BEHIND THE WHITE BRICK
It began with Aunt Hetty's being out of temper, which, it must beconfessed, was nothing new. At its best, Aunt Hetty's temper was none ofthe most charming, and this morning it was at its worst. She had awakenedto the consciousness of having a hard day's work before her, and she hadawakened late, and so everything had gone wrong from the first. There wasa sharp ring in her voice when she came to Jem's bedroom door and calledout, "Jemima, get up this minute!"
Jem knew what to expect when Aunt Hetty began a day by calling her"Jemima." It was one of the poor child's grievances that she had beengiven such an ugly name. In all the books she had read, and she had reada great many, Jem never had met a heroine who was called Jemima. But ithad been her mother's favorite sister's name, and so it had fallen to herlot. Her mother always called her "Jem," or "Mimi," which was muchprettier, and even Aunt Hetty only reserved Jemima for unpleasant stateoccasions.
It was a dreadful day to Jem. Her mother was not at home, and would notbe until night. She had been called away unexpectedly, and had beenobliged to leave Jem and the baby to Aunt Hetty's mercies.
So Jem found herself busy enough. Scarcely had she finished doing onething, when Aunt Hetty told her to begin another. She wiped dishes andpicked fruit and attended to the baby; and when baby had gone to sleep,and everything else seemed disposed of, for a time, at least, she was sotired that she was glad to sit down.
And then she thought of the book she had been reading the night before--acertain delightful story book, about a little girl whose name was Flora,and who was so happy and rich and pretty and good that Jem had likenedher to the little princesses one reads about, to whose christening feastevery fairy brings a gift.
"I shall have time to finish my chapter before dinner-time comes," saidJem, and she sat down snugly in one corner of the wide, old fashionedfireplace.
But she had not read more than two pages before something dreadfulhappened. Aunt Hetty came into the room in a great hurry--in such ahurry, indeed, that she caught her foot in the matting and fell, strikingher elbow sharply against a chair, which so upset her temper that themoment she found herself on her feet she flew at Jem.
"What!" she said, snatching the book from her, "reading again, when I amrunning all over the house for you?" And she flung the pretty little bluecovered volume into the fire.
Jem sprang to rescue it with a cry, but it was impossible to reachit; it had fallen into a great hollow of red coal, and the blazecaught it at once.
"You are a wicked woman!" cried Jem, in a dreadful passion, to AuntHetty. "You are a wicked woman."
Then matters reached a climax. Aunt Hetty boxed her ears, pushed her backon her little footstool, and walked out of the room.
Jem hid her face on her arms and cried as if her heart would break. Shecried until her eyes were heavy, and she thought she would be obliged togo to sleep. But just as she was thinking of going to sleep, somethingfell down the chimney and made her look up. It was a piece of mortar, andit brought a good deal of soot with it. She bent forward and looked up tosee where it had come from. The chimney was so very wide that this waseasy enough. She could see where the mortar had fallen from the side andleft a white patch.
"How white it looks against the black!" said Jem; "it is like a whitebrick among the black ones. What a queer place a chimney is! I can see abit of the blue sky, I think."
And then a funny thought came into her fanciful little head. What a manythings were burned in the big fireplace and vanished in smoke or tinderup the chimney! Where did everything go? There was Flora, forinstance--Flora who was represented on the frontispiece--with lovely,soft, flowing hair, and a little fringe on her pretty round forehead,crowned with a circlet of daisies, and a laugh in her wide-awake roundeyes. Where was she by this time? Certainly there was nothing left of herin the fire. Jem almost began to cry again at the thought.
"It was too bad," she said. "She was so pretty and funny, and I didlike her so."
I daresay it scarcely will be credited by unbelieving people when I tellthem what happened next, it was such a very singular thing, indeed.
Jem felt herself gradually lifted off her little footstool.
"Oh!" she said, timidly, "I feel very light." She did feel light, indeed.She felt so light that she was sure she was rising gently in the air.
"Oh," she said again, "how--how very light I feel! Oh, dear, I'm goingup the chimney!"
It was rather strange that she never thought of calling for help, but shedid not. She was not easily frightened; and now she was only wonderfullyastonished, as she remembered afterwards. She shut her eyes tight andgave a little gasp.
"I've heard Aunt Hetty talk about the draught drawing things up thechimney, but I never knew it was as strong as this," she said.
She went up, up, up, quietly and steadily, and without any uncomfortablefeeling at all; and then all at once she stopped, feeling that her feetrested against something solid. She opened her eyes and looked about her,and there she was, standing right opposite the white brick, her feet on atiny ledge.
"Well," she said, "this is funny."
But the next thing that happened was funnier still. She found that,without thinking what she was doing, she was knocking on the white brickwith her knackles, as if it was a door and she expected somebody to openit. The next minute she heard footsteps, and then a sound, as if some onewas drawing back a little bolt.
"It is a door," said Jem, "and somebody is going to open it."
The white brick moved a little, and some more mortar and soot fell;then the brick moved a little more, and then it slid aside and left anopen space.
"It's a room!" cried Jem, "There's a room behind it!"
And so there was, and before the open space stood a pretty little girl,with long lovely hair and a fringe on her forehead. Jem clasped her handsin amazement. It was Flora herself, as she looked in the picture, andFlora stood laughing and nodding.
"Come in," she said. "I thought it was you."
"But how can I come in through such a little place?" asked Jem.
"Oh, that is easy enough," said Flora. "Here, give me your hand."
Jem did as she told her, and found that it was easy enough. In an instantshe had passed through the opening, the white brick had gone back to itsplace, and she was standing by Flora's side in a large room--the nicestroom she had ever seen. It was big and lofty and light, and there wereall kinds of delightful things in it--books and flowers and playthingsand pictures, and in one corner a great cage full of lovebirds.
"Have I ever seen it before?" asked Jem, glancing slowly round.
"Yes," said Flora; "you saw it last night--in your mind. Don't youremember it?"
Jem shook her head.
"I feel as if I did, but--"
"Why," said Flora, laughing, "it's my room, the one you read aboutlast night."
"So it is," said Jem. "But how did you come here?"
"I can't tell you that; I myself don't know. But I am here, andso"--rather mysteriously--"are a great many other things."
"Are they?" said Jem, very much interested. "What things? Burned things?I was just wondering--"
"Not only burned things," said Flora, nodding. "Just come with me andI'll show you something."
She led the way out of the room and down a little passage with severaldoors in each side of it, and she opened one door and showed Jem what wason the other side of it. That was a room, too, and this time it was funnyas well as pretty. Both floor and walls were padded with rose color, andthe floor was strewn with toys. There were big soft balls, rattles,horses, woolly dogs, and a doll or so; there was one low cushioned chairand a low table.
"You can come in," said a shrill little voice behind the door, "only mindyou don't tread on things."
"What a funny little voice!" said Jem, but she had no sooner said it thanshe jumped back.
The owner of the voice, who had just come forward, was no otherthan Baby.
"Why," exclaimed Jem, beginning to feel frighte
ned, "I left you fastasleep in your crib."
"Did you?" said Baby, somewhat scornfully. "That's just the way with yougrown-up people. You think you know everything, and yet you haven'tdiscretion enough to know when a pin is sticking into one. You'd knowsoon enough if you had one sticking into your own back."
"But I'm not grown up," stammered Jem; "and when you are at home you canneither walk nor talk. You're not six months old."
"Well, miss," retorted Baby, whose wrongs seemed to have soured herdisposition somewhat, "you have no need to throw that in my teeth; youwere not six months old, either, when you were my age."
Jem could not help laughing.
"You haven't got any teeth," she said.
"Haven't I?" said Baby, and she displayed two beautiful rows with somehaughtiness of manner. "When I am up here," she said, "I am suppliedwith the modern conveniences, and that's why I never complain. Do Iever cry when I am asleep? It's not falling asleep I object to, it'sfalling awake."
"Wait a minute," said Jem. "Are you asleep now?"
"I'm what you call asleep. I can only come here when I'm what you callasleep. Asleep, indeed! It's no wonder we always cry when we have tofall awake."
"But we don't mean to be unkind to you," protested Jem, meekly.
She could not help thinking Baby was very severe.
"Don't mean!" said Baby. "Well, why don't you think more, then? How wouldyou like to have all the nice things snatched away from you, and all theold rubbish packed off on you, as if you hadn't any sense? How would youlike to have to sit and stare at things you wanted, and not to be able toreach them, or, if you did reach them, have them fall out of your hand,and roll away in the most unfeeling manner? And then be scolded andcalled 'cross!' It's no wonder we are bald. You'd be bald yourself. It'strouble and worry that keep us bald until we can begin to take care ofourselves; I had more hair than this at first, but it fell off, as wellit might. No philosopher ever thought of that, I suppose!"
"Well," said Jem, in despair, "I hope you enjoy yourself when youare here?"
"Yes, I do," answered Baby. "That's one comfort. There is nothing toknock my head against, and things have patent stoppers on them, so thatthey can't roll away, and everything is soft and easy to pick up."
There was a slight pause after this, and Baby seemed to cool down.
"I suppose you would like me to show you round?" she said.
"Not if you have any objection," replied Jem, who was rather subdued.
"I would as soon do it as not," said Baby. "You are not as bad as somepeople, though you do get my clothes twisted when you hold me."
Upon the whole, she seemed rather proud of her position. It was evidentshe quite regarded herself as hostess. She held her small bald head veryhigh indeed, as she trotted on before them. She stopped at the first doorshe came to, and knocked three times. She was obliged to stand upontiptoe to reach the knocker.
"He's sure to be at home at this time of year," she remarked. "This isthe busy season."
"Who's 'he'?" inquired Jem.
But Flora only laughed at Miss Baby's consequential air.
"S.C., to be sure," was the answer, as the young lady pointed to thedoor-plate, upon which Jem noticed, for the first time, "S.C." in verylarge letters.
The door opened, apparently without assistance, and they entered theapartment.
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Jem, the next minute. "Good_ness_ gracious!"
She might well be astonished. It was such a long room that she could notsee to the end of it, and it was piled up from floor to ceiling with toysof every description, and there was such bustle and buzzing in it that itwas quite confusing. The bustle and buzzing arose from a very curiouscause, too,--it was the bustle and buzz of hundreds of tiny men and womenwho were working at little tables no higher than mushrooms,--the prettytiny women cutting out and sewing, the pretty tiny men sawing andhammering and all talking at once. The principal person in the placeescaped Jem's notice at first; but it was not long before she saw him,--alittle old gentleman, with a rosy face and sparkling eyes, sitting at adesk, and writing in a book almost as big as himself. He was so busy thathe was quite excited, and had been obliged to throw his white fur coatand cap aside, and he was at work in his red waistcoat.
"Look here, if you please," piped Baby, "I have brought some oneto see you."
When he turned round, Jem recognized him at once.
"Eh! Eh!" he said. "What! What! Who's this, Tootsicums?"
Baby's manner became very acid indeed.
"I shouldn't have thought you would have said that, Mr. Claus," sheremarked. "I can't help myself down below, but I generally have myrights respected up here. I should like to know what sane godfather orgodmother would give one the name of 'Tootsicums' in one's baptism. Theyare bad enough, I must say; but I never heard of any of them calling aperson 'Tootsicums.'"
"Come, come!" said S.C., chuckling comfortably and rubbing his hands."Don't be too dignified,--it's a bad thing. And don't be too fond offlourishing your rights in people's faces,--that's the worst of all,Miss Midget. Folks who make such a fuss about their rights turn them intowrongs sometimes."
Then he turned suddenly to Jem.
"You are the little girl from down below," he said.
"Yes, sir," answered Jem. "I'm Jem, and this is my friend Flora,--out ofthe blue book."
"I'm happy to make her acquaintance," said S.C., "and I'm happy tomake yours. You are a nice child, though a trifle peppery. I'm veryglad to see you."
"I'm very glad indeed to see you, sir," said Jem. "I wasn't quite sure--"
But there she stopped, feeling that it would be scarcely polite to tellhim that she had begun of late years to lose faith in him.
But S.C. only chuckled more comfortably than ever and rubbed hishands again.
"Eh! Eh!" he said. "What! What! Who's this, Tootsicums?"]
"Ho, ho!" he said. "You know who I am, then?"
Jem hesitated a moment, wondering whether it would not be taking aliberty to mention his name without putting "Mr." before it: then sheremembered what Baby had called him.
"Baby called you 'Mr. Claus,' sir," she replied; "and I have seenpictures of you."
"To be sure," said S.C. "S. Claus, Esquire, of Chimneyland. How doyou like me?"
"Very much," answered Jem; "very much, indeed, sir."
"Glad of it! Glad of it! But what was it you were going to say you werenot quite sure of?"
Jem blushed a little.
"I was not quite sure that--that you were true, sir. At least I have notbeen quite sure since I have been older."
S.C. rubbed the bald part of his head and gave a little sigh.
"I hope I have not hurt your feelings, sir," faltered Jem, who was a verykind hearted little soul.
"Well, no," said S.C. "Not exactly. And it is not your fault either. Itis natural, I suppose; at any rate, it is the way of the world. Peoplelose their belief in a great many things as they grow older; but thatdoes not make the things not true, thank goodness! and their faith oftencomes back after a while. But, bless me!" he added, briskly, "I'mmoralizing, and who thanks a man for doing that? Suppose--"
"Black eyes or blue, sir?" said a tiny voice close to them.
Jem and Flora turned round, and saw it was one of the small workers whowas asking the question.
"Whom for?" inquired S.C.
"Little girl in the red brick house at the corner," said the workwoman;"name of Birdie."
"Excuse me a moment," said S.C. to the children, and he turned to the bigbook and began to run his fingers down the pages in a business-likemanner. "Ah! here she is!" he exclaimed at last. "Blue eyes, if youplease, Thistle, and golden hair. And let it be a big one. She takes goodcare of them."
"Yes, sir," said Thistle; "I am personally acquainted with several dollsin her family. I go to parties in her dolls' house sometimes when she isfast asleep at night, and they all speak very highly of her. She is mostattentive to them when they are ill. In fact, her pet doll is a cripple,
with a stiff leg."
She ran back to her work and S.C. finished his sentence.
"Suppose I show you my establishment," he said. "Come with me."
It really would be quite impossible to describe the wonderful things heshowed them. Jem's head was quite in a whirl before she had seen one-halfof them, and even Baby condescended to become excited.
"There must be a great many children in the world, Mr. Claus,"ventured Jem.
"Yes, yes, millions of 'em; bless 'em," said S.C., growing rosier withdelight at the very thought. "We never run out of them, that's onecomfort. There's a large and varied assortment always on hand. Fresh onesevery year, too, so that when one grows too old there is a new one ready.I have a place like this in every twelfth chimney. Now it's boys, nowit's girls, always one or t'other; and there's no end of playthings forthem, too, I'm glad to say. For girls, the great thing seems to be dolls.Blitzen! what comfort they _do_ take in dolls! but the boys are forhorses and racket."
They were standing near a table where a worker was just putting thefinishing touch to the dress of a large wax doll, and just at thatmoment, to Jem's surprise, she set it on the floor, upon its feet,quite coolly.
"Thank you," said the doll, politely.
Jem quite jumped.
"You can join the rest now and introduce yourself," said the worker.
The doll looked over her shoulder at her train.
"It hangs very nicely," she said. "I hope it's the latest fashion."
"Mine never talked like that," said Flora. "My best one could only say'Mamma,' and it said it very badly, too."
"She was foolish for saying it at all," remarked the doll, haughtily. "Wedon't talk and walk before ordinary people; we keep our accomplishmentsfor our own amusement, and for the amusement of our friends. If youshould chance to get up in the middle of the night, some time, or shouldrun into the room suddenly some day, after you have left it, you mighthear--but what is the use of talking to human beings?"
"You know a great deal, considering you are only just finished," snappedBaby, who really was a Tartar.
"I was FINISHED," retorted the doll "I did not begin life as a baby!"very scornfully.
"Pooh!" said Baby. "We improve as we get older."
"I hope so, indeed," answered the doll. "There is plenty of room forimprovement." And she walked away in great state.
S.C. looked at Baby and then shook his head. "I shall not have to takevery much care of you," he said, absent-mindedly. "You are able to takepretty good care of yourself."
"I hope I am," said Baby, tossing her head.
S.C. gave his head another shake.
"Don't take too good care of yourself," he said. "That's a badthing, too."
He showed them the rest of his wonders, and then went with them to thedoor to bid them good-bye.
"I am sure we are very much obliged to you, Mr. Claus," said Jem,gratefully. "I shall never again think you are not true, sir".
S.C. patted her shoulder quite affectionately.
"That's right," he said. "Believe in things just as long as you can,my dear. Good-bye until Christmas Eve. I shall see you then, if youdon't see me."
He must have taken quite a fancy to Jem, for he stood looking at her, andseemed very reluctant to close the door, and even after he had closed it,and they had turned away, he opened it a little again to call to her.
"Believe in things as long as you can, my dear."
"How kind he is!" exclaimed Jem full of pleasure.
Baby shrugged her shoulders.
"Well enough in his way," she said, "but rather inclined to prose and beold-fashioned."
Jem looked at her, feeling rather frightened, but she said nothing.
Baby showed very little interest in the next room she took them to.
"I don't care about this place," she said, as she threw open the door."It has nothing but old things in it. It is the Nobody-knows-where room."
She had scarcely finished speaking before Jem made a little spring andpicked something up.
"Here's my old strawberry pincushion!" she cried out. And then, withanother jump and another dash at two or three other things, "And here'smy old fairy-book! And here's my little locket I lost last summer! Howdid they come here?"
"They went Nobody-knows-where," said Baby.
"And this is it."
"But cannot I have them again?" asked Jem.
"No," answered Baby. "Things that go to Nobody-knows-where stay there."
"Oh!" sighed Jem, "I am so sorry."
"They are only old things," said Baby.
"But I like my old things," said Jem. "I love them. And there is mother'sneedle case. I wish I might take that. Her dead little sister gave it toher, and she was so sorry when she lost it."
"People ought to take better care of their things," remarked Baby.
Jem would have liked to stay in this room and wander about among her oldfavorites for a long time, but Baby was in a hurry.
"You'd better come away," she said. "Suppose I was to have to fall awakeand leave you?"
The next place they went into was the most wonderful of all.
"This is the Wish room," said Baby. "Your wishes come here--yoursand mother's, and Aunt Hetty's and father's and mine. When did youwish that?"
Each article was placed under a glass shade, and labelled with the wordsand name of the wishers. Some of them were beautiful, indeed; but thetall shade Baby nodded at when she asked her question was trulyalarming, and caused Jem a dreadful pang of remorse. Underneath it satAunt Hetty, with her mouth stitched up so that she could not speak aword, and beneath the stand was a label bearing these words, in largeblack letters--
"I wish Aunt Hetty's mouth was sewed up, Jem."
"Oh, dear!" cried Jem, in great distress. "How it must have hurt her!How unkind of me to say it! I wish I hadn't wished it. I wish it wouldcome undone."
She had no sooner said it than her wish was gratified. The old labeldisappeared and a new one showed itself, and there sat Aunt Hetty,looking herself again, and even smiling.
Jem was grateful beyond measure, but Baby seemed to consider herweak minded.
"It served her right," she said.
"But when, after looking at the wishes at that end of the room, they wentto the other end, her turn came. In one corner stood a shade with a babyunder it, and the baby was Miss Baby herself, but looking as she veryrarely looked; in fact, it was the brightest, best tempered baby onecould imagine."
"I wish I had a better tempered baby. Mother," was written on the label.
Baby became quite red in the face with anger and confusion.
"That wasn't here the last time I came," she said. "And it is right downmean in mother!"
This was more than Jem could bear.
"It wasn't mean," she said. "She couldn't help it. You know you are across baby--everybody says so."
Baby turned two shades redder.
"Mind your own business," she retorted. "It was mean; and as to thatsilly little thing being better than I am," turning up her small nose,which was quite turned up enough by Nature--"I must say I don't seeanything so very grand about her. So, there!"
She scarcely condescended to speak to them while they remained in theWish room, and when they left it, and went to the last door in thepassage, she quite scowled at it.
"I don't know whether I shall open it at all," she said.
"Why not?" asked Flora. "You might as well."
"It is the Lost pin room," she said. "I hate pins."
She threw the door open with a bang, and then stood and shook her littlefist viciously. The room was full of pins, stacked solidly together.There were hundreds of them--thousands--millions, it seemed.
"I'm glad they _are_ lost!" she said. "I wish there were more ofthem there."
"I didn't know there were so many pins in the world," said Jem.
"Pooh!" said Baby. "Those are only the lost ones that have belonged toour family."
After this they went back to Flora's room
and sat down, while Flora toldJem the rest of her story.
"Oh!" sighed Jem, when she came to the end. "How delightful it is to behere! Can I never come again?"
"In one way you can," said Flora. "When you want to come, just sit downand be as quiet as possible, and shut your eyes and think very hardabout it. You can see everything you have seen to-day, if you try."
"Then I shall be sure to try," Jem answered. She was going to ask someother question, but Baby stopped her.
"Oh! I'm falling awake," she whimpered, crossly, rubbing her eyes. "I'mfalling awake again."
And then, suddenly, a very strange feeling came over Jem. Flora and thepretty room seemed to fade away, and, without being able to account forit at all, she found herself sitting on her little stool again, with abeautiful scarlet and gold book on her knee, and her mother standing bylaughing at her amazed face. As to Miss Baby, she was crying as hard asshe could in her crib.
"Mother!" Jem cried out, "have you really come home so early as this,and--and," rubbing her eyes in great amazement, "how did I come down?"
"Don't I look as if I was real?" said her mother, laughing and kissingher. "And doesn't your present look real? I don't know how you came down,I'm sure. Where have you been?"
Jem shook her head very mysteriously. She saw that her mother fancied shehad been asleep, but she herself knew better.
"I know you wouldn't believe it was true if I told you," she said;"I have been BEHIND THE WHITE BRICK."
Little Saint Elizabeth and Other Stories Page 7