Books: Half Past Seven Stories
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Robert Gordon Anderson >> Half Past Seven Stories
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He felt greatly contented, did Marmaduke, for hadn't they beaten the
"ol' pirates," and driven them away? And after that they had heaped
coals of fire on their heads, as the minister used to say. Yes sir,
they invited the big, fat chief of the pirates into their kitchen,
though he didn't deserve it, and gave him some dry clothes, too,
though he didn't deserve that, either, and some lemonade into the
bargain.
Altogether, it was a very successful day.
IV
THE BLUE CROAKER, THE BRIGHT AGATE, AND THE LITTLE GRAY MIG
It is odd about Grownups--how mistaken they can be, how sadly
mistaken. Now for instance, they _will_ insist there are only
four seasons when, as every one who has lived in Boyland knows, there
are scores more than that.
There's
Sled-time;
Ball-time;
Marble-time;
Top-time;
Kite-time;
Garden-time;
Hay-time;
Harvest-time;
Grape-time;
Nut-time;
Pumpkin-Pie-time;
and
a time
for
Hunting strawberries, elderberries, or red rasps; for orioles to move,
for shad to run, and to go bobbin' for eels; and a whole lot of other
famous seasons as well, all happy ones, and too many to count, at
least on one set of fingers and toes.
Any American boy will tell you this and--what is more to the
point--prove it, too. And so can the Toyman, for, though he is six
feet tall, and wears suspenders and long pants, and shaves and all
that, he can get down on his knees in the good old brown earth and
cry, "Knuckles down!," with the youngest.
Well, then, it was--not Spring, as the grownups would say--but
Marble-time--midway between Kite-time and the Time for Red
Strawberries, which comes in June.
One day, at the very beginning of this sunny season, the Toyman came
back from town. And as usual the children gathered around him. There
was no delay, no dilly-dallying, as there was when kindlings were
called for. It was funny to see how quickly they _could_ gather
when they heard the wheels come up the drive. Somehow their particular
creak was different from that of any other wheels--and the children
could tell it long before ever the wagon came in sight.
When they were younger, the children used to ask a question just as
the reins fell over the dashboard and the Toyman jumped to the ground.
"What have you got for me, Toyman?" it always was.
But not now, for Mother had explained it was very bad manners. And
Jehosophat and Marmaduke were trying hard to be "Little Gentlemen,"
and to show Hepzebiah a "Good Example."
Of course, just as Mother had expected, when she suggested all this,
Marmaduke asked,--
"But how can a _girl_ be a Little Gentleman?"
Mother made it clear.
"Well hardly," she said, "we wouldn't want her to be just that, but by
being a Little Gentleman you can teach her to be a Little Lady."
It was hard sometimes, and once in a while the boys didn't think the
Little Gentleman game quite so attractive. However, they remembered it
pretty well, considering. And today they didn't ask any rude
questions, but just waited, though they danced on their toes.
This time he led them all into the kitchen without saying a word.
And then!!!--one after another he took from his pockets little round
things--marbles, of course, of all sorts and sizes and colors.
"My!" exclaimed Marmaduke, "there's most a hundred."
And there was, sixty, to be exact. Twenty-seven little ones, colored
like clay; six big ones of brown, with spots on them like the
dapplings on horses; and six of blue dappled the same way; nine big
glass ones with pink and blue streaks like the colorings in Mother's
marble cake; nine made of china; and three--one for each--of the
beautiful agates--one of dark red and cream, one dark blue and cream,
and one that was mostly pink.
"Now," said Mother, when he had tumbled all the beautiful marbles out
on the table, "you've got me in trouble, Frank."
But she didn't mean that. No, indeed. It was all said in fun. They
said so many things in fun in the White House with the Green Blinds by
the Side of the Road. So she got out her needle and thread, some
pieces of flannel, and began.
She made three little bags, each with draw strings. On one she sewed a
red J; on the second a blue M; on the third a pink H. You can probably
guess for whom each was meant.
By this time it was too dark to see. Mother lit the lamp and started
supper. And of course they ate it--they seldom skipped that of their
own free will--but after it was over, the Toyman kneeled down on the
floor, and Father got down on the floor, too, and they played marbles
on the rag rug.
That was pretty nice and interesting, but they looked forward to the
real game in the morning, for the real game must be played, not on a
rug, but on the good brown earth.
Again the Toyman took a little, oh, just a little time from his
work--that is, he meant to, but it turned out a longer "spell" than he
had intended.
First they sorted the marbles. And when the sorting was over, each had
nine of the little gray ones, which the Toyman told them were called
"Migs"; two of the dappled brown ones which he said were "Croakers";
and two of the blue; three "Chineys"; three "Glasseys" with the pink
and blue streaks; and one each of the most beautiful of all,--the
agates. The blue and cream-colored agate Marmaduke took to match the
blue M on his bag; Jehosophat the reddest one to match his letter J;
and Hepzebiah the agate that looked most like a strawberry--almost
pink it was, like her letter H.
These last beautiful ones, their old friend informed them, were
agates, but had other names.
"They called them 'Pures' when I was a boy," he remarked, "but in some
places they called 'em 'Reals,' just as in some cities they say pink
is for boys and blue for girls, and in some the other way round."
And don't let any one tell you this question of "Reals" and "Pures"
isn't important, for it is, surely as much so as "hazards" and "simple
honors" which the grownups are forever discussing. In fact this matter
of "Reals" and "Pures" was one that had to be settled at once. And
Jehosophat settled it.
"I guess," he said, after grave deliberation, "if you called them
'Pures' when you were a boy, we'll call 'em that too."
Now this suggested a question to Marmaduke.
"Say, Toyman, when did you stop being a boy?"
And the Toyman just laughed his hearty laugh and slapped his knees
with his rough brown hand. His answer was strange yet very true.
"Tomorrow," he replied.
It was true, you see, for, as they say in school, "Tomorrow never
comes," and that is just when the Toyman will stop being a boy.
Meanwhile he was making a ring in the ground, two feet across. In the
middle he scooped out a little hole with his heel.
Each put some marbles in the centre, the same number from each bag,
and they began. Of course, as you know, they had to stand on the
outside of the ring and shoot at the marbles in the hole, that is,
they did in that year, in that particular part of the country, though
wise men who have travelled much say the rules differ in other states
and are changing from day to day.
When anyone put his foot over the line the Toyman would stop him
sternly.
"No matter what's the game," he told them, "always play fair."
He showed them the best way to shoot, not by placing the marble in the
hollow of the first finger and shooting it out with the thumb, but on
the _tip_ of the first finger and letting it fly with the thumb.
Now this is of the greatest importance, so always remember it.
However, Hepzebiah couldn't follow that style, so they let her roll
her marbles. But the boys were patient and tried again and again until
they had learned the right way. They did finely, too--though naturally
not as well as the Toyman. They had lent him some of their marbles,
and my! wasn't he a fine shot! He would send those marbles flying from
their hole like little smithereens in all directions. However, he said
the boys were learning fast and would soon catch up with him.
And in a few minutes, strange to say, the Toyman wasn't doing so
well--though, maybe--between you and me--he was just giving the boys a
chance.
Anyway, before long, the Toyman's pile was growing less and less,
while Marmaduke had nine gray marbles--we should say "migs"--one
"chiney," two brown "croakers," one blue "croaker," and one "glassey,"
and his shooter, the "pure," of course. And Jehosophat had ten "migs,"
two "chimneys," one "glassey," two brown "croakers," and one blue one,
and his shooter. But poor little Hepzebiah had only three, counting
all kinds. She began to cry, and rubbed her eyes with her two fists.
But when, after a little, she stopped and looked down, why she had
more marbles than _any_ of the players.
I'll tell you a secret, if you won't tell it to a soul--for that
wouldn't be fair to Marmaduke and Jehosophat, who were trying their
best not to let their right hands know what their left ones were
doing.
Well then, if you won't tell,--when Hepzebiah put her two fists to her
eyes, quick as a wink the Toyman placed three of his marbles in her
pile, and when Marmaduke saw him do that, why he put in four, and
Jehosophat, not to be outdone, slipped in five.
"Better than slipping duck's eggs under the old hen, isn't it?"
whispered Jehosophat to his brother, who agreed with a nod.
And that is the way the little girl came to win the game.
And so all through marble time they played many games, some of them
very close, too, and a few even ties.
However, on one occasion the game didn't turn out so well. That was
the time when Fatty Hamm strolled into the yard.
"Hello!" he said, and something chinked in his pockets. It sounded
like marbles.
"Hello!" called the boys, not very cordially, for they were always a
little suspicious when Fatty happened around.
"Playin' marbles?" he asked.
"Yes," said the two brothers.
"I can beat you," he declared.
"You can't, either," Marmaduke started to yell, but Jehosophat, who
was having one of his good days, said,--
"Let's treat him politely. He's mean, but he's company."
"Play 'for fair'?" Fatty next asked.
"Course," replied Jehosophat, "what did you think?"
This friendly state of affairs didn't last very long.
"You're cheating," called Jehosophat a little later.
"I'm not, neither," Fatty shouted very angrily and ungrammatically.
"You are, too," insisted Jehosophat. "The Toyman says you mustn't get
over the marbles that way or put your foot in the ring. You've got to
'knuckles down.' Beside you call' slippseys' every time you make a bad
shot."
[Illustration: "'Better than slipping ducks' eggs under the ole hen,
isn't it?' whispered Jehosophat to his brother."]
When that strange game was over Fatty had forty-two marbles and they
had only nine apiece. Altogether it was very unsatisfactory.
Then something very surprising happened.
Fatty counted the forty-two very carefully, then put them in his bag.
"Here," said Jehosophat, "what are you doing?"
"I won 'em, they're mine," and still Fatty kept putting them in his
bag. Marmaduke could hear them dropping in. "Chink, chink," they went,
but their "chink, chink" didn't sound so pretty or so much like music
as when they were dropping in his own bag.
"That's not the way the Toyman plays," Jehosophat insisted, "when
we're through we divide 'em up again so's to be even."
"Your ole Toyman doesn't know everything," Fatty said with a sneer.
And, angry at this, both the brothers shouted,--
"He does, too--he knows most everything there is to know."
But Fatty decided things once and for all.
"Anyway," he declared, "this game's not 'in fun.' You said you'd play
'for fair' and that means 'for keeps.'"
Jehosophat was silent. He hadn't understood what 'for fair' had meant
at all. Still, he had agreed to play that way, and so, though he
wanted to punch Fatty's head for him, he supposed he'd have to take
his losses like a gentleman.
But now Fatty was taking something out of his pocket, something made
of wood and shaped like a bridge or a saw with teeth in it. He placed
it on the ground.
"Your turn, Joshy," he said.
"What'll I do?" asked Jehosophat.
"Just roll your marbles under this bridge, and if they go through the
little holes, you can keep 'em. If they don't, they're mine."
The two boys didn't see through the trick, and very foolishly they
thought they might win some of their beautiful marbles back.
So they rolled marble after marble against that little wooden bridge.
But it was much harder to aim straight than they had expected. More
marbles would hit against the wood and bounce back than ever went
through the little holes. And when this strange new game was ended
Fatty had fifty-two marbles and they each had four!
Then Fatty walked off.
"Nice game," he said, "I'll come tomorrow."
But the boys didn't second that or give him any warm invitation like
saying, "yes, and stay a week." They spoke never a word--just looked
and listened--looked at the few marbles left in their own hands, and
listened to the "chink, chink, chink" of Fatty's pockets as he walked
down the drive.
They were very solemn around the table that night, and though Mother
knew there must be something the matter, she didn't ask any questions
yet. However, Marmaduke kept reaching down into his pockets so often,
to feel the lonely little marbles he had left,--the one agate, and the
croaker, and the little gray mig, and the clink of them sounded so
weak and thin and lonesome that Father said,--
"Well, how did the game go today?"
"F-f-f-fine," said Marmaduke, but his lip quivered.
Then they knew there surely must be something the matter, and
Marmaduke couldn't help saying,--
"That ole Fatty Hamm said he was playing 'for keeps,' and he took away
almost all our marbles."
"Humph!" exclaimed Father, and Mother looked at him with an odd look.
"I'm sorry it happened," she said, "but I'm glad, too."
Jehosophat exclaimed:
"Glad we lost our marbles?"
"Not exactly, dear, but I knew it would happen. You see, as the Toyman
said, it's always kinder and more fun, too, to play games 'in fun.' If
you play anything 'for keeps,' the one who loses is always hurt and
feels badly. Supposing you had played with Johnny Cricket, now, and
had won all his marbles--how would you feel?"
She didn't need to say any more. They understood.
But after supper the Toyman called the boys into the woodshed. They
sneaked out quietly and he whispered to them,--
"Just wait till tomorrow."
"What's going to happen tomorrow?"
And the Toyman gave that old answer of his which was so like him,--
"Wait an' see."
Well, the Toyman had to go to town "tomorrow," which was much sooner
than he had expected earlier in the week. And when he came back his
pockets chinked right merrily. They were as full of marbles as on his
first trip back from town.
They were very beautiful, too, but somehow Marmaduke loved the first
blue croaker and the bright agate and the little gray mig best of all.
V
THE OLD WOMAN WHO LIVED ON THE CANAL
In front of the White House with the Green Blinds by the Side of the
Road was the Canal; and beyond the Canal the River. They always flowed
along side by side, and Marmaduke thought they were like two brothers.
The Canal was the older brother, it was always so sure and steady and
ready for work. It flowed steadily and evenly and carried the big
canal-boats down to the Sea. The River also flowed towards the Sea,
but it wasn't at all steady, and never quiet. It was indeed like the
younger brother, ever ready for play, although, as a matter of fact,
it had been there long before the Canal had been even thought of by
the men who built it. But thousands of years couldn't make that River
grow old. It was full of frolicsome ripples that gleamed in the sun,
and of rapids and waterfalls. Here it would flow swiftly, and there
almost stop as if it wanted to fall asleep. And every once in a while
it would dart swiftly like small boys or dogs chasing butterflies.
Sometimes it would leap over the stones or, at the dam, tumble
headlong in sheets of silver.
Little fish and big loved to play in its waters. Of course they swam
in the Canal too, but life was lazier there and the fish, like
Marmaduke, seemed to prefer the River. There were pickerel and trout
and catfish and eels, and in the Spring the great shad would come in
from the Sea and journey up to the still cool pools to hatch out their
millions of children.
They looked very inviting this morning, the River and the Canal, and
Marmaduke decided he would take a stroll. He whistled to Wienerwurst,
who was always the best company in the world, and the little dog came
leaping and barking and wagging his tail, glad to be alive and about
in such lovely weather, and on they went by the side of the Canal.
They went along very slowly, for it is a mistake to walk too fast on a
Spring morning--one misses so many things.
Now and then a big fish would leap out of the River, it felt so gay,
and in the little harbours under the banks of the Canal the
scuttle-bugs went skimming, skimming, like swift little tugboats at
play. In the fields on the other side of the road a meadowlark sang;
swallows twittered overhead; and in the grass at his feet the
dandelions glowed like the round gold shields of a million soldiers.
Yes, altogether it was a wonderful day.
Marmaduke picked a great bouquet of the dandelions--for Mother--then
he looked up the towpath. He could see the Red Schoolhouse, and, not
so far away, the Lock of the Canal. He was very glad it was Saturday.
It was far too nice to stay indoors.
Just then he had a great piece of good luck, for a big boat came by, a
canal-boat, shaped like a long wooden shoe. It had no sails and no
smokestacks, either, so it had no engine to make it go. It was drawn
by two mules who walked on shore quite a distance ahead of it. A long
thick rope stretched from the collars of the mules to the bow of the
boat. A little boy walked behind the mules, yelling to them and now
and then poking them with a long pole to make them go faster. My! how
they pulled and tugged on that rope! They had to, for it was a pretty
big load, that boat. And it had a big hole in it laden with black
shiny coal--tons and tons of it!
Just behind the coal was a clothes-line with scores of little skirts
and pairs of pants on it, and behind that, a little house with many
children running in and out of the door. A round fat rosy woman with
great big arms was calling to the children to "take care," and a man
stood at the stern with his hand on the tiller. He had a red shirt on
and in his mouth a pipe which Marmaduke could smell a long way off.
The little boy waited until the stern came by so he could see the name
of the boat. There it was now, painted in big letters, right under the
tiller. He spelled it out, first "Mary," then "Ellen"--"Mary Ellen--"
a pretty name, he thought.
The Man With the Red Shirt and the Pipe, and the Round Fat Rosy Woman
With the Big Arms, and all the children waved their hands to Marmaduke
and he waved back, then hurried ahead, Wienerwurst trotting alongside,
to catch up with the boy who was driving the mules.
"'Llo!" said he to the boy, but the boy paid no attention at all, just
"licked up" his mules. But Marmaduke didn't mind this rudeness. He
thought that probably the boy was too busy to be sociable, and he
trotted along with the mules and watched their long funny ears go
wiggle-waggle when a fly buzzed near them. But they never paused or
stopped, no matter what annoyed them, but just tugged and strained in
their collars, pulling the long rope that pulled the boat that carried
the coal that would make somebody's fire to cook somebody's supper
some day down by the Sea.
For a long time Marmaduke trotted alongside the boy and the mules, not
realizing at all how far he had come. Once or twice he looked back at
the "Mary Ellen" and the Man With the Red Shirt and the Pipe, and the
little house on the deck. He wished he could go on board and steer the
"Mary Ellen," and play in that little house, it looked so cute. The
Round Fat Rosy Woman was coming out of it now with a pan of water
which she threw in the Canal; and the little children were running all
over the deck, almost tumbling in the water.
After quite a journey they drew near the Lock, a great place in the
Canal like a harbour, with two pairs of gates, as high as a house, at
each end, to keep the water in the Lock.
Outside one pair of gates the water was low; outside the others, which
were near him, the water was high; and Marmaduke knew well what those
great gates would do. The pair at the end where the water was high
would open and the canalboat would float in the Lock and rest there
for a while like a ship in harbour. Then those gates would shut tight,
and the man who tended the Lock would open the gates at the end where
the water was low. And the water would rush out and go down, down in
the Lock, carrying the boat with it until it was on a level with the
low part of the Canal. And the boat at last would float out of the
harbour of the Lock and away on its journey to the Sea.
But all this hadn't happened yet. There was much work to be done
before all was ready.
Now the boat had stopped in front of the high pair of gates. The Man
With the Red Shirt and the Pipe shouted to the boy who drove the
mules, without taking the pipe out of his mouth. The great towrope was
untied and the mules rested while the man who tended the Lock swung
the high gates open with some machinery that creaked in a funny way,
and the "Mary Ellen" glided in the harbour of the Lock.
Then the man who tended the Lock went to the gates at the lower end.
There were more shouts and those gates opened too. The water rushed
out of the Lock into the lower part of the Canal, and down, down, went
the boat. And down, down, went the deck and the little house on it,
and down, down, went the Man With the Red Shirt and the Pipe, and the
Round Fat Rosy Woman With the Great Arms, and all the children.
Marmaduke started to count them. He couldn't have done that before,
they ran around too fast. But now they stood still, watching the water
fall and their boat as it sank. Yes, there were thirteen--he counted
twice to make sure.
Now the boat had sunk so low that Marmaduke was afraid it would
disappear forever, with all the children on it. But there was no
danger, for when the water in the Lock was even with the water on the
lower side of the Canal it stopped falling, and the "Mary Ellen"
stopped, too. At least, there was no danger for the children, but
there was for Master Marmaduke, he had leaned over so far, watching
that boat go down, down, down.
All-of-a-sudden there was a splash. It was certainly to be expected
that one of the thirteen children had fallen in, but no!--
It--was--Marmaduke!
Down, down, down, he sank in the gurgly brown water. Then he came up,
spluttering and choking.
"Help, help!" he cried.
Then under he went again.
But the Round Fat Rosy Woman had seen him.
"Quick, Hiram!" she shouted to her husband in a voice that sounded
like a man's, "there's a boy fallen overboard!"
"Where?" asked the man at the tiller, still keeping the pipe in his
mouth.
She pointed into the brown water.
"Right there--there's where he went down."
Perhaps the Man With the Red Shirt and the Pipe was so used to having
his children fall into the coal, or the Canal, or something, that he
didn't think it was a serious matter, for he came to the side of the
"Mary Ellen" very slowly, just as Marmaduke was coming up for the
third time.
And that is a very important time, for, they say, if you go down after
that you won't come up 'til you're dead. Whether it was true or not,
Marmaduke didn't know, for he had never been drowned before, and no
one who had, had ever come back to tell him about it. Anyway, he
wasn't thinking much, only throwing his arms around in the water,
trying vainly to keep afloat.
The Round Fat Rosy Woman grew quite excited, as well she might, and
she shouted again to the Man With the Red Shirt and the Pipe:
"Don't stand there like a wooden Injun in front of a cigar-store.
Hustle or the boy'll drown!"
Then he seemed to wake up, for he ran to the gunwale of the boat, and
he jumped over with his shoes and all his clothes on. And, strange to
say, he still kept that pipe in his mouth. However, that didn't matter
so very much, for he grabbed Marmaduke by the collar with one hand and
swam towards the "Mary Ellen" with the other. The woman threw a rope
over the side; he grasped it with his free hand, and the woman drew
them up--she certainly was strong--and in the shake of a little jiffy
they were standing on board, safe but dripping a thousand little
rivers from their clothes on the deck. The man didn't seem to mind
that a bit, but was quite disturbed to find that his pipe had gone
out.
"Come, Mother," said he to the Round Fat Rosy Woman, "get us some dry
duds and a match."
And quick as a wink she hustled them into the little house which they
called a cabin, and gave Marmaduke a pair of blue overalls and a
little blue jumper which belonged to one of the thirteen children. Of
course, she found the right size, with so many to choose from. His own
clothes, she hung on the line, with all the little pairs of pants and
the skirts, to dry in the breeze.
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