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_ A picnic supper on the grass followed the games,
and then, as twilight began to fall, the young
people were marshalled to the coach-house,
now transformed into a rustic theatre. One big door
was open, and seats, arranged lengthwise, faced the
red table-cloths which formed the curtain. A row of
lamps made very good foot-lights, and an invisible
band performed a Wagner-like overture on combs,
tin trumpets, drums, and pipes, with an accompaniment
of suppressed laughter.
Many of the children had never seen any thing like
it, and sat staring about them in mute admiration and
expectancy; but the older ones criticised freely, and
indulged in wild speculations as to the meaning of
various convulsions of nature going on behind the
curtain.
While Teacher was dressing the actresses for the
tragedy, Miss Celia and Thorny, who were old hands
at this sort of amusement, gave a "Potato" pantomime
as a side show.
Across an empty stall a green cloth was fastened,
so high that the heads of the operators were not seen.
A little curtain flew up, disclosing the front of a
Chinese pagoda painted on pasteboard, with a door
and window which opened quite naturally. This stood
on one side, several green trees with paper lanterns
hanging from the boughs were on the other side, and
the words "Tea Garden," printed over the top, showed
the nature of this charming spot.
Few of the children had ever seen the immortal
Punch and Judy, so this was a most agreeable novelty,
and before they could make out what it meant, a
voice began to sing, so distinctly that every word was
heard, --
"In China there lived a little man,
His name was Chingery Wangery Chan."
Here the hero "took the stage" with great dignity,
clad in a loose yellow jacket over a blue skirt, which
concealed the hand that made his body. A pointed
hat adorned his head, and on removing this to bow
he disclosed a bald pate with a black queue in the
middle, and a Chinese face nicely painted on the
potato, the lower part of which was hollowed out to
fit Thorny's first finger, while his thumb and second
finger were in the sleeves of the yellow jacket, making
a lively pair of arms. While he saluted, the song
went n, --
"His legs were short, his feet were small,
And this little man could not walk at all."
Which assertion was proved to be false by the agility
with which the "little man " danced a jig in time
to the rollicking chorus, --
"Chingery changery ri co day,
Ekel tekel happy man;
Uron odesko canty oh, oh,
Gallopy wallopy China go."
At the close of the dance and chorus, Chan retired
into the tea garden, and drank so many cups of the
national beverage, with such comic gestures, that the
spectators were almost sorry when the opening of
the opposite window drew all eyes in that direction.
At the lattice appeared a lovely being; for this potato
had been pared, and on the white surface were painted
pretty pink checks, red lips, black eyes, and oblique
brows; through the tuft of dark silk on the head
were stuck several glittering pins, and a pink jacket
shrouded the plump figure of this capital little Chinese
lady. After peeping coyly out, so that all could
see and admire, she fell to counting the money from
a purse, so large her small hands could hardly hold it
on the window seat. While she did this, the song
went on to explain, --
"Miss Ki Hi was short and squat,
She had money and he had not
So off to her he resolved to go,
And play her a tune on his little banjo."
During the chorus to this verse Chan was seen tuning
his instrument in the garden, and at the end
sallied gallantly forth to sing the following tender
strain, --
"Whang fun li,
Tang hua ki,
Hong Kong do ra me!
Ah sin lo,
Pan to fo,
Tsing up chin leute!"
Carried away by his passion, Chan dropped his
banjo, fell upon his knees, and, clasping his hands,
bowed his forehead in the dust before his idol. But,
alas! --
"Miss Ki Hi heard his notes of love,
And held her wash-bowl up above
It fell upon the little man,
And this was the end of Chingery Chan,"
Indeed it was; for, as the doll's basin of real water
was cast forth by the cruel charmer, poor Chan expired
in such strong convulsions that his head rolled
down among the audience. Miss Ki Hi peeped to
see what had become of her victim, and the shutter
decapitated her likewise, to the great delight of the
children, who passed around the heads, pronouncing
a "Potato" pantomime "first-rate fun."
Then they settled themselves for the show, having
been assured by Manager Thorny that they were about
to behold the most elegant and varied combination
ever produced on any stage. And when one reads
the following very inadequate description of the
somewhat mixed entertainment, it is impossible to deny
that the promise made was nobly kept.
After some delay and several crashes behind the
curtain, which mightily amused the audience, the
performance began with the well-known tragedy of
"Bluebeard;" for Bab had set her heart upon it,
and the young folks had acted it so often in their
plays that it was very easy to get up, with a few
extra touches to scenery and costumes. Thorny was
superb as the tyrant with a beard of bright blue worsted,
a slouched hat and long feather, fur cloak, red
hose, rubber boots, and a real sword which clanked
tragically as he walked. He spoke in such a deep
voice, knit his corked eye-brows, and glared so
frightfully, that it was no wonder poor Fatima quaked
before him as he gave into her keeping an immense
bunch of keys with one particularly big, bright one,
among them.
Bab was fine to see, with Miss Celia's blue dress
sweeping behind her, a white plume in her flowing
hair, and a real necklace with a pearl locket about her
neck. She did her part capitally, especially the shriek
she gave when she looked into the fatal closet, the
energy with which she scrubbed the tell-tale key,
and her distracted tone when she callcd out: "Sister
Anne, O, sister Anne, do you see anybody coming?"
while her enraged husband was roaring: "Will you
come down, madam, or shall I come and fetch
you?"
Betty made a captivating Anne, -- all in white muslin,
and a hat full of such lovely pink roses that she
could not help putting up one hand to feel them as
she stood on the steps looking out at the little window
for the approaching brothers who made such a din
that it sounded like a dozen horsemen instead if two.
Ben and Billy were got up regardless of expense in
the way of arms; for their belts were perfect arsenals,
and their wooden swoids were big enough to strike
terror into any soul, though they struck no sparks out
of Bluebeard's blade in the awful combat which preceded
the villain's downfall and death.
The boys enjoyed this part intensely, and cries of
"Go it, Ben!" " Hit him again, Billy!" "Two against
one isn't fair!" "Thorny's a match for 'em." " Now
he's down, hurray!" cheered on the combatants, till,
after a terrific struggle, the tyrant fell, and with
convulsive twitchings of the scarlet legs, slowly expired
while the ladies sociably fainted in each other's arms,
and the brothers waved their swords and shook hands
over the corpse of their enemy.
This piece was rapturously applauded, and all the
performers had to appear and bow their thanks, led
by the defunct Bluebeard, who mildly warned the
excited audience that if they "didn't look out the seats
would break down, and then there'd be a nice mess."
Calmed by this fear they composed themselves, and
waited with ardor for the next play, which promised to
be a lively one, judging from the shrieks of laughter
which came from behind the cuitain.
"Sanch 's going to be in it, I know; for I heard
Ben say, 'Hold him still; he won't bite,'" whispered
Sam, longing to "jounce up and down, so great was
his satisfaction at the prospect, for the dog was
considered the star of the company.
"I hope Bab will do something else, she is so funny.
Wasn't her dress elegant?" said Sally Folsum, burning
to wear a long wilk gown and a feathei in her hair.
"I like Betty best, she's so cunning, and she peeked
out of the window just as if she really saw somebody
coming," answered Liddy Peckham, privately resolving
to tease mother for some pink roses before another
Sunday came.
Up went the curtain at last, and a voice announced
"A Tragedy in Three Tableaux." "There's Betty!"
was the general exclamation, as the audience recognized
a familiar face under the little red hood worn by
the child who stood receiving a basket from Teacher,
who made a nice mother with her finger up, as if
telling the small messenger not to loiter by the way.
"I know what that is!" cried Sally; "it's 'Mabel
on Midsummer Day.' The piece Miss Celia spoke;
don't you know?"
"There isn't any sick baby, and Mabel had a 'kerchief
pinned about her head.' I say it's Red Riding
Hood," answered Liddy, who had begun to learn
Mary Howitt's pretty poem for her next piece, and
knew all about it.
The question was settled by the appearance of the
wolf in the second scene, and such a wolf! On few
amateur stages do we find so natural an actor for that
part, or so good a costume, for Sanch was irresistibly
droll in the gray wolf-skin which usually lay beside
Miss Celia's bed, now fitted over his back and fastened
neatly down underneath, with his own face
peeping out at one end, and the handsome tail bobing
gayly at the other. What a comfort that tail was
to Sancho, none but a bereaved bow-wow could ever
tell. It reconciled him to his distasteful part at once,
it made rehearsals a joy, and even before the public
he could not resist turning to catch a glimpse of the
noble appendage, while his own brief member wagged
with the proud consciousness that though the tail did
not match the head, it was long enough to be seen of
all men and dogs.
That was a pretty picture, for the little maid came
walking in with the basket on her arm, and such an
innocent face inside the bright hood that it was quite
natural the gray wolf should trot up to her with
deceitful friendliness, that she should pat and talk
to him confidingly about the butter for grandma, and
then that they should walk away together, he politely
carrying her basket, she with her hand on his head,
little dreaming what evil plans were taking shape
inside.
The children encored that, but there was no time
to repeat it, so they listened to more stifled merriment
behind the red table-cloths, and wondered
whether the next scene would be the wolf popping his
head out ofthe window as Red Riding Hood knocks,
or the tragic end of that sweet child.
It was neither, for a nice bed had been made, and
in it reposed the false grandmother, with a ruffled
nightcap on, a white gown, and spectacles. Betty
lay beside the wolf, staring at him as if just about to
say, "Why, grandma, what great teeth you've got!"
for Sancho's mouth was half open and a red tongue
hung out, as he panted with the exertion of keeping
still. This tableau was so very good, and yet so
funny, that the children clapped and shouted frantically;
this excited the dog, who gave a bounce and
would have leaped off the bed to bark at the rioters,
if Betty had not caught him by the legs, and Thorny
dropped the curtain just at the moment when the
wicked wolf was apparently in the act of devouring
the poor little girl, with most effuctive growls.
They had to come out then, and did so, both much
dishevelled by the late tussle, for Sancho's cap was all
over one eye, and Betty's hood was anywhere but on
her head. She made her courtesy prettily, however;
her fellow-actor bowed with as much dignity as a short
night-gown permitted, and they retired to their well-
earned repose.
Then Thorny, looking much excited, appeared to
make the following request: "As one of the actors in
the next piece is new to the business, the company
must all keep as still as mice, and not stir till I give
the word. It's perfectly splendid! so don't you spoil
it by making a row."
"What do you suppose it is?" asked every one, and
listened with all their might to get a hint, if possible.
But what they heard only whetted their curiosity and
mystified them more and more. Bab's voice cried in
a loud whisper, "Isn't Ben beautiful?" Then there
was a thumping noise, and Miss Celia said, in an
anxious tone, "Oh, do be careful," while Ben laughed
out as if he was too happy to care who heard him,
and Thorny bawled "Whoa!" in a way which would
have attracted attention if Lita's head had not
popped out of her box, more than once, to survey
the invaders of her abode, with a much astonished
expression.
"Sounds kind of circusy, don't it?" said Sam to
Billy, who had come out to receive the compliments
of the company and enjoy the tableau at a safe
distance.
"You just wait till you see what's coming. It beats
any circus I ever saw," answered Billy, rubbing his
hands with the air of a man who had seen many instead
of but one.
"Ready! Be quick and get out of the way when
she goes off!" whispered Ben, but they heard him and
prepared for pistols, rockets or combustibles of some
sort, as ships were impossible under the circumstances,
and no other "She" occurred to them.
A unanimous "O-o-o-o !" was heard when the curtain
rose, but a stern "Hush!" from Thorny kept
them mutely staring with all their eyes at the grand
spectacle of the evening. There stood Lita with a
wide flat saddle on her back, a white head-stall and
reins, blue rosettes in her ears, and the look of a
much-bewildered beast in her bright eyes. But who the
gauzy, spangled, winged creature was, with a gilt
crown on its head, a little bow in its hand, and one white
slipper in the air, while the other seemed merely to
touch the saddle, no one could tell for a minute, so
strange and splendid did the apparition appear. No
wonder Ben was not recognized in this brilliant
disguise, which was more natural to him than Billy's blue
flannel or Thorny's respectable garments. He had so
begged to be allowed to show himself "just once," as
he used to be in the days when "father" tossed him
up on the bare-backed old General, for hundreds to
see and admire, that Miss Celia had consented, much
against her will, and hastily arranged some bits of
spangled tarlatan over the white cotton suit which was to
simulate the regulation tights. Her old dancing slippers
fitted, and gold paper did the rest, while Ben,
sure of his power over Lita, promised not to break
his bones, and lived for days on the thought of the
moment when he could show the boys that he had not
boasted vainly of past splendors.
Before the delighted children could get their breath,
Lita gave signs of her dislike to the foot-lights, and,
gathering up the reins that lay on her neck, Ben gave
the old cry, "Houp-la!" and let her go, as he had
often done before, straight out of the coach-house for
a gallop round the orchard.
"Just turn about and you can see perfectly well,
but stay where you are till he comes back," commanded
Thorny, as signs of commotion appeared in
the excited audience.
Round went the twenty children as if turned by
one crank, and sitting there they looked out into the
moonlight where the shining figure flashed to and fro,
now so near they could see the smiling face under
the crown, now so far away that it glittered like a
fire-fly among the dusky green. Lita enjoyed that
race as heartily as she had done several others of late,
and caracoled about as if anxious to make up for her
lack of skill by speed and obedience. How much
Ben liked it there is no need to tell, yet it was a
proof of the good which three months of a quiet, useful
life had done him, that even as he pranced gayly
under the boughs thick with the red and yellow apples
almost ready to be gathered, he found this riding in
the fresh air with only his mates for an audience
pleasanter than the crowded tent, the tired horses,
profane men, and painted women, friendly as some of
them had been to him.
After the first burst was over, he felt rather glad, on
the whole, that he was going back to plain clothes,
helpful school, and kindly people, who cared more to
have him a good boy than the most famous Cupid that
ever stood on one leg with a fast horse under him.
"You may make as much noise as you like, now;
Lita's had her run and will be as quiet as a lamb after
it. Pull up, Ben, and come in; sister says you'll get
cold," shouted Thorny, as the rider came cantering
round after a leap over the lodge gate and back
again.
So Ben pulled up, and the admiring boys and girls
were allowed to gather about him, loud in their
praises as they examined the pretty mare and the
mythological character who lay easily on her back.
He looked very little like the god of love now; for
he had lost one slipper and splashed his white legs
with dew and dust, the crown had slipped down upon
his neck, and the paper wings hung in an apple-tree
where he had left them as he went by. No trouble
in recognizing Ben, now; but somehow he didn't
want to be seen, and, instead of staying to be praised,
he soon slipped away, making Lita his excuse to
vanish behind the curtain while the rest went into the
house to have a finishing-off game of blindman's-buff
in the big kitchen.
"Well, Ben, are you satisfied?" asked Miss Celia,
as she stayed a moment to unpin the remains of his
gauzy scarf and tunic.
"Yes, 'm, thank you, it was tip-top."
"But you look rather sober. Are you tired, or is
it because vou don't want to take these trappings off
and be plain Ben again?" she said, looking down
into his face as he lifted it for her to free him from
his gilded collar.
"I want to take 'em off; for somehow I don't feel
respectable," and he kicked away the crown he had
helped to make so carefully, adding with a glance
that said more than his words: "I'd rather be 'plain
Ben' than any one else, for you like to have me."
"Indeed I do; and I'm so glad to hear you say
that, because I was afraid you'd long to be off to the
old ways, and all I've tred to do would be undone.
Would you like to go back, Ben?" and Miss Celia
held his chin an instant, to watch the brown face that
looked so honestly back at her.
"No, I wouldn't -- unless -- he was there and
wanted me."
The chin quivered just a bit, but the black eyes
were as bright as ever, and the boy's voice so earnest,
she knew he spoke the truth, and laid her white hand
softly on his head, as she answered in the tone he
loved so much, because no one else had ever used it
to him, --
"Father is not there; but I know he wants you,
dear, and I am sure he would rather see you in a
home like this than in the place you came from. Now
go and dress; but, tell me first, has it been a happy
birthday?"
"Oh, Miss Celia! I didn't know they could be so
beautiful, and this is the beautifulest part of it;
I don't know how to thank you, but I'm going to try --" and,
finding words wouldn't come fast enough, Ben just
put his two arms round her, quite speechless with
gratitude; then, as if ashamed of his little outburst,
he knelt down in a great hurry to untie his one shoe.
But Miss Celia liked his answer better than the
finest speech ever made her, and went away through
the moonlight, saying to herself, --
"If I can bring one lost lamb into the fold, I shall
be the fitter for a shepherd's wife, by-and-by." _
Read next: CHAPTER XXII. A BOY'S BARGAIN
Read previous: CHAPTER XX. BEN'S BIRTHDAY
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