ANOTHER SURPRISE
IT was the next day at noon, or a trifle before, that the boxes
arrived. The same good-natured men who had loaded down the parlour with
furniture, appeared again, and one of them told Karl with a laugh, "he
reckoned he must have found out by this time that Miss Christie Tucker
lived here, for she seemed to have a good many things coming to her,
off and on."
But Karl was so amazed at the size of one of the boxes that he had no
answer ready for this hint at his former bewilderment. He stood dumb
with astonishment, while the two men and the two helpers that they had
brought with them, tugged and groaned, and with the greatest difficulty
lifted their burden.
"I don't know whether it is a meetin'-house or a new school-house,"
declared one, "but it seems to me it is rather heavy for either."
The Tucker family were all at home, and had as much as they could do
to keep out of the way of the men, and to wonder what the thing could
be, and where it was to go, and whether, after all, there wasn't some
mistake.
Don't expect me to go over in detail all the excitements of the hours
that followed. Mother Tucker said afterwards, that she was sure she
should go crazy if she had another day like it in her life; and it
might have a bad effect on her to hear all about it.
All I can tell you about it is, that after much trial and much delay,
and much running to the far lot for helpers, the thing was stood up and
unpacked. And when it first showed its shining surface, Christie gave a
queer little squeal and clasped her hands, and grew white even to her
lips.
"I thought as true as the world that ridiculous child was going to
faint!" her mother said, when she told off the strange doings to her
friend the next day, fanning herself with her apron at the thought of
it, though the day was cold. "I did really, and she don't know anything
about such a thing, either. I never fainted in my life, and I don't
mean she shall, if I can help it. But she turned that white that I just
reached out and snatched her, and it's my opinion if I hadn't, she
would have tumbled right down in a heap! It seems she had some kind of
a notion how a piano would look. She has dreamed about one, and talked
about one, and asked me questions enough, until she had got an idea,
and she knew the thing by hearing and imagination. She knew it was a
piano the minute her father took the last covering off. But she had had
no more idea of ever seeing one in our parlour than she had of seeing a
star there, not a bit more.
"Karl, now, isn't of that sort. He was excited enough, but at the same
time he was quiet about it, and did not seem so dreadfully astonished.
I really don't know what to make of that boy. He seems to have such
queer ideas about things.
"'I meant you should have one, sometime,' he said to Christie, 'but I
did not think it could be brought about so soon.'
"Christie does all the imagining, and she is first-rate at it, and Karl
always seemed to stick to facts. But then, he has such extraordinary
things that he calls facts come into his head!
"'When you get your sewing machine, mother,' he said to me one day,
'will it sew overhand, do you think?'
"Now, I expect to have a sewing machine about as much as Christie
expected a piano, and no more, and I told him so, and says he:
"'That may be, but there's the piano setting there, you see, and the
machine will come, you see if it don't.'"
The visitor knit twice around her stocking before she answered. Then
she pushed her spectacles up on her forehead, and said:
"Well now, Mrs. Tucker, I shouldn't wonder if it would, and if that boy
would get it for you one of these days. I do say that you are blessed
in your children if ever a woman was."
So now the secret is out, and you know it was actually a piano that was
set up in the Tucker parlour.
I took this way of telling you, because I really could not explain what
Christie felt, or even what she said, though she said little enough.
In fact, her mother, who was a little frightened about her, told her
that she acted like a goose. The white look on her face lasted until
her father called her to put her hand on the keys. And when she touched
the gleaming things, thereby bringing forth such sounds as she had
dreamed of in her little music-loving heart, but never heard, she
looked up into her father's face, and the blood rolled up in great
waves to the roots of her hair, and then what did she do but cry.
Of course Nettie cried immediately and loudly. Tears on Christie's face
were something unusual, and not to be borne without a protest. I don't
know as it is any wonder that the startled mother was ready to say just
at this point:
"Why, Christie, what does make you act so like a little goose?"
But Father Tucker put his great protecting arms around her and said:
"Never mind, mother, she is kind of 'upsot,' and it ain't to be
wondered at. Pianos don't grow on every potato lot, and our little girl
never even saw one before, and this thing is hers, you know, and it is
kind of too much."
She got over it after a while, and had only very rosy cheeks and bright
eyes all the afternoon. The pretty music stool was unpacked, and
Christie mounted it, and drew forth such soft, sweet sounds from the
wonderful instrument that her father said admiringly:
"Well, I declare! I thought they had to spend months learning to play
the piano, but I don't see but you make pretty music on it without any
learning."
It was that very afternoon that Lucius and Lucy Cox were to come to tea.
"Enough in itself to upset a whole family," Mrs. Tucker said, "and when
you added a piano, it was, as Father Tucker said, 'too much.'"
But that afternoon is the very thing that you must hear about.
The first one who came was Wells Burton.
"I didn't mean to come so early, for fear I should be in the way," he
explained, "but it is lonesome enough at home. My mother was hindered
from coming home yesterday, my brother isn't so well, and father has
been delayed by a freshet, and everything was disappointing and dismal,
so I ran away. I would have gone into town this morning if it had not
been for the warmed up potatoes, you know, and other things. Besides, I
was in a hurry to see something that I knew had come."
"Oh," said Christie, her eyes aglow, "do you know about it? Did you
know before? Come in quick and see it. I don't know what to think nor
to do."
"What you must do is to take music lessons, and make the thing talk to
you," Wells said, walking into the bright little parlour, and going
boldly up to the great shining beauty, which seemed to the rest of the
family to fill all the space in the room.
Wells seemed in no wise amazed at its appearance, called it a "neat
little thing," drew out the music stool, adjusted it to the right
height with great deliberation, and then seating himself, whirled
his fingers over the keys in a fashion that almost took Christie's
breath away. The sounds that he produced were quite unlike those which
Christie had made.
Even Father Tucker in the kitchen, wiping his great brown hands on the
great brown towel, felt that, and stopped and listened and nodded his
head, and said:
"That is music, eh, mother! Our girl must make it go like that."
"Yes," said Mrs. Tucker, "that is music; just think of that boy being
able to play like that!"
There was a worried look in her eyes, and after a moment's silence she
added: "That will be the next thing. The child will want to learn, and
she will be crazy to, I can see it in her eyes, and how is she ever
going to do it? Music lessons cost a sight of money, even East, and of
course they are worse out here, everything is. And you know, Jonas, we
might as well try to have her fly and be done with it, as to give her a
chance to take music lessons."
Her father laughed. "I should as soon have tried to fly myself as to
get her a piano, and yet there the thing is, and she is playing on it.
There's no tellin' what may come, in this world, I've given up trying.
We must talk with the minister about it. There may be some kind of a
way of turning work. Who knows?"
But the troubled look did not go out of the mother's eyes. "There's
another thing," she said, as she laid the spoons she had been polishing
in a shining heap on the white table. "Jonas, don't it seem wonderful
strange to you that they should send her such a great big present as
that? Why, pianos cost almost a fortune. And that is a good toned one;
I remember the one at grandfather's well enough to know that. I don't
see but it sounds every bit as good as the one at Uncle Daniel's; and
to send it to a stranger, and a little girl! I don't understand it, and
sometimes it doesn't seem quite the thing for us to let her take such
things as a matter of course and say nothing."
"Well, now," Father Tucker said, taking his wet head out of the shining
wash basin, and beginning to polish his face on the towel, "there's
two ways of looking at things. In one sense it is a big present, and
a wonderful thing to happen to a little girl like Christie; and in
another sense how do you suppose it compares with that baby of hers
that Christie took care of? I don't say but that it would have got
taken care of somehow if Christie hadn't been there, though there
didn't seem to be a great many people of sense to depend upon that day,
besides Christie: anyhow, she was the one did it, and did it well, and
while she didn't do it for pay, nor expect pay, still, I suppose it was
an awful day to the mother. And if I was rich, and it was our baby,
seems to me I wouldn't consider even a piano very great things when it
came to showing what I thought of my baby."
"Well," said Mother Tucker reflectively, "that way of looking at it
does make a difference, to be sure. What are forty pianos compared with
a baby?"
Meantime, in the front room, the same thing was being talked about from
a different standpoint.
"Did you ever hear of people doing such a wonderful thing?" This was
the question that Christie asked of Wells.
He let the music soften, so he could answer.
"Why, it was a nice thing, and I rather like my lady for thinking of
it. It is the first time I have forgiven her for leaving her baby and
spoiling our day, but on the whole, I am glad now that she did it. But
as to being wonderful, it was natural enough. Her husband is a piano
dealer; they have a great warehouse in Pearl Street, full of pianos,
of all sorts and sizes. And when she heard that you liked music, and
wanted to see a piano, what was more reasonable than to suppose that
you would like one of your own?"
"How did she know that Christie wanted to see a piano?" asked Karl, who
was watching this entire conversation with the greatest interest.
"Why, you see, we spent quite a long day together when we went our
journey, and we talked about a good many things, pianos among the
rest, and I suppose somebody happened to mention to her something that
Christie said. Look here, let me play this 'Rain Dance' for you, and
you listen and see if you can't hear the drops patter!"
There were reasons why Wells did not want that subject looked into any
farther, so he bewitched them with the rain-drops.
During the playing, the door opened softly, and there came in Lucy and
Lucius Cox. I wish I had photographs of them for you. They had been all
day getting ready to make a good appearance. Lucy had not only combed
her black hair, but banged it, and the straight locks hung down over
her eyebrows, straight into her eyes, so that she winked and blinked
continually. Her brown calico dress was soiled and torn, but she had
pinned the torn place as well as she could, and then tried to cover
its defects with a bit of very soiled, very faded, pink ribbon, which
she had knotted up and fastened over it, and as the rent was half-way
down the skirt on the left side, towards the back breadth, you may
imagine how she looked. Face and hands, however, were clean, and poor
Lucy having put on an old-fashioned linen collar of her mother's that
had not been used in seven years, nor washed, had done all that she
could to honour the great day. Such efforts were beyond Lucius, but he,
too, had combed his hair, and washed his face and hands, and tied his
shoes with green strings, and although his clothes needed washing and
patching, on the whole, he looked better than Karl had feared.
Christie turned toward them timidly, and glanced in great doubt and
distress from them to Wells. He did not know them, and she had a dim
idea that they ought to be introduced, but how was it to be done, and
what would he say?
"I am glad you have come," she said gently. "Will you sit down?"
Now what should she say? "This is Mr. Wells Burton?" And if she did,
what would they say, or would he notice them?
He did not give her long to study the question. He swung himself from
the piano stool and went towards the staring children.
"How are you, Lucius?" he said, nodding pleasantly, as though they had
visited together all their lives. "So this is your little sister Lucy.
Why, Lucius, how far ahead of her you have grown! Aren't you the same
age?"
Lucius nodded.
"And yet you are a head taller! That's good. I always like to see a boy
taller than a girl. He can take care of her better. How old are you,
Lucy? Ten? I had a little sister once who would be just your age now
if she had lived. Her name was Lorine. Well, what are we going to do
first?"
"What's that?" asked Lucy, pointing her small thin finger at the
shining case of the piano.
"That," said Wells, "is a music box. It plays any tune that you are a
mind to make it. Do you want to hear it?"
He seated himself again on the music stool, and the group closed in
around him, while he rushed through waltzes and marches, and snatches
of tunes which he hummed and whistled.
Christie in her delight and relief almost forgot that she was hostess,
and had the great care of entertaining the Cox children on her heart.
Indeed, from that moment she had no need to feel it a burden. Wells
gave himself to the work with such zeal and success, telling stories,
singing songs, playing tunes, answering questions, that when, promptly
at five o'clock, Mr. Keith made his appearance, he found the five young
people well acquainted, and apparently entirely satisfied with one
another.
There was no denying that both Lucius and Lucy were a good deal
startled at the coming of the minister. They knew him by sight, and had
scud over the fields in alarm many a time to avoid speaking to him,
or rather having him speak to them, but, finding that he took very
little notice of them, that the others were glad to see him, and that
he gave most of his attention to the new piano, they settled down, the
startled look going out of their eyes, and I don't think either of them
know just when they began to join in the talk, and even answer the
minister's questions, without feeling afraid.
And now the supper was ready. That wonderful supper, the like of which
the Cox children had never seen. How their plates were heaped up with
the warmed up potatoes, what dishes of hot apple sauce did they make
away with! And as for the bread, Christie had as much as she could do
to keep from looking her astonishment, for though the visitors were
frightened at the idea of sitting down to a table covered with a white
cloth, and using knife and fork, yet the taste of the food had overcome
their timidity to such an extent that they gave themselves up to the
joy of eating and having enough.
It was when they were all back in the parlour, the father talking with
Mr. Keith, and the young people gathered into a corner by themselves,
that Lucy Cox spoke suddenly, with the air of one who had puzzled over
this thing long enough and now felt determined to have satisfaction.
"Look here, I want to know now what you did it for?"
"Did what?" asked startled Christie, for Lucy had pushed away her
bangs, and her great black eyes were fixed on Christie's face.
"Had us come here, me and Lucius, and eat supper and have cake and milk
and good things, and sit in your big nice chairs and see that machine
and all. What did you do it for?"
Her voice was so loud and earnest that it had stopped the talk of the
boys, and Wells was looking right at Christie with a curious smile on
his face, that said to her:
"Yes, if you please, I am interested in that very same question. What
did you want of the little Coxes?"
"We wanted you to have a good time," said Christie, looking down, her
cheeks growing red. "We thought you would like it, and we wanted you
to."
"What for?" It was Lucy again; she had a talent for asking questions,
it seemed, and she kept those black eyes fixed on Christie.
Wells laughed a very little, he could not help it. That was coming
right to the point. Why should she be so anxious to have the little
Coxes have a good time? To be sure he had a dim idea what she was
after, but how was she going to explain to them? That was just what
Christie did not know. She hesitated a little, and glanced timidly up
at Wells.
He would help her if he could; she began to understand this thoroughly,
but his face told her that he did not see how she was going to answer
this.
She looked over at Mr. Keith, but he was busy with her father, their
voices dropped low, and their faces looking as though earnest words
were being said; Christie would not have interrupted them for a great
deal.
She must help herself out, and to do so she must begin at the beginning.
"Do you know about Jesus Christ, Lucy?"
"No. I don't want to know any stories now. I want you to tell me what
you did this for?"
"I am trying to tell you. Don't you truly know anything about Jesus
Christ?"
"No."
"Then," said Christie, a little shocked, and more doubtful than ever
how to tell her story, "you know about God, don't you?"
"Not much; and that hasn't got anything to do with it, anyway."
"Yes it has. It has everything to do with it. Lucy, you know God made
you, don't you?"
Lucy nodded.
"Well, He wanted you to have a good time here, and He wanted me to, and
everybody, and He made a beautiful world and sunshine and everything
so we could. But there is a wicked spirit named Satan who hates us and
wants us to be ugly and unhappy; he made us do wrong things. Lucy, do
you know about Heaven?"
"No."
"Well, that is the world where God lives, and it is beautiful, and
there is nothing bad there ever, and God wanted us all to come there
and Satan didn't. Then Jesus, God's son, said He would come and help
us, and He came away from Heaven and died for us, and helped everybody,
and showed us what to do to get away from Satan, and get ready to go to
Heaven."
"But I want to know what you wanted Lute and me to come over here to
supper for, and gave us lots of good things? That don't tell."
Christie looked pained and puzzled, and stole another glance at Wells,
which made that young fellow feel as though it would be worth a good
deal to understand this story as well as he did multiplication, for
instance, so that he might help Christie. But he had not the least idea
what to say, so he kept still. Christie tried again.
"Lucy, I belong to Jesus Christ. I am His servant, and He told me He
wanted me to ask you to come here and have a good time."
"Why does He?"
"Because He loves you, and wants you to belong to Him. He has a
beautiful place in Heaven that He wants you to live in, and He wants
you to get ready to go."
"How will I get there?"
"Why, He will send for you as soon as you are ready. But you must get
ready first, and there is a good deal to do."
Lucy looked down at herself.
"I haven't got any better clothes," she said gravely, "and I haven't
got any more ribbon to cover up the holes; I found this on the road. I
can't get any more ready than I am. And I don't know as I want to go,
anyhow. Besides, you ain't told the truth; that ain't got nothing to do
with Lute and me coming here to supper."
"Look a here," said Lucius, speaking for the first time, "you had
better keep still. We're having a good time, and you needn't go and
spoil it."