"'My face is my fortune, sir, he said'," misquoted the Hansom-driverwith great conceit; "and a very handsome fortune, too," he added.
"Your face!" exclaimed the Butcher. "Why, a sheep's face is more to beadmired than yours."
"I beg to differ," the Hansom-driver said, shaking his head. "I've neveryet seen a really good-looking face amongst a flock of sheep."
"So you actually think yours is good-looking?" sneered the Baker. "Why,I could make a better-looking one out of a piece of dough."
"I defy you to," the Hansom-driver replied. "A face like mine is noteasily copied. Nor am I the only person of that opinion. All the ladiesthink that I am beautiful. And of course I go by what they think."
"And who," he asked, with a bow towards a little group of lady dolls,"who can be better judges of the matter?"
"Do you think they consider you good-looking?" inquired the Clown. "Getalong, you dreamer!"
"I do not think it, I know it," he replied.
"We don't," said the Butcher and the Baker. "Put it to the proof. Wechallenge you. Let the ladies vote upon the matter and they will proveyou mistaken."
"Very well," answered the Hansom-driver. "The result will be favorableto me. Of that I have no doubt."
"All right! To business," said the Butcher. "What about the ladies'decision as to this fellow's claim of beauty?"
"Ay; when shall it be given?" inquired the Hansom-driver, anxious tolose no time.
"In a fortnight at the earliest," said the Clown. "The making up ofladies' minds, as of Christmas puddings, requires plenty of thought andpreparation."
"Good!" said the Hansom-driver. Then he got up upon the seat of hishansom, whipped up his horse, and drove off.
Now, during the fortnight he was, if possible, more conceited than ever.He never ceased making vain speeches respecting his looks, and couldindeed be induced to speak of nothing else.
"I have not the slightest fear as to the ladies' decision," heboastfully remarked.
"When I look in the glass I see how impossible it is that they shouldhave anything but one opinion. By the by, a most curious little incidentoccurred last night. I was sauntering about my end of the counter, whenthe white Polar Bear walked right up against me. 'Hulloa!' I said, 'lookout where you are going.' 'I beg your pardon, I'm sure,' said he; 'Itwas a little mistake. I was trying to find my way home, and catchingsight of your right eye, mistook it for the Polar Star and guided myselfby its light.' 'Very flattering,' I said, 'but I'd prefer you not totread on my toes.' Strange, wasn't it?"
"Most strange!" the Butcher jeered. "The Polar Bear has never been ableto see clearly since the shopwoman's baby poked out both his eyes. Yourstory is a little far-fetched, my good chap."
"Oh, what a surprise!" laughed the Clown, as the Hansom-driver, unableto avoid looking a little silly, turned his head aside and pretended tosneeze.
"I've a piece of news for you," said the Baker; "another surprise. Theladies have made up their minds already. Instead of a fortnight theyhave only taken a week to decide. They have but one opinion, and theClown has been instructed to deliver it to you to-morrow morning whenyou come to give your orders. I may warn you that you will find a greatcrowd of Toys waiting to hear it."
"Let come who will," vaunted the Hansom-driver. "_I_ fear no crowd. Themore Toys to witness my moment of triumph, the better."
And it was in this frame of mind that, on the following morning, hedrove to the Butcher's shop, outside of which a large crowd wasgathered.
"Well," he said with a smile to the Clown who headed the crowd; "well,and what is the ladies' opinion about my beauty?"
"The ladies have decided," said the Clown, nodding his head and speakingvery rapidly, "the ladies have all decided--mind you, _all_decided--that you _are_ a hansom man. And so say I."
The Hansom-driver climbed down from his seat.
"Shake hands," he said. "One doesn't find a fellow of sense like youevery day."
The Clown shook hands, then turned a somersault and grinned from ear toear.
"Handsome," he said slowly, "but _without_ the _d_ and the _e_. Markthat, my child. No _beauty, but a hansom man_. Ho-la! What's the timeof day? Time to go away?"
For the Hansom-driver had mounted to his seat, and, whipping up hishorse, was driving off as fast as he could.
CHAPTER VII
"That was very funny," said the little girl; "it made me laugh verymuch."
"It made all the Toys laugh," said the Marionette--"except theHansom-driver himself. And, perhaps, he might be excused for not doingso."
"He _was_ a vain thing," said the little girl.
"He was," the Marionette agreed. "However, we must not be too severe onhim. He had his good points after all. He was not bad-tempered, forexample, like poor Claribelle, who at one time was quite unbearable, andmade herself disliked by everyone. Though in the end, poor creature, shebecame, it is true, an altered character."
"'Poor Claribelle!' Who was she?"
"A young lady doll whose bad temper, unfortunately for her, brought hergreat sorrow.
"I should like to hear about her," said the little girl.
The little Marionette mused a moment. "I should not do wrong to tellyou," she remarked. "The story of this poor, proud creature may perhapsserve as a lesson and warning to some other haughty and fanciful younglady. Yes, you shall hear to-morrow evening of Claribelle." And so thenext evening, in a grave voice that befitted the tale, she told thestory of "Proud Claribelle."
PROUD CLARIBELLE
Claribelle was a very haughty doll. She was very beautiful, with greatbrown eyes and a mass of dark hair that fell to her waist. She had fineclothes, too; a pink silk dress, a large straw hat trimmed with lace andpink roses, pink silk stockings and bronze shoes, and round her neck astring of pearls, which were the envy of every lady doll in thetoy-shop.
She held her head very high indeed, and would not speak to this dollbecause it was "frumpish," or that doll because it was not in the sameset as herself. The China Doll she really could not be on intimate termswith, because she had a crack across her cheek. Fancy being seen walkingwith a cracky person! Also, she must really decline being introduced tothe Farthing Doll. A very good, worthy person, no doubt, but really sheand a doll worth a farthing could not possibly have many tastes incommon.
As to the Rag Doll, she was a pushing person. At a tea-party at whichthey had both been present, she had asked Claribelle if she didn't thinkthat skirts were fuller. To think of discussing clothes with a creatureof rags! The idea was really too comical!
It was thus, and in this proud spirit, that Claribelle talked about theother and more modest Toys. There were, indeed, very few that she wouldtake the slightest notice of. As a matter of fact, when she walked downthe counter she held her nose so much in the air that it was very rarelyshe saw anyone. She did not care in the least whether she trod on otherpeople's toes or not.
From this you will easily understand that she was a Toy who gained moreadmiration than love. There was, however, one who was truly devoted toClaribelle. This was the Driver of the Wagon, who was always of theopinion that beneath her haughty manner lay a kind heart. They wereengaged to be married, and with true affection he often spoke to herabout her haughty manner to the other Toys.
On such occasions Claribelle tossed her head and flew into a passion,often sulking for hours afterwards. Yet, although she so sorely triedthe Driver's patience, he continued to love her. And when all othermeans had failed he would often sing her back to good temper, for he hada beautiful tenor voice.
He was a little proud of his voice, and used to practise every night,partly because he loved music, also because he delighted to show hisdevotion to Claribelle by singing her little love-songs in awell-trained manner.
He was of a kindly, genial nature, so that you would have thought it washardly possible to quarrel with him. But Claribelle's pride not seldomcaused a dispute between them, and she would often start a heatedargument without any reason.
It
was thus one day that a quarrel arose which ended in the most seriousmanner.
They were out driving in the Wagon, when the Driver, remembering he oweda call on the Farthing Doll, proposed that he and Claribelle should gothither.
"What!" she exclaimed haughtily. "Pay a call on that Farthing creature!_Certainly_ not!"
"I, at least, must go, sooner or later," the Driver replied.
"Why?" she asked much displeased.
"Because did I not call," answered he kindly but firmly, "I should belacking in courtesy to a lady who has never shown me anything but theutmost civility. However, since you do not wish it, I will not goto-day."
"I do not wish you to go at all," she said. "But I see it is quitesufficient for me to say that I do not desire you to do a thing, for youto do it."
And after this she sulked and said she did not love him.
Upon this the Driver bethought him a new song he had just learnt, and hedetermined to sing it in the hope of winning her back to good temper. Sohe began:
"'Oh, down in Alabama, before I was set free, I loved a dark-eyed, yaller girl, And thought--'"
But he got no further, for here Claribelle interrupted him.
"Does that apply to _me_?" she said with flashing eyes.
"Well, you _have_ dark eyes, you know," he said pleasantly, hoping tomake her smile. "Beautiful dark eyes, too."
"Stop the wagon!" she said furiously. "I will not be so insulted. Darkeyes, yes; but yaller! yaller! yaller!"
"Allow me to explain. I only--" began the Driver.
"_Yaller_, indeed! Stop the Wagon!"
"I should like to say--"
"A dark-eyed, _yaller_ girl! Stop the Wagon,--and consider ourengagement at an end."
"_Will_ you let me--"
But Claribelle shook her head furiously, and in her rage tried to jumpout of the Wagon. So the Driver, fearing she would break her neck, didas she requested and pulled up his horse, when she immediately alighted.Then she swept away, flouncing her pink silk dress, and with her head inthe air.
The Driver called later and tried to pacify her, but she would notlisten. She only turned her back upon him--which was a very rude thingto do--and persisted in saying that their engagement was at an end.
So the Wagoner whipped up his horse and went away sad and sorry. Helooked, indeed, so sad that the haughty Claribelle nearly repented ofher pride and was just about to call him back.
"But he'll return to-morrow," she said to herself, "and he must betaught not to make false remarks about my complexion. Fancy calling me'yaller!'"
The next day he came as she expected.
"Do I still look yaller?" Claribelle asked scornfully.
"Let bygones be bygones," said he. "Besides, I never called you yaller."
"Our engagement is ended," she said.
"Claribelle," he said kindly but firmly, "listen to what I say. If youdo not tame your proud temper, you will one day bring sorrow uponyourself." Then he left, wounded and displeased.
The next day he came again.
"I may be going away," he said, "to the other side of the shop, to theopposite counter."
"Do I still look yaller?" Claribelle asked, tossing her head.
"Aren't you sorry I am going?" he replied.
"I haven't time to think of trifles," she said haughtily.
"Cruel Claribelle," he said. "I shall not send you a letter, not even apost-card."
"Letters are dull," she said coldly, "and post-cards are vulgar."
"You will repent of this some day," he replied. And he turned and wentaway in anger.
On the morrow he came once more.
"I have come to say good-bye," he said.
"Oh!" she replied; but not a word more.
"Aren't you sorry?" he asked again.
"Yes," she replied, "because the Farthing Doll put her foot on my dressthis morning in passing me, and tore it. She is a clumsy thing."
"You are trying my patience too far," he said. "Proud Claribelle,beware! Beware, proud Claribelle!"
"You confirm me in my resolution," said she. "I will never marry a Toywho gives way to his temper over nothing. Once for all, our engagementis at an end."
"I cannot believe that," he said. "Do you really mean it?"
"Certainly," she answered.
"So be it," he replied.
Then he got up from his chair with dignity, made a low bow, mounted hisWagon, and drove away.
"I almost wish I had not said that," thought the haughty Beautyuneasily. "I never meant him to go away so soon. If he had stayed Ishould, perhaps, have altered my mind. I will tell him so when he comesto-morrow."
But next day he did not come. Then a few tears fell from Claribelle'shaughty eyes. Nor did he come on the next, and then she shed more. Noron the following day; nor the day after that, nor the day after_that_,--nor ever again! And each day poor Claribelle wept more andmore, till it was sad to see her.
At last she heard the Wagoner had left the toy-shop altogether, and sheknew she should never see him again. And she cried, and cried, andcried, till she cried away every bit of pride in her nature! Indeed,from being the proudest Toy in the shop she became the meekest andgentlest--kind and thoughtful to all.
So the other Toys would often remark one to the other with surprise andpleasure:
"Lo! how poor Claribelle hath been chastened by sorrow!"
"Poor, _poor_ Claribelle! I _am_ sorry for her!" said the little girl.
"She had, indeed, a severe lesson," answered the little Marionette.
"And did the Wagoner ever come back?"
"Never, never. He loved, but drove away."
"How sad!" sighed the little girl.
"Sad, indeed," said the Marionette. "Well, as I always say, let allyoung ladies take warning by the story of Proud Claribelle, and then itwill not have been told in vain."
There was a pause.
Then the little girl said:
"Next time you tell me a story I should like it to be happy all through.Happy, you know, from beginning to end."
The little Marionette thought a few moments, then shook her head.
"I can't remember such a story," she said. "I think there must be veryfew."
"I am sorry for that," answered the little girl, disappointed. "I wantedvery much to hear one."
"We must take things as they are," said the little lady cheerfully. "IfI don't know many stories that are happy all the way through, I knowplenty that are so at the beginning, or the middle, or the end; or evenmore than that."
"Which do you like best?" said the little girl.
"Oh, stories with a happy ending! You can forget that the beginning ormiddle has been sad, and you can go away smiling."
"Then tell me to-morrow a story that ends happily."
"If you will," said the little Marionette.
CHAPTER VIII
On the morrow, when the two met as usual, the Marionette said to thelittle girl:
"Good evening. I have thought of a story that will please you."
"Then I suppose it ends most happily, doesn't it?" asked Molly.
"Quite right," she replied. "I am going to tell you one that ends ashappily as you could wish it to. You will, I am sure, be quite satisfiedwith the conclusion of: 'The Grocer and the Farthing Doll.'"
THE GROCER AND THE FARTHING DOLL
Never was there a love affair more perplexing than the love affair ofthe Grocer and the Farthing Doll. It puzzled the whole toy-shop; it evenpuzzled the two lovers themselves.
The affair was rather difficult to understand, but I will try to explainit to you as simply as I can.
Everyone knew that the Grocer and the Farthing Doll loved each other;the Grocer knew he loved the Farthing Doll, but he did not know that sheloved him; the Farthing Doll knew that she loved the Grocer, but shedidn't know if he loved her.
So everything was at a stand-still, and none of the other dolls knew howto bring the matter to a happy end. No one quite liked to interfere. Andfor t
hese reasons: The Grocer was very proud and would take no advice,whilst the Farthing Doll was so sensitive that a single wrong word mightcause her a serious illness. Again, the Grocer wouldn't ask the FarthingDoll to marry him because, being a proud Toy, he feared the humiliationof her saying "No." She, on her part, would not say much to help him,lest it should look as if she were forward.
It was thus that matters stood, when, walking along the counter one day,the Farthing Doll met the Grocer sauntering by with a sad face.
"Well!" she exclaimed, with a start of surprise. "Fancy seeing youhere!"
"My shop is close by," he answered. "Don't you remember?"
"To be sure," she said. "How odd of me to forget."
"I'm very pleased to see you," said the Grocer.
"I am glad of that, for I have every wish to please you," said theFarthing Doll.
"Is that satisfactory?" he asked.
"It ought to be," she replied.
"I don't know," the Grocer said. "You may wish to please, withoutloving. For instance, you may try to please a turkey by giving him thebest of grain. But that is not because you love him. It is merelybecause you wish to fatten him well for your Christmas dinner."
"Good-morning!" said the Farthing Doll coldly.
"Stay!" the Grocer cried. "I have an idea. We appear to have somedifficulty in finding out the Truth. Let us go and hunt for it."