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Title: The House With Sixty Closets: A Christmas Story for Young Folks and Old Children

Author: Frank Samuel Child

Illustrator: J. Randolph Brown

Release date: June 16, 2013 [eBook #42961]

Language: English

Credits: E-text prepared by David Edwards, Emmy, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by Internet Archive (http://archive.org)


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[Illustration: THE HOUSE WITH SIXTY CLOSETS

BY FRANK SAMUEL CHILD

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. RANDOLPH BROWN]


[Illustration: THE CHILDREN TAKE POSSESSION OF THE HOUSE. Page 13.]


THE HOUSE WITH SIXTY CLOSETS

A Christmas Story for Young Folks and Old Children

by

FRANK SAMUEL CHILD

Author of "An Old New England Town" "The Colonial Parson
of New England" "A Colonial Witch"
"A Puritan Wooing" etc.

With Illustrations by J. Randolph Brown







Boston
Lee and Shepard Publishers
1899

Copyright, 1899, by Lee and Shepard

All rights reserved

THE HOUSE WITH SIXTY CLOSETS




    To
      Frank
          and
            Bess
                and
                  Arthur
                      and
                        Theodora
                            and
                              Grace
                                  and
                                    Ruth
                                      and
                                         Amy
                                           and
      the "Little Judge"
              and
                  All
                        Their
                              Merry
                                     Friends




ALL ABOUT IT


  A

        PAGE
  HOUSE, PEOPLE, THINGS                                       11


  B

  THE HOUSE THAT THE JUDGE BUILT                              15


  C

  THE PEOPLE WHO LIVE IN THE HOUSE THAT THE JUDGE BUILT       33


  D

  THE THINGS THAT HAPPENED
  TO THE PEOPLE WHO LIVE
  IN THE HOUSE THAT THE JUDGE BUILT                           53


  I

  PORTRAITS WALK AND TALK                                     57


  II

  CLOSETS TALK AND WALK                                       85


  III

  THE PROCESSION OF GOAT, DOG, CAT, BICYCLES, PORTRAITS,
      CLOSETS, RUTH, AND THE "LITTLE JUDGE"                  113


  IV

  THE PARTY WITH SUPPER FOR SEVENTEEN, AND TOASTS WITH
      A TOASTING-FORK                                        141


  V

  STOCKINGS FILLED WITH MUSIC, RAINBOWS, SENSE,
      BACKBONE, SUNSETS, IMPULSES, GOLD SPOON, IDEALS,
      SUNSHINE, STAR, MANTLE, FLOWERS,--AND THE LIKE
      QUEER STUFF                                            185


  E

  HAPPY DAY                                                  215




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.


                                                           PAGE
  THE CHILDREN TAKING POSSESSION OF THE HOUSE    _Frontispiece._

  INITIAL O                                                  15

  MRS. "JUDGE" PLANNING THE CLOSETS                          19

  MRS. "JUDGE'S" LIVING-ROOM                                 24

  CANDLESTICK AND BIBLE                                      29

  INITIAL I                                                  33

  NAILING FLAG TO CHIMNEY                                    41

  THE CHILDREN TAKING A RIDE                                 44

  INITIAL I                                                  57

  RUTH SEES FIGURES IN THE FIRE                              59

  STEPPING OUT OF THE FRAMES                                 61

  SUSIE AND LITTLE JUDGE                                     67

  ENTERING THE CLOCK                                         80

  INITIAL T                                                  85

  PLAYING TAG                                                87

  CHAMPAIGN COMPLAINING                                      93

  THE CLOSETS TALK AND WALK                                 103

  THE JUDGE SITTING ON THE COG-WHEEL                        105

  INITIAL I                                                 113

  BILLY EATING FUNERAL CLOTH AND WREATH                     114

  THE PROCESSION STARTS                                     121

  BILLY, SATAN, AND TURK TAKING A RIDE                      126

  MRS. "JUDGE" AND MAN IN MOON                              132

  RETURNING FROM THE CHURCH                                 135

  INITIAL W                                                 141

  THE WALK AROUND                                           163

  THERE WAS THE GREATEST CONFUSION                          180

  INITIAL R                                                 185

  RUTH AND SATAN                                            186

  THE ROOM WAS A BLAZE OF GLORY                             187

  THE ROOM STUDDED WITH TWINKLING, RADIANT STARS            211




A

HOUSE, PEOPLE, THINGS




      _I will first describe the house._

      _Then I will tell something about the people that live
          in it._

      _After that I will speak of the very strange things
          which happened there the night before Christmas._




B

THE HOUSE THAT THE JUDGE BUILT




B.

THE HOUSE THAT THE JUDGE BUILT.


ONCE upon a time there lived a good Judge in an old New England town.
People said the reason that he was so good was because his father was a
minister. But he may have gotten his goodness from his mother. I don't
know. Or he may have had it from his uncle who took him into his family
and sent him to college. For the minister was poor, and like many of his
brethren he had a big family; so his brother who was a rich lawyer and a
statesman helped his nephew get his education.

Now, this son of a minister and nephew of a great man studied law and
became a Judge. He was liked by every one who knew him. People felt that
he was an honest, noble man who had mastered all the law books, and
showed more common sense than any other person in the State. So they
made him Judge. This man who started poor and had to make his own way in
the world earned a great deal of money. People came to him from all
parts of the country, and sought his advice. They put into his hands the
most important law cases. Only sometimes he would not have anything to
do with the cases that he was asked to manage because he thought them
wrong.

As years went by he saved his money, and the time came when he was ready
to build a house. The Judge had become the most honored and the best
known man in the State. He had many friends among the great people of
the land. He enjoyed company, and was a famous host. So it seemed well
to him and his wife that they build a house which should be large enough
to hold their friends, and fine enough to satisfy the taste of the
society in which they moved.

The Judge was not moved by pride or a wish to make a show. He wished to
do the right thing. Everybody said that he ought to have the largest and
the finest house in town. He was not only a lawyer and rich, but he was
deacon in the church and the leading man in society. He was likewise a
great scholar; and many people said that he was the most eloquent
speaker of his State. Such a person must live in a generous way. So the
Judge built this house.

Now, when it came to drawing plans the wife had a good deal to say about
it; for the house was to be her home just as much as his; and he always
tried to do what he knew was for the pleasure of his wife. "I think,"
said she when they began to talk about building, "that it should have a
great many closets." Had you been a friend of Mrs. "Judge" you would
have seen why she said this. She was not only a woman who liked to have
all her friends come to visit her, but she was also very liberal and
kind. She was always doing some nice thing for people, and always giving
presents.

She was able to do this because she had the things to give away. I know
men and women who would make a great many presents if they had the money
to buy them--at least they say that they would. Such people like to tell
how they would act if they had all the money that some neighbor has
saved. They are great on giving away things that do not belong to them.

Now, the Judge's wife was the best giver in town; and she gave to her
friends, and the poor, and everybody that was in need, all sorts of
things. But in order to do this she must buy the gifts that she
scattered so freely; and when she bought things she wanted a place to
keep them until the time came for her to give them away. This was why
she spoke to the Judge about the closets.

[Illustration]

"Well, my dear," said the Judge (he was always kind and polite), "you
may have just as many closets as you wish." So she began her plans of
the house by drawing the closets. I don't know exactly how she managed
to arrange it on paper. Very likely she said to herself, "I shall want
thirty closets." And then she would divide the number into four parts
and say, "Let me see, I suppose that four will be enough for the
cellar. Then I shall need ten on the first floor, and twelve on the
second floor, and six in the attic. That makes--why, that makes
thirty-two. Dear me! I wonder if that will be enough?" And as she thinks
over the various uses to which she will put her closets, and the many
things she will store in them, she says, on the next day, "Well, I
believe that I must have five or six more closets." So she starts her
drawing by marking down thirty-eight closets. After she has settled it
that the main floor shall have thirteen of them, she puts upon the paper
some dots showing the size of each little room; then she draws the other
rooms about them, and so she gets one story arranged.

But no sooner does she begin the plans for the next floor, than she
thinks of one or two more closets which she needs for the first, and so
goes back to her work of yesterday, and does it all over again, making
several changes. And so very likely the weeks are spent in making paper
closets, and drawing the halls and parlors and bedrooms and other rooms
about them, until she puts her plans by the side of the Judge's plans;
then they get an architect; and then she asks for four more closets,
which makes forty-four.

After a time the men begin to build; and she sends for the builder, and
tells him of course that she finds she will certainly need five more
closets,--one in the cellar, two on the first story, and three on the
second. He is a pleasant man; and the changes are made. But ere the
house is half built other needs appear, and Mrs. "Judge" insists upon
three new closets, which make fifty-two. And without doubt on the very
week that the carpenters leave the handsome mansion, she asks them for
several changes and three closets more. And will you believe it, they
move into the new house, get nicely settled, and everything running in
good order, when the generous housewife finds that the carpenter must
come, for she still wishes five new closets, which added to the others
make sixty. And so you have the house with sixty closets. It seems to
me that I have made it clear how there came to be so many of these
curious rooms and spaces in the Judge's house. At least you know all
that I know about it; and I do not believe that ever another house was
built in such a way.

But I must tell you how the house was divided. A plan of each story will
be the best means of fixing this in the mind; and then you can turn back
to it whenever you lose your way in the house, and wish to get what are
called "your bearings." We must begin at the bottom and work toward the
top. The cellar was really three cellars,--a big one, a fair-sized one,
and the wine cellar. There was a small closet in this deep, dark place
where they kept certain kinds of liquor. The main cellar was divided
lengthwise through the middle, and there were two closets for provisions
on each side.

The main floor had twenty-seven closets. For my own part, I think that
woman is a remarkable person who can invent and arrange such a number
of little nooks and rooms. But if this is a mark of genius, what shall
we say when it comes to keeping track of all the closets and their
contents? Why, I should be obliged to carry a plan of the whole house
with me, and every few minutes I should pull it out and study it. The
Judge's wife was a most wonderful woman. She built her closets, and then
she filled them, and then she remembered all about them and their
contents. Here is the plan of the first floor. A hall through the
middle. On the left as you enter is the library. There was one closet
connected with this room, and a door opened into it from the northeast
corner. Back of the library was the dining-room. It had three closets
connected with it; doors leading to them from three corners of the room.
To the left of the dining-room you passed into a side entry. Three doors
opened into three large closets. The kitchen adjoined the dining-room.
There was one closet in it, and two closets out of it to the right, and
these two latter had one closet and two closets respectively.

[Illustration]

On the right of the hall was the parlor. It had one closet. A large
window reaching to the floor gave entrance to this room near the
northeast corner. Back of the parlor was a long, dark closet which made
a passage-way from the hall to the schoolroom. Back of this closet was a
first-floor chamber with three closets. The third of these closets
opened into the chamber from the north. It was formerly Mrs. "Judge's"
store-room. Another large closet was connected with it, and these two
large closets contained two small closets. To the east of this chamber
was the schoolroom (formerly the Judge's library). This room had two
closets in it, and two closets out of it. The room to the north of the
schoolroom was the annex to the Judge's library, and it held his books
bequeathed to the minister. It also held two closets. And now my first
story is ended.

The short hall on the second floor opens at the rear into a long, narrow
hall. There are five chambers in this part of the house. The front room
on the right as you look toward the street is the "Study," and it has
two closets, one on each side of the big chimney. The two chambers back
and to the left as you face the chimney are without a single closet; but
the lack is made up when you pass to the other side of the house. The
front chamber has two closets, one on each side of the chimney. As you
pass into the one on the right (you face the chimney, remember) a door
opens to the right and leads you into another large closet with a window
in it. Going across this closet to the right another door opens into a
big, dark closet; turning to the street and stepping back three paces
you open a door into another closet; passing into this one (there is a
small window in it) you open a door into the linen closet. Withdrawing
from this series of small rooms, you get into the Betsey-Bartram room,
and there you find on the south side two doors leading into two large
closets. North of this room is another bedroom. One closet lies in the
southeast corner, and one opens to you from the west side of the room.
The thirteenth closet on this floor is at the end of the back hall, and
the fourteenth is by the side of the chimney in the room above the
down-stairs chamber. The attic was one big room with five closets
scattered around the chimneys. They hung hams in the larger one. It was
a fine place to smoke meat. There was always a greasy, smothered flavor
to the air in that place.

Now, if you have kept track of the closets you will see that we number
only fifty-one. There had been three neat, retired little closets under
the stairs in the first-floor hall. When the hall was enlarged these
poor things were taken out. It was on this occasion that Samuel said:
"See how rich we are; for we have closets to burn." And still there are
six closets missing. Well, the closet with the skeleton in it is a
mystery, and I do not like to speak of it. Three closets were found one
day carefully tucked away in a corner of the attic. The other two
missing ones have simply grown up and become big rooms with windows in
them. They put on a good deal of style, and look down upon the other
closets.

What a lovely time the Judge's wife had in furnishing her new home. I
have been reading the bills, yellow-stained and time-worn. She had a
taste for handsome things. As the house was a colonial building, the
grandest in that part of the country, she tried to get furniture that
matched.

There were mahogany chairs and tables, sofas and bedsteads, cabinets
and stands. She paid $155 in gold for her gilt-framed looking-glass,
which stood between the front windows in the parlor, and $125 for her
Grecian sofa with cushions. There were twelve fancy-chairs and two
arm-chairs. Her rocker cost $25. Then she had another little work-table,
for which they paid $20.75.

Her parlor carpet was made in England. The Judge had it made to order;
so you may believe it was uncommonly fine. The curtains were yellow
damask, lined with chintz. During the summer these curtains were stored
away on long shelves in one of the closets, and lace curtains hung in
their places.

Every large room in the house had a fireplace, and the supply of
andirons was enormous. Some of them cost $19 and $20. Then there were
venetian blinds in the parlor; and on the centre table stood an astral
bronzed lamp worth $18, and on the mantle, high silver candlesticks. A
plated pair cost them $18, and the snuffers and tray $8 more. There
were the best Brussels carpets, the most fashionable china and silver,
the richest linen for the table,--a vast amount of things needed to make
a house pleasant and comfortable.

[Illustration]




C.

THE PEOPLE WHO LIVE IN THE HOUSE THAT THE JUDGE BUILT.




C.

THE PEOPLE WHO LIVE IN THE HOUSE THAT THE JUDGE BUILT.


IT was on this wise that the present family came to live in the
parsonage. The church had been without a pastor for several months, and
the people were tired of hearing Tom, Dick, and Harry in the pulpit. But
what was to be done? They had found no man that suited them. One
minister was too young, and another too old. The first candidate had a
very long neck, a sort of crane neck, and it made some of the ladies
nervous. The last candidate was fat, and everybody said he must be lazy.
Several were so anxious to come that the congregation turned against
them. There was always some reason why each man was not liked. So it
began to look as if they might never get another minister.

The society finally asked the ladies their views upon the subject. It
was one afternoon when the Dorcas Daughters were sewing for the poor.
The president of the little band had been reading a missionary letter.
"Well," she said, "I have heard so much about filling the pulpit that I
am sick of it. I think it's about time that we filled the parsonage.
Just see what kind of ministers we have had for the last thirty years.
Two bachelors, and one married man without a chick or a child. I say
that it's time for us to call a man to fill the parsonage."

"Why, that's what I think!" remarked one of the mothers present. "It is
a shame to have that great house given over to the rats and mice. And I
know that not a minister has been in it for all these years that used
more'n half or two-thirds of the room. But, dear me, it would take a
pretty big family to fill the parsonage! Let me see; there are
twenty-seven rooms and sixty closets, aren't there?"

"So they say," replied the president. "I never counted them. But that
would just suit some folks."

"Where is that letter that you read us at the last meeting?" inquired
one of the sisters. "How many children did that man say he had? I
remember that we never sent another box like it to a home missionary in
all the history of this church." "I've got the letter right here in my
hand," said the president, "and I've had that man in mind for a week.
He's got fifteen children,--eight of his own, and seven of his deceased
sister. I shouldn't wonder if he was the very one we want." One of the
younger women nodded. She was thinking of playmates for her boys and
girls. "And then if they overflowed the house," continued the president,
"there is the little building in the yard. They might start a cottage
system. You know that is the way they do in schools these days. Divide
up the young folks, and set them in small companies. The minister might
do it; and if the family expanded we might build two or three extra
cottages."

"Now, Mrs. President," said one of the ladies, "I fear you are making
fun. But I think that letter from the missionary with fifteen children
in the family was the best we ever had. A man that could write such a
letter must be very much of a man."

"He is," replied the president. "I have looked him up in the Year Book,
and I have written to the secretary of the Missionary Society. He's a
very good man. Nobody has done better work in that frontier country."

So the ladies said that they would ask the church to call this parson
with the big family. When the meeting was held and everybody was
talking, one gentleman arose, and told the people that the ladies had a
candidate. His name being proposed, the president of the Dorcas Society
explained how she felt, that they ought to have a man to fill the
parsonage, and this man whom they named was the one to do it; therefore
the meeting voted unanimously to call him.

"I think we had better charter a train to bring them from the West,"
said one of the deacons. But it was finally decided to engage a car; so
everything was arranged, and in four weeks they came.

When the train stopped at the station, the church committee was on hand
with three carryalls. It reminded one of an orphanage, or a company of
Fresh-air children. But a hearty welcome was given; they were hurried
into the carriages, and soon the whole family was in the parsonage.

A nice dinner had been prepared by the ladies of the parish. After the
travellers had washed and made some slight changes, they all sat down to
the feast.

It was a happy thing that the church and the Judge furnished the
parsonage. This poor, large-hearted missionary brought nothing with him
but books and children; his library was really a very fine one, and it
had filled the small house in the West. His own family of children had
been increased by the seven orphans left when his sister and her husband
died. There was nothing for him to do but adopt them; so they had been
packed into the little home until one was reminded of a box of sardines.
But this sort of kindness was like the good man. He was ready to share
the last crust with any one who needed it.

"Why, what a big house it is!" exclaimed Grace. "Just see; I guess we
could put the whole of our Western house right here in the parlor." And
I think they could if they had only brought it along with them. When
dinner was over the children scattered all through the mansion and the
grounds.

What a delightful sense of freedom and importance they had. Could it be
possible that all these things belonged to them? Were the ten acres of
lawn, garden, orchard, field, and pasture really for their use and
pleasure? As parents and children wandered through the big rooms, and
peered into the sixty closets, and looked out of the numerous windows,
it seemed to them like a dream. And yet the dreamy sensation soon
passed; for the parson and his wife, happening to look out of a front
window, were struck with the expression of alarm, amusement, or interest
shown by several people going along the street. It was caused by the way
in which the family was showing its presence and possession. There were
three children on the front piazza standing in a row gazing at the sea;
four of the younger ones were climbing in and out of the windows on the
second floor, running along the tin roof of the piazza; two boys had
already climbed a tree looking for birds' nests; three children had
hurried through the attic to the roof, and leaned against the big
chimneys that towered over the house. With curious interest they were
taking a general survey of the town and country, quite unconscious that
their rashness attracted any attention. The other youngsters were
having a frolic in the yard, walking along the top of the picket-fence,
jumping from one gate-post to another, shouting with healthful lungs,
and making the very welkin ring.

Had a pack of wild Indians swooped down upon the house, they could not
have made themselves more evident, or excited any greater concern in
town. It was clear that the minister who was called to fill the
parsonage answered the purpose. He filled it; and the contents were
overflowing from doors and windows on to piazzas and roofs, or into yard
and trees and street. What a waking up for the rats and mice it was! The
mere racket and clatter were enough to drive them out of their holes.
But what a shaking up for the old town!

The house stood on the main street. It was an object of historic
veneration. Everybody knew all about it, and had a sort of watch-care
over it. Anything that went on in that house belonged to the whole
neighborhood. So that it was not long before all the people were
talking about the new arrivals. Men, women, and children felt an impulse
to walk or ride by the parsonage on that eventful day. And it was a
startling sight; for the minister's family seemed to think that the
house really belonged to them, and they were to enjoy it just the way
they pleased. This running all through the many rooms, and popping out
of the many windows upon the piazza, and climbing up to the roof, and
playing tag in the yard, and hunting for birds' nests, and walking on
the tops of the pickets along the fence, was their way of enjoying the
place.

[Illustration]

"Let's nail the flag to the chimney," shouted Harry, the third boy. They
had carried the flag in hand all through their journey from the West.
"Yes," shouted the other boys, who were wildly patriotic. "Come on! come
on!" So they all came on except the youngest; and she finally came in
the arms of her father, who followed the mother, who followed the
children, to see what was doing in the attic or on the roof. And just at
this time the most important man in the church and town drove by with
his family. Do you wonder that this important man and his family gazed
with surprise and alarm at the sight? There on the roof of the house was
the whole family. Henry was nailing the flag to the tallest chimney. But
when the children saw this kind man pass along the street (he was one of
the committee that met them at the station, and it was his horses that
had carried them to the parsonage), they waved their hands, and shook
their handkerchiefs, and shouted "Hurrah! hurrah!" with such spirit that
the gentleman must needs take off his hat, smile and bow, and turn to
his family with some pleasing remark. There was no doubt in his mind or
in the mind of the passer-by that the town was captured. The West had
made a sudden onset; and the standard of victory now floated from the
chimney of the Judge's mansion. The only thing for the natives to do was
to submit and make the best of the situation.

As I said, the good people of the parish furnished the parsonage. The
carpets were down, and the chairs, tables, sofas, bedsteads, stands,
book-cases, and other things, were put in their places. All the
minister's wife had to do was to unpack her trunks, and divide up their
contents among the closets. All the minister had to do was to unpack his
boxes, and arrange his books in the study. So they were settled in a
trice.

Here is the picture of the children. You must know them in order to
understand what happened in the house. Elizabeth was the oldest. She
must have been seventeen or eighteen. She was ready for college. It was
hard for the mother to get along without her, since she had brought up
all the younger ones, and given her mother a chance to go round with her
father in his work. Elizabeth was very mature, but she had all the
frankness and cordiality of a typical Westerner. She seemed almost too
free and easy in her manners for the slow East. But you couldn't help
liking her. A little Western gush does good in the town.

[Illustration]

Samuel came next. He knew everything. He was ready for college too. He
was slow, and not always just as agreeable as one would like to have
him. It has been said that somebody stepped on his toes when he was a
very little child, and that he still has spells of being angry about
it. Samuel was a mechanic. He kept things in order,--machines, carts,
clocks, and like objects,--when he hadn't any girls to tease; for he was
an awful tease, and so was liked in a general way by all of them. His
manner toward the younger members of the family was rather severe and
overbearing. But what would you expect from a big boy who knows so much,
and has such a host of children to live with?

Helen was the third one. She was literary, and gave a great deal of time
to books. She hated to darn stockings above all things, and would often
read a story to the children, or write one for them, if she could get
somebody to do her darning for her. I think she will make an author. The
family hadn't been in the house one day before she said that the closets
must be named. Her mother or the children would never be able to keep
track of them, unless they were reduced to a system, and properly
numbered like rooms in a hotel, or labelled like drugs in a store.

Henry and Miriam were twins. They were just about as unlike as you could
make them,--one light and the other dark; the first lean and the second
fat; he quick and she slow. And so we might go through a long list of
things, and find that one was opposite to the other. For this reason
they got along well together and were very happy.

Then came cousin George, who was fond of music and could sing like a
lark; and Theodora, who was born to be a lady, and always took the part
of Mrs. Rothschild or Mrs. Astor in their plays; and cousin Herbert, who
will be a doctor, and who was so ingenious about getting into mischief
that I think he will be able to invent enough bad doses to cure the very
worst sicknesses; and cousin Ethel, the pink of propriety, who never got
a spot on her dress, and always said, "Will you please give me this or
that?" or "Thank you," when she took anything; and cousin Grace, the
demure and quiet puss who had a wonderful faculty for stirring up the
whole family, and yet freeing herself from trouble; and cousin Susie,
who is always sweet and good-tempered, and loves everybody; and cousin
William, the precocious (I mean very smart), who will be president of
the United States; and cousin Nathaniel, who was said by his brothers
and sisters and cousins to be "just too cute for anything," flying
hither and thither like a humming-bird, never two minutes in one place
except when his aunt got him into his nest at night. How many does that
make? Let me count them up. Have I mentioned them all but Ruth? Ruth was
seven years old. She could ask more questions in five minutes than any
lawyer in cross-examining witnesses. And when she was tired of asking
questions she would tease for more things in a second five minutes than
any twenty children rolled into one. And not only would she ask the same
question seventeen times at once, or tease for the same thing thirteen
times without stopping, but she did it in just the same unvarying,
shrill tone of voice; so that it was like the monotonous rasping of a
saw, and had a tendency to drive a sensitive person out of his head. How
many times did the older members of the family run from her as though
she had a contagious disease, so that they might get relief from that
endless asking and teasing? And yet she had many good traits, and was
certainly very bright. If there had been some comfortable way of putting
a muzzle upon talkative and tedious children, her parents would probably
have done it; but they simply used all the powers of restraint that they
had and let it go at that. Ruth was evidently cut out for a poet or a
woman's rights speaker; for she was all the time getting up rhymes, or
talking in a high key and impulsive way to such members of the family as
would listen to her.

When the baby came everybody said that he must be called "The Little
Judge," in honor of the good man who gave the house to the church for
the minister.

No sooner was the family really settled than the children began to ask
about this famous Judge. They had never lived in an old, historic house
before, and they were interested. They knew how the Judge and his wife
looked, for their portraits hung in the east parlor. What fine old
people they must have been! If those oil paintings did them justice they
were about as nice-looking as anybody that you see preserved in oil in
the great galleries of the world.

Whenever the children stood before the pictures, they asked questions:
Who was the Judge? what did he do? how much of a family did he have? did
he like children? when did he die? who attended the funeral? where was
he buried? what became of his things? and a hundred other questions. So
the minister began to read about the Judge and his work. And the more he
read, the more he admired and loved. The enthusiasm which the minister
showed in his attempts to learn all he could about the generous giver of
the parsonage excited the curiosity of the children to such an extent
that they begged their father and uncle to write a book about him.
Helen herself talked about doing something of the kind.

"I've found out more things in the life of the Judge," the minister
would say; and then all the children gathered around him just after
supper, as the fire burned gayly on the hearth in his study, and he
would tell them some fresh incident, and add a few lines to his pen
portrait of the man. So the months chased each other; and the Judge and
his wife made not only the most common topic of conversation, but they
became as real to the young people in the parsonage as the boys and
girls they met on the street. I suppose it was because they thought and
talked so much about them that the strange things which I am to relate
happened (or didn't happen) in the house.

They had not lived many weeks in the house before they got into all
sorts of trouble about the closets. They kept losing something, or
losing themselves, or losing the closets.

"We'll number them," suggested Herbert.

"No; let's name them," cried William. They had all met to talk the
matter over; so it was decided to do both. When names run out they would
fall back on numbers.

"I feel like Adam when he named all the cattle and the fowls and the
beasts," exclaimed Helen.

"We'll hang a plan of the house on each floor, and then we can refer to
it without running up-and down-stairs." This was Samuel's remark. He was
always for saving steps. So names were suggested, plans were drawn,
every closet was given its dues, and the atmosphere was thick with
Champagne, Darkest Africa, Turpentine, Leghorn, Daisy, Pansy, Violet,
Rose, Panama, China, Greece, Dublin, Clementine, Serpentine, Argentine,
Morocco, and other appropriate names.




D.

THE THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO THE PEOPLE WHO LIVE IN THE HOUSE THAT THE
JUDGE BUILT.




I.

PORTRAITS WALK AND TALK.




I.

PORTRAITS WALK AND TALK.


IT was Christmas Eve. Excitement had reached fever heat. The children
knew nothing about Christmas in the East; and their Western festivals
had always been simple, for there was little money to use in buying
gifts. But this year friends had remembered them, and they had also
earned several dollars by various kinds of work; so that they were sure
of many nice things. Had they not been buying presents for each other
these ten days? and was not every closet in the house made the
hiding-place for some treasure?

The nervous strain on the parents was great. Such confusion and anxiety
passed words. Was it possible ever to get the house and the family
settled down to plain, every-day living again?

It happened that the children had all met in the east parlor. This was
the room where the pictures of the Judge and his wife adorned the wall.
The two portraits hung on the right of the fireplace, you remember, just
over the piano. A lamp was giving a faint light on the marble
centre-table, and a cheerful wood fire was burning on the hearth. In
front of the piano was the music stool.

The children were all talking. The hum and buzz of their many voices
filled the room. One said, "I wonder if Santa Claus will bring me a
doll;" and another said, "There is no such person as Santa Claus;" and a
third said, "I want a new sled;" and a fourth said, "Father promised me
a book about birds;" and so the talk continued.

But Ruth for once kept still. She was worn out with excitement. As she
flung herself into a big arm-chair, she turned her head towards the
fire, and began to see all sorts of funny creatures dancing in and out
among the coals. Ruth was a poet, you remember, gifted with a wonderful
imagination; and she could see more strange things, and tell more wild
stories, than any other child in the family; and that is saying a great
deal, for they all had a way of telling about things which they had
heard and seen that constantly reminded their neighbors of Western
largeness and exaggeration.

[Illustration]

As Ruth watched the queer creatures playing in the fire her eyes grew
heavy; and then she turned her head away for a moment, and her eyes
became fixed upon the pictures of the Judge and his wife. Did her head
droop to one side, and did it fall softly upon the cushion against the
arm, or did her eyes suddenly open wide with surprise, and did she gaze
with startled look upon a strange scene before her?

For both the Judge and his wife seemed to be moving; and they looked so
natural and pleasant when they smiled and bowed, that Ruth said to
herself, "Why, they must be alive." And the Judge reached out his hand
from the canvas which held him, and took the hand of his wife, who had
responded to his motion, and said, "My dear, wouldn't you like to step
down and out for a little while?"

[Illustration]

"Yes, thank you," she replied; "I think it would rest me." And then he
laid down the pen, which he holds in the picture, and stepped lightly
upon the piano, still keeping her hand in his; and then he helped her
down upon the piano, and then he stepped down to the music stool, and
finally on the floor, and she followed. This was all done with the grace
and dignity that marked the usual movements both of the Judge and his
wife. And it seemed the most natural thing in the world for them to step
down and out.

Ruth sprang toward them on the instant that they stood upon the floor.
She rubbed her eyes to make sure that she was not dreaming; and then as
she saw them really before her, looking for all the world like natural
folks, she greeted them with delight.

"Why, how do you do?" she exclaimed. "I always thought you looked as if
you would like to talk. That, I suppose, is why people say that your
pictures are a 'speaking likeness.' But I never thought you'd get out of
the pictures. How did you do it?" But the Judge and his wife were too
much absorbed in the scene before them to reply immediately. The old
room had changed since their day; they were noting the changes. And then
this roomful of children took them by surprise.

"My dear," said the Judge to his wife, "this is delightful." "Yes,"
continued Ruth, "they all belong to us. I heard the president of the
Dorcas Society say that when the church called this minister they
expected him to fill the parsonage just as much as the pulpit. And we
did it."

"Yes, this is delightful," repeated the Judge. "How many are there?" He
said this to his wife, but Ruth answered.

"Oh! there are only fifteen of us when we are by ourselves. There are a
good many more when the neighbors' children come in; and then don't we
have grand times!"

"It almost takes my breath away." Mrs. "Judge" was speaking to her
husband. "My dear, have you my fan in your pocket?" And the Judge felt
in his pocket, but he didn't find any fan.

"Why, it's Christmas! You don't want a fan," said Ruth, who was bound to
take part in the conversation, and play the hostess on this wonderful
occasion. And then the Judge and his wife stood stock-still, and gazed
with increasing pleasure and interest upon the scene.

Their descent from the picture had been so noiseless and unexpected
that Ruth was the only one to observe it. But when this keen, talkative
sister began to question the guests, the other children turned their
heads, and they beheld the curious sight. There stood the Judge and his
wife exactly as they appeared in the portraits. Only they had their legs
on them, and the pictures didn't. But the children noticed even the
smallest details of dress, and they were the very originals of the
portraits.

Suddenly the whole company stood up.

"Why, it's just like a reception or a wedding," said Ruth. "I think
they're all waiting to be introduced." And the children advanced one
after another, or Ruth led the Judge and his wife to different parts of
the room, and each brother and sister and cousin was properly presented.

"How did you get out?" inquired Ruth a second time. Everybody in the
room was now standing, and all eyes were looking for the next move in
this strange parlor drama.

"We just stepped out," replied the Judge, who seemed prepared at length
to talk with Ruth or the other children.

"But where did you keep your legs all the time?" When Ethel asked this
question Mrs. "Judge" blushed. Elizabeth, the eldest daughter, pushed
her way forward, and said, "S-s-s-s-h!" and Samuel said, with a nudge of
the arm, "Keep still, can't you?" But you might as well tell the
steaming teakettle to stop boiling as it sits upon a lively fire.

"We are very glad to see you," interrupted Helen. She was a most
hospitable girl, and she had read a great deal of history; although
Henry knew more history than she did, and he had read everything about
the Judge that he could lay his hands on.

"We are very glad to see you, and should like to ask about the 'Hartford
Convention,'" said Henry.

"He's been talking about it for a month," continued Ruth. "I wish you'd
tell him all about it, and then maybe he'd keep still. I don't care
anything about it, neither do the other children. But Henry thinks he's
very smart in such things ever since he got a prize in history."

"Did you say these were all the children?" It was Mrs. "Judge" that now
spoke. And as she made the inquiry Susie ran out of the parlor, and
disappeared in the gloom of the hall.

"Why, we forgot all about the baby!" exclaimed Ruth. "He's up-stairs
asleep, I guess. Dear me, you must see the baby. He's the cutest little
thing you ever saw."

"Yes, we should like to see him, of course. We both like babies, good
babies."

[Illustration]

"Babies that don't cry I suppose you mean," said Ruth. "Well, he doesn't
cry much,--only when he's hungry, or a pin sticks into him, or he gets
mad, or somebody lets him fall, or hits his head against the door or a
chair." Here Ruth paused for breath. Then she exclaimed, "Why, of
course, you must see the baby! Why, he is named for you!" This was said
to the Judge with greatest excitement. And just as Ruth was saying it
everybody turned toward the door, and there stood little Susie hugging
the baby to her breast, his nightdress dragging on the floor, her short
arms barely reaching around his plump body; both baby and Susie having
their faces wreathed in smiles. Staggering under the burden this
youngest sister pressed through the company with her precious armful;
and as the Judge saw her approach he stepped forward, bent down above
her, and took the little fellow into his arms, where he settled with a
most contented and happy expression. It was a very pretty sight,--this
stately old gentleman holding a beautiful baby on one arm, and reaching
over to the lovely, dignified wife by his side with the other arm; for
she had taken hold of his hand again after he had fixed the baby
comfortably on his arm, and Ruth had stationed herself close by the
Judge's wife on the other side, and taken possession of the lady's free
hand.

"And this is the baby, is it?" inquired Mrs. "Judge." "What a dear
little boy he is! And what did you say you called him?" For the lady was
either deaf or absorbed so that she did not hear all that Ruth had said
about the baby's name.

"Why, we call him after your husband. Didn't you hear me say so? He is
the "Little Judge." Just see how he clings to his namesake. Is he the
Judge's namesake or the Judge his namesake? I don't know which is which,
only it's something about namesake, and he's named for the Judge." This
latter talk on the part of Ruth was quite as much to herself as to the
visitors. And all the time the Judge was gazing down into the infant's
face with earnest, wistful look, seeming almost to forget that he was
once more standing in the old east parlor. Yes, for a moment he had
really forgotten where he did stand; for he was thinking of the many
years ago when two other baby boys had been placed in his arms, and with
what hope and tenderness he had handled the small, helpless pieces of
humanity.

"Don't you like the name?" interrupted Ruth. "We thought it would please
you. What makes you look so solemn? Oh, I know!" Now, Ruth did not
intend to be cruel. She was simply thoughtless like many other children.

"You had a baby boy once, didn't you? Two of 'em, didn't you?" And then
she saw that Mrs. "Judge" seemed to feel bad too, and that she let go
the Judge's hand for a moment, and dashed away some tears from her eyes.

"I'm sorry if I've hurt your feelings," said Ruth. "I didn't mean to. I
was just thinking about your two baby boys. They would have been awful
old if they had lived till now, wouldn't they? and we never should have
lived in this house if they had lived, would we?" A hush had fallen on
the company. Neither the Judge nor his wife made any reply. They were
lost in thought, while the children watched them with breathless
interest.

"We didn't dare give him your full name," continued Ruth. "That's what
Dr. Blank did to one of his baby boys, and it died. Mother was afraid if
we called our baby after you, with the three long names, that it might
kill him, so she said; so we dropped the middle one, and I think it much
better, don't you?"

"Dear little boy," said the Judge affectionately, as he looked down into
his face again. "Dear little boy." And then the Judge bent down and
kissed him, and the baby beamed with delight. It was almost like a
baptism in church.

"I thought maybe you were going to pray over him. That's the way father
does, you know." But the Judge didn't seem to hear.

"My dear," he said, turning to his wife and holding the baby toward her.
She knew what he meant, for she likewise bent down over the little
fellow and printed another kiss upon his sweet, upturned, dimpled face,
and then another, and a third, while the Judge stood looking on with
happy indulgence; and all the children noted every motion in this
singular drama.

"What did your boys die of?" asked Ruth, who did not wish to lose any
time, since she had so many questions to ask, and she feared that her
visitors might not stay as long as she wished them.

"Ruth!" exclaimed Samuel, who had drawn near the young inquisitor, and
felt it was time to stop her; "aren't you ashamed of yourself?" He said
this in a low tone, thinking that the Judge and his wife might not hear.
They were watching the baby with such eagerness that they had almost
forgotten the rest of the company.

"I think," remarked Mrs. "Judge," as she lifted her head from the baby
and glanced around the room, "that it is very pleasant in the old
house."

"Oh, yes; we think so too." It was Ruth again speaking. The other
members of the family had little chance to say anything. "Can't get in
a word edgewise," whispered Henry to Helen. "What a perfect nuisance
Ruth is!"

"Wouldn't you like to go over the house?" Of course it was Ruth who
asked the question. She was always taking people over the house. It
might be Monday morning when everything was in dire confusion, and all
the younger children still in bed, or it might be early evening after
the baby and Susie had been playing in crib and bed, and things were
assuming their wonted appearance of disorder. If the notion took her she
was always ready to seize a caller by the hand, and lead him from cellar
to garret.

"I think I would like to look around a little," replied the lady. "I am
wondering how many closets you have now in the house."

"Oh, there is an awful lot!" exclaimed Ruth.

"We have sixty," observed Elizabeth, who liked to be precise.

"That's right, that's right," continued Mrs. "Judge." "I had that number
put in. I was afraid you might have given away some of them." When she
said this the children looked rather queer. Who ever heard of giving
away closets? One might think they were flowers, or eggs, or peaches.

"You used to give away a great deal, didn't you?" exclaimed Ruth. "But I
don't see how you could give away closets."

And now the whole company started on a tour of sight-seeing in the old
house. Samuel and Elizabeth naturally took the lead, being the oldest
and quite the lady and gentleman. The Judge with the baby on one arm and
his wife leaning on the other followed. Ruth still clung to the right
hand of Mrs. "Judge." Then the remaining children came in a dense crowd
just behind them.

"The parlor looks much as it did when we left it, except the furniture,"
said the lady. "Now let us see if they have kept the other rooms as
well."

They passed next into the hall.

"Dear me! what is this?" exclaimed the Judge. "Where are we?" For it was
not the old hall at all. That had been rather short and small. This was
long, reaching through the house.

"Why, what has become of my bedroom?" inquired the lady. "They have made
it into this hall. And where are all the nice little closets under the
stairs? You certainly have given them away. Oh, dear! oh, dear! I'm so
sorry."

"I guess you're tired," said Ruth. "It makes you nervous to walk much,
doesn't it? Why, yes, I know, because they say you never went up-stairs
for ever so many years. Oh, I know what we'll do! You can ride." All
this time Mrs. "Judge" was looking about her in a dazed way, quite at
sea in respect to her surroundings. For the hall had been completely
changed until it appeared about as different as different could be. And
the good lady was really shocked.

"Do you see those things under the stairs? They are our bicycles."

And the Judge and his wife gazed with perplexed faces in the direction
indicated. There was a whole row of them. Seven, altogether,--full-grown,
half-grown, or any size you might wish. It was like a carriage shop.

"I think you might ride one all through the house down-stairs," said
Ruth to the lady guest. "Then you wouldn't have to walk."

And as the suggestion was made, Ruth's eyes flashed, and her cheeks grew
flushed with excitement. What fun it would be to push the good woman on
a bicycle from room to room, and show her the present arrangements of
the beloved house. But Mrs. "Judge" was horrified. She clung very
closely to her husband, as if she thought that she might have to perch
upon one of the machines whether she wished it or not. Her breath came
fast and short. Her cheeks grew hectic.

"You don't mean to say that people ride those things!" she finally
exclaimed when her first flurry of agitation was past.

"Yes," replied Ruth delightedly; "we all ride 'em."

"Not your father and mother,--the minister and the minister's wife?"

"Why, yes, and the Episcopal minister too, and his wife."

"Are you sure, Judge, that you didn't bring a fan with you?" The good
woman seemed very faint, and she looked beseechingly toward her husband.
"Here's one," shouted Susie, who ran to the cabinet and found a lovely
piece of feather work, which scattered very fine feathers over your
clothes and through the room on every motion you made with it. And as
the Judge's wife waved it back and forth the feathers began to fly.

"It looks like a snow-storm," whispered Herbert to Theodora. And soon
the feather flakes adorned their garments and floated through the air,
so that one was really reminded of a fresh fall of snow.

It took the good lady a long time to get her breath. The hall closets
were all gone; and in their places stood seven things called bicycles,
upon which the minister, his wife, and the children were said to ride.
It was awful. And Ruth was urging her to try one. Alas! the hall was
too much for her self-possession.

"Let us go into the west room," she said faintly. So they all came into
what is now the family sitting-room and library. Here everything was
strange. The door into the kitchen was covered with a high book-case
filled with literature. The small cubby-hole through which dishes and
food had been passed from dining-room to kitchen was now made into a
door. But there was one familiar object before them. In the far corner
stood the clock, grave and stalwart sentinel for the house.

"My dear, do you see the clock?" It was the Judge speaking to his wife.
He knew there must be many changes in the house. He accepted them very
quietly; but he was glad to see this old familiar friend. He had
expected to find it in the hall where it had always stood during his
day; but he was just as glad to see it here in the old dining-room. That
clock had been present on all the great occasions of life. It had
marked the hours for every event connected with the history of the
house. When the long line of famous men and women entertained by the
Judge and his wife came to mind, it was to be recollected that the clock
had seen them all, and winked and blinked at them morning, noon, and
night, and sounded his warning notes in their ears, when it was time to
rise or retire, or to eat, or to go to court, or to drive to town, or to
start for church. It was like meeting a tried and beloved friend. Both
the Judge and his wife were overjoyed.

It might have been that some indifferent family had lived in the house,
and thrown the clock out of doors or stored it in the attic. There are
people so dull and unimaginative, people with so little sentiment, that
they never care for keepsakes or heirlooms. They want everything fresh
and new about them. Antiques are a perfect bore or nuisance. Happily the
minister's family was not one of this kind. They all had a great deal of
what is called historic sense. They liked old things; and the clock was
their most sacred possession. How much they had talked about it, and
dreamed about the scenes which had passed before it! While Ruth had
invented more wild stories in connection with that one object than could
be told in many a day.

The other things in the room attracted little attention. The visitors
made their slow and stately way across to the corner where the clock
stood. As they looked up into its serene face, the object of their
interest looked down upon them with a very knowing expression, seeming
to recognize them on the instant, extending them a very hearty welcome;
for the tick, tick was louder than ever before, the very frame of the
huge thing began to tremble with suppressed excitement, and then eight
long, loud strokes sounded through the entire house, as much as to say,
"They've come," "How'd do?" "Glad t'see you," and other kind greetings.
The children had all followed the Judge and his wife, and they were
eagerly watching for the next movement on the part of the visitors.

[Illustration]

It made quite a striking picture,--the tall, solemn clock in the far
corner of the room, the Judge and the baby on his arm, and the wife
holding Ruth by the hand, standing in front of it; then the throng of
alert and wondering children bringing up in the rear, for they all felt
that something out of the ordinary was about to happen. In fact, the
whole visit of these former inhabitants of the house was rather unusual,
so that the children would naturally expect fresh marvels at any moment.
It was clear that Mrs. "Judge" was getting tired; nobody had offered her
a chair, and she had refused to get on a bicycle.

Suddenly the door of the clock swung open.

"I think you had better rest, my dear," said the Judge; "we'll step in
here."

And as he made the remark he put his foot into the clock and gave a
lively spring, filling the small doorway.

"Oh, please don't take the baby away!" screamed Ruth, as she saw them
both disappearing. "Who'll nurse him? And mamma'll feel so bad."

But it was all done so quickly that Ruth never finished her speech, for
the Judge still held his wife's hand and helped her into the clock; then
as Ruth held all the faster to the lady's hand, she was caught up too,
they all went into the clock and the door shut upon them.

The other children were struck dumb with amazement.

"I always thought it looked like a coffin," exclaimed Samuel; "but I
never expected to see four people buried alive in it."

"I've wanted to hide in it a hundred times," said Helen, "but I never
supposed"--

"Ten thousand times are hid in it," interrupted Henry.

"Times out of mind," whispered Herbert.

"Time, time," cried Samuel; and soon they indeed had a "time."




II.

CLOSETS TALK AND WALK.




II.

CLOSETS TALK AND WALK.


THE first thing that the children who were left behind did was to
examine the clock. They all made a rush for it, and pulled open the
door. "Tick, tock, tick, tock," went the huge machine. They saw the
pendulum swing back and forth. And that was all they did see. The Judge,
his wife, Ruth, and the baby had disappeared.

"I believe this house is bewitched, or we are!" exclaimed Helen. She had
read about the strange things said and done in the old town more than
two centuries ago, when witches rode through the air on broomsticks, and
very lively times stirred up the people.

"It was on this very spot, I've heard father say, that one of the
witches lived."

"Oh, pshaw!" cried Samuel, who knew everything; "there isn't any such
thing as witchcraft. They've just stepped out for a moment, and they'll
come back soon."

"I think they've stepped in," replied Henry, who stood close to the
clock when their visitors disappeared with Ruth and the baby. "Let's
play 'tag' while we're waiting for them to come back." This was a good
way to work off their nervousness; for they were all more or less
nervous, either because they really thought that the witches might be
upon them, or because they would have to answer to their parents for the
absence of Ruth and the baby.

[Illustration]

"We'll start from the piano," said Samuel. It was Christmas Eve, you
remember, and everything seemed rather uncommon and surprising. So they
all jumped upon the piano,--thirteen of them altogether,--and it made
the old instrument shiver and rattle, and try to shake them off. Then
they started on the game of "tag." Samuel sprang from the piano to the
cabinet, from the cabinet to the mantle, and from the mantle to the
glass book-case in the corner; and they all jumped after him and each
other. Then he swung himself over to the hall door, for his arms and his
legs were simply prodigious. From the top of the door he leaped to the
big picture frame between the front windows. How it swayed and creaked
and screamed! So he dropped down upon a low book-case beneath, and
balanced himself on the edges of a crystal loving-cup. But Henry and
Herbert had started in the other direction from the piano, and they came
face to face with Samuel on the loving-cup. Then this elder brother
sprang over to the marble centre-table, and then across to the piano
again, and upon the high set of book-shelves in the southwest corner of
the room. Here he began to grab the books, and throw them at the other
children as they came near him. Then they threw books back at him. And
what a commotion there was! Children were passing and repassing with the
speed of the wind. They were leaping from picture to picture, and mantle
to table, and piano to book-case, and table to chairs, and cabinet to
door; books were flying in every direction, the piano was groaning and
shaking and scolding, and there was the din of many voices, shoutings,
laughter, cries, boys' clothes and girls' clothes woven into a perfect
mass of changing colors and shapes, the bang and rattle of moving
furniture, and whatever you may be pleased to imagine.

All this time the Judge, his wife, Ruth, and the baby sat composedly
behind the face of the clock, and looked down delightedly upon the
hilarious scene. There was a hole in the clock's face which served them
for a window. Ruth had often observed it; and she had told her mother
more than a few times that she was perfectly sure there must be a big
room up there, and lots of people in it, for she had seen the flash of
their eyes when they peeped down into the room and watched (wouldn't it
be more proper to say clocked) the people. Ruth, of course, was right;
for wasn't there a big room in the top of the clock? and didn't the
Judge and his wife know all about it? It was there that they had gone to
rest.

The first thing they did was to put Mrs. "Judge" to bed. This they did
with her shoes on. The next thing was to get the baby to sleep. So the
Judge sat down in a rocking-chair, and began to sing to his little
namesake; and when he got tired of singing the Judge whistled. The baby
was just as good as he could be. He laughed, and cooed, and hit the old
gentleman on the cheek with a tiny hand, and tried to pick his eyes out
one by one, count all his teeth, and pull off his eyebrows, dig into his
ears, and find what he did with his nose, and how he kept his cravat on.
Meanwhile Ruth was looking down upon the children, and reporting their
doings to her visitors.

"I think it will do them good to have a little frolic," said the Judge.

"Yes, let them play," replied Mrs. "Judge." "It makes me feel as if we
were once more back in the old home, and had children to fill it and
bring us joy."

"But you wouldn't let your children play like that," said Ruth. "Why, I
think they're going to break every thing to pieces. And what will the
church committee say? They have charge of the house, you know."

"Let's see what they are doing!" exclaimed the Judge. So he put the baby
down by his wife while he looked through the eye of the clock. Just at
that moment the children had all jumped upon the centre-table; and it
was crowded with thirteen of them, and the lamp in the middle. There was
a brief struggle, then the lamp went out, and the noise of a great fall
and crash sounded through the room, after which darkness and silence
prevailed. Something had evidently happened.

"Don't you think we might visit the closets now?" inquired Ruth. The
Judge turned to his wife to see what she answered.

"I am too tired to go through them," she said. "But I should like to
have them come to me." Now, this was quite an original idea; but it
pleased Ruth.

"Why, yes, I think they would like to come." Ruth was speaking with
great animation. "We've named them, you know; and I think if I should
call them by their names they'd all be glad to see you. Can you sit here
by this hole in the clock?"

"Oh, yes!" replied Mrs. "Judge." "That would be very nice. And the
closets can all pass in front of us, and I can have a little talk with
them." So Ruth looked down again into the room where the children had
been playing, and saw that it was quite light and the children were all
gone. At once she called the closets.

"I've got a list of their names in my pocket," she explained to Mrs.
"Judge." "We can't remember as you can. Even as it is, mother's all the
time losing something in some of the closets, and she tries so hard to
think where she puts things. She ought to carry a blank-book with her,
and set everything down." The Judge's wife was rested now, so that she
sat up and took her place before the hole in the clock. The baby was
back again in the arms of his namesake. Then Ruth shouted out the names
of the closets. "Champagne," she cried. This was the name of the
wine-closet. It was a big black hole in the main cellar, just under the
parlor. Very soon there was a heavy tread in the west parlor where the
clock stood, and in swung Champagne. Although such a great closet he
looked very thin and dismal.

[Illustration]

"Good-evening," said the Judge's wife.

"How do you do?" replied Champagne; and there was a great deal of pain
in his voice.

"You don't seem happy," said Mrs. "Judge."

"I'm thirsty;" and the closet's voice sounded as if a fever had parched
it. "Poor folks live here now. They haven't put a bottle of wine into
me in forty years. I'm drying up. I shall cave in one of these days."

"That would be dreadful, wouldn't it?" exclaimed Ruth. "Would the house
go down if the wine-cellar caved in?"

"Hope so," answered Champagne testily. "Don't even keep wine for sick
folk. Somebody did put a couple of bottles of something into me when the
children had the measles, but somebody else came and stole it out of me.
I thought I'd help bring the measles out, but they didn't give me a
chance."

"Poor fellow!" exclaimed Mrs. "Judge." "I'm sorry for you. But these are
days of total abstinence, you know. You mustn't expect much wine. Don't
they keep butter in you?"

"No, they don't make any. And when they get some in the house it goes as
fast as it comes. This family eats an awful sight of butter."

"Well, I'll see what I can do for you, Champagne."

"We can fill him up with water," whispered Ruth. "For the cistern leaks
now, and father says the overflow all goes into the wine-cellar. I'll
call 'Greece' next." Champagne stepped one side, and stood by the front
door.

"Greece, Greece." The name was spoken with shrill, positive tones; and
Greece came hurrying down-stairs. This closet was in the attic. They
smoked the hams in him, and they sometimes put bacon and dried beef up
there.

"How do you get along?" inquired Mrs. "Judge," as the closet shambled
into the west room.

"How'd' do, ma'am?" There was a strong smell of ham when Greece made his
appearance.

"I've mostly given up smoking these days. I'm a poor, ham-sick fellow.
They are trying to starve me to death. I haven't had anything in me for
months. They won't let me say anything. They shut me up all the time."

"I think Greece smells bad, don't you?" said Ruth as she turned to her
guest. And then Ruth put her thumb and forefinger up to her nose to keep
out the bad odors that seemed to come up from poor Greece. "I'm going to
call 'China.'" So Greece stepped one side without one kind word. "China,
China, China." There was a very loud rattling of dishes, jingling of
glasses, and much music, as the long closet between the kitchen and the
dining-room stepped briskly before them.

"I'm glad to see you," said the Judge's wife by way of greeting. She was
a lover of fine ware, and the house had been filled with it.

"I'm very glad to see you," replied China. "I am living a wretched
life."

"Dear me, don't talk like that!" exclaimed the good lady, much annoyed
at all this mourning and fault-finding.

"I guess you'd talk worse than that if you had been cut down, torn to
pieces, burnt up, and boxed as I have been. Don't you see that there is
hardly anything left of me? As likely as not to-morrow they'll set to
work and do something else to me,--make me smaller yet, or drive me out
of the house. I can't tell what a day will bring forth. And just look at
the dishes. Did you ever see such a lot of nicked, broken, mismatched,
cracked, blackened, ugly old ware as they keep on my shelves? It makes
me sick. I wish you'd come back." All this time China had been talking
in a most despondent tone, giving a fresh shake of discontent to the
curious assortment of ware displayed on the shelves. It made the Judge's
wife nervous. She didn't like it. Neither did Ruth. It was not what they
expected. Such talk was hardly in keeping with Christmas Eve.

"China, you just go right out-doors and wait in the cold," said Ruth.
"I'm going to call 'Panama.' That, you know, is the closet that connects
father's study right over this room with the bedroom behind it. Come,
Panama," she cried. There was a great rustling of papers, and dust
filled the room as Panama entered.

"What does this mean?" inquired Mrs. "Judge," who began to sneeze and
feel very thirsty.

"Why, this is the closet where father keeps his sermons. I think they
must rustle and make so much noise because they are dry."

"Good-evening," said the lady in the clock as she bowed.

"Good-evening," replied Panama. "It's a long time since we've seen you,
Madam. Have you come back to stay?" And one could detect anxiety in the
manner and speech.

"Oh, no! We are here just for the evening. We thought it would be
pleasant to step down and out for a little while. We were in the
portraits on the east parlor wall, you remember. When the wind gets in
the east we shall be obliged to go back." Then Panama began to cry; and
as fast as he cried he drank up his tears.

"I don't see what's got into the closets to make them talk so and act
so!" exclaimed Ruth. "They just seem bent on being disagreeable
to-night. And I thought we'd have such a nice time with them. They're a
discontented and complaining lot. I'm going to call 'Leghorn.'"

During this little talk the Judge's wife was lost in thought. Her chin
had dropped down upon her breast, and a far-away look appeared in her
eyes.

"Leghorn, Leghorn, come here!" shouted Ruth.

The children had given this name to the east-corner closet in Mrs.
"Judge's" bedroom. She used to keep her bonnets there. One of them was a
white, beautiful Leghorn, which cost more than twenty-five dollars. This
closet was full of shelves, and it proved very useful to the minister's
family.

"Good-evening," said the lady.

Leghorn looked up with surprise. He recognized her voice.

"How do you do? When did you come? What's the news?" Leghorn spoke in a
very familiar way; for he had always stayed close to the head of the
bed in the room, and overheard all the conversation between the Judge
and his wife. There was no better informed closet in the house than
Leghorn.

"You look quite cheerful," said the lady.

"Yes'm," he replied; "I keep very busy, and have really more than I can
'tend to. You know, we have a perfect crowd of girls here in the house,
and their hats just fill me up to the brim. Hear 'em fuss as I shake
'em." And as the folks in the clock listened they heard such a racket of
straw and such a shrill chirping that they were quite startled.

"Dear me, what is that queer noise?" inquired Mrs. "Judge." "Have you a
flock of birds inside of you?"

"Oh! I know what that is," explained Ruth. "I can hear it above the
rustling of the straw. It's all the birds we have had on our hats. They
are feeling so good. For we have joined the Audubon Society, and we
can't wear any more birds. How they flutter and sing, don't they?"

"You don't mean that you really wear whole birds on a hat or a bonnet,
do you?" One could tell from the way she spoke that the visitor was
horrified.

"Why, yes; and you ought to see folks come to church with them. I've
counted seventeen kinds of feathers and nine pieces of birds on the
girls and ladies while father was preaching his sermon. We've had a
bird-class here, you know, and I can tell a great deal about 'em. There
was a blackbird and there was a bluebird; and one lady had a hawk's
wing, and another a rooster's tail, and Elizabeth had the breast and
beak of a scarlet tanager, and Helen wore heron's feathers, and mother
had ostrich plumes; and you ought to see the beautiful plumage we took
from a wild turkey sent us from the West; and we put it on Susie's hat,
and it was just too lovely for anything. But we've all joined the
Audubon Society now, and can't kill any more birds or wear many
feathers."

"I'd like to join too," interrupted Leghorn. "I'm sick of birds in me.
They make such a noise, and keep me stirred up all the time, so I don't
get good sleep. I'm very nervous, but I'm quite happy."

"There, we've found one happy closet anyway," said Ruth. "You just sit
down here and make yourself comfortable."

"Darkest Africa next," shouted Ruth. This was another of the closets
connected with the down-stairs bedroom. He came stumbling and grumbling
along.

"What do you want?" he said in a grumpy, disagreeable way. "You've kept
me in the dark so long, I've lost the use of my windows."

"Well, you needn't be so cross about it," answered Ruth. "Don't you see
it's Mrs. 'Judge' that's come back to see you?"

"What? what?" cried Darkest Africa, rubbing his eyes and speaking in his
natural voice. "Where is she?"

"Why, up here in the clock, of course. Haven't you any sense?"

[Illustration]

"Oh, such a life as we're living!" he said, turning toward the visitor.

"You remember how you used to keep all your groceries in me, and how my
shelves were heavy with every good thing,--tea, coffee, spices, fruits,
and a thousand things. Well, now they've shut the blinds, and covered
the windows, and turned me into a photograph-room. It's very nasty. Bad
smells hang all about me. Stove-pipe, pans of dirty water, chemicals,
and I don't know what, make me very unhappy. And the children run
through your bedroom just as if it were a public street. Such goings on
you never did see. I want to leave this world."

"I'm ashamed of you to talk that way, Darkest Africa. You go out on the
piazza, and wait in the cold, too, until I call you. Such talk makes
Mrs. 'Judge' feel real bad." And this closet withdrew, still mumbling
about his troubles.

"I'm going to call three together now," said Ruth; "for the baby'll wake
up before we get through, if I don't hurry." The Judge had really sung
and whistled the baby to sleep; and there the good man sat on the edge
of a cog-wheel, holding the little fellow in his arms.

[Illustration]

"Come, 'Pride,' 'Vanity,' and 'Ophir,'" screamed Ruth. One of these
closets held the clothes of the older girls--that was Pride; Vanity was
filled with the many dresses of the younger girls; and Ophir was the
closet where the present family kept their small stock of valuables,
like jewelry, silverware, and family heirlooms. These three closets came
prancing down together, and they certainly felt good. It was Christmas
Eve, and they knew it, for they were running over with all sorts of
packages; their shelves were filled; their hooks were burdened with
garments; the very floors were piled high with stuff. Mrs. "Judge" did
not know them so well by night, for she hadn't visited them for many
years before her going away. She bowed to them, and they bowed to her;
but they kept their hands in their pockets.

"Why don't you say something?" It was Ruth's remark to them as they
stood in a row before the clock.

"We're waiting for you to say something first," was the reply.

"How do you feel?" This was by way of starting the conversation.

"We feel jolly. Don't you?" Mrs. "Judge" smiled. This was pleasant to
hear, and she was very cheerful. She could see thirty-seven or fifty
dresses. There were all sizes, colors, materials, and patterns. Their
brightness and variety fascinated her.

"Look here, my dear," she said, turning to her husband.

"I can't. I should wake the baby," and he smiled in a very happy,
dignified way.

"I'll call 'Morocco,' too," said Ruth. "There's plenty of room, and I
like to see them together."

"Morocco, Morocco." And then there was such clattering and pattering of
shoes that it seemed as if the baby must wake up; for Morocco was the
shoe closet, and there were so many pairs of old shoes in the place that
it reminded one of a cobbler's shop. There were little shoes and big,
slippers and rubber-boots, patent leathers and copper toes, high-heeled
shoes and no-heeled shoes; there were blacking and brushes and
shoe-strings and button-hooks and dirt. And as Morocco walked in, every
shoe and boot and slipper and brush was in a most frolicsome mood,
jumping hither and thither, knocking the sides of the closet, and
raising a great dust. The Judge's wife looked from Pride to Vanity, then
from Ophir to Morocco. As the clothes shook and rustled, as the silver
and the old-fashioned jewelry jingled, as the foot-gear banged and
rattled, Ruth began to sing and dance, and the lady nodded her head to
keep time; and then the Judge caught the movement and beat time with his
foot, and whistled an old tune; and then the baby woke up, clapped his
hands, and cooed with delight.

But time was passing very quickly, and there was a great deal to do
before midnight came or the east wind arose. So Ruth hurried the closets
along in their march before the guests.

"'Valentine,' 'Argentine,' 'Serpentine,' 'Clementine,' and 'Turpentine,'
come along with you," she shouted urgently. These were the five closets
which belonged to the Judge's library. Valentine had nothing but broken
furniture in him; Argentine was loaded down with old and useless silver
(plated ware) and like stuff; Serpentine contained aged newspapers and
magazines; Clementine was pretty well filled with a variety of dolls,
and they played merrily as the closet came into the room, and stood
first on one foot and then on the other; Turpentine brought a good deal
of dust with him. He used to hold the Judge's private papers. They were
dry as dust. The Judge was so interested in the baby that he paid no
attention to the closets.

"I'm going to call the closet with the skeleton in it," whispered Ruth.
"We named him the 'Wandering Jew;' we've never seen him, you know.
Somebody told us that the key was lost, and then the keyhole, and
finally the closet itself, and it must be so; for where that closet was
in your day there isn't anything now." During this remark Mrs. "Judge"
looked very restless and sorrowful. "I just want to see what a skeleton
in the closet is like. I've heard that every family has got one, but
they keep them out of sight. Wandering Jew, Wandering Jew," whispered
Ruth with suppressed excitement; and almost on the instant the lost
closet walked into the room from nowhere. He was quite small; as he
walked something rattled in him. The child shivered. Was it the
skeleton? and would she see it? Then she remembered that the key and the
keyhole were both lost.

"What's in it?" whispered Ruth. And then she noticed for the first time
that the lady was weeping. There was a strange silence. Mrs. "Judge"
put her hands upon Ruth's head, and looking down pathetically into her
eager eyes said gently, "I would rather not put any questions to the
Wandering Jew, or try to make him say anything. Let him pass along out
of my sight." And Ruth, who was quite awed by the grief of Mrs. "Judge,"
told the closet to hurry out of sight as soon as possible. So she never
knew whether it was blasted hopes or withered love, or the ghost of a
chance or the dry bones of scholarship, or something else that was
locked in that strange little haunted room.

And now the closets were hurried along as fast as Ruth could name them.
But Mrs. "Judge" seemed to have lost her interest. The closet with a
skeleton in it had thrown her off her balance. She had little or nothing
to say to any of the others; and Ruth herself grew tired, so that she
was very glad when they had all made their bows and said their short
say, and something else might be done for the entertainment of her
company.




III.

    THE PROCESSION OF
    GOAT,
    DOG,
    CAT,
    BICYCLES,
    PORTRAITS,
    RUTH,
    AND
    THE "LITTLE JUDGE."




III.

THE PROCESSION OF GOAT, DOG, CAT, BICYCLES, CLOSETS, PORTRAITS, RUTH,
AND THE "LITTLE JUDGE."


"[Illustration: I] THINK it would be real nice for us to take a little
ride about the town, don't you?" Ruth was speaking to the Judge and his
wife.

"Yes, I think I am rested enough to go a short way," was the lady's
reply. "But what shall we do with the Judge and the baby?"

"Why, take them along with us!" Ruth was always ingenious, and she had
plans for every occasion.

"I think we might take a ride in the closets."

"What!" exclaimed Mrs. "Judge."

"I am going to hitch up the closets and have a procession," exclaimed
Ruth. "You leave it to me and it'll come out all right. I'll call the
cat and the goat and 'Turk,' and tell them to get out the bicycles and
fasten them to the closets, all in a row, and then they shall take us to
ride." On any other occasion or under other circumstances this would
have appeared a curious arrangement, but to-night it was quite in
keeping with all that had happened.

[Illustration]

"Here Billy, Billy, Billy, Turk, Turk, come Kitty, come Kitty," cried
Ruth; and the goat appeared on the minute, and with him Satan the black
cat and with him "Turk," the bird-dog. "You must hitch up the bicycles,
and hitch on the closets, and take us a-riding," ordered Ruth. Now,
Billy was an obliging goat, although his taste was not of the best; for
when one of the neighbors died, and crape and flowers were hung on the
front door, he went over and climbed up to the interesting objects, and
ate both the cloth and the wreath. He lacked taste, but he did enjoy
running up and down the street. Satan, the black cat, was very fond of
Ruth, and would do anything she told him when he didn't want to do
anything else, and he knew what she was talking about. Turk was always
on hand ready for a frolic.

So Billy, Satan, and Turk got the bicycles fastened together; and then
Ruth called out the names of the closets, beginning with the very
smallest in the house. The goat and the cat took a spool of red
cotton-thread, and tied all the closets in a row or a tow (just as you
see boats in a row and a tow when a tug pulls them up the river). When
all was ready, Billy and Satan and Turk took their places at the head of
the procession, and stood waiting for their passengers.

"I think we had better put the baby in the first closet," said Ruth.
"That is the smallest, you know, and he will fit in like a bug in a
rug."

"What have you got to put around him?" inquired the lady. There had been
a slight fall of snow in the evening, and then it had turned cold. "I'm
afraid he will get chilly, you know."

"Oh! I'll wrap him up in an envelope. Paper is very warm, I've heard.
I'll just put him into the envelope, and then cut two holes for his
eyes, and then seal him up like a letter." So the "Little Judge" was
fixed. But it occurred to Mr. Judge at this point that his wife was not
prepared for winter. She was a delicate person, and she wore the same
clothes that she had on when her portrait was painted. The cap with
frilled border was very pretty, but it was not warm.

"My dear," said the Judge to his wife, "you are not properly clad for a
ride."

"I've got plenty of clothes and things in my pocket," said Ruth. "Now,
here is a nice postage-stamp with a picture of the queen upon it. That
will do for a bonnet. I'll stick it on tight." And she did. "Here is a
lot of red crinkly paper that we use to make lamp-shades. I'll do her up
like a bundle from the store. There, doesn't she look well?" And the
child wound the bright paper all about the matronly form of Mrs.
"Judge," and fastening it under her chin with a big safety pin, stood
off and admired the brilliant result. "There won't any cold creep in
through that red stuff," exclaimed Ruth. "Isn't she pretty?" But the
Judge only smiled and looked interested.

"Now you must be fixed," and Ruth turned toward the Judge. "I'll tie
this handkerchief over your head, and use a piece of red thread for a
muffler. And here is a nice white canton-flannel bag in my pocket that
Herbert has used for his marbles. You jump into that, and I'll tie you
up."

"But how shall we get down into the closets?" The Judge seemed
perplexed.

"Fall down, of course," exclaimed the child. "And I'm going to wear
mother's feather-bed. Then, if it 'thunders and lightens' I won't be
afraid." So at length everything was ready, and they stood on the weight
of the clock, and went down to the door which swung open into the west
parlor; and then they tumbled out into the room, and made their way to
the front piazza like boys engaged in a bag-race. And there before the
house stood the procession of the closets.

"What's become of the old portico?" asked the lady. "You must have made
it into this long sitting-place." She glanced up and down the roomy
piazza. "What color do you call this?" she asked, referring to the brown
paint upon the house. "We always had it white."

"This color doesn't show the dirt," said Ruth. "All the dust of the
town flies this way, mother says." At that moment there was a rumbling,
hissing, and flashing in the distance. The house shook and the sky
brightened. Was it an earthquake, or what?

"My dear," whispered Mrs. "Judge," "I feel a little timid. I think it's
because I've been in the picture so long. I'm shaking all over. It seems
to me as if something dreadful was going to happen. What is that awful
noise; and I see strange flames of pale blue light shoot into the sky."

"Oh, don't be scared!" said Ruth; "that's nothing but the trolley. See,
there it comes!" Down the street towards them swept a thing of light,
shaking the very earth beneath, and speeding past into the night like
some meteor. It was several seconds before the lady was able to speak.

"Child, what did you say it was?" and she trembled with fright.

"Why, it's the trolley-car. We ride on it. It runs by electricity, the
same as lightning." And Ruth popped her head in and out of the
feather-bed as she replied, the feathers sticking to her hair and
fluttering about her face in a most comical way.

"I think we'd better start before another car comes, for Billy and Satan
might run away. Sometimes they're afraid."

"Yes, let us get right into our places," said the Judge, who was sorry
to see his wife distressed. So the baby rolled into the little closet
next to the seven bicycles, and Ruth jumped into the next one, and the
Judge and his wife shuffled into the third.

"I think we must make a real funny show," exclaimed Ruth, as she lifted
her head out of the feathers again, and gave orders to Billy and Satan
and Turk.

[Illustration]

"Get up there, boys!" she said to this remarkable team. And then they
were all in motion,--the billy-goat and the black cat and the dog, the
seven bicycles, the little closet with the baby in the blue envelope,
the second closet with Ruth in a feather-bed, the third closet with the
Judge in a white flannel-bag and a handkerchief over his head, and Mrs.
"Judge," done up in red paper, wearing a postage stamp for a bonnet,
followed by fifty-seven closets of all shapes, sizes, patterns,
conditions. There was a banging of wood, a slamming of doors, a creaking
of windows, a dancing of shoes, a rattling of dishes, a rustling of
clothes (starched clothes), a fluttering of sermons, a pounding of pots
and kettles and pans, a rolling about of fruit glasses and jelly jars
and canned food, a falling of hams, and a rising of flour, and a decline
in vegetables simply frightful.

"This is a very fine road," observed the Judge. "It's just as smooth as
a floor. What an improvement over the roads in our day!"

"Yes," answered Ruth as she peered out from her feathers, "we are very
proud of our roads. They are--what is it you call them? Adam, cadam, oh!
I've got it now, macadam roads. They cost thousands of dollars. But
we've some very good men in town, just the kind you are, I suppose, and
they've given us miles and miles of it. You ought to see how we skim
along the road now on a bicycle. It would fairly make your head swim."

"My head does swim," whispered Mrs. "Judge." "It's so long since I took
a ride in the fresh air, and I've staid such a time in the picture and
become so stiff, that the motion makes me dizzy. I think we'd better
stop for a few minutes."

"What is this?" exclaimed the Judge. They had gone only to the corner
of the Green. There was a very thin covering of fluffy snow on the
ground. Suddenly the clouds broke away, and the moon flooded the scene
with light. And there, standing distinct and stately against the black
background, glistening and shimmering in the mild radiance, was the
church.

"Where is the old meeting-house?" and the Judge rubbed his eyes, and got
the handkerchief loose upon his head; and Mrs. "Judge" in her agitation
dislocated the postage-stamp that served for a bonnet so that she felt a
cold draught in her left ear.

"Why, Judge, we aren't here, are we? We must be somewhere else." Then
Ruth uncovered her head, and let a few feathers fly back in the face of
her guest and laughed merrily.

"That's the new church. Our new stone church. Isn't it lovely? Did you
ever see anything like it? Whoa, Billy and Satan and Turk! Wait a
minute! We want to take a look at things."

"You don't mean to say you have another meeting-house, do you? What's
become of the old one?"

"Oh! that was set on fire. You ought to've seen it burn. Father said it
was the saddest, beautifulest sight he ever saw. It was like a church
built of fire; and it blazed away,--walls, roof, floor, all glorious
without and within, and then it was caught up into heaven, so father
says. It made us think of Elijah going up in his flaming chariot. And
then we built this stone church. Don't you like it? Why, of course you
do; why, I heard father say that you wanted a stone church, and gave
something for one."

"Like it, child, of course we like it! And we did want a stone church,
and we tried to get the folks to build one, but they thought they
weren't rich enough. Like it! why this is one of the happiest moments of
my life. What a striking building it is!"

"Yes; and there is some of your money in it, for I've heard father say
so. They got pay for the old church when it burned, and that went right
into the new. And it was an English company that had to pay the
insurance; and folks said it was no more than right that the English
should pay it, for they burned down the one in 1779 when they burnt up
the town, you know."

"You know a great deal about history and things, don't you?" It was Mrs.
"Judge" that made the pleasing remark.

"Yes, I know many things. It's because I ask so many questions, I
suppose. But mother says I lack 'capacity.' I don't know what she means;
it's something dreadful, I suppose. Perhaps I'll make it up when I get
big. Wouldn't you like to stop at the church and go inside? I've got a
key right here in my pocket. Samuel and I carry keys to about
everything."

"I think we might take a little rest here," said the Judge. "Do you
think the team will stand?" And his eyes twinkled curiously as he looked
out upon Billy and Satan and Turk.

[Illustration]

"Oh, yes! they'll be all right. If they get tired of waiting they can
take a short run on the bicycles. Go up there to the front door.
'Whoa!'" This was said to the team. When they came to a stop Ruth
tumbled out first, then the Judge and his lady followed, scuffing along
as best they could. They unlocked the door; and Ruth rolled back to the
first closet, picked up the envelope with the baby in it, tucked him
into the feather-bed by her side, and returned to the vestibule. They
observed that the church was all lighted and warm. So Ruth slipped off
the feather-bed, although a thousand feathers stuck to her, making the
child appear like a new kind of overgrown fowl. The Judge took the baby
on his arm, for he had also slipped out of Herbert's marble bag, and
then Ruth led them through the building. Every part was explained,--the
windows, the organ, the gaslights, the carved pillars, the glass screen,
the chapel, the piano, the library, the parlor, the furnaces; everything
was noted.

"Why, how lovely it is to be warm in meeting," said Mrs. "Judge." "You
know we used to have foot-stoves, or hot baked potatoes, or a piece of
stone. That was all."

"You don't mean to say that they gave you hot baked potatoes with butter
in meeting, and that was the way you kept warm?"

"Oh, we didn't eat them!" interrupted Mrs. "Judge." "We held them in our
hands, or put them to our feet. But the little stoves were better. And
then finally we had stoves, big stoves, in the meeting-house. I thought
I should faint dead away when they first used them. It seemed to me so
hot and stuffy in the room. And then I remember that my husband laughed
at me when I drove home (I always had to ride, child; I wasn't able to
walk so far for many years); for he said there hadn't been any fires
kindled yet in the new stoves. But I got used to them after a time, and
they were real comfortable. But I should certainly faint away to see the
heat coming right up out of the floor, and think that underneath me was
a raging fire."

"Why that's the way we warm the parsonage," said Ruth. "Didn't you see
the registers?"

"Have you got one of those fires in the cellar?" asked Mrs. "Judge."

"Dear me, Judge, I shall never feel safe again so long as we hang on the
east parlor wall. Why, we shall be liable to burn up any moment. Think
of having one of those awful things, full of fire, right under your
feet. I'm so sorry that I know anything about it."

"Oh, you'll get used to it! You have got used to it, haven't you? There
has been a furnace in the parsonage ever so many years." They were all
seated in the minister's pew in church at this time. The Judge was bowed
in thought.

"He looks as if he was going to pray," whispered Ruth, somewhat
awe-struck by his expression and the stillness of the place as well as
the solemnity of the occasion. But it was hard for her to keep from
asking questions. "Did you see the man in the moon as we came into
church?" she turned to Mrs. "Judge."

"The man in the moon!" exclaimed the lady; "he's the very person that I
want to speak to. I think it's years since I've seen him."

"Well, he's out to-night in great style. It must be because it's
Christmas Eve. Did you hang up your stocking when you were a little
girl?"

"Do what?" inquired the lady.

"Hang up your stocking, to be sure, for Santa Claus to fill it with
presents." The Judge's wife looked with astonishment upon the child by
her side. It was impossible for her to imagine what was meant.

"I never heard of such a thing," she replied. Then Ruth enlightened her.

"You know that Jesus was born on the twenty-fifth of December?"

"Yes, my child."

"And you know God gave him to the world?"

"Yes."

"Well, don't you think it's nice for us to give things to each other on
that day? and don't you believe that Santa Claus comes down the chimney
and brings us lots of presents?"

"Why, I never thought of it." And the dear old lady began to think a
good deal about it.

"We keep it right here in church too. We have a Christmas-tree, and sing
carols, and all the children get presents and candy, and ever so many
nice things; and everybody is just as happy as can be. Don't you think
that is a nice way to remember the coming of Jesus and God's gift to all
of us?"

"Well! well! well! and so to-night is the very night, is it? Judge, did
you know that our folks now keep Christmas in their churches and their
homes? Do you think there is any sin in it?" He was startled out of his
reverie by the question, and Ruth was obliged to explain to him what she
had said to his wife. Then he thought upon it for a little time, and
replied to Mrs. "Judge." It pleased him. He wished to see what it was
like. "Why, I think, my dear, that it might be made a very happy,
helpful festival. Why couldn't we have one over at the house to-night?"

"We are going to have one there in the morning," exclaimed Ruth. "We all
get up bright and early, and our stockings are filled, and there is a
little tree, and candles, and oranges, and shiny balls, and beautiful
things; and we dance around, and sing, and have oh! such a happy, happy
time. I wish you would stay and see it."

"My dear," the Judge was now speaking to his wife, "don't you think you
could get up a little party for the children to-night? We can't stay
until morning, you know. We must go back into the pictures. And the
east wind may rise at any hour."

[Illustration]

"Judge, I'll step out a moment and speak with the man in the moon. He's
out to-night, Ruth says, and perhaps we can arrange something. I'll be
back very soon." So she walked down the aisle, and passed into the
vestibule with all the liveliness of a young dame.

"I think this must be the very spot where I used to sit in the meeting."
The Judge was talking to himself as much as to Ruth. "I wonder what they
did with the old box pew that belonged to me? How times have changed!
But this is very rich and dignified, and satisfies me." As this was
said he surveyed the chaste and elegant interior with approving eye. "I
am glad to see it. But I wish it had been in my day. There are some
ideas that I should like to have embodied in stone on this spot. Strange
world this." And then he bowed his head in thought again.

"I'm going to meet Mrs. 'Judge,'" said Ruth, "unless you will stand up
and make a speech to me. Do you think you are as good and wise and great
as people say? I've heard father tell how you could speak better'n any
minister or lawyer in New England. Could you? Because I'd like to hear
you if you could." The Judge blushed to hear such praise.

"I'm out of practice," he replied. "I believe my voice has lost itself.
It's very trying on the vocal organs to hang in a picture for a hundred
years or so. But I will say a few words." Then the Judge walked up into
the pulpit, made a very graceful bow, and began to recite psalms. His
voice was remarkably rich and sympathetic. He put so much soul into the
words that Ruth sat perfectly still, a thing she had never been known
to do before in all her life. Had it not been for the floating about of
feathers as she breathed, and drove them hither and thither, she would
have appeared like one dead. When the Judge finished he came down from
the pulpit, and Ruth was so overcome that she didn't say one word for as
much as a minute and one half. Then the spell was broken. Mrs. "Judge"
came hastily in, saying that she was ready to go, and the team had just
returned from their run on the bicycles; then they all came out of
church, and the organ played, and the bell rang, and the gas fixtures
jingled, and when the company was fixed in their closets they continued
on the ride.

"Did you see the man in the moon?" inquired Ruth.

"Oh, yes!" replied Mrs. "Judge"; "I've made all the arrangements; and
when we get back the house will be ready, and we'll wake up the
children, and it will be our first real Christmas party. I am going to
invite only the closets and the children. I want to get the closets all
filled up again for once; and then I want to see every one of you
children so full of happiness that you'll run over and make other people
happy too."

[Illustration]

As they were passing the Town Hall the Judge was again reminded of old
times; for that was the very place where he had argued many of his
cases, and won some of his greatest victories.

"My dear," he said, "I could almost imagine we were set back to the War
of 1812, and I was going over to the Court House to express my views to
our citizens."

"It looks as though they'd done something to the building," remarked the
lady. "How they change everything these days!" And then they swung down
Beach Lane, and came to the old cemetery.

"Look at that!" exclaimed Ruth. "Isn't it fine?" She referred to the
thick, solid, stone wall enclosing the grounds, and the beautiful
lich-gate that stood over the entrance.

"We're right up to the times here," continued the child. "The Daughters
of the American Revolution and some of our ladies did that. We can sit
on those stone seats hot summer days, and it's just as cool as cool can
be. And it's such a nice place to play 'hide-and-seek' behind the
grave-stones and the wall among the trees."

"Now, this is what I love to see," observed the Judge. "This shows the
true spirit of reverence. I am proud of these good Daughters. What did
you say they were called? Daughters of the American Revolution? Why,
they must all be dead by this time."

"Oh, no!" explained Ruth; "these are their daughter's daughters, you
know. And they have such good times. Why, mother is going to their
meetings a good deal of the time. They talk about the Revolution and
things, and wear flags and pins, and have refreshments and papers, and
elect officers, and get up plays, and go to Washington, and keep
inviting each other somewhere, and all the while say ever so much about
Washington's Birthday and the Fourth of July and the Battle of
Lexington. Why, we children know so much about history that it seems
sometimes as if we'd lived all through the whole fight, and seen the
town burned, and helped drive the British away. Don't you think we're
smart?"

"I shall have to be very careful how I talk about these things, or you
will catch me in some mistake, I suppose." The Judge looked serious, but
there was that funny twinkle in his eyes. "Suppose we now drive around
the new cemetery, and see if everything is as trim and neat there. We'd
like to look at our own graves, and see how things are."

"Well, I think that's a very unpleasant way to spend Christmas Eve; and
I'm sure that Billy and Satan and Turk will be afraid to go into that
place, and so shall I; and you can't see much from the road; so let's
drive up to Round Hill, and watch for Santa Claus."

"Oh! just as you please," continued the Judge. "This is your circus, not
mine." And he smiled indulgently upon Ruth. So they turned about on the
Beach Road, and slipped up to Round Hill. While they were viewing the
scenery, the man in the moon winked at Mrs. "Judge," as much as to say
that the house was all ready, and it was time for the party to return.




IV.

THE PARTY WITH SUPPER FOR SEVENTEEN, AND TOASTS WITH A TOASTING-FORK.




IV.

THE PARTY WITH SUPPER FOR SEVENTEEN, AND TOASTS WITH A TOASTING-FORK.


WHEN they returned to the parsonage, Billy unhitched himself and opened
the front door. The Judge and his wife with Ruth and the baby hastened
into the warm rooms as fast as the feather-bed, the white flannel bag,
the blue envelope, and the red paper would permit them.

"Why, what a change there is here!" exclaimed Ruth. "It must be exactly
as you used to have it."

"Yes," replied Mrs. "Judge"; "I told the man in the moon to make things
look natural. This seems really like coming home. I feel very much as I
did whenever I drove down to New York, and came back to the dear house.
It is so nice to see these beautiful carpets again, and the same chairs
and tables and sofas; the very damask curtains I made; my little
sewing-stand; the clock right there in its place near my bedroom door;
and there is the refrigerator. I always had it stand in my bedroom, you
know. That made it very convenient. And I kept all the stores in"--

"Me," groaned Darkest Africa, who still remained in front of the house
awaiting the orders of Ruth.

"Yes, in you," continued Mrs. "Judge"; "and I expect to see you very
happy again to-night. I never kept Christmas. We didn't approve of such
things when I was a child." She was now talking to Ruth. "But if they
have a Christmas-tree in the meeting-house, and the minister thinks it's
all right, it must be so. I am really quite glad to get up a party
to-night. I shall have it to think about when I go back into the
picture. And that reminds me, child, that I want you to come into the
parlor very often and speak to me. It's very very lonely staying there
day and night, summer and winter, year in and year out. Why don't you
ask the Judge and me to play church with you and the rest of the
children some of the times when you come into the parlor?"

"Why, I never thought of that!" exclaimed Ruth. "I'll do it the very
next time (which will be Sunday, I suppose) that we have church again."
By this time they had taken their wraps off and put them up. That is to
say, Ruth got out of the feather-bed, and had Turk carry it up-stairs,
while she took the handkerchief and the marble-bag off from the Judge,
and the postage-stamp and the red crinkly paper off from Mrs. "Judge,"
and put these things in her pocket. Then they all went into the lady's
chamber, and took the baby out of the envelope, laying him on the bed,
and covering him with a soap-dish and a hair-brush to keep him warm, for
he had gone to sleep.

"Now we must get ready for the party," said Ruth, "and then I'll call
the children and dress them. But, dear me! what will you and the Judge
wear? We've got tired of seeing you in the same clothes all the time.
Oh, I'll tell you! Let's play dress up just as we children do, and then
I can fix you out in fine style."

"Just as you say, child. It's your party, and you can do much as you
please. And the truth is that I am pretty tired of wearing the same
clothes all these many years. I don't think it makes so much difference
to a man. But we women like to have something new once in a while, say
once in fifty or seventy-five years."

"Oh! won't it be fun?" cried Ruth. "We'll have 'Providence' come in here
and show us what he's got in him. You know Providence is the big closet
in the corner of the Betsey-Bartram room. Come here, Providence." This
closet ambled into the bedroom, and Mrs. "Judge" took a silver
candlestick with a wax candle in her hand, and stepped into the closet
followed by the Judge and Ruth. What a medley of stuff they found!
There were silks and satins of all colors and kinds. There was velvet
and calico, lawn and broadcloth, furs and flowers, laces and linens,
swallow-tail coats and fancy vests, a waterproof, a riding-habit,
bicycle suits, pajamas, flags and bunting, forming an infinite
assortment or mixture of everything under the sun in the shape of dry
goods.

"You don't keep an old-clothes exchange, do you, child?" asked the
astonished visitor.

"Oh, no! these are mother's treasures (that's what she calls them). We
get 'em when her ship comes in. It always seems to come in the night. We
children have watched for it ever since we lived West and could
remember. But the first we know is that mother tells us some day how the
ship has come in, and another cargo has been unloaded in Providence.
Then we all make a rush and overhaul the cargo; one thing fits one
child, and another thing fits another child, and what doesn't fit we
make over, and then we appear in our new outfits. You ought to see us
go into church a week or two after a fresh cargo of treasures has been
distributed. It's great fun." During this talk Ruth was rummaging about
in the trunks or on the shelves in search of something becoming to her
guests.

"I think the Judge ought to have something solemn on, don't you?" she
said, addressing his wife. "Now, this long, black waterproof is the
thing. And he can wear Samuel's bicycle stockings and shoes. Then,
here's a broad purple ribbon for a necktie; and I'll put this ermine boa
around his neck, for don't judges sometimes wear ermine? Doesn't he look
cute?" She had helped him on with the things while Mrs. "Judge" stood by
smiling her approval.

"I think this green velvet waist and this red silk skirt will look well
on you." Ruth was speaking to the lady. "Then I'll do your hair up with
this white lace and these yellow flowers. It's so cold I think you had
better wear mittens. I think you ought to have a train to your dress.
I'll take some safety-pins, and fasten a few yards of this white satin
on behind. Doesn't it look elegant? You must have a corsage bouquet."
And she twisted up some dry grasses and pink roses, and pinned them to
her belt. "And this white gauze veil will add to the effect." So it was
spread over the lady's head, and fell in scant folds across her brow.

"I shall get into this pink crape," Ruth continued, "slip these muffs up
my ankles, and take this black fur cape and that lovely, lovely lavender
bonnet. I'm going to wear white kid gloves, and have a train of that
yellow satin. Will you, please, tie this bow of nile-green velvet about
my neck? And I must have a veil too. This one with little red spots like
the measles all over it will suit me, I guess. There, now, don't I look
just too nice for anything?" Both the Judge and his wife bowed and
smiled.

"I'll put this black lace one side for the baby when he wakes up. We'll
dress him up with that and some tissue paper I've got in my pocket. And
now let's go and take a look at the house again." But their talking
roused the baby; so they dressed him as Ruth had planned, winding the
paper and lace about his body as though he were a mummy; and then they
started for the parlor, the Judge carrying his namesake on one arm and
supporting his wife on the other, with Ruth dragging on behind, clinging
to the right hand of Mrs. "Judge."

At the foot of the stairs Ruth proposed that she go and call all the
children. For at this late hour they had gone to bed. But the visitors
thought it better to wait.

"We must ask a few questions and find out what the children want for
Christmas," said Mrs. "Judge." So they passed into the parlor, and sat
down on the Grecian sofa. A soft, gentle light fell from the astral lamp
and the wax candles on the mantle-piece. The wood fire on the hearth,
the heavy damask curtains at the windows, the rich mahogany furniture
scattered about through the room, the handsome pictures upon the walls,
gave the place a very inviting appearance.

"Now, Ruth, we're going to put something in each child's stocking." Mrs.
"Judge" was speaking. "It seems to me a foolish custom, but now that you
all do it we will follow suit. Tell us what to get."

"Father says there's a difference between what we want and what we need.
We want a great many things, but we need only a few."

"That's sound talk," observed the Judge. "Your father must be quite a
man."

"Oh!" was the reply, "he weighs almost a hundred and ninety pounds. I
heard mother tell the teacher the other day that she thought I lacked
capacity. I don't get along in school at all. There are so many things
to do besides study that it takes all my time. I think mother would be
pleased if you gave me something of the kind. That's what I need I
suppose. But what I want is to know about everything. That's why I ask
so many questions and tease to go all the time. I'm trying to find out
things for myself. How should I learn how old a girl or a lady is if I
didn't ask? And what's my tongue for if it isn't to use in talking?"

"To be sure," replied Mrs. "Judge." "But I used my tongue for eating
too, until I got into the picture. I think it's almost a hundred years
since I had anything to eat."

"Mercy! aren't you hungry?" exclaimed Ruth. "But you don't look thin,
and you certainly don't grow old. I've heard folks say so when they
looked at your picture. 'Why, how nice and fresh and lifelike they
seem.' That's what our visitors say when we take them into the parlor to
see the portraits. But, dear me, we shall never get through the list if
I keep on talking. I can't help talking. I seem made for it. I've heard
father say that several of his family were deaf, but none of 'em were
ever dumb." The Judge and his wife appeared quite interested in this
lively flow of speech on the part of the child, so they nodded their
heads with encouragement, and Ruth continued.

"Now, there's Helen, she's always talking about writing a book. I think
she wants to write a book above all things. You might give her the book
she is going to write. But what she really needs is curls. That straight
black hair makes her look horrid. I wish you'd bring her a whole lot of
curls. Isn't it queer that we can't have a baby with curls? We've had a
regular cry over it more than once. Not a single curl in all the
fifteen. Every hair of our heads as straight as a string. Don't you
think you'd better write the things down as I tell them to you? But then
you've got such an awful memory I suppose you can remember everything.
Now, there's Samuel. You tell him two things and father says he's sure
to forget three. Mother says if his memory was as good as his forgetery,
he'd make something remarkable."

"I think if you will lend me a piece of paper,--that red crinkly stuff
that the baby has on,--and a stick of candy or a poker, I will write
down the articles you mention." It was the Judge speaking.

"Why don't you take the quill and the paper that you hold in the
portrait, and use them?" inquired Ruth.

"To be sure!" exclaimed the Judge. "What a bright girl you are!"

"Father doesn't think so. I don't know how many times he's said to me
when I've done something queer, 'Ruth, you don't seem to have any
sense.' Susie said one day, 'Well, I'll give her my two cents.' And she
did, and I spent it for candy. Father would be so pleased if you gave me
some sense for a Christmas present, I know." The visitors smiled as the
child prattled, and let her continue without interruption.

"I know what Samuel wants. I know a lot of things he wants. Mother says
he always wants to go home with the girls. But you couldn't call that a
present, could you? Oh! I know one thing he wants very much. Whenever he
tries to race with any of the boys, and he comes out a long way behind,
he says he wants wind. Just put that down, please. But I think the
thing he needs most of anything is courtesy. At least father keeps
talking to him about it. If you would bring a big lot of it I'm sure
we'd all be pleased. It must be something very nice, for father says
something about it every day of his life." The Judge nodded his head,
and wrote with his quill upon the sheet of paper. "Theodora is always
wanting clothes. She's never had enough. I don't know how many times
we've heard her say she had nothing to wear. And then father says she'd
better go to bed. I wonder if she'll have all the clothes she wants in
heaven?" Neither the Judge nor his lady ventured to answer. "What
Theodora really needs, I think, is a gold spoon. Mother says she was
certainly born with a gold spoon in her mouth; but the spoon has been
lost, for I've never seen it, and it would be such a nice thing to give
her one in its place. Or, maybe, you could bring her the very one she
had when she was born. I should like to see what kind of a spoon it
was." So the Judge put that down.

"It's easy enough to tell what Ethel wants. She's always talking about
it. She wants some _new_ clothes. She says she's sick to death of
second-hand stuff. Mother's always having something made over for her or
some of the younger girls. We've never seen anything real fresh and new.
Father says we ought to be thankful to have clothes at all. I suppose we
had. What Ethel needs is application. Her teacher says so, and so does
everybody else. She doesn't stick to a thing."

"Poor child," said the Judge. "She'll have a hard time, I fear. I'll see
what we can do for her."

"Now, Miriam hasn't any gumption, father says. I wonder what that is? I
think that must be the thing she needs the most. She's such a
chicken-hearted girl Samuel says. And that makes me think what it is
Miriam always wants. She tells mother, I don't know how many times a
day, that she wishes she'd have some spring chicken. You don't know how
fond she is of 'em. But they're very high here, you know. And spring
chickens enough to go around in such a family as ours would soon ruin
us, mother says. But Ethel is so fond of them. How she wants 'em! Do you
think you could fill her up for once?"

"Why, spring chickens are not in my line of treasures, my child; but I
might find something that would take the place of such fowls."

"Henry says Elizabeth's a regular old goose. And Samuel calls Susie
'duckie.' I wonder if you couldn't help Grace. She needs balance,
everybody says. I think she's smart enough, but she's a high-flyer. You
never can tell what will happen next when she's around. Please bring
some balance for a present. But what she wants is Frederick. He's the
boy in the next block. I don't think it's right to think so much of boys
unless they're your brothers. Elizabeth says her brothers are her
bothers. And I think so too." Ruth looked very severe. The Judge simply
continued his writing.

"Do you think you could bring all of us a very great deal of sweetness
of disposition? I've heard so much about that thing that I'm real tired
of it; but I know it would please both father and mother, for they have
talked about it ever since I can remember. I know a little baby girl
down South who is so sweet they call her 'Sugar.' Samuel says if we
named our children as they ought to be named, some of them would be
called 'Vinegar.' But he's 'funning,' I guess. Mother says his bark is
always worse than his bite.

"Now, George needs heart. Samuel says George will never die of heart
disease, because he hasn't any heart. He has a gun, and Elizabeth calls
him Nimrod. He wants to go to war. But we're afraid he might get shot in
the back. But he's a real good boy after all. I should hate to see him
going around with a hole in his back." Just at this point the Judge
coughed and looked queer.

"Henry is crazy about music. He wants a violin, but mother says he
needs an ear for music. I should like to know what he'd do with a third
ear. Would you put it on the top of his head? And he wants to sing; but,
dear me, father says he needs a voice. He has voice enough, _I_ think.
You can hear him all over town. Did you write it down?" Ruth looked
keenly at the Judge as his pen flew with the speed of a snail over the
paper.

"Yes, here it is in white and black."

"Now, William is an awfully forward boy. He's so forward father says
that he's growing round-shouldered. He wants to be President. That's
ever since he went to the White House with mother. It was a very cold
day, the day he went; and William had his mittens on, and mother
couldn't get to him to take 'em off when he shook hands with the
President. Neighbors say that what he needs is training. But they don't
train now as they used to. Father says they used to train out here on
the Green several times a year. I know the best thing you could bring
William is a training. And Susie, she wants something she hasn't got. I
don't think it makes any difference what it is. Mother says if she
hasn't got it she wants it. And then she snivels when she doesn't get
it. I heard some one say the other day that what she needed was a
spanking. But I don't think that would be a very nice present, do you?"

"Well, not for Christmas, anyway," whispered Mrs. "Judge."

"There's Nathaniel, he always wants to go somewhere. Father says that if
we lived in Beersheba Nathaniel would want to move into Dan, and when he
got into Dan he'd be sure to start the next day for Beersheba. He needs
a good deal of watching, mother says. Samuel, Elizabeth, Helen, Henry,
and Miriam have all got watches; but you see we can't all have them at
once.

"Now, just look at Elizabeth. You'd think we all belonged to her,
wouldn't you? She wants to _run_ everything. And then she runs so much
that mother says she runs down. But father says she needs experience,
and then everything will come out all right. If you could bring her that
ripe experience that I've heard folks talk about, I think it would make
father and mother feel real pleased.

"Herbert needs backbone. I felt of his back the other day, and I didn't
see but that he had just as much bone in it as the rest of the children,
but father says not. Mother says you can twist him around your little
finger. That would be a queer sight, wouldn't it? Herbert is always
talking about a good time. That's the thing he wants. Could you bring
something of that sort to him?"

"Well, my child," answered the Judge, "I am thinking about bringing a
good time to every one of you. It's such a pleasure to see the old house
full of children that I should like to do anything in the world possible
to make them happy." When this was said Mrs. "Judge" beamed an approval,
and seemed very happy herself. "But you haven't told us what to give the
baby."

"Dear me, why that's the best of all! But everybody knows what the baby
ought to have. I've been a-looking to see if you've brought it along
with you. When folks come to see the baby they smile and trot him on the
knee and kiss him, and then say, 'I'm so glad you named him for the
Judge. He was a good, great man. May his mantle fall upon his namesake.'
And then they kiss him again and go away. It's your mantle that we
expect you to give the baby. But you didn't bring it with you, and I'm
so sorry. And it isn't in the picture either. For I've looked there a
great many times. I thought maybe it was left in the house, but we never
hear anything about it. Now you're right here with the baby I thought if
you only had it you might give it to him at once. Could you send it to
him? It must be something very fine. Even father talks about it." A tear
stole down the cheek of the Judge. It was chased by another and a third.
He seemed deeply moved. For the Judge was human like the rest of folks,
even if he did stay a hundred years in a picture. And who does not like
to be remembered with such loving words and beautiful praises? Can one
help feeling kindly and grateful? The Judge's voice choked with emotion
as he replied to the noble sentiments of the child. It was very hard for
him to express himself.

"My little Ruth," he stooped and looked down into her face with wondrous
and pathetic tenderness, "you have done me more good than all that I can
do for you. These very words that you have just spoken are more precious
to me than all the money in the world."

"Why, you don't mean it, do you?" interrupted the child. "I was saying
what everybody says. I don't know how many times I've heard father say
that your memory was a--a--a benediction, that's the word. A very big
word for such a little girl as I am; but, dear me! I've heard folks use
it so many times about you that I can speak it all right. It must be
something very good. Why, of course, that's what they call the end of
church service. I think it's the very best part of going to meeting. I
always feel so happy when they come to the benediction. I think
everybody else does too. And now about the mantle. Will you send it to
the baby?"

"Why, Ruth, I think it must be pretty nearly worn out. Only what you say
about it, and what you say others say, makes me think that perhaps it
might be worth saving, so that I could give it to the baby if folks
think best. I'll look it up and talk with my wife, and perhaps I'll give
it to the dear little fellow. I wish it were a better mantle, however.
I'd like to see him wear one more worthy than mine."

"Don't you think it's time to call the children?" said Ruth.

"Send Turk," replied the Judge, with that same funny twinkle in his eye.
So Ruth took the dog, and ran up-stairs and down-stairs and in the
lady's chamber, and wakened the children, telling them to hurry right
down to the party.

[Illustration]

They didn't have time to dress much. The boys all put on their trousers
and stockings and slippers, and then they wrapped around them whatever
was most handy. Samuel wore his father's loud, red, double gown. Henry
pulled on a canvas shooting-jacket. Herbert did himself up in a rose
blanket. George had on an afghan. Nathaniel brought with him a
crazy-quilt. William got into his mother's golf-cape.

The girls were a little more particular. They put on all their clothes
except dresses. Then they wound sheets about themselves, and tied their
heads up in pillow-cases. When the boys tumbled down-stairs they looked
like a lot of escaped lunatics. When the girls came pushing into the
parlor they made one think of ghosts.

The first thing was a walk around headed by Turk and the black cat. You
couldn't fancy a more startling procession.

Then they played games, and sang songs, and told riddles, and looked for
a needle in a haystack, and turned the house upside down and inside out.

The great event of the party was the supper. Mrs. "Judge" had told the
man in the moon what she wished for the occasion, and while the children
were rollicking in the east parlor the clock sounded out the alarm for
the feast.

The Judge carried his namesake on the left arm, while his wife leaned
upon his right. Ruth still kept hold of the lady's hand. The rest of
the company followed in a good deal of disorder, for they were all
curious to see what sort of a supper would be given them.

When they came into the west parlor or dining-room they saw a long
table, but there was nothing on it. The children looked at each other
and at the Judge and his wife in blank amazement. They expected to sit
down to a table laden with all the goodies of the land. But there wasn't
even a table-cloth before them.

The Judge took the head of the table, and his wife sat at the foot with
Ruth. The baby was put in a clothes-basket, and sat on my lady's
work-table by the side of the Judge. The other children took the places
that were most convenient to them.

"Where's the feed?" exclaimed Ruth.

"The what?" replied Mrs. "Judge" curiously.

"Why, the things you were going to give us to eat." Just then "Dublin,"
the linen closet, came meandering into the room, made a bow, and emptied
out a long, white, snowdrop tablecloth.

"Why, it must be that we're to set the table ourselves," cried Ruth, as
she started to undo the cloth and shove it along.

"Here you give that to me, will you?" said Samuel, with a tone of
authority any commanding officer in the army or navy might envy. Then he
took one end of it, and Elizabeth the other, and they spread it
carefully over the table.

Just then China came rattling into the room with the dishes. It was easy
enough for him to get into the room; but it was quite another thing for
him to move gracefully about the table, for China, you remember, was
thin, long, and rather narrow. But he managed to get to the Judge, and
drop a plate before him and the baby; and then he twisted around like a
snake, and got down to the end of the table, and dropped a plate before
Mrs. "Judge." Then he went from one child to another, and banged down a
plate before each one of them. After this was done, China stepped back
and stood by the side of Dublin, near the wall.

El Dorado came next. He brought the silver, and there was a fine display
of it. Beautiful knives and forks and spoons for every person in the
room, and ever so many little furnishings that helped to brighten the
table. How these things rattled and jumped and rang as they were tumbled
hither and thither into their rightful places. The children didn't have
to move a hand or a finger to put them in order. Every knife, fork,
spoon, salt-cellar, or other article seemed to know where to go, and got
there in less time than one could say "Jack Robinson." Then the silver
candlesticks from the mantle jumped over to the table, and took their
places with a good deal of brightness and sprightliness.

At this point the antique sideboard stepped close up to the table, and
rolled seventeen very thin cut-glass goblets upon the board. They made a
right merry sound as they jingled out their Christmas greetings.

"Don't let the baby have a goblet!" shouted Ruth. "He'd bite a piece
right out of it. That's what Elizabeth did when she was a baby, mother
says. Isn't it a wonder she didn't die?" But everybody was watching this
extraordinary way of setting the table, so that the child's remark fell
unnoticed. There was a most lively and musical ringing of bells at this
stage of the table setting. Turpentine came dancing into the room.
Turpentine was the closet in the Judge's study that had been used to
store the church-bells in. When the last wooden meeting-house had burned
they took the old bell, which rang for the last time the sad alarm of
fire on the memorable night, and they sent it away to be melted up and
made into five hundred little bells. There were dinner-bells and
tea-bells and call-bells and sleigh-bells and play-horse bells on lines,
and I don't know how many other kinds. Nearly all of these had been
sold, but thirty or forty remained in the closet. Turpentine came into
the room playing with these, and rolled one down in front of each person
at the table.

"How would you like to have the dinner served, Ruth?" inquired Mrs.
"Judge."

"Oh, served of course," she replied.

"Bells first course," shouted Samuel. The older children all snickered.
"I think you ought to call Turpentine 'Bells-ze-bub!'" Samuel whispered
to Helen. "See?" For by this time the children had all come to a
familiar footing with their visitors, and they were expressing
themselves with a good deal of freedom and having a right good time.

The Refrigerator entered the room now, and tramping heavily over to Mrs.
"Judge," swung open his door, and flung gracefully upon the table a big
dish of half-shells. No sooner were they placed where they belonged than
they began to roll about to the different plates, like a lot of marbles,
only they seemed to know how to divide themselves up so that every one
had a proper share. Then the Refrigerator dumped out another large dish
of something fresh and green; and this stuff sailed along the table, as
one sees seaweed float back and forth on the tide.

"I know what it is. They grow down by the brook. Caresses. Aren't they
nice and fresh?"

"Third course, caresses," shouted Samuel. And then he bent over and
kissed the girl next to his side; the Judge kissed the baby, Ruth kissed
Mrs. "Judge," and the rest of the children kissed each other.

"Awful sweet course!" exclaimed Henry. "Very much of it makes a fellow
sick."

This was followed by the entrance of the kitchen closet number one. A
fine brass kettle popped out upon the table. There was a great rattling
and clashing. Everybody tried to look into the bottom of it.

"That's a pretty kettle of fish," said Samuel, who was the first to get
a glance at the contents. And sure enough it was; for there were
seventeen tin fishes, such as you see floating around after a magnet on
some basin of water at Christmas time.

"Look out for bones," cried Herbert. "What next?" And then Vanity came
down-stairs, giggling and simpering, and passed something around.

"Crimps," said Ruth, "hot and steaming, straight from the irons." A very
strong odor of scorched hair pervaded the room.

"Goodness me, what a treat!" exclaimed Henry. "Give 'em to the girls.
They are fond of 'em." Kitchen closet number two came hurrying into the
room. China rushed forward with bowls which he had borrowed from the
bowling-alley; and each bowl was filled with bean porridge hot, bean
porridge cold, bean porridge in the pot nine days old.

"Here comes the spring chicken!" exclaimed Herbert, as the Refrigerator
distributed one spring with chicken attached.

"Do-nots for old-fashioned boys and girls," wheezed out Darkest Africa,
as he pushed his way into the room. The company was getting pretty
large, for all the closets had come. One stood behind each person at the
table, and the other forty-three were pressing against each other,
trying to see the table and hear the conversation, or do any little
waiting upon the merry party.

They were all busy eating, talking, drinking, having the best time in
all the world. There was an abundance of everything. I don't know what
all. But as the courses were brought on the Judge and his wife became a
little restless. They felt that the east wind was rising. And when the
clock struck twelve it was necessary for them to be back in the
pictures, whether there was any east wind or not. So there was some
confusion, considerable crowding, and a good deal of haste during the
latter part of the feast.

"I'm afraid the children will get dyspepsia, Judge," observed the
cautious lady. "The children are eating too fast. The closets are
bringing on too many things at a time."

"Time and tide wait for no man," replied the Judge, who had caught the
hilarity of the company, and was enjoying every moment of the fun. "I
wish to see this board cleared up before we clear out." Now, Mrs.
"Judge" was the least bit shocked at such undignified speech on the part
of her husband. But she knew he didn't mean any harm. He was only
entering into the spirit of the frolic. Yet she felt that he ought to
set an example of sober conversation, so that they would remember him
with the highest respect. The Judge, however, had a sense of humor that
could not be held altogether in check.

"I think we ought to have some toasts," said Samuel. "All in favor of
the nomination say, 'Dickery, dickery dock, the mouse ran up the clock,
the clock ran down, the mouse came down, dickery, dickery dock;' and
Samuel rose to propose the first toast. Kitchen closet number three came
forward, and put into his hand a nice, big toasting-fork. Flourishing
this about his head, and hitting Henry on the right ear with it, Samuel
lifted a goblet filled with hot air to his lips, and proposed the health
of the Judge and his wife. The applause was overwhelming. The children
clapped their hands, and lifted their voices on high. The dishes jumped
like mad. The bells rang so that you couldn't hear yourself think. The
closets creaked and groaned, and slammed their doors, and shook their
shelves, until it seemed that they must fall in pieces. The Judge
gathered his waterproof about him, pulled on his necktie for a moment,
cleared his throat, and then responded.

"Children and closets," he said. The children all rose and bowed, the
closets all turned around twice and stood on one corner. "This is in
some respects the greatest day of my life."

"You mean night, don't you, Judge?" interrupted Samuel.

"Oh! I beg pardon, night of my life. Correct, my son." He bowed
good-naturedly to the critic. "We haven't stayed in those portraits on
the east parlor wall for nothing all these years. We've been waiting for
such a time as this. I think the east wind is rising, and soon we shall
have to go back to our pictures; but I am glad to say that this is the
sort of family that I always had in mind when I built this house. It's
lonesome to live without children. This is a strange world. I have
observed generally that the people who want children don't have them.
And the people who have them don't always want them. And the people who
know the most about bringing them up are the people who never had any,
and never lived in a family of children when they were young. But I
really believe that one never gets much out of this world except it
comes to him through children. And now I hope that you will be such
children that when you grow to be men and women we shall not be ashamed
of you. My wife and I expect to stay in the portraits. We shall always
be on the watch for you and sometimes in the clock. There isn't anything
in the world that would give us such pleasure as to see you children
grow and become the best men and women in all the nation. I suppose you
have enough boys to make a foot-ball team, and enough girls to drain a
common pocket-book and spread it all over your backs; but you are going
to make something better than idlers and spendthrifts. Some of you will
take to one thing, and some to another, but you will all take to the
right. I expect to see you filling up the house with nice friends, going
off to college, and bringing back good company and great honors. By and
by you will all settle in life, and have homes of your own; but we shall
keep at home here on the wall, and look for your frequent visits. Ruth
has made me very happy. I'll tell you how. She has said some of the
things to me that people have said to her about me,--kind things, sweet
praises, words of happy remembrance. Now, I hope that you will live and
love in such a true way that when you get into a picture and stay a
hundred years, and then step down and out for a little while, people
will say just as noble things about you. 'Tis sweet to be remembered.
And I feel very anxious to do something for all you children. This is
the first time we ever kept Christmas. We're going to make you some
Christmas presents. But they shall be put in your stockings."

"I'll hang up my hip boots," interrupted Samuel.

"I'll hang up my golf stockings," exclaimed Henry.

"I'll hang my trousers; and you, Elizabeth, can hang your bicycle
bloomers." The Judge smiled, and waited a moment, and then continued.
"These presents are different from the ordinary gifts you receive.
You'll have plenty of candy and dolls and such things. We shall give you
things that you can always keep and carry with you. And they will be
worth more than money, in case you use them according to directions. And
remember that we give them because we have learned to love you, even if
we do live in pictures, and that we expect you will honor the house, the
people, and the State." The Judge swallowed a tear. "We never had boys
and girls to go out into the world to make their mark. Our two boys,"
and here the Judge's voice was feeble and trembling, and he stopped for
a moment and wiped away two or three tears, "Our boys were sick, and
after quite a good many years they went away forever. Children, I want
you to fill their places, and more. I expect that you will go out into
the world, and do so much good, and serve your country with such zeal
and wisdom, that people will by and by come here to see the house, and
say, 'This is where Samuel and Henry, George or Herbert, William,
Nathaniel, or the "Little Judge" lived, and were brought up.' Or 'This
was the childhood home of Elizabeth, Helen, Miriam, Theodora, Grace,
Ruth, Ethel, or Susie. I wonder who slept in that room, and if this was
the favorite window, and which one of the family planted this shrub or
vine or tree, and what was the best-loved play nook,' and all sorts of
questions. Don't you think it will be nice? And then my wife and I will
say, or try to say, or make them understand in some way, that you
belonged to us next to belonging to your parents, and that we guarded
the house day and night, for you know that in the picture we are always
awake; come into the east parlor at any hour of the twenty-four and we
always have our eyes open, and we know everything that is going on.
We'll make them understand that a part of the love and thanks they feel
belongs to us, and we shall be so happy, and when we meet again we
shall have so many things to tell each other. Now Ruth will see to the
presents, for we are not educated up to a belief in Santa Claus. Ruth
will"--Just at this point the clock began to strike twelve.

Now, the Judge and his wife were the most polite, really the
best-mannered people in all the world. But that striking of the clock
seemed to knock all the manners out of them. The Judge sprang from the
table quick as a flash, and in his haste turned the clothes-basket with
the "Little Judge" in it bottom side up. Mrs. "Judge" jumped up as spry
as a girl, and ran toward the Judge, who grabbed her by the hand, and
pushed her hard against the closets in the way, and struggled to get
into the hall.

[Illustration]

There was the greatest confusion imaginable in the house. The children
were all hitting the dishes, scattering the silver, overturning the
goblets, tumbling over the chairs. The closets all made a rush for the
door, and jammed themselves so close together that Samuel and Henry had
to raise the front windows, and jump out on the piazza, and climb in at
the parlor windows, and the other children followed them pell-mell.
There was the greatest noise you ever heard in a house. The clock
sounded with terrific strikes. The front door-bell, the dinner-bell, and
all the other bells rang an alarm. Things in the closets seemed breaking
themselves to pieces or going into fits. The piano roared and shrieked
like a hurricane. Every board and brick and nail and bit of glass,
metal, or wood squeaked or rattled. The very carpets shook with dust and
fear. And then, as the children caught a glimpse of the Judge and his
wife back again in the portraits, the clock struck the twelfth stroke,
the lights all went out, the children were back in bed, and silence
reigned throughout the old mansion.




V.

    STOCKINGS
    FILLED
    WITH
    MUSIC,
    RAINBOWS,
    SENSE,
    BACKBONE,
    SUNSETS,
    IMPULSES,
    GOLD SPOON, IDEALS, SUNSHINE,
    STAR, MANTLE, FLOWERS,--AND
    THE LIKE QUEER STUFF.




V.

      STOCKINGS FILLED WITH MUSIC, RAINBOWS, SENSE,
      BACKBONE, SUNSETS, IMPULSES, GOLD SPOON, IDEALS,
      SUNSHINE, STAR, MANTLE, FLOWERS,--AND THE LIKE QUEER
      STUFF.


RUTH was the only one left awake in the house. And it was very lonesome
for her. But she had promised to distribute the presents. Mrs. "Judge"
told her that the man in the moon would bring them at twelve o'clock,
and that he would put them in Turpentine.

Ruth didn't like to go into the Judge's old study, but that was where
she would find Turpentine; so she ran and got the baby, who had red
hair, and served the purpose of a light, and then she bravely went into
the far away part of the parsonage. She took Satan, the cat, because his
eyes were like coals of fire, and helped to drive away the darkness; and
she had Turk for company's sake. The baby was soon astride his back,
crowing like a good fellow.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

When they got into the old study the light shone right through the door
that led into Turpentine. It frightened Ruth. She thought the house
might be on fire. But the door swung open of itself; and she and the
baby, Satan and Turk, all entered. The little room was a blaze of glory.
She had to put her hands up to her eyes and shade them, because the
light was so strong. It all came from a row of packages arranged on the
shelves. And such a wonderful, mysterious, lovely sight you never saw.
The packages were various shapes and sizes. They were all done up in
nothing with greatest care, and each was tied with a narrow piece of
something or other. Several packages had strings of blue sky around
them, ending in curious bows. Three packages were tied with real little
rainbows. They were beautiful objects. The rest of them had sunsets
twisted about them, gorgeous colors streaming from them in all
directions. Do you wonder that Ruth's eyes were dazzled?

A singular thing about the packages was, that being done up in nothing,
and bound with such tenuous and transparent stuff as blue sky, sunsets,
and rainbows, one could see straight through these coverings and
fastenings, and gaze upon the beautiful things within. Each present had
a label of light above it. For instance, there were the shining letters,
S,A,M,U,E,L, worked upon the background of darkness over the present for
Samuel. The letters seemed to hover above the package just as you see
light hover above children's heads in some pictures of the old masters.
So it was very easy for Ruth to pick out the different gifts, and put
them where they belonged. There were seventeen of them. One for each
child, one for the minister, and one for his wife.

"How nice to remember father and mother!" said Ruth to the dog, the cat,
and the baby. "I never thought of that. Now, how shall I carry them?"
For she felt that she would like to show them to the Judge and his wife.
So she raised the window that connected this closet with the parlor, and
taking each gift, carried it to the piano, and arranged the whole show
where Mr. and Mrs. "Judge" might see it from the pictures. The baby,
Turk, and Satan watched her while she made the change. The parlor was
warm; and just as soon as she brought the marvellous presents into the
room, every nook and cranny was a perfect splendor of brightness. "Dear
me!" exclaimed the child, "I must go up-stairs and get some colored
glasses or I shall lose my eyesight." She was gone and back again in one
minute and thirteen seconds. The green goggles gave her a wise and aged
appearance, and she seemed to feel the importance of the occasion.
"Here are the presents, Judge." She was now addressing the pictures.
"They are just too sweet for anything. How nice it is that I don't have
to undo any of them, but can look right straight through their covers,
and see what's in every package!" The Judge and his wife were both wide
awake, taking in every word that Ruth spoke.

"Now, what is this for Samuel? A flower, I do believe. He can wear it in
his buttonhole. Oh, how sweet and beautiful it is! The house seems full
of its sweetness. I love it." Ruth bent over to kiss the airy, fragile
thing. "Why, here's a name under it, and a sentence. Did you write it
Judge?" And the picture seemed to nod as much as to say "Yes."
"Courtesy." "To be worn all one's waking hours. It will make the wearer
welcome."

The next package was shaped round like a ball. The bow on it was blue
sky. "It looks to me like a--what is it you call it, when you look into
a mirror? Oh! I've got it. It's a reflection. Now, that must be for
Helen. Yes, I see her name in fine letters of flame above. H,E,L,E,N.
You didn't send the curls, did you?" Ruth looked anxiously at Mrs.
"Judge." "I suppose you thought that as Helen was going to write a book
she needed reflection more than the curls."

The third package was long. The thing within was long, and it looked
like nothing that one had ever seen.

"What can it be?" said Ruth to herself. As she took it and felt of it,
she found that it was sensitive, yet quite firm. The object was pure
white, not a spot or wrinkle on it. The floating label above the package
spelled out the letters H,E,R,B,E,R,T. Ruth read the name. "That can't
be backbone. It's too light for that. And yet how strong it is. How in
the world can he ever get that inside of him where it belongs?" The
fourth package was about seven inches in length, rather narrow, and
larger at one end than the other. "I do believe it's a spoon," shouted
Ruth. "It must be for Theodora. They've found her gold spoon, and sent
it to her. And yet it doesn't look like gold. How funny! When I feel of
it I don't feel of anything. It isn't so pretty as I thought it would
be. It has a kind of dull look. But how much better one feels to hold
it." Ruth had taken the curious object in her hand, and was putting it
up to her lips, and going through various motions with it. "Here is some
writing. The spoon is marked. What big letters they are! Theodora hasn't
all those initials. C,O,N,T,E,N,T,M,E,N,T. Well, that beats me. But I
suppose she'll know what it means."

The child now picked up her own present. They all seemed so bright and
wonderful that she had forgotten to choose her own first. Ruth's package
had a great many sides to it. Every color imaginable appeared on the
surface. It was tied with several little rainbows, and there were ever
so many streamers and rosettes upon it. She saw her name above; and she
saw some letters printed into the leaves of the flower, for it was a
lovely, shining little blossom that was contained within her package. It
seemed to her that all the colors of all the rainbows in the sky had
been woven into this matchless posey. There were nine leaves to it, and
each leaf was made up of half a dozen shades of one or another color.
And then on each leaf there was distinctly seen a letter done in diamond
embroidery; so that the light which shot forth from such delicate
tracery was almost as bright as the sun. One leaf had S, a second E, a
third N, a fourth T, a fifth I, a sixth M, a seventh E, an eighth N, and
the ninth and last T. Ruth spelled it out carefully. S,E,N,T,--here she
paused and thought a moment. "Why, to be sure!" she exclaimed; "it has a
very sweet scent. I think it smells quite as good as Samuel's. But I
told you, you remember" (she was now addressing the pictures), "that
father said I needed sense. I'm afraid he'll say that one 'sent' isn't
enough." Then she continued her spelling. "I, MENT. Well, now, isn't
that queer? 'I meant.'" She repeated it several times. "I meant cent.
Were you trying to correct me, Judge? When I said sense did I mean (what
is it they call it), oh, singular, not plural? Everybody says I've got a
great deal of imagination, but I lack (father says sense but that isn't
what I mean now)--I lack."... And then Ruth looked at the flower again;
and spelled the word, and spoke it aloud. "'SENTIMENT,' that's it.
Sentiment. I know what it is. I shall certainly be a poet. They all say
so. Thank you, dear Judge and Mrs. 'Judge.' I'm going to begin to-morrow
and write poetry. I feel as if I could write some now. But I must go
through the presents and put them in the children's stockings first." So
Ruth put down her package of "Sentiment," and examined the other gifts.

She took the one marked H,E,N,R,Y into her hands, and the room was
filled with the most heavenly music. The package was the shape of a
cylinder. It had a transparent cylinder within it. And this cylinder
was written all over with strange characters, exactly as you see or feel
on the cylinder of a graphophone. Only it didn't seem to be made of
anything, and when Ruth took the object into her hands it was like
holding a pinch of air. It appeared to run of its own accord. Ruth was
enchanted with the melodies. They made her think of everything good "in
the heavens above, and in the earth beneath, and in the waters under the
earth." She was so happy that she cried. Every tear that she dropped
went into the machine, and made the music all the sweeter. Then she read
the words under the package. "Music in the soul;" and she felt as if it
were really stealing into her, and as if it were impossible to keep it
there, and she must let this music in the soul go in every direction.

"Isn't this lovely!" she exclaimed. "I never dreamed music in the soul
was so sweet. Why Henry'll be the happiest boy in all the world."

Ruth then took into her hands a heart-shaped package. It was tied up
with a sunset that was gorgeous with a great many shades of red. "I
know what's inside that package without looking," she said. Although of
course she had looked, and seen the form of the present, and noted the
colors used in tying it up. "That's a heart; and it's for George. Isn't
it cunning? Why, what a little thing it is? and it's soft. Will this
make George soft-hearted and tender-hearted and good-hearted? I hope so.
It's real nice of you to send it."

The next present was for Elizabeth. It was circular shape, like a small
hoop; some parts of it were light and some dark, some very beautiful and
some almost ugly. Yet the darkest, ugliest spots upon it were
illuminated and glorified by brilliant flashes of what looked like
lightning playing around the hoop. When Ruth held the object this
singular brightness would flame up into her face. It didn't hurt. It
fascinated her. She felt like sitting down and watching every change.
The words underneath the circle read, "Experience is the best teacher."
She spelled it out, then her eyes beamed with delight. "It's the very
thing that Elizabeth needs. I was afraid you couldn't give it to her. I
have heard it was hard to pass on experience to other people. Now
Elizabeth can run the house and mother can travel. That will be real
jolly."

"Here is something for Susie," cried Ruth, as she put down Elizabeth's
package, and took up the next one. "It's a cup made of--of--of--why,
isn't that queer?--made of wishes. This is the first time I ever really
saw a wish. Now, Susie always teases for the wish-bone. And here's a cup
made, not of wish-bones, but of wishes. I wonder if she can drink out of
it. She's always telling how 'thursday' she is. We're sometimes afraid
she'll drink the well dry. Why, the cup is full of something. It
sparkles. 'A Draught of Bliss.' That's what it says under the cup. I
know what that means. It means to feel as good as one can feel. Well,
I'm glad she's going to have it. If the cup spills over we'll catch some
of the drops. And if she feels good we'll all feel better." Thus wisely
remarked the child to the pictures.

The next package had a dream wrapped up in it. You never saw anything
more curious. It was as light as a feather, as bright as a button, as
sweet as a rose, as gay as a lark, as true as steel, as deep as the sea,
as high as heaven, as wise as an owl, as you like it. It had all the
hues of the rainbow. It was as odd as Dick's hatband. It went floating
against the blue sky. It dipped down into several sunsets as you see
swallows dip down or fly up when a storm is coming. It seemed well
suited to Nathaniel, the humming-bird sort of a boy. And there were the
letters in shotted light over against the gloom, N,A,T,H,A,N,I,E,L.

"Dear little Nathaniel," said Ruth, as she handled the dream carefully,
putting it back in its wrappings of nothing, and tying it up again with
blue sky, sunsets, and rainbows all mixed together. "Won't he be
surprised to see a real dream, and carry it all around town to show
folks. And it's a good dream, a nice dream, I know. I can tell by
touching it and feeling of it all over."

The next package was a large one; and it was for Grace, although she
was not one of the largest girls. It was shaped like a triangle, and
when you took hold of it the thing seemed to stretch bigger and bigger.
"What can it be, I wonder," mused Ruth. And then looking keenly through
the nothing that covered it, she discovered that there were a great many
little, charming, luminous objects packed into the package. They were
different shapes and colors and sizes. But every one of them was
pleasant to the touch, alluring to the eye, and melodious to the ear.
Whether each one contained a music-box or not, it was impossible to say,
but strains of angelic songs kept escaping. It reminded Ruth of Henry's
"Music in the Soul." Underneath the triangular box she read these words:
"A fine Assortment of Generous Impulses. Warranted Pure." The big words
she skipped, except the two, generous impulses. She knew them at once,
for she had heard her father say a great deal on that subject.

"Judge, it's very good of you to send these dear, blessed things to
Grace. I'm perfectly sure she'll divide up and give every one of us as
many as we like. I should think there might be a hundred in the box. I'm
a-going to climb right up here on the piano and kiss both of you." And
she did; and she carried the generous impulses with her when she did it.

When Ruth jumped down on the floor again she examined Miriam's package.
It held a star, a real star. The man in the moon brought it down from
the sky.

"Isn't this wonderful beyond anything!" exclaimed the child. "How many
times we've said 'Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you
are,' and now here you are." The little, shrewd, cunning fellow sparkled
and glistened so that Ruth's eyes ached in spite of her green goggles.
He seemed a very intelligent creature. He could almost talk.

"I heard father say something about plucking the stars from heaven the
other day, and then he repeated something about the stars growing cold.
This star isn't cold, I know. And there's his name down at the bottom.
'A Star of Hope.' Hope so. Now Miriam will be proud enough. We shall see
her going around with her star. I've heard about babies being born under
some star or other. I see now how they could get under. Judge, will
Miriam be a star herself now? Do you think she will star it? 'Star of
Hope.' This beats me."

Ethel's present was next. The package was so bright that it was
impossible to tell the shape of it. From every direction the light rayed
forth in dazzling brilliancy.

"I'm sure it is a box of glory," cried Ruth. The writing underneath the
shining, beautiful thing said "Sunshine."

"Haven't we been singing 'Rise, Shine?' How lovely it will be to have
Ethel go about the house scattering sunshine! What strange stuff it is!"
As she said this Ruth took a handful of it out of the package and
examined it very closely. "It keeps slipping out of the hands and
dropping down to the floor or rising up to the wall. Dear me! how shall
I get it back?" She chased it in ten ways at the same time. "But I can't
catch it," she continued; "and see, there is quite as much of it left as
there was in my hands and the box before it floated away. Oh! won't this
be nice on rainy days? We can have the house filled with sunshine, even
if it does rain, and the sky is black with clouds. I do think I never
saw such elegant, wonderful presents in all my life, and I don't believe
any other children in all this world ever got such things as we have for
our Christmas."

The next present was for William. As Ruth looked at it she seemed lost
in thought. She was studying it out. There wasn't any shape to the
thing. The package itself didn't have any shape. It was a beautiful mass
of light. Yet the longer you looked at it, the more lovely, attractive,
and real it appeared. Finally it did take a shape; and when you made up
your mind that it was round or square or octagonal or irregular or
something else, the shapeliness of the thing vanished.

"I wonder if it's a thought?" the child said to herself. "I've often
thought I'd like to see what a thought looks like. I hear so much about
thought and thoughts, that I'm real curious. Father told mother the
other day that I was a very thoughtful child. If I'm thought_ful_, seems
to me I ought to see a good many or feel 'em." Then she looked down
under the package, and read, "A Bundle of I,D,E,A,L,S."

"Why, I don't see any bundle," she exclaimed. But that moment the mass
of light changed into strands of willowy brightness, and she could see
there was a neat little bundle of these shining threads. She took the
bundle into her hands and pulled out one. This first strand was straight
as an arrow, and there suddenly showed itself at the bottom of it a
chain of letters. The strand of splendor, in fact, appeared to grow out
of these letters. They were M,A,N,L,I,N,E,S,S. The letters were made in
quaint forms, and they were indescribably beautiful. Ruth pulled out
another strand from the bundle. This seemed larger and more solid than
the first, and quite as precious. Letters soon formed into a chain at
the lower end, and these were W,O,R,T,H. She pulled out the third
strand. It seemed almost alive, being in constant motion. The chain of
letters beneath it was as follows: S,E,R,V,I,C,E. A fourth strand had
the letters H,O,N,O,R entwined about one end. And there were many other
similar strands. Ruth had on her thinking-cap (made of nothing
particular, and trimmed with everything in general) all the time that
she was examining them. Of a sudden the word "Ideals" struck her.

"I know now what these bright, lovely things are," she cried. "I've
heard father preach about them, and he has told us children I think
hundreds of times. He says we must all have them, and have the best too.
Why didn't you think of it before? Judge, you're just as good as you can
be." Ruth was talking to the pictures. "Father and mother will be very
thankful that you have brought all these into the family. I know what an
Ideal is. It's what you want to be, and try to be. Haven't I heard
Samuel and Elizabeth and the older ones talk about high ideals?" As she
spoke she shook the radiant little bundle, and saw all sorts of great,
noble men and fine, lovely women spring right out of the brightness,
taking form before her face and eyes. "I do declare that looks like
William." She was gazing at one of the tiny, luminous faces that
appeared against the shadows. "We shall all pop into the light like
that, I expect. That must be what father calls attaining one's Ideal.
Isn't it grand? Yes, there come the other children. One springs out of
one Ideal, and another out of another. It's just like a fairy tale. But
I never dreamed what curious things Ideals were. How rich we shall be?"
Then Ruth gathered the Ideals together, and put them back where she
found them.

The next present was for her mother. It was resting on an air-cushion
in a casket of love. It seemed to Ruth that the sun and moon and a good
many stars had got into that package. It took more rainbows than you can
shake a stick at to tie up the package securely, so that nothing could
get to it. The present was a crown, and underneath were the words "A
Mother's Jewels." There were fifteen of them, no two alike. The crown
was a cloud with a silver lining. Ruth took it in her hands, and putting
it on her head, felt the light running all down her head and over her
face. It wasn't the least bit uncomfortable. But the top of the crown
was the most wonderful. All the fifteen jewels studded it, so that, as
one wore it, anybody standing by would almost think that the brightest
lights in the heavens had been borrowed, and wrought into this
head-dress. And each jewel had a name all about it, the letters being
made of the very smallest stars that you can find out of doors. The
child was too astonished and delighted to talk as she examined this
gift. She put it back in its casket without one word. It took her
breath away, so that she couldn't say anything.

By the side of this package was one for her father. She was glad to turn
to it, for it was not so splendid and marvellous that it dumfounded her.
His package had a bottle in it.

"I believe it's made of forget-me-nots," said Ruth. She took it into her
hands, and found it was woven like basket work, a sort of wicker bottle.
Only the stems of the plants were so intertwisted that the blossoms all
came to the outside. But both stems and blossoms were perfectly
transparent, so you could see straight through into the inside.
"E,S,S,E,N,C,E of C,H,E,E,R,F,U,L,N,E,S,S. To be taken eternally." This
was written beneath, and Ruth spelled the two big words slowly. "I know
what that means," she continued. "The Judge is going to give father some
more sense. For essence, of course, is only another kind of sense. Oh! I
forgot the essence man. He brings us peppermint and vanilla and cologne.
We season things, and make ourselves smell good. Now, that's what
you've sent to father, isn't it? Essence of Cheerfulness. You want him
to season things with cheerfulness, don't you, and make himself and all
the rest of us fragrant? And he'll do it. He's always saying that we
ought to be cheerful. But what kind of stuff is it?" and Ruth tipped up
the bottle to taste of its contents. She smacked her lips and beamed
with delight. "I do believe it's a spirit. Father says, you can't see
spirit but you can feel it. I can't see anything but light in that
bottle, but I can feel something all through me. I must dance a little,
I feel so good. Oh, dear me! that's the way people sometimes act when
they've drunk from bad bottles. But I can't help it." She caught her
skirts in each hand, and airily waltzed up and down the room.

"I must see if the mantle is here," she suddenly exclaimed. "How strange
that I've just thought of it!" And then she stopped to look at the
baby's present.

"It can't be that the Judge's mantle would go into such a little
package as that." So Ruth remarked as she took the tiny thing in hand.
It was tied with the most brilliant sunset that eyes ever saw. The
streamers attached to the bow were much bigger than the package itself.
When Ruth undid it, and held the singular object before her eyes, it
seemed to grow large and long. It was truly the Judge's mantle. As she
shook it out, and let its folds drop down to the floor, the pictures
fairly beamed with glory. "Silver threads among the gold," exclaimed the
child, as the beauteous garment flashed its splendors into her eyes. For
the warp was the pure gold of character, while the woof was the fine
silver of influence. And they were woven into a fabric of surpassing
richness. Then this matchless weaving was covered with fairest
embroidery. Every color that imagination ever conceived appeared upon
the garment. There was the white light of truth, the red of sacrifice,
the purple of royalty, the greens of fresh life, the pink of propriety,
the red that you see in a green blackberry, the blue of a minister's
Monday, and true blue, auburn from a child's head, hazel from a child's
eyes, black as thunder cloud, pale as death, the lemon of lemon ice,
orange from orangeade, and a great many others. And these colors were
worked into words, flowers of rhetoric, scenes indeed, pictures of love,
kindness, wisdom, and peace. It was also adorned with quite a number of
gems of poetry, and it had a pearl of great price to fasten it at the
throat.

The first thing which Ruth did was to try it on, but it dragged on the
floor. It occurred to her that the baby must wait until he was grown up
before it fitted him. Still, she tried it on the baby. No sooner did she
wrap it around him than it seemed to shrink to his size.

"Why, we can use it for a winter coat," she said. And the "Little
Judge," who had fallen asleep before the fire, where he had crawled with
Turk and the cat, cooed and laughed when the mantle was wrapped about
him, seeming to feel that it was the very thing that would make him
happy and comfortable. All the time that Ruth was handling the magic
thing, it continued to throw off little points of light and countless
mites of color, and these settled down on the furniture and carpet and
the curtains and the walls and the ceiling, until the room was like a
palace studded with twinkling, shifting, radiant stars; and every
present on the piano was shining and scattering light, the air being
filled with music, and Ruth was wild with delight and excitement.

[Illustration]

The next thing was to carry the gifts to the stockings where they
belonged. Wherever she went, there was the brightness of noonday, so she
never had a fear. Even the closet with the skeleton in it did not make
her tremble. Beginning with father and mother, she visited every
stocking, and put each gift in its proper place; then she carried the
baby to bed, and left Turk and Satan snuggled up together in front of
the fire; and then it seemed to her that she floated away in a sea of
light; and then mounting upon the wings of the wind, she suddenly met
the sand man who pushed her into the Land of Nod.

The last that she remembered was blue sky, gems of poetry, rainbows,
shooting stars, flowers of rhetoric, strains of music, sunsets, closets,
stockings, Christmas cheer, sunshine, and a great many other things, all
standing around the type-writer in her father's study, telling the
machine what to say, and begging that everything might be set down in a
book and live forever.




E.

HAPPY DAY.




E.

HAPPY DAY.


NOW, when it grew toward morning Ruth awakened first, and what did she
do but jump out of bed and feel of her stocking; the thing which she
found was a book, and she knew without looking into it that the book
told all about the Judge and the pictures, the house and the children,
and the strange things that had happened on this eventful night.

Later there was the sound of many voices, scores of "I wish you a merry
Christmas," went flying through the air, carols burst upon the ear, and
a whole host of happy, loving children shifted from one room to another,
and finally gathered beneath the pictures of the Judge and his lady. Did
the good man lift his hands in benediction? Did he beam with the joy of
the Christ-life? The light was rather dim in the parlor, for it was
early in the morning. But the children were constantly turning their
eyes to the portraits. It seemed to them that new life throbbed within
their souls, that grand purposes had been awakened, that charity and
tenderness, the love of God and the love of one another, were moving to
all kinds of well-doing. They felt as never before that they were living
in the home of this great, good man, and that they must go forth into
the world as his manly and womanly representatives. Peace not only
filled the house, but it rested upon them. It was the most joyful day of
all the years. Never a quarrel darkened a heart. Never a harsh word fell
from any lips. Never a mean thought rose in their breasts. It was real
Christmas cheer. And I believe that every child of them was made richer
by the blessed presence (presents) of the Judge and his lady.




       *       *       *       *       *




Transcriber's note:

Repeated chapter titles were retained as some were laid out differently
than at the chapter itself.

Page 58, "Clause" changed to "Claus" (as Santa Claus)

Page 71, "to" changed to "too" (think so too)

Page 88, "bookcase" changed to "book-case" to match rest of usage in
text (a low book-case beneath)

Page 95, extraneous quotation mark removed before (I'll call 'Greece')

Page 109, "surpressed" changed to "suppressed" (with suppressed
excitement)

Page 145, "everthing" changed to "everything" (everything under the sun)

Page 152, single closing quotation mark changed to double (and use
them?")

Page 192, closing quotation mark added (it means.")

Page 201, closing quotation mark added (is!" As she said this)





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