The Wit and Humor of America, Volume IV. (of X.)
Page 34
"AS GOOD AS A PLAY"
BY HORACE E. SCUDDER
There was quite a row of them on the mantel-piece. They were all facingfront, and it looked as if they had come out of the wall behind, andwere on their little stage facing the audience. There was the bronzemonk reading a book by the light of a candle, who had a private openingunder his girdle, so that sometimes his head was thrown violently back,and one looked down into him and found him full of brimstone matches.Then the little boy leaning against a greyhound; he was made of Parian,very fine Parian, too, so that one would expect to find a glass coverover him: but no, the glass cover stood over a cat and a cat made ofworsted, too: still it was a very old cat, fifty years old in fact.There was another young person there, young like the boy leaning on agreyhound, and she, too, was of Parian: she was very fair in front, butbehind--ah, that is a secret which is not quite time yet to tell. Oneother stood there, at least she seemed to stand, but nobody could seeher feet, for her dress was so very wide and so finely flounced. She wasthe china girl that rose out of a pen-wiper.
The fire in the grate below was of soft coal, and flashed up and down,throwing little jets of flame up that made very pretty foot-lights. Sohere was a stage, and here were the actors, but where was the audience?Oh, the Audience was in the arm-chair in front. He had a special seat;he was a critic, and could get up when he wanted to, when the playbecame tiresome, and go out.
"It is painful to say such things out loud," said theBoy-leaning-against-a-greyhound, with a trembling voice, "but we havebeen together so long, and these people round us never will go away.Dear girl, will you?--you know." It was the Parian girl that he spoketo, but he did not look at her; he could not, he was leaning against thegreyhound; he only looked at the Audience.
"I am not quite sure," she coughed. "If, now, you were under a glasscase."
"I am under a glass case," spoke up the Cat-made-of-worsted. "Marry me.I am fifty years old. Marry me, and live under a glass case."
"Shocking!" said she. "How can you? Fifty years old, too! That wouldindeed be a match!"
"Marry!" muttered the bronze Monk-reading-a-book. "A match! I am full ofmatches, but I don't marry. Folly!"
"You stand up very straight, neighbor," said the Cat-made-of-worsted.
"I never bend," said the bronze Monk-reading-a-book. "Life is earnest. Iread a book by candle. I am never idle."
The Cat-made-of-worsted grinned to himself.
"You've got a hinge in your back," said he, "they open you in themiddle; your head flies back. How the blood must run down. And thenyou're full of brimstone matches. He! he!" and the Cat-made-of-worstedgrinned out loud. The Boy-leaning-against-a-greyhound spoke again, andsighed:
"I am of Parian, you know, and there is no one else here of Parianexcept yourself."
"And the greyhound," said the Parian girl.
"Yes, and the greyhound," said he eagerly. "He belongs to me. Come, aglass case is nothing to it. We could roam; oh, we could roam!"
"I don't like roaming."
"Then we could stay at home, and lean against the greyhound."
"No," said the Parian girl, "I don't like that."
"Why?"
"I have private reasons."
"What?"
"No matter."
"I know," said the Cat-made-of-worsted. "I saw her behind. She's hollow.She's stuffed with lamp-lighters. He! he!" and the Cat-made-of-worstedgrinned again.
"I love you just as much," said the steadfastBoy-leaning-against-a-greyhound, "and I don't believe the Cat."
"Go away," said the Parian girl, angrily. "You're all hateful. I won'thave you."
"Ah!" sighed the Boy-leaning-against-a-greyhound.
"Ah!" came another sigh--it was from theChina-girl-rising-out-of-a-pen-wiper--"how I pity you!"
"Do you?" said he eagerly. "Do you? Then I love you. Will you marry me?"
"Ah!" said she; "but--"
"She can't!" said the Cat-made-of-worsted. "She can't come to you. Shehasn't got any legs. I know it. I'm fifty years old. I never saw them."
"Never mind the Cat," said the Boy-leaning-against-a-greyhound.
"But I do mind the Cat," said she, weeping. "I haven't. It's allpen-wiper."
"Do I care?" said he.
"She has thoughts," said the bronze Monk-reading-a-book. "That lastslonger than beauty. And she is solid behind."
"And she has no hinge in her back," grinned the Cat-made-of-worsted."Come, neighbors, let us congratulate them. You begin."
"Keep out of disagreeable company," said the bronze Monk-reading-a-book.
"That is not congratulation; that is advice," said theCat-made-of-worsted. "Never mind, go on, my dear,"--to the Parian girl."What! nothing to say? Then I'll say it for you. 'Friends, may your lovelast as long as your courtship.' Now I'll congratulate you."
But before he could speak, the Audience got up.
"You shall not say a word. It must end happily."
He went to the mantel-piece and took up theChina-girl-rising-out-of-a-pen-wiper.
"Why, she has legs after all," said he.
"They're false," said the Cat-made-of-worsted. "They're false. I knowit. I'm fifty years old. I never saw true ones on her."
The Audience paid no attention, but took up theBoy-leaning-against-a-greyhound.
"Ha!" said the Cat-made-of-worsted. "Come. I like this. He's hollow.They're all hollow. He! he! Neighbor Monk, you're hollow. He! he!" andthe Cat-made-of-worsted never stopped grinning. The Audience lifted theglass case from him and set it over the Boy-leaning-against-a-greyhoundand the China-girl-rising-out-of-a-pen-wiper.
"Be happy!" said he.
"Happy!" said the Cat-made-of-worsted. "Happy!"
Still they were happy.