Now the Curtain opens, and you see a farmhouse kitchen, just as
Mother Goose promised. At the back, opposite to you, is a fire-place,
with a mantel shelf over it. A bright fire is burning. On the mantel
is a lamp, lighted, and an unlighted candle; also some other things
that you'll hear about later. There is a cupboard against the back
wall. At one side of the room is the door leading out of doors; beside
it is a large wood box, where the fire-wood is kept; and nearby are a
broom, leaning against the wall, and a dustpan. On the other side of
the room is another door, which leads to the rest of the house; beside
that is a big clothes basket, where the soiled clothes are kept. Close
to the fire, one on each side, the Grandfather and the Grandmother are
sitting in comfortable chairs. Near the front and a little at one side
are a table and a chair. On the table is a dishpan and a number of
dishes, which the Mother is washing when the curtain opens.
The first one to speak is the GRANDMOTHER, and this is what she
says: Haven't you nearly finished, Mary?
Yes, almost, answers MOTHER: only a few more things to be washed,
and then I can sit down and rest.
GRANDMOTHER asks, Is everything ready for the Christmas dinner
tomorrow?
Every single thing, MOTHER answers. The goose is ready to go on the
fire; the apple sauce is made; the bread and the pies are baked; and
the plum pudding--well, you saw the pudding yourself, so that I don't
need to tell you about that. It's a beauty, if I do say so.
At this moment the outside door opens, and the two children, Walter
and Gertrude, run in. Their coats and mittens show that they have been
playing in the snow.
Oh, Mother, says WALTER, it's getting dark outside. May we come in
now? Is your work all done?
Not quite yet, dears, his MOTHER answers. Run out, both of you,
for ten minutes more, and then I'll have everything cleared away. It
makes me nervous to have you about while things are in a mess.
All right, mother, says GERTRUDE. Come on, Walter, I'll race you to
the gate. And both the children go out-of-doors again, running.
Gertrude was nearer the door, and gets out first.
Such energy as those children have! exclaims MOTHER, with a sigh,
as she goes on with her work. Sometimes it makes me tired to watch
them. There, every last thing is washed, and now, when I've dried
them, I can sit down. She goes on talking while she dries. There's
one thing I haven't had time to do--those paper caps. I suppose the
children will be disappointed, but I simply couldn't find time to make
them. The colored paper and paste and scissors are all on the mantel
shelf and I suppose I ought to sit right down now and go to work on
them, but I declare, I'm too tired. Getting ready for Christmas seems
to take all the strength I have. I think I must be getting old.
You getting old! exclaims GRANDMOTHER. Nonsense! Wait till you get
to be our age; then you might talk of getting old and feeling tired.
Isn't that so, John? John is Grandfather's first name.
Yes, GRANDFATHER answers, when you get to be as old as we are, then
you'll know what it is to be tired, Christmas or another day. I tried
to help James shut the gate this morning, where the snow had drifted
against it, and it tired me so, I haven't stirred out of this chair
since.
Now the outside door opens a second time, and the children come in
again, Gertrude first.
Isn't it time now, mother? asks GERTRUDE.
Yes, answers MOTHER, I've just finished. Take off your coats, and
try to quiet down. She puts the clean dishes away in the cupboard and
carries the dish pan away into the next room.
The children take of their coats and caps. Walter goes over by his
Grandfather and leans against his chair. Gertrude sits down on a low
stool beside her Grandmother.
What have you children been doing all the afternoon? asks
GRANDFATHER.
Oh, we've had the greatest fun, cries GERTRUDE. First we went
skating down on the mill pond.
And then we built a snow fort, WALTER chimes in, and the Indians
attacked it, and we drove them off with snow-balls.
And then we played tag out by the barn, adds GERTRUDE.
No, WALTER corrects her, that was afterwards; don't you remember,
Gertrude? Before that, we raced down to the crossroads to see if the
postman had brought any mail.
Oh, yes, GERTRUDE agrees, and you tripped and fell down in the snow
drift, and oh, grandfather, you ought to have seen him when he got up;
he was a sight. But it all brushed off.
And don't you feel tired after doing all that? GRANDMOTHER asks.
No, says GERTRUDE, I'm not a bit tired; are you, Walter?
Not a bit, says WALTER.
Well, that's the beauty of being young, GRANDMOTHER says, in a tired
sort of voice. I suppose that when I was your age, I was just the
same as you children are now.
How long is it since you were our age? WALTER asks.
So many years, says GRANDMOTHER, that I haven't time to count them
up. But I can remember it all clearly enough, even if it was so long
ago. Everything about it was very different then from the way it is
now.
How was it different, grandmother? asks GERTRUDE.
Why, in all sorts of ways, GRANDMOTHER answers. For one thing, the
days seemed ever so much shorter when I was a little girl.
And the nights, adds GRANDFATHER. Nowadays the nights are sometimes
quite long, but when I was a boy they were so short, that it almost
seemed as though there weren't any nights at all.
And food used to taste quite different then, says GRANDMOTHER. I
used to care a lot more for breakfast and dinner and supper then than
I do now.
Grandfather, asks WALTER, do you wish that you could have stayed on
being a little boy, always?
Well, I don't know, Walter, GRANDFATHER replies thoughtfully; there
are two sides to that. I'll tell you what I would like, though. I'd
like to be a little boy now and then, just for a short time, to see
once more how it would feel to run and shout and play and eat and
laugh, the way I used to. But then I think I'd pretty soon want to be
myself again, old as I am, because there are some grand things about
old age that I think I'd miss if I had to be a little boy for good and
all. A good many wonderful things happen to you when you grow old, and
even if my old body does get pretty tired sometimes, and you children
think perhaps that grandfather looks very stupid, sitting so quiet by
the fire-side here, I'm often thinking, inside, of splendid things
that little boys and girls don't know anything about.
But, grandfather, says GERTRUDE, tell us some more things that were
different when you were a boy.
Well, let me see, GRANDFATHER says, and stops for a moment to think.
Then he goes on. There were the brownies. I haven't said anything
about them, have I?
The brownies? exclaims WALTER, his eyes big with interest. What
about the brownies?
Only that when I was a little boy, answers GRANDFATHER, I used to
see the brownies sometimes. But now I never see them. It's many a long
year since I caught sight of a single one.
Where did you used to see them? asks WALTER, still excited.
Right here in this room, answers GRANDFATHER. There used to be two
of them, when I was a boy; and often I would see them, though none of
the grown-up people could see them at all. During the daytime they
used often to hide in the wood-box over there: and then at night,
they used to come out and play. And sometimes they worked, too, for I
can remember my father saying sometimes in the morning, "The floor
looks so clean that I think the brownies must have swept it last
night."
But, Grandfather, says WALTER, for there is one thing about this
that puzzles him, I'm a little boy, and I've never seen the brownies.
No, not yet, GRANDFATHER admits, but I think you're likely to any
time now. You see, they don't show themselves to very little boys, for
fear of frightening them.
GERTRUDE, who has been listening carefully to all of this, has a
question to ask. Grandmother, she says, did you see the brownies,
too, when you were a little girl?
No, indeed, answers GRANDMOTHER. The brownies never wanted any girls
to see them. But I used to see the house-fairies often, and they
always hid away from the boys, so that only we girls ever saw
them.
How many house-fairies were there, Grandmother, asks GERTRUDE
eagerly, and where did you see them, and what did they do?
My, what a lot of questions! GRANDMOTHER says, smiling at Gertrude's
excitement. There were two of them at our house, and they lived in
the kitchen just as the brownies did here. They used to hide in a big
clothes basket very much like that one over there. At night, like the
brownies, they used to do some of the house-work to help mother; and
how pleased she used to be, when she found in the morning that some of
the work had been done for her while she was asleep.
Do you suppose, says WALTER, that if I woke up some night, and came
and looked in here, I'd see the brownies working or playing?
Very likely, answers GRANDFATHER.
Oh, I'd like to try it, cries WALTER. Can I do it tonight?
But GRANDMOTHER says: No, indeed, Walter. What is your Grandfather
thinking of to put such a notion into your head. And as for
tonight--well, of all nights in the year!--the very night when we
expect Santa Claus to come and fill the stockings. And you know how
displeased he would be to find the children awake and watching him.
Why, he very likely would go away without leaving a single present.
To be sure, says GRANDFATHER. No, it wouldn't do at all. And,
besides, think how tired you'd be for tomorrow. And then you'd be
sorry with all the goings-on. By dinner time, you'd probably be
falling asleep, and we'd have to eat all the goose and the pudding
without you.
We wouldn't want to miss that, says GERTRUDE, shaking her head
decisively. I saw the pudding out in the store closet, and I tell
you, it smelt good.