INSIDE A TRUNK
"For girls are as silly as spoons, dears,
And boys are as jolly as bricks.
* * * * *
Oh Mammy, _you_ tell us a story!--
They won't hear a word that _I_ say."
"Mother, mother!" they all cried with one voice, and the three big ones
jumped up and ran to her, all pulling her at once.
"Mother, mother, do sit down in the rocking-chair and look comfortable,"
said Fritz.
"There's still some tea. You'll have a cup of _our_ tea, won't you,
mother?" said Celia.
"And some bread and honey," said Denny.
"It won't spoil your afternoon tea; don't say it will," said all
together, for nothing would ever make them believe that when mother came
up to the nursery at tea-time it could be allowed that she should not
have a share of whatever there was.
"Such a good thing we had honey to-night," said Celia, who was busy
cutting a very dainty piece of bread and butter. "We persuaded Lisa to
give it us _extra_, you know, mother, because of the news. And, oh,
mother, what do you think Baby says? he----"
"Baby! what is the matter with him?" interrupted mother.
They all turned to look at him. Poor Baby, he had set to work to get
down from his chair to run to mother with the others, but the chair was
high and Baby was short, and Lisa, who had gone to the cupboard for a
fresh cup and saucer for "madame," as she called the children's mother,
had not noticed the trouble Herr Baby had got himself into. One little
leg and a part of his body were stuck fast in the open space between the
bars at the back, his head had somehow got under the arm of the chair,
and could not be got out again without help. And Baby was far too proud
to call out for help as long as there was a chance of his doing without
it. But he really was in a very uncomfortable state, and it was a wonder
that the chair, which was a light wicker one, had not toppled over with
the queer way in which he was hanging. They got him out at last; his
face was very red, and I _think_ the tears had been very near coming,
but he choked them down, and looking up gravely he said to his mother,--
"Him's chair is getting too small. Him hasn't room to turn."
"Is it really?" said his mother, quite gravely too. She saw that Celia
and Fritz were ready to burst out laughing at poor Baby, and she didn't
want them to do so, for Baby had really been very brave, and now when he
was trying hard not to cry it would have been too bad to laugh at him.
"Is it really?" she said. "I must see about it, and if it is too small
we must get you another."
"Him doesn't want you to pack up _that_ chair," said Baby again, giving
himself a sort of shake, as if to make sure that his head, and his legs,
and all the rest of him, were in their proper places after being so
turned about and twisted by his struggles in the chair.
"He's quite in a fuss about packing," said Celia; "that's what I was
going to tell you, mother. He stopped in the middle of his tea to think
about it, and he said he thought we'd better begin to-night."
"Yes," said Baby. "There's such _lots_ to pack. All our toys, and the
labbits, and the mouses, and the horses, and the fireplaces, and the
tables, and the cups, and the saucers," his eyes wandering round the
room as he went on with his list. "Him thinks we'll need _lots_ of boats
to go in."
"And two or three railway trains all to ourselves," said mother.
Baby looked up at her gravely. He could not make out if mother was in
fun or earnest. His little puzzled face made mother draw him to her and
give him a kiss.
"It's a shame to talk nonsense to such a serious little man," she said.
"Don't trouble yourself about the packing, Baby dear. Don't you know
grandfather, and auntie, and I have had lots of packings to do in our
lives? Why, we had to pack up _two_ houses when we came away from India,
and that was much much farther away than where we're going now! And you
were _such_ a tiny baby then--it was very much harder, for mother was
very very sad, and she never thought you would grow to be a big strong
boy like what you are now."
"Was that when----" began thoughtless Denny, but Fritz gave her a tug.
"You _know_ it makes mother unhappy to talk about that time," he
whispered; but mother heard him.
"No, Fritz," she said; "I don't mind Denny thinking about it. I am so
glad to have all of you, dears, happy and good, that my sorrow is not so
bad as it was. And I am so glad you and Celia can remember your father.
Poor Baby--_he_ can't remember him," she said, softly stroking Baby's
face.
"'Cos he went to Heaven when him was so little," said Baby. Then he put
his arms round mother's neck. "Him and Fritz will soon grow big, and be
werry good to mother," he said. "And ganfather and auntie are werry good
to mother, isn't they?" he added.
"Yes indeed," said mother; "and to all of you too. What would we do
without grandfather and auntie?"
"Some poor little boys and girls has no mothers and ganfathers, and no
stockings and shoes, and no _nothings_," said Baby solemnly.
"There's _some_ things I shouldn't mind not having," said Fritz; "I
shouldn't mind having no lessons."
"O Fritz," said his sisters; "what a lazy boy you are!"
"No, I'm just _not_ lazy. I'm awfully fond of doing _everything_--I
don't even mind if it's a hard thing, so long as it isn't anything in
books," said Fritz, sturdily. "Some people's made one way, and some's
made another, and I'm made the way of not liking books."
"I wonder what Baby will say to books," said mother, smiling.
"Is jography in books," said Baby. "Him wants to learn jography."
"_I_ think it's awfully stupid," said Denny. "I'm sure you won't like it
once you begin. Did _you_ like lessons when you were little, mother?"
"Yes, I'm sure mother did," said Fritz. "People's fathers and mothers
were always far gooder than their children are. I've noticed that. If
ever big people tell you about when they were little, it's always about
how good they were. And they say always, 'Dear me, how happy children
should be nowadays; _we_ were never allowed to do so and so when _we_
were little.' That's the way old Mrs. Nesbitt always talks, isn't it
mother? I wonder if it's true. If people keep getting naughtier than
their fathers and mothers were, the world will get _very_ naughty some
day. _Is_ it true?"
"I think it's true that children get to be more spoilt," said Denny in a
low voice. "Just look how Baby's clambering all over mother! O Baby,
you nearly knocked over mother's cup! _I_ never was allowed to do like
that when _I_ was a little girl."
Everybody burst out laughing--even mother--but Denny had the good
quality of not minding being laughed at.
"Was the tea nice, and the bread and butter and honey?" she said
eagerly, as mother rose to put the empty cup in a place of safety.
"Very nice, thank you," said mother. "But I must go, dears. I have a
good many things to talk about with grandfather and auntie."
"Packing?" said Baby.
"How you do go on about packing!" said Denny. "Of course mother's not
going to pack to-night."
Baby's face fell.
"Him does so want to begin packing," he said dolefully. "'Appose we
forgottened somesing, and we was over the sea!"
"Well, I must talk about it all, and write down all we have to take,"
said mother. "So I must go to auntie now."
"Oh, not yet, not yet. Just five minutes more!" cried the children.
"And, mother," said Celia, "you've not answered my question. _Is_ it
true that children used to be so much better long ago? Were you never
naughty?"
"Sometimes," said mother, smiling.
"Oh, I'm so glad!" said Celia. "Often, mother? I do hope you were often
naughty. Do tell us a story about something naughty you did when you
were little. You know it would be a good lesson for us. It would show us
how awfully good one may learn to be, for, you know, you're awfully good
now."
"Yes, of course you are," said Fritz and Denny.
"Mother's _dedfully_ good," said Baby, poking up his face from her knee
where he had again perched himself, to kiss her. "Do tell him one story
of when you was a little girl, mother."
Mother's face seemed for a minute rather puzzled. Then it suddenly
cleared up.
"I will tell you a very little story," she said; "it really is a very
little story, but it is as long as I have time for just now, and it may
amuse you. Baby's packing put it in my head."
"Is it about when you were a little girl, mother?" interrupted Denny.
"Yes. Well, when I was a little girl, I had no mother."
The elder children nodded their heads. But Baby, to whom it was a new
idea, shook his sadly.
"Zat was a gate pity," he said. "Poor mother to have no mother. Had you
no shoes and stockings, and nothing nice to eat?"
"You sill----" began Denny, but mother stopped her.
"Oh yes," she said, "I had shoes and stockings, and everything I wanted,
for I had a very kind father. You know how kind grandfather is? And I
had a kind sister whom you know too. But when I was a little girl, my
sister was not herself _very_ big, and she had a great deal to do _for_
a not very big girl, you know. There were our brothers, for we had
several, and though they were generally away at school there seemed
always something to do for them--letters to write to them, if there was
nothing else--and then, in the holidays, there were all their new
shirts, and stockings, and things to get to take back to school. Helen
seemed always busy. She had been at school too, before your grandfather
came back from India, for five years, bringing me with him, quite a wee
little girl of four. And Helen was so happy to be with us again, that
she begged not to go back to school, and, as she was really very well
on for her age, grandfather let her stay at home."
"There, you see," whispered Celia, nudging Fritz. "It's beginning--it
always does--you hear how awfully good auntie was."
Mother went on quietly. If she heard what Celia said she took no notice.
"Grandfather let her stay at home and have lessons there. She had a
great many lessons to learn for her age besides those that one learns
out of books. She had to learn to be very active, and very thoughtful,
and, above all, very patient. For the little sister she had to take care
of was, I am afraid, a very spoilt little girl when she first came home.
Grandfather had spoiled her without meaning it; he was so sorry for her
because she had no mother, and Helen was so sorry for her too, that it
was rather difficult for her not to spoil her as well."
Here Baby himself "inrumpted."
"Him doesn't understand," he said. "Who _were_ that little girl? Him
wants a story about mother when _her_ was a little girl;" and the
corners of his mouth went down, and his eyes grew dewy-looking, in a
very sad way.
[Illustration: There was one trunk which took my fancy more than
all the others.--P. 30.]
"Poor Baby," said mother. "I'll try and tell it more plainly. _I_ was
that little girl, and auntie was my sister Helen. I must get on with my
little story. I was forgetting that Baby would not quite understand.
Well, one day to my great delight, Helen told me that grandfather was
going to take her and me and the two brothers, who were then at home, to
spend Christmas with one of our aunts in London. This aunt had children
too, and though I had never seen them Helen told me they were very nice,
for she knew them well, as she used to go there for her holidays before
we came home. She told me most about a little girl called Lilly, who was
just about my age. I had never had a little friend of my own age, and I
was always talking and thinking about how nice it would be, and I was
quite vexed with Helen because she would not begin to pack up at once. I
was always teasing her to know what trunks we should take, and if all my
dolls might go, and I am sure poor Helen often wished she had not told
me anything about it till the very day before. I got in the way of going
up to the big attic where the trunks were kept, and of looking at them
and wondering which would go, and wishing Helen would let me have one
all for myself and my dolls and their things. There was one trunk which
took my fancy more than all the others. It was an old-fashioned
trunk, but it must have been a very good one, for it shut with a sort of
spring, and inside it had several divisions, some with little lids of
their own, and I used to think how nice it would be for me, I could put
all my dolls in so beautifully, and each would have a kind of house for
itself. I don't remember how I managed to get it open, perhaps it had
been a little open when I first began my visits to the attic, for the
lid was very heavy, and I was neither big nor strong for my age. But it
_was_ open, and it stayed so, for no one else ever went up to the attic
but I. The other people in the house were too busy, and no one would
have thought there was anything amusing in looking at empty trunks in a
row. But I went up to the attic day after day. I climbed up the narrow
staircase as soon as I had had my breakfast, and stayed there till I
heard my nurse calling me to get ready to go out, or to come to my
lessons, for I was beginning to learn to read, and I used to have a
little lesson every day. And at last one day I said to my sister,
"'Helen, may I have the big trunk with the little cupboards in it for
_my_ trunk?'
"Helen was busy at the time, and I don't think she heard exactly what I
said. She answered me hurriedly that she would see about it afterwards.
But I went on teasing.
"'May I begin putting Marietta and Lady Regina into the little cupboards
inside?' I said.
"'Oh yes, I daresay you can if you like,' said Helen. She told me
afterwards that when I spoke of cupboards she never thought I meant a
trunk, she thought I was speaking of some of the nursery cupboards.
"It was just bed-time then, too late for me to go to the attic, for I
knew there was no chance of my getting leave to go up there with a
candle. But I fell asleep with my head full of how nicely I could put
the dolls into the trunk, each with her clothes beside her, and the very
first thing the next morning I got them all together and I mounted up to
the attic. I had never told nurse about my going up there. Once or
twice, perhaps, she had seen me coming down the stair, but very likely
she had thought I had only been a little way up to look out of a window
there was there. I don't know why I didn't tell her, perhaps I was
afraid of her stopping my going. I waited till she was busy about her
work, fetching coals and so on, and then I trotted off with Lady Regina
under one arm and Marietta under the other, and a bundle of their
clothes tied up in my pinafore before, to make my way upstairs to the
delightful trunk. It was open as usual, and after putting my dolls and
bundles down on the floor, I managed to lift out the two top trays. One
of them was much larger than the other, and it was in what I called the
cupboards below the smaller one that I settled to put Regina and
Marietta. There were two of these little cupboards, and each had a lid.
They would just do beautifully. Under the larger tray there was just one
big space without a lid, 'just a hole,' I called it. I went on for a
little time, laying in some of the clothes first to make a nice soft
place for the dolls to lie on, but I soon got tired. It was so very far
to reach over, for the outside edges of the box were high, higher of
course than the _inside_ divisions, for the trays I had taken out, which
lay on the top of the lower spaces, were a good depth, and there had
been no division between them. It came into my head that it would be
much easier if I were to get into the box myself--I could stand in the
big hole, as I called it, and reach over to the little divisions where I
wanted to put the dolls, and it would be far less tiring than trying to
reach over from the outside. So I clambered in--it was not very
difficult--and when I found myself really inside the trunk I was so
pleased that I sat down cross-legged, like a little Turk, to take a rest
before going on with what I called my packing. But sitting still for
long was not in my way--I soon jumped up again, meaning to reach over
for Lady Regina, who was lying on the floor beside the trunk, but, how
it happened I cannot tell, I suppose I somehow caught the tapes which
fastened the lid; any way down it came! It did not hurt me much, for I
had not had time to stretch out my head, and the weight fell mostly on
my shoulders, sideways as it were, and before I knew what had happened I
found myself doubled up somehow in my hole, with the heavy lid on the
top of me, all in the dark, except a little line of light round the
edge, for the lid had not shut quite down; the hasp of the lock--as the
little sticking-out piece is called--had caught in the fall, and was
wedged into a wrong place. So, luckily for me, there was still a space
for some air to come in, and a little light, though very little. I was
dreadfully frightened at first; then I began to get over my fright a
little, and to struggle to get out. Of course my first idea was to try
to push up the lid with my head and shoulders; I remember the feeling of
it pushing back upon me--the dreadful feeling that I couldn't move it,
that I was shut up there and couldn't get out! I was too little to
understand all at once that there could be any danger, that I might
perhaps be suffocated--that means choked, Baby--for want of air; or that
I might really be hurt by being so cramped and doubled up. And really
there was not much danger; if I had been older I should have been more
frightened than there was really any reason to be. But I was big enough
to begin very quickly to get very angry and impatient. I had never in
all my life been forced to do anything I disliked; often and often my
nurse, and sometimes Helen, had begged me to try to sit still for a
minute or two, but I never would. And now the lesson of having to give
in to something much worse than sitting still in my nice little chair by
the nursery fire, or standing still for two minutes while a new frock
was tried on, had to be learnt! There was no getting rid of it; I kicked
and I pushed, it was no use; the strong heavy lid which had been to
India and back two or three times would not move the least bit. I tried
to poke out my fingers through the little space that was left, but I
could not find the lock, and it was a good thing I did not, for if I had
touched the hasp, most likely the lid would have fallen quite into its
place, crushing my poor little fingers, and shutting me in without any
air at all. At last I thought of another plan. I set to work screaming.
"'Nurse, nurse, Nelly, oh Nelly,' I cried, and at last I shouted, 'Papa,
_Papa_, PAPA,' at the top of my voice. But it was no use! Most children
would have begun screaming at the very first. But I was not a
_frightened_ child, and I was very proud. I did not want any one to find
me shut up in a box like that, besides, they would be sure to stop my
ever coming up to the attic again. So it was not till I had tired myself
out with trying to push up the lid that I set to work to screaming, and
that made it all the more provoking that my calls brought no one. At
last I got so out of patience that I set to work again kicking for no
use at all, but just because I was so angry. I kicked and screamed, and
at last I burst into tears and _roared_. Then I caught sight, through
the chink, of Lady Regina's blue dress, where the doll was lying on the
floor near the trunk.
"'Nasty Regina,' I shouted, 'nasty, ugly Regina. You are lying there as
if there was nothing the matter, and it was all for you I came up here.
I hate dolls--they never do nothing. If you were a little dog you'd go
and bark, and then somebody would come and let me out.'
"Then I went on crying and sobbing till I was perfectly tired, and then
what do you think I did? Though I was so uncomfortable, all crushed up
into a little ball, I went to sleep! I went to sleep as soundly as if I
had been in my own little bed, and afterwards I found, from what they
told me, that I must have slept quite two hours. When I woke up I could
not think where I was. I felt so stiff and sore, and when I tried to
stretch myself out I could not, and then I remembered where I was! It
seemed quite dark; I wondered if it was night, till I noticed the little
chink of light at the edge of the lid, and then I began to cry again,
but not so wildly as before. All of a sudden I thought I heard a
sound--some one was coming upstairs! and then I heard voices.
"'Fallen out of the window,' one said. 'Oh no, nurse, she _couldn't_!
She could never get through.'
"But yet the person seemed to be looking out of the window all the same,
for I heard them opening and shutting it. And then I called out again.
"'Oh Nelly, Nelly. I'se here; I'se shut up in the big box with the
cupboards.'
"They didn't hear me at first. My little voice must have sounded very
faint and squeaky from out of the trunk, besides they were not half-way
up the attic-stairs. So I went on crying--
"'Oh Nelly, Nelly! I'se up here. Oh Nelly, Nelly!'
"She heard me this time. Dear Nelly! I never have called to her in vain,
children, in all my life. And in half a minute she had dashed up the
stairs, and, guided by my voice, was kneeling down beside the trunk.
"'Little May, my poor little May,' Nelly called out; and do you know I
really think she was crying too! I was--by the time Nelly and the
servants who were with her had got the lid unhooked and raised, and had
lifted me out--I was in floods of tears. I clung to Nelly, and told her
how 'dedful' it had been, and she petted me so that I am afraid I quite
forgot it was all my own fault.
"'You might have been there for hours and hours, May,' Nelly said to me,
'if it hadn't been for nurse thinking of the window on the stair. You
must never go off by yourself to do things like that,' and when I told
her that I had asked her and she had given me leave, she said she had
not at all known what I meant, and that I must try to remember not to
tease about things once I had been told to wait. Any way I think I had
got a good lesson of patience that day, and one that I never forgot, for
it really is not at all a pleasant thing to be shut up in a big trunk."
Mother stopped.
Baby, who had been listening with solemn eyes, said slowly,
"Him will not pack by hisself. Him will wait till somebody can help him.
It would be so dedful sad if him was to get shuttened up like poor
little mother, and perhaps you'd all go away ac'oss the sea and nebber
find him."
The corners of his mouth went down at this sorrowful picture, and his
eyes looked as if they were beginning to think about crying. But mother
and Celia set to work petting and kissing him before the tears had time
to come.
"As if we would ever go across the sea without _him_," said mother.
"Why, we should never know how to do _anything_ without Herr Baby," said
Celia.
"Fritz and Baby will do all the fussy things in travelling--taking the
tickets, and counting the luggage, and all that--they're such big men,
aren't they?" said Denny, with mischief in her twinkling green eyes.
"Now you, just mind what you're about," said Fritz, gallantly. "You'll
make him cry just when mother's been comforting him up. Such stupids
girls are!" he added in a lower voice.
"I really must go now," said mother, getting up from her chair. "Auntie
will not know what has become of me. I have been up here, why a whole
half hour, instead of five minutes!"
"Auntie will think mother's got shut up in a trunk again," said Denny,
whose tongue _never_ could be still for long, and at this piece of wit
they all burst out laughing.
All but Herr Baby. He couldn't see that it was any laughing matter.
Mother's story had sunk deep into his mind. Trunks were things to be
careful of. Baby saw this clearly.