Toto"s Merry Winter.
by Laura E. Richards.
CHAPTER I.
IT was evening,--a good, old-fashioned winter evening, cold without, warm and merry within. The snow was falling lightly, softly, with no gusts of wind to trouble it and send it whirling and drifting hither and thither. It covered the roof with a smooth white counterpane, tucking it in neatly and carefully round the edges; it put a tall conical cap on top of the pump, and laid an ermine fold over his long and impressive nose. Myriads of curious little flakes pattered softly--oh! very softly--against the windows of the cottage, pressing against the gla.s.s to see what was going on inside, and saying, "Let us in! let us in!
please do!" But n.o.body seemed inclined to let them in, so they were forced to content themselves with looking.
Indeed, the aspect of the kitchen was very inviting, and it is no wonder that the little cold flakes wanted to get in. A great fire was crackling and leaping on the hearth. The whole room seemed to glow and glitter: bra.s.s saucepans, tin platters, gla.s.s window-panes, all cast their very brightest glances toward the fire, to show him that they appreciated his efforts. Over this famous fire, in the very midst of the dancing, flickering tongues of yellow flame, hung a great black soup-kettle, which was almost boiling over with a sense of its own importance, and a kindly consciousness of the good things cooking inside it.
"Bubble! b-r-r-r-r! bubble! hubble!" said the black kettle, with a fat and spluttering enunciation.
"Bubble, hubble! b-r-r-r-r-r-r! bubble!
Lots of fun, and very little trouble!"
On the hob beside the fire sat the tea-kettle, a brilliant contrast to its sooty neighbor. It was of copper, so brightly burnished that it shone like the good red gold. The tea-kettle did not bubble,--it considered bubbling rather vulgar; but it was singing very merrily, in a clear pleasant voice, and pouring out volumes of steam from its slender copper nose. "I am doing all I can to make myself agreeable!" the tea-kettle said to itself. "I am boiling just right,--hard enough to make a good cheerful noise, and not so hard as to boil all the water away. And _why_ that beast should sit and glower at me there as he is doing, is more than I can understand."
"That beast" was a racc.o.o.n. I think some of you children may have seen him before. He was sitting in front of the fire, with his beautiful tail curled comfortably about his toes; and he certainly _was_ staring very hard at the tea-kettle. Presently the kettle, in pure playfulness and good-will, lifted its cover a little and let out an extra puff of snowy steam; and at that the racc.o.o.n gave a jump, and moved farther away from the fire, without ever taking his eyes off the kettle.
The fact is, that for the first time in his life the racc.o.o.n knew what _fear_ was. He was afraid--mortally afraid--of that tea-kettle.
"Don"t tell me!" he had said to Toto, only the day before, "don"t tell _me_ it isn"t alive! It breathes, and it talks, and it moves, and if that isn"t being alive I don"t know what is."
"c.o.o.n, how utterly absurd you are!" cried Toto, laughing. "It _doesn"t_ move, except when some one takes it up, of course, or tilts it on the hob."
"Toto," said the racc.o.o.n, speaking slowly and impressively, "as sure as you are a living boy, I saw that kettle take off the top of its head and look out of its own inside, only last night. And before that," he added, looking rather shamefaced, "I--I just put my paw in to see what there was inside, and the creature caught it and took all the skin off."
But here Toto burst into a fit of laughter, and said, "Served you right!" which was so rude that the racc.o.o.n went off and sat under the table, in a huff.
So this time, when the kettle took off the top of its head, c.o.o.n did not run out into the shed, as he had done before, because he was ashamed when he remembered Toto"s laughter. He only moved away a little, and looked and felt thoroughly uncomfortable.
But now steps were heard outside. The latch clicked, the door opened, and Toto and Bruin entered, each carrying a foaming pail of milk. They brushed the snow from their coats, and Toto took off his, which the good bear could not well do; then, when they had carried their milk-pails into the dairy, they came and sat down by the fire, with an air of being ready to enjoy themselves. The racc.o.o.n winked at them by way of greeting, but did not speak.
"Well, c.o.o.n," said Bruin, in his deep ba.s.s voice, "what have you been doing all the afternoon? Putting your tail in curl-papers, eh?"
"Not at all," replied the racc.o.o.n with dignity, "I have been sweeping the hearth; sweeping it," he added, with a majestic curl of his tail, "in a manner which _some_ people [here he glanced superciliously at the bear] could hardly manage."
"I am sure," said the boy Toto, holding out his hands toward the ruddy fire-blaze, "it is a blessing that Bruin has no tail. Just fancy how he would go knocking things about! Why, it would be two yards long, if it were in the same proportion as yours, c.o.o.n!"
"Hah!" said the racc.o.o.n, yawning, "very likely. And what have you two been doing, pray, since dinner?"
"I have been splitting kindling-wood," said Toto, "and building a snow fort, and s...o...b..lling Bruin. And he has--"
"I have been talking to the pig," said Bruin, very gravely. "The pig.
Yes. He is a very singular animal, that pig. Is it true," he added, turning to Toto, "that he has never left that place, that sty, since he was born?"
"Never, except to go into the yard by the cow-shed," said Toto. "His sty opens into the yard, you know. But I don"t think he cares to go out often."
"That is what he said," rejoined the bear. "That is what struck me as so very strange. He said he never went out, from one winter to another. And when I asked why, he snorted, and said, "For fear the wind should blow my bristles off." Said it in a very rude way, you know. I don"t think his manners are good. I shall not go to see him again, except in the way of taking his food to him. But here we sit, talking," continued the bear, rising, "when we ought to be getting supper. Come! come! you lazy fellows, and help me set the table."
With this, the good bear proceeded to tie a huge white ap.r.o.n round his great black, s.h.a.ggy body, and began to poke the fire, and to stir the contents of the soup-kettle with a long wooden spoon,--all with a very knowing air, as if he had done nothing but cook all his life. Meanwhile, the racc.o.o.n and Toto spread a clean cloth on the table, and set out cups and plates, a huge brown bowl for the bear, a smaller one for the racc.o.o.n, etc. Bread and milk, and honey and baked apples came next; the soup-kettle yielded up a most savory stew, made of everything good, and onions besides; and finally, when all was ready, Toto ran and knocked at the door of his grandmother"s room, crying, "Granny, dear! supper is ready, and we are only waiting for you."
The door opened, and the blind grandmother came out, with the little squirrel perched on her shoulder.
"Good evening to you all!" she said, with her sweet smile and her pretty little old-fashioned courtesy. "We have been taking a nap, Cracker and I, and we feel quite refreshed and ready for the evening."
The grandmother looked ten years younger, Toto was constantly telling her, than she did the year before; and, indeed, it was many years since she had had such a pleasant, easy life. Helpful as Toto had always been to her, still, he was only a little boy, though a very good one; and by far the larger share of work had fallen to the old lady herself. But now there were willing hands--paws, I should say--to help her at every turn.
The bear washed and cooked, churned and scrubbed, with never-tiring energy and good-will. The racc.o.o.n worked very hard indeed: he said so, and n.o.body took the trouble to contradict him. He swept the kitchen occasionally, and did a good deal of graceful and genteel dusting with his long bushy tail, and tasted all the food that Bruin cooked, to see if it had the proper flavor. Besides these heavy duties, he caught rats, teased the cow, pulled the parrot"s tail whenever he got a chance, and, as he expressed it, "tried to make things pleasant generally." The little squirrel had const.i.tuted himself a special attendant on "Madam,"
as the forest-friends all called the grandmother. He picked up her ball of yarn when it rolled off her lap, as it was constantly doing. He cracked nuts for her, brought her the spices and things when she made her famous gingerbread, and went to sleep in her ample pocket when he had nothing else to do. As for the wood-pigeon and the parrot, they were happy and contented, each in her own way, each on her own comfortable perch, at her own window.
Thus had all Toto"s summer playmates become winter friends, fast and true; and it would be difficult to find a happier party than that which gathered round the bright fire, on this and every other evening, when the tea-things were put away, the hearth newly swept, and a great tin-pan full of nuts and apples placed on the clean hearth-stone. Only one of the animals whom you remember in Toto"s summer story was missing from the circle; that was the woodchuck. But he was not very far off. If you had looked into a certain little cupboard near the fireplace,--a quaint little cupboard, in which lived three blue ginger-jars and a great pewter tankard,--you would have seen, lying in the warmest corner, next the fireplace, something which looked at first sight like a large knitted ball of red yarn. On looking closer, you would have seen that it was a ball of brown fur, enclosed in a knitted covering. If you had taken off the covering and unrolled the ball, you would have found that it was a woodchuck, sound asleep.
Poor Chucky had found it quite impossible to accept the new arrangement.
He had always been in the habit of sleeping all through the winter; and while the other animals had succeeded, after a long time, in conquering their sleepiness (though it was still a very common thing to find Bruin asleep over the churn, and c.o.o.n had a way of creeping into Toto"s bed at odd times during the day), the woodchuck had succ.u.mbed entirely after the first week, and had now been asleep for a couple of months. At first, after he had dropped into his long slumber, the bear and the racc.o.o.n had played ball with him a good deal, tossing him about with great agility. But one day the living ball had fallen into the soup-kettle, where the water was so hot as to elicit a miserable sleepy squeak from the victim, and the grandmother had promptly forbidden the game. It was then that she knit the red-worsted cover for poor Chucky, for she said she could not bear to think of his sleeping all winter with nothing over him; and she put him away in the cupboard by the fireplace, and wished him pleasant dreams as she closed the door. So there the woodchuck lay, warm and comfortable, but too sound asleep to know anything about it. And the three blue ginger-jars and the pewter tankard kept watch over him, though they had their own ideas about this stranger having been popped in among them without so much as saying, "By your leave!"
As I was saying, it was a happy party that sit around the blazing fire.
The grandmother in her high-backed armchair, knitting in hand; Toto sitting Turk-fashion on the hearth-rug, his curly head resting on the s.h.a.ggy coat of the bear, who sat solemnly on his haunches, blinking with sober pleasure at the fire; the racc.o.o.n on a low ha.s.sock, which was his favorite seat in the evening, as it showed off his tail to great advantage; the parrot and the wood-pigeon perched on the high chair-back, and standing on one leg or two, as they felt inclined.
"Ah!" exclaimed the little squirrel, who had stationed himself on the top of Bruin"s head, as a convenient and suitable place, "Ah! now this is what _I_ call comfort. Snowing fast outside, is isn"t it, Bruin?"
"Yes!" replied the bear.
"That makes it all the more jolly inside!" said the squirrel. "What are we to do this evening? Is it a story evening, or dancing-school and games?"
"We had dancing-school last night," said the bear. "I haven"t got over it yet. I backed into the fire twice in "forward and back, and cross over." Let us have a story to-night."
"Yes!" said the grandmother. "It is just the night for a story; and if you wish it, I will tell you one myself."
"Oh! please, Madam!" "Thank you, Madam!" "Hurrah! Granny!" resounded on all sides, for the grandmother"s stories were very popular; so, settling herself back in her chair, and beginning a new row in her knitting, the good woman said:--
"This story was told to me by my own grandmother. A story that has been told by two grandmothers in succession is supposed to be always true; you may therefore believe as much of this as you like."
And without further preface, she began as follows:--
CHAPTER II.
THE STORY OF CHOP-CHIN AND THE GOLDEN DRAGON.
ONCE upon a time, long ago and long ago, there lived in Pekin, which, as you all know, is the chief city of the Chinese Empire, a boy whose name was Chop-Chin. He was the son of Ly-Chee, a sweeper of the Imperial court-yard, whose duty it was to keep the pavement of the court-yard always absolutely clean, in case His Celestial Majesty, the Emperor, should feel inclined to put his celestial and majestic nose out-of-doors. Chop-Chin hoped to become a sweeper also, when he was a little older; but at the time when my story begins he was only twelve years old, and the law required that all sweepers should have pa.s.sed their fourteenth year. So Chop-Chin helped his mother about the house,--for he was a good boy,--carried his father"s dinner to him, and made himself generally useful.
One day Chop-Chin entered the court-yard at the usual time, carrying a jar of rice on his head, and a melon in one hand. These were for his father"s dinner, and setting them down in a shaded corner, on the cool white marble pavement, he looked about for his father. But Ly-Chee was nowhere to be seen. A group of sweepers stood at the farther end of the court-yard, talking together in a state of wild excitement, with many gestures. One of them drew his hand across his throat rapidly, and they all shuddered. Some one was to be killed, then? Chop-Chin wondered what it all meant. Suddenly one of the group caught sight of him, and at once they fell silent. Two or three, who were friends of his father, began to wring their hands and tear their clothes, and the oldest sweeper of all advanced solemnly toward the boy, holding out both his hands, with the palms downward, in token of sympathy.
"My son," he said, "what is man"s life but a string of beads, which at one time or another must be broken? Shall the wise man disquiet himself whether more or fewer beads have pa.s.sed over the hand?"