_The Happy Shop and the Magic Book_
THE first thing Jimsi said, when the train stopped at a little station
where Aunt Phoebe was waiting to greet them on the platform, was, “Oh,
Aunt Phoebe, I saw the Crow. He followed the train. I’m sure it must
have been your crow because I heard him say caw-caw!”
Aunt Phoebe smiled. “Wasn’t that funny,” she laughed. “Wait, Jimsi,
you’ll really see my crow soon. He’s in The Happy Shop now. But don’t
expect too much, dear. You mustn’t be disappointed!”
They walked through the little country town together. Aunt Phoebe’s
house, so she said, wasn’t far from the station. Everything seemed so
quiet and there were so few people! Jimsi had only been in the country
summers. Now that it was winter-time and the ground was bare and brown,
the country didn’t seem like the same sort of a place. Jimsi began to
wonder what she would find to do all day long. True, Aunt Phoebe could
always invent splendid things—and there was going to be a fine new play
called The Happy Shop! Yes, there was The Happy Shop! “What _is_ The
Happy Shop?” she asked, looking up to Aunt Phoebe as she trotted along
between Daddy and her. “I want to know all about The Happy Shop!”
“Oh, you’ll have to wait for that, Jimsi,” returned Aunt Phoebe. “Here
we are”—and they turned in at a quaint green gate that led to a small
bare garden that was shrouded in boughs of evergreen. The house was
small like the garden. Aunt Phoebe lived here alone, though one never,
never could imagine an aunt like Aunt Phoebe as being the least bit
lonely. Why, she never could be lonely—there was too much for her to
think about and do, don’t you know. It’s only the persons who sit still
and think how miserable they are who are lonely!
Jimsi followed her into the hall. It was old-fashioned and quaint like
the garden. Upstairs there was a wee little room that looked out into
the boughs of the evergreens. It was papered in soft blue-green and
it had a most inviting soft bed with a blue cover. Aunt Phoebe took
Jimsi’s cloak and hat and hung them in the closet. She put back the
covers of the bed and made her lie down and rest. “You came here to
grow well and strong,” she said. “We must do what Mother wants you to
do. By and by I’ll call you and you can come down.” She covered Jimsi
up with something downy. Then she kissed her. “Deary,” she smiled.
“Look under the pillow—” and then she closed the door softly and left
Jimsi lying there feeling under the pillow for—for—why a crow letter,
of course!
Jimsi giggled softly to herself as she felt it under the pillow and
drew it out.
“DEAREST JIMSI:
Try to take a good nap like a good little girl. I am
glad you are here and I hope you will do all you can
to grow well and strong. To-morrow, maybe, Aunt Phoebe
will show you The Happy Shop. I think you’ll like it.
With love from your
_Good Crow._”
It was such a darling little tiny letter! It had a wee stamp in one
corner. The stamp was drawn with red ink. Oh, it was darling of
thoughtful Aunt Phoebe to do that! Wasn’t it exactly like her too!
Jimsi smiled as she folded the tiny sheet and put it back in the
envelope. Then, obediently, she curled down into the downy bed and shut
her eyes tight, resolving to do all she could to help Aunt Phoebe keep
the promise to Mother.
When she woke, it was growing dusk. Aunt Phoebe was at the door of the
little blue room calling, “Up, Jimsi! What a fine nap you’ve had. It’s
almost tea-time!” She lit a candle and helped Jimsi unpack her trunk
a bit and dress. Then, hand in hand they went down to the hall where
Daddy was consulting his watch. “I must be off,” he declared.
Well, for a few moments after he had gone, Jimsi thought she was going
to cry—but she didn’t! Oh, no! Of course she didn’t! She knew that she
was going to miss Daddy fearfully and Mother and Henry and Katherine
too but Jimsi was a plucky girl. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Can’t I help you get tea on the table, Aunt Phoebe?” she asked.
(Mother told Jimsi once that the way to be happy was to forget oneself.
“Think! See if you can’t help somebody, dear, when you feel like that.
Try it and see!”)
So Jimsi tried to help. She set the table with the pretty blue plates.
She found where knives and forks were in the sideboard. She searched
out the tumblers and by and by all was done.
“Shall we ask the crow in to tea?” demanded Aunt Phoebe, coming in from
the kitchen with a dish steaming and good to sniff.
“Can we!” exclaimed Jimsi.
Aunt Phoebe smiled. “We might play it,” she suggested. “Lay another
plate, just for fun. I’ll get the crow!”
Jimsi was mystified. Oh, dear! How jolly! How splendidly jolly! What
was Aunt Phoebe up to now?
And then while she was still wondering and laughing softly, into the
room stepped Aunt Phoebe and she had—she had a big black crow in her
hand! He was a stuffed crow and very black and splendid. He was perched
on a twig that was on a standard. Quite solemnly but with her eyes
merry with a twinkle, Aunt Phoebe set the crow down in the chair that
was to be his and introduced him.
“This is Jimsi, my play-niece,” said she, “Jimsi, this is my play-crow,
Caw Caw.”
“I’m very happy to know you, Caw Caw,” said Jimsi, entering with
spirit into the play. “You’ve always been a friend of mine but I never
expected to see you really and truly. I thought you were just pretend,
you know—something like Cinderella’s lovely fairy godmother. And yet I
always liked to play you were true. I’m glad now that I can play you’re
true!”
The crow said nothing, of course. But Aunt Phoebe explained that he
didn’t talk much, so the two of them ate supper and talked together,
making conversation for the crow the way one plays dolls.
“Will you tell me about The Happy Shop, Mr. Crow?” inquired Jimsi
politely of the funny stuffed crow. She could hardly keep her face
straight but she hid a smile in her table napkin.
“I’ll have to talk for him,” Aunt Phoebe declared. “Yes, I’ll tell you
about The Happy Shop. We’ll go there first thing in the morning. I
think you’ll like it. There are ever so many nice things in it but the
very _nicest_ is the Magic Book, I think.”
“The Magic Book?” echoed Jimsi. “_What’s _the Magic Book?”
“I’ll show it to you after the Crow goes to roost,” answered Aunt
Phoebe. “You mustn’t call him _Mr._ Crow! He doesn’t like it. His name
is Caw Caw.”
Perhaps the Crow would have liked corn to eat. I’m afraid Aunt Phoebe’s
crow, being just a stuffed play-crow, wouldn’t have eaten corn, though,
if he _had_ had it—no, not any more than a doll will eat cake at a
party. You have to pretend that the doll eats. So Aunt Phoebe pretended
most beautifully to pour out cocoa for the crow—a second cup, mind you!
She gave him second helpings of nearly everything and Jimsi followed
suit. Indeed, her appetite seemed really pretty good for a little girl
who is getting well after a long sickness.
When tea was over, Aunt Phoebe said that they would go to see The Happy
Shop, even though it was dark there now. She lit a dainty pink candle
and with the Good Crow Caw Caw, they went into the hall.
Just off the hall at the side of the house was Aunt Phoebe’s study.
She did ever so many wonderful things there. She wrote books. Maybe
that was how Aunt Phoebe came to think up so many jolly things to
play. She was almost always making up a story or writing an article
for a magazine or _something_. She knew all manner of things and when
she didn’t know about them, there were books in the study that could
tell—great big books all full of print, books that Aunt Phoebe did not
write but books like those in the school library at home. Aunt Phoebe
explained all about the books and showed Jimsi her desk and the big
typewriter as they passed through into The Happy Shop that opened with
glass doors into the study. It was—Oh, it was a little glass room. In
the light of the candle, Jimsi could see blooming plants on shelves.
There was also a couch and a big table and a chair. On the table, lay
a big flat book—ever so big. It was a queer book. In the dark, Jimsi
couldn’t see exactly what it was. Aunt Phoebe picked it up and said,
“This is the Magic Book, Jimsi! You can’t see what it is like here but
we’ll look it over in my study where there is a lamp. Now, we’ll leave
Caw Caw here. It’s where he stays at night. In the morning when the
plants are watered, I think he must fly off to the Santa Claus land
but you’ll find his mail-box here and you can always look for letters
in it.” She picked up a small white box that was very like a tiny
mail-box. On it was written MAIL. (It looked as if Aunt Phoebe’s own
fingers—that were very clever fingers indeed—might have made the toy
mail-box for the Good Crow.)
Oh, it was lovely—lovely! Jimsi squealed delightedly. The Happy Shop
was splendid—of course, she didn’t understand all that it meant yet,
but she knew it was going to be splendid, _splendid_!
Jimsi put the little mail-box back on the shelf beside the crow. She
peered about in the candle-light to see more of The Happy Shop, but it
was really too dark to see what else was there and she knew she would
have to wait till morning. She followed Aunt Phoebe into the study to
look at the Magic Book.
“I suppose,” said Aunt Phoebe, sitting down to her big study table and
drawing Jimsi up on her lap quite as if she enjoyed having little girls
muss up her pretty blue dress, “maybe you won’t think that this book
_is_ magic but I assure you that it IS! In it are ever so many, many,
many different kinds of splendid things,—things to make, Jimsi.”
Jimsi looked at the big book spread out on the study table. On its
cover was written the name of a wall paper firm. As she turned the
leaves, there were papers of all kinds in it, blue and pink and yellow
and green and red and brown and violet and white and even purple.
There were sheets of striped papers as well as plain papers. There were
dotted papers, crossed papers, papers with big designs and papers with
small designs. Some had flowers and some had none. Some were thin and
some were heavy. Some had splendid dashing sprays of floral coloring.
Others were inconspicuous and unassuming. There were all sorts of
combinations of color and pattern. Yes, there were even figures in
some of the borders and there was paper meant for nursery walls.
It had dogs and cats and little ducks in it. There was more of the
nursery wall paper, they found. Why, there were fairies in one pattern!
Jimsi was delighted! “They are beautiful! Look at _this_!” she kept
exclaiming.
[Illustration: THE MAGIC BOOK OF THE GOOD CROW’S HAPPY SHOP WAS A BIG
SAMPLE BOOK OF WALL PAPER]
“All hidden in this book, Jimsi, are ever so many things. That’s why
I called it the Magic Book. You can’t see half that is here. I don’t
begin to know how many things are in these papers. We’ll have to ask
Caw Caw to help us. You see, he knows much and he can tell you in his
play letters, maybe. We call your sunny little room there The Happy
Shop because you are going to learn how to make some of the things that
are to be found in the Magic Book every day. In The Happy Shop is a
work-table and some paste and a pair of scissors. To-morrow, the Good
Crow will leave a letter in the mail-box, I think, and tell you what
you can do to make your own fun all by yourself for play. What do you
like best to play at home, Jimsi?”
“Dolls,” promptly sang out Jimsi. “I love to play dolls. But it isn’t
much fun to play dolls all alone and I left mine at home. I was afraid
that my best doll would get hurt in packing and I didn’t want to break
her—beside that, I thought you’d probably have The Happy Shop play to
keep me busy.”
“Yes, you’re right, Jimsi! And it will keep you busy too!” smiled Aunt
Phoebe. “Do you know, it was just luck that made me run across the
Magic Book. You see I had the little room where you are repapered in
blue. I’m so glad I did! And the paper hanger brought this sample book
with him when he came. When I saw it and after I chose the blue paper
in your room, I asked if I could buy it. He shook his head. ‘It’s just
a sample book,’ he said, ‘We have ever so many of them. The dealers
give them to us and we throw them away after we have no more use for
them. The patterns are new every year and the fresh sample books come
in in January. This happens to be a book of last year and if you want
it, you are more than welcome to it, if it is of any use to you.’”
“Why, think of it!” Jimsi beamed, squeezing Aunt Phoebe’s hand. “Did
you tell him?”
“Oh, I told him that I’d like to have the book very much and that
I thought there were ever so many children who would like his old
sample books of wall paper,” returned Aunt Phoebe. “He just gives them
away. Paper-hangers, it seems, always throw them out or sell them to
the junkmen and they never give them to children because, Jimsi dear,
the children don’t know anything at all about them. Nobody but the
Good Crow and I know about Magic that is in old sample books of wall
paper! But, Jimsi, it’s time for bed and you know we both made Mother a
promise. Kiss me good-night, dear. Here’s the candle. I’ll come up for
a hug later as Mother does.”
And then Jimsi went up to the little blue room with her candle. She
turned down the covers and slipped her hand under the pillow but the
crow had not put any other letter there. Not again _that_ day!