CHAPTER V
IN THE LOFT
"I declare," said Miss Petingill, laying down her work, "if themchildren don't beat all! What on airth _are_ they going to do now?"
Miss Petingill was sitting in the little room in the back building,which she always had when she came to the Carr's for a week's mendingand making over. She was the dearest, funniest old woman who ever wentout sewing by the day. Her face was round, and somehow made you think ofa very nice baked apple, it was so criss-crossed, and lined by athousand good-natured puckers. She was small and wiry, and wore caps anda false front, which was just the color of a dusty Newfoundland dog'sback. Her eyes were dim, and she used spectacles; but for all that, shewas an excellent worker. Every one liked Miss Petingill though AuntIzzie _did_ once say that her tongue "was hung in the middle." AuntIzzie made this remark when she was in a temper, and was by no meansprepared to have Phil walk up at once and request Miss Petingill to"stick it out," which she obligingly did; while the rest of the childrencrowded to look. They couldn't see that it was different from othertongues, but Philly persisted in finding something curious about it;there must be, you know--since it was hung in that queer way!
Wherever Miss Petingill went, all sorts of treasures went with her. Thechildren liked to have her come, for it was as good as a fairy story, orthe circus, to see her things unpacked. Miss Petingill was very muchafraid of burglars; she lay awake half the night listening for them andnothing on earth would have persuaded her to go anywhere, leaving behindwhat she called her "Plate." This stately word meant six old teaspoons,very thin and bright and sharp, and a butter-knife, whose handle setforth that it was "A testimonial of gratitude, for saving the life ofIthuriel Jobson, aged seven, on the occasion of his being attacked withquinsy sore throat." Miss Petingill was very proud of her knife. It andthe spoons travelled about in a little basket which hung on her arm, andwas never allowed to be out of her sight, even when the family she wassewing for were the honestest people in the world.
Then, beside the plate-basket, Miss Petingill never stirred without Tom,her tortoiseshell cat. Tom was a beauty, and knew his power; he ruledMiss Petingill with a rod of iron, and always sat in the rocking-chairwhen there was one. It was no matter where _she_ sat, Miss Petingilltold people, but Tom was delicate, and must be made comfortable. A bigfamily Bible always came too, and a special red merino pin-cushion, andsome "shade pictures" of old Mr. and Mrs. Petingill and Peter Petingill,who was drowned at sea; and photographs of Mrs. Porter, who used to beMarcia Petingill, and Mrs. Porter's husband, and all the Porterchildren. Many little boxes and jars came also, and a long row of phialsand bottles, filled with homemade physic and herb teas. Miss Petingillcould not have slept without having them beside her, for, as she said,how did she know that she might not be "took sudden" with something, anddie for want of a little ginger-balsam or pennyroyal?
The Carr children always made so much noise, that it required somethingunusual to make Miss Petingill drop her work, as she did now, and fly tothe window. In fact there was a tremendous hubbub: hurrahs from Dorry,stamping of feet, and a great outcry of shrill, glad voices. Lookingdown, Miss Petingill saw the whole six--no, seven, for Cecy was theretoo--stream out of the wood-house door--which wasn't a door, but only atall open arch--and rush noisily across the yard. Katy was at the head,bearing a large black bottle without any cork in it, while the otherscarried in each hand what seemed to be a cookie.
"Katherine Carr! Kather-_ine_!" screamed Miss Petingill, tapping loudlyon the glass. "Don't you see that it's raining? you ought to be ashamedto let your little brothers and sisters go out and get wet in such away!" But nobody heard her, and the children vanished into the shed,where nothing could be seen but a distant flapping of pantalettes andfrilled trousers, going up what seemed to be a ladder, farther back inthe shed. So, with a dissatisfied cluck, Miss Petingill drew back herhead, perched the spectacles on her nose, and went to work again onKaty's plaid alpaca, which had two immense zigzag rents across themiddle of the front breadth. Katy's frocks, strange to say, always toreexactly in that place!
If Miss Petingill's eyes could have reached a little farther, they wouldhave seen that it wasn't a ladder up which the children were climbing,but a tall wooden post, with spikes driven into it about a foot apart.It required quite a stride to get from one spike to the other; in factthe littler ones couldn't have managed it at all, had it not been forClover and Cecy "boosting" very hard from below, while Katy, making along arm, clawed from above. At last they were all safely up, and in thedelightful retreat which I am about to describe:
Imagine a low, dark loft without any windows, and with only a verylittle light coming in through the square hole in the floor, to whichthe spikey post led. There was a strong smell of corn-cobs, though thecorn had been taken away, a great deal of dust and spiderweb in thecorners, and some wet spots on the boards; for the roof always leaked alittle in rainy weather.
This was the place, which for some reason I have never been able to findout, the Carr children preferred to any other on rainy Saturdays, whenthey could not play out-doors, Aunt Izzie was as much puzzled at thisfancy as I am. When she was young (a vague, far-off time, which none ofher nieces and nephews believed in much), she had never had any of thesequeer notions about getting off into holes and corners, and poke-awayplaces. Aunt Izzie would gladly have forbidden them to go the loft, butDr. Carr had given his permission, so all she could do was to inventstories about children who had broken their bones in various dreadfulways, by climbing posts and ladders. But these stories made noimpression on any of the children except little Phil, and theself-willed brood kept on their way, and climbed their spiked post asoften as they liked.
"What's in the bottle?" demanded Dorry, the minute he was fairly landedin the loft.
"Don't be greedy," replied Katy, severely; "you will know when the timecomes. It is something _delicious_, I can assure you.
"Now," she went on, having thus quenched Dorry, "all of you had bettergive me your cookies to put away: if you don't, they'll be sure to beeaten up before the feast, and then you know there wouldn't be anythingto make a feast of."
So all of them handed over their cookies. Dorry, who had begun on his ashe came up the ladder, was a little unwilling, but he was too much inthe habit of minding Katy to dare to disobey. The big bottle was set ina corner, and a stack of cookies built up around it.
"That's right," proceeded Katy, who, as oldest and biggest, always tookthe lead in their plays. "Now if we're fixed and ready to begin, theFete (Katy pronounced it _Feet_) can commence. The opening exercise willbe 'A Tragedy of the Alhambra,' by Miss Hall."
"No," cried Clover; "first 'The Blue Wizard, or Edwitha of theHebrides,' you know, Katy."
"Didn't I tell you?" said Katy; "a dreadful accident has happened tothat."
"Oh, what?" cried all the rest, for Edwitha was rather a favorite withthe family. It was one of the many serial stories which Katy was foreverwriting, and was about a lady, a knight, a blue wizard, and a poodlenamed Bop. It had been going on so many months now, that everybody hadforgotten the beginning, and nobody had any particular hope of living tohear the end, but still the news of its untimely fate was a shock.
"I'll tell you," said Katy. "Old Judge Kirby called this morning tosee Aunt Izzie; I was studying in the little room, but I saw him comein, and pull out the big chair and sit down, and I almost screamedout 'don't!'"
"Why?" cried the children.
"Don't you see? I had stuffed 'Edwitha' down between the back and theseat. It was a _beau_tiful hiding-place, for the seat goes back ever sofar; but Edwitha was such a fat bundle, and old Judge Kirby takes up somuch room, that I was afraid there would be trouble. And sure enough,he had hardly dropped down before there was a great crackling of paper,and he jumped up again and called out, 'Bless me! what is that?' Andthen he began poking, and poking, and just as he had poked out thewhole bundle, and was putting on his spectacles to see what it was,Aunt Izzie came in."
"Well, what next?
" cried the children, immensely tickled.
"Oh!" continued Katy, "Aunt Izzie put on her glasses too, and screwed upher eyes--you know the way she does, and she and the judge read a littlebit of it; that part at the first, you remember, where Bop steals theblue-pills, and the Wizard tries to throw him into the sea. You can'tthink how funny it was to hear Aunt Izzie reading 'Edwitha' out loud--"and Katy went into convulsions at the recollection "where she got to 'OhBop--my angel Bop--' I just rolled under the table, and stuffed thetable-cover in my mouth to keep from screaming right out. By and by Iheard her call Debby, and give her the papers, and say: 'Here is a massof trash which I wish you to put at once into the kitchen fire.' And shetold me afterward that she thought I would be in an insane asylum beforeI was twenty. It was too bad," ended Katy half laughing and halfcrying, "to burn up the new chapter and all. But there's one goodthing--she didn't find 'The Fairy of the Dry Goods Box,' that wasstuffed farther back in the seat.
"And now," continued the mistress of ceremonies, "we will begin. MissHall will please rise."
"Miss Hall," much flustered at her fine name, got up with veryred cheeks.
"It was once upon a time," she read, "Moonlight lay on the halls of theAlhambra, and the knight, striding impatiently down the passage, thoughtshe would never come."
"Who, the moon?" asked Clover.
"No, of course not," replied Cecy, "a lady he was in love with. The nextverse is going to tell about her, only you interrupted.
"She wore a turban of silver, with a jewelled crescent. As she stoledown the corregidor the beams struck it and it glittered like stars.
"'So you are come, Zuleika?'
"'Yes, my lord.'
"Just then a sound as of steel smote upon the ear, and Zuleika'smail-clad father rushed in. He drew his sword, so did the other. Amoment more, and they both lay dead and stiff in the beams of the moon.Zuleika gave a loud shriek, and threw herself upon their bodies. She wasdead, too! And so ends the Tragedy of the Alhambra."
"That's lovely," said Katy, drawing a long breath, "only very sad! Whatbeautiful stories you do write, Cecy! But I wish you wouldn't alwayskill the people. Why couldn't the knight have killed the father,and--no, I suppose Zuleika wouldn't have married him then. Well, thefather might have--oh, bother! why must anybody be killed, anyhow? whynot have them fall on each other's necks, and make up?"
"Why, Katy!" cried Cecy, "it wouldn't have been a tragedy then. You knowthe name was A _Tragedy_ of the Alhambra."
"Oh, well," said Katy, hurriedly, for Cecy's lips were beginning topout, and her fair, pinkish face to redden, as if she were about to cry;"perhaps it _was_ prettier to have them all die; only I thought, fora change, you know!--What a lovely word that was--. 'Corregidor'--whatdoes it mean?"
"I don't know," replied Cecy, quite consoled. "It was in the 'Conquestof Granada.' Something to walk over, I believe."
"The next," went on Katy, consulting her paper, "is 'Yap,' a SimplePoem, by Clover Carr."
All the children giggled, but Clover got up composedly, and recited thefollowing verses:
"Did you ever know Yap? The best little dog Who e'er sat on lap Or barked at a frog.
"His eyes were like beads, His tail like a mop, And it waggled as if It never would stop.
"His hair was like silk Of the glossiest sheen, He always ate milk, And once the cold-cream
"Off the nursery bureau (That line is too long!) It made him quite ill, So endeth my song.
"For Yappy he died Just two months ago, And we oughtn't to sing At a funeral, you know."
The "Poem" met with immense applause; all the children laughed, andshouted, and clapped, till the loft rang again. But Clover kept her faceperfectly, and sat down as demure as ever, except that the littledimples came and went at the corners of her mouth; dimples, partlynatural, and partly, I regret to say, the result of a pointedslate-pencil, with which Clover was in the habit of deepening them everyday while she studied her lessons.
"Now," said Katy, after the noise had subsided, "now come 'ScriptureVerses,' by Miss Elsie and Joanna Carr. Hold up your head, Elsie, andspeak distinctly; and oh, Johnnie, you _mustn't_ giggle in that waywhen it comes your turn!"
But Johnnie only giggled the harder at this appeal, keeping her handsvery tight across her mouth, and peeping out over her fingers. Elsie,however, was solemn as a little judge, and with great dignity began:
"An angel with a fiery sword, Came to send Adam and Eve abroad And as they journeyed through the skies They took one look at Paradise. They thought of all the happy hours Among the birds and fragrant bowers, And Eve she wept, and Adam bawled, And both together loudly squalled."
Dorry snickered at this, but sedate Clover hushed him.
"You mustn't," she said; "it's about the Bible, you know. Now John, it'syour turn."
But Johnnie would persist in holding her hands over her mouth, while herfat little shoulders shook with laughter. At last, with a great effort,she pulled her face straight, and speaking as fast as she possiblycould, repeated, in a sort of burst:
"Balaam's donkey saw the Angel, And stopped short in fear. Balaam didn't see the Angel, Which is very queer."
After which she took refuge again behind her fingers, while Elsie wenton--
"Elijah by the creek, He by ravens fed, Took from their horny beak Pieces of meat and bread."
"Come, Johnnie," said Katy, but the incorrigible Johnnie was shakingagain, and all they could make out was--
"The bears came down, and ate------and ate."
These "Verses" were part of a grand project on which Clover and Elsiehad been busy for more than a year. It was a sort of rearrangement ofScripture for infant minds; and when it was finished, they meant to haveit published, bound in red, with daguerreotypes of the two authoresseson the cover. "The Youth's Poetical Bible" was to be the name of it.Papa, much tickled with the scraps which he overheard, proposed,instead, "The Trundle-Bed Book," as having been composed principally inthat spot, but Elsie and Clover were highly indignant, and would notlisten to the idea for a moment.
After the "Scripture Verses," came Dorry's turn. He had been allowed tochoose for himself, which was unlucky, as his taste was peculiar, notto say gloomy. On this occasion he had selected that cheerful hymnwhich begins--
"Hark, from the tombs a doleful sound."
And he now began to recite it in a lugubrious voice and with greatemphasis, smacking his lips, as it were, over such lines as--
"Princes, this clay _shall_ be your bed, In spite of all your towers."
The older children listened with a sort of fascinated horror, ratherenjoying the cold chills which ran down their backs, and huddling closetogether, as Dorry's hollow tones echoed from the dark corners of theloft. It was too much for Philly, however. At the close of the piece hewas found to be in tears.
"I don't want to st-a-a-y up here and be groaned at," he sobbed.
"There, you bad boy!" cried Katy, all the more angry because she wasconscious of having enjoyed it herself, "that's what you do with yourhorrid hymns, frightening us to death and making Phil cry!" And she gaveDorry a little shake. He began to whimper, and as Phil was stillsobbing, and Johnnie had begun to sob too, out of sympathy with theothers, the _Feet_ in the Loft seemed likely to come to a sad end.
"I'm goin' to tell Aunt Izzie that I don't like you," declared Dorry,putting one leg through the opening in the floor.
"No, you aren't," said Katy, seizing him, "you are going to stay,because _now_ we are going to have the Feast! Do stop, Phil; andJohnnie, don't be a goose, but come and pass round the cookies."
The word "Feast" produced a speedy effect on the spirits of the party.Phil cheered at once, and Dorry changed his mind about going. The blackbottle was solemnly set in the midst, and the cookies were handed aboutby Johnnie, who was now all smiles. The cookies had scalloped edges andcaraway seeds inside, and were very nice. There were two apiece; and asthe last was finished, Katy
put her hand in her pocket, and amid greatapplause, produced the crowning addition to the repast--seven long,brown sticks of cinnamon.
"Isn't it fun?" she said. "Debby was real good-natured to-day, and letme put my own hand into the box, so I picked out the longest sticksthere were. Now, Cecy, as you're company, you shall have the first drinkout of the bottle."
The "something delicious" proved to be weak vinegar-and-water. It wasquite warm, but somehow, drank up there in the loft, and out of abottle, it tasted very nice. Beside, they didn't _call_ itvinegar-and-water--of course not! Each child gave his or her swallow adifferent name, as if the bottle were like Signor Blitz's and could pourout a dozen things at once. Clover called her share "Raspberry Shrub,"Dorry christened his "Ginger Pop," while Cecy, who was romantic, tookher three sips under the name of "Hydomel," which she explained wassomething nice, made, she believed, of beeswax. The last drop gone, andthe last bit of cinnamon crunched, the company came to order again, forthe purpose of hearing Philly repeat his one piece,--
"Little drops of water,"
which exciting poem he had said every Saturday as far back as they couldremember. After that Katy declared the literary part of the "Feet" over,and they all fell to playing "Stagecoach," which, in spite of closequarters and an occasional bump from the roof, was such good fun, that ageneral "Oh dear!" welcomed the ringing of the tea-bell. I supposecookies and vinegar had taken away their appetites, for none of themwere hungry, and Dorry astonished Aunt Izzie very much by eyeing thetable in a disgusted way, and saying: "Pshaw! _only_ plum sweatmeats andsponge cake and hot biscuit! I don't want any supper."
"What ails the child? he must be sick," said Dr. Carr; but Katyexplained.
"Oh no, Papa, it isn't that--only we've been having a feast inthe loft."
"Did you have a good time?" asked Papa, while Aunt Izzie gave adissatisfied groan. And all the children answered at once:"Splendiferous!"