of little curls! It
has brown eyes! It has the _sweetest_ ears!--It has a little
hat! The jolliest little hat! All trimmed with do-dabs! And
teeny pink roses! And there's a silver ribbon on it! And----
"My Mother had a hat like that!" cried the Blinded Lady.
"_Did_ she?" said my Mother. Her face still looked pretty queer and
surprised.
The Blinded Lady perked way forward in her chair. She seemed all out of
breath. She talked so fast it almost choked her!
"Yes! Just _exactly_ like that!" cried the Blinded Lady. "My Mother
bought it in Boston! It cost three dollars! My Father thought it was an
awful price!--She wore it with a lavender dress all sprigged with yellow
leaves! She looked like an angel in it! She _was_ an angel! _Her_ hair
was brown too!--I haven't thought of it for ages!--And all full of
little curls! She had the kindest smile! The minister said it was worth
any two of his sermons! And when folks were sick she went anywhere to
help them! _Anywhere!_--She went twenty miles once! We drove the old
white horse! I can see it all! My brothers' and sisters' faces at the
window waving good-bye! My father cautioning us through his long gray
beard not to drive too fast!--The dark shady wood's road! The little
bright meadows!--A blue bird that flashed across our heads at the
watering trough! The gay village streets! A red plaid ribbon in a shop
window! The patch on a peddler's shoe! The great hills over
beyond!--There was hills all around us!--My sister Amy married a man
from way over beyond! He was different from us! His father sailed the
seas! He brought us dishes and fans from China! When my sister Amy was
married she wore a white crepe shawl. There was a peacock embroidered in
one corner of it! It was pretty! We curled her hair! There were yellow
roses in bloom! There was a blue larkspur!----"
The Blinded Lady sank back in her chair. She gave a funny little gasp.
"I _remember_!" she gasped. "The Young Man's eyes were _blue_! His teeth
were like pearls! When he asked the way to the trout brook he laughed
and said----"
The Blinded Lady's cheeks got all pink. She clapped her hands. She sank
back into her Skirts. Her eyes looked awful queer.
"I see _everything_!" she cried. "_Everything!_--Give the Peacock
Feather Fan to the Magician!"
Rosalee looked at Carol. Carol looked at me. I looked at Rosalee.
"To the Magician?" said my Father.
"To the Magician?" said my Mother.
"To the Young Darling who wrote about her Mother's Face!" thumped the
Blinded Lady.
My Father twisted his mouth.
"Will the 'Young Darling' who wrote about her Mother's Face please come
forward--and get the Peacock Feather Fan!" said my Father.
Carol came forward. He looked very ashamed. He stubbed his toe on the
braided rug.
"It seems to be our son Carol," said my Father, "who conjured up the
picture of--of the blue larkspur!"
"What?" said the Blinded Lady. "_What?_"
She tapped her foot on the floor. She frowned her brows.
"Well--well--well," she said. "It wasn't at all what I intended! Not at
_all_!--Well--well--well!" She began to rock her chair. "But after all,"
she said, "an agreement is an agreement! And the First Prize is the
First Prize!--Let the Little Dumb Boy step forward to the Chinese
Cabinet and choose his Peacock Feather Fan!"
Rosalee gave a little cry. It sounded almost like tears. She ran
forward. She whispered in Carol's ear.
Carol opened his eyes. He took a chair. He pushed it against the
cabinet. He climbed up to the highest shelf. There was a fan as big as
the moon! It was sandalwood! It was carved! It was all peacock feathers!
Blue! Bronze! It was _beautiful_! He took it! He went back to his seat!
His mouth smiled a little! But he carried the Fan as though it was hot!
"The second prize of course," said the Blinded Lady, "goes to the child
who wrote about the soldiers!"
Rosalee stepped forward.
The Blinded Lady took her hand. "It is not exactly as I had wished,"
said the Blinded Lady. "But a Choice of Cats is a Choice of Cats!--You
will find them all in the wood-shed Young Lassie--awaiting your
decision! Choose wisely! A good cat is a great comfort!"
We went to the wood-shed to help Rosalee choose her cat.
All the cats purred to be chosen. It was sad. My Father said it wasn't.
My Father said one cat was plenty.
The White Persian Kitten lay on a soap box. It looked like Easter
Lilies. Rosalee saw it. She forgot all about the fan.
Carol didn't forget about the fan. He stamped his foot. He shook his
head. He took Rosalee's hand and led her to the old Tortoise Shell Cat.
He put the old Tortoise Shell cat in Rosalee's arms. Rosalee looked
pretty surprised. So did the cat.
My sorrow made tears in my eyes. My Mother came running.
"Bless your heart, Ruthy-Girl," she said. "You shall have a Ginger-bread
to-night that _is_ a Picture!" She put a little box in my hand. There
was a little gold pencil in the box. It was my Mother's best little gold
pencil with the agate stone in the end. "Here's Mother's prize,
Darling," she said. "The Prize Mother brought for _whichever_ child
didn't win the Blinded Lady's prizes! Don't you worry! Mother'll always
have a prize for whichever child doesn't win the other prizes!"
My sorrow went away.
We all ran back to the Blinded Lady to thank her for our Beautiful
Party. And for the prizes.
My Father made a speech to the Blinded Lady.
"But after all, my dear Madam," he said, "I am afraid you have been
cheated!--It was '_new_' pictures that you wanted, not old ones!"
The Blinded Lady whacked at him with her cane. She was awful mad.
"How do _you_ know what I want?" she said. "How do _you_ know what I
want?"
My Father and my Mother looked at each other. They made little laughs
with their eyes.
The Blinded Lady smoothed herself.
"But I certainly am flabbergasted," she said, "about the Old Tom Cat!
Whatever in the world made the Young Lassie choose the old
battle-scarred Tom?"
Rosalee looked at Carol. Carol looked at me. I looked at the Old Tom.
"Maybe she chose him for--for his historicalness," said my Mother.
"----Maybe," said my Father.
We started for the door. We got as far as the Garden. I remembered
something suddenly. I clapped my hands. I laughed right out! "No! She
didn't either!" I said. "She chose him for Carol's Ar--Rena--I bet'cher!
Carol's going to have him for a Cham--peen! We'll fight him every
afternoon! Maybe there'll be tickets!"
"Tickets?" said my Father.
"Oh my dears," said my Mother. "A cat-fight is a dreadful thing!"
My Father looked at the Old Tom! At his battered ears! At his scarred
nose! At his twisted eye! The Old Tom looked at my Father! They both
smiled!
"Infamous!" said my Father. "How much will the tickets be?"
We went home. We went home through the fields instead of through the
village.
Carol held the Peacock Feather Fan as though he was afraid it would bite
him.
Rosalee carried the Old Tom as though she _knew_ it would bite her.
When we got to the Willow Tree they changed prizes. It made a
difference.
Rosalee carried the Peacock Feather as though it was a magic sail. She
tipped it to the breeze. She pranced it. And danced it. It looked
fluffy.
Carol carried the Old Tom hugged tight to his breast. The Old Tom looked
_very_ historical. Carol looked very shining and pure. He looked like a
choir-boy carrying his singing book. He looked as though his voice would
be very high.
My Father and Mother carried each other's hands. They laughed very
softly to themselves as though they knew pleasant things that no one
else knew.
_My_ hand would have felt pretty lonely if I hadn't had the little gold
pencil to carry.