We ten

by Barbara Yechton

Such a hammering and dragging about of furniture you never heard; and when every now and then Phil would come out for something or other, Fee would open the door very cautiously, as if afraid somebody'd see something, and shut and lock it with a bang when he re-entered. As you may imagine, our curiosity was excited to the highest pitch to know what we were going to have. Then just before dinner Jack came running in, in a great state of excitement; he had been to rehearsal, and had done so well in the piece he had to sing that Mr. Hawkins had really engaged him, at fifty cents a week, with the promise of more as he improved. Jack was almost wild with delight. "Isn't it fine! Isn't it just jolly! You should have heard me sing; really, it didn't sound bad!" he exclaimed about twenty times; and the knowing looks and nudges and winks that he bestowed on me couldn't be counted. No amount of snubbing could repress him.

It seemed to us as if dinner would never be over; but at last it came to an end, and Jack and I and the younger children flew upstairs and stood waiting for the signal to enter the "banqueting hall." In a few minutes more up came Nora, with Helen and Murray and Hilliard. I was sure Murray and Helen would enjoy the "festive occasion," for they like the things that we do; but I didn't know how that boy would take it. He was very smiling, however; and I heard him tell Nora, as he presented her with a lovely bunch of roses, that it was "very kind of her to allow him to be of the party." Just then the schoolroom doors were thrown open, and the strains of the wedding march from Lohengrin floated sweetly out to us from violin and piano. At the same moment Phil appeared with a paper flower in his buttonhole, and arranged us in couples,—Nora and he going first,—and so we marched into the schoolroom.

I think perhaps I ought to describe the schoolroom to you, for it is playroom, sitting-room, schoolroom, and everything to us. It's on the top floor,—so that our noise sha'n't disturb papa,—and takes in the whole width of the house and half its length, making an immense room. There are some back rooms on this floor, and the large open space on each side of the stairs is what we call the attic. Though almost everything in it is old and shabby, we do have royal times in the schoolroom, for it is our own, and out of study hours we can do there as we please. Here are Phil's banjo and his boxing-gloves, and a lot of what nurse calls his "rubbish"; Fee's easel is in this corner, and a couple of forlorn, dirty old plaster casts which—unless he has a painting-fit on him—generally serve as hat-rests for Phil and himself. Pictures in various stages of completion stand about. Here, too, are Nannie's and Fee's violins, resting against a pile of old music that Max gave them before he went away. In the next corner, the other side of the low, deep-silled windows, hangs Nora's china-shelf, on which are ranged what the boys call her Lares and Penates,—vases and pretty cups and saucers that have been given to her. Here, too, are her plants, conspicuous among which is a graceful fan-leaved palm, known in the family as Lady Jane.

These are the front corners; and between the windows stand our book-shelves,—they are in a clumsy, unsteady old case, that rocks from side to side if you touch it, and is only held together by the wall against which it leans. The shelves are rather short,—now and then a shelf slips off its notches and spills our library,—and they are so narrow that books constantly fall down behind, and lie there until house-cleaning or a sudden desire for one of those volumes brings them all to light, and they are restored to their places.

One of the other—back—corners is mine; and here I have my "gymnasium,"—my Indian clubs and dumb-bells; here, too, are my tennis racket (I love to play!) and two old walking-canes with which (when I can get him to do it) Jack and I fence,—dear me! I wonder if I shall have to give that up too, now that I have given that promise to Nannie! Then comes our sofa: it's an old-fashioned, chintz-covered affair, with a high back and high arms that stick straight out at each end, and it's dreadfully shabby now; but all the same there isn't one of us—except, perhaps, Nora—that would be willing to exchange it for the handsomest piece of furniture that could be offered us. The times we've played house and shipwreck, and gone journeys on it, and romped and pranced all over it, can't be counted! This is Jack's favourite place to sit and read; and under it, concealed from public view by the deep chintz flounce that runs around the front and sides of the sofa, are stored his treasures,—his books and stamp album, a queer-looking boat that he has been building for ages, and a toy steam engine with which he is always experimenting, but which, so far, absolutely refuses to "go."

I have frequently offered to share my corner with Jack, and I couldn't understand why he always refused, until one day I accidentally over-heard him speaking about it to Nannie.

"You see, Nannie, Betty means well," he said, "but she does hit out so with those clubs! I'd be sure to get hurt some time or other; and then, besides, she'd just own my things more than I would myself." Of course this last part isn't really so, for he hasn't a thing that I'd care for; but still he sticks to the sofa.

"THE 'QUEEN OF THE REVELS.'"

Kathie and the twins and Alan have the other corner with their doll's house, a tail-less hobby horse, known both as the "palfrey" and the "charger," and blocks and toys without number. We've a piano in the schoolroom for practising, and in the middle of the floor is a large table, round which we sit in and out of school hours. This table has no cover; it is liberally besprinkled with ink stains, and adorned in many places with our initials, and with circles done in red ink,—goals for feather-top playing,—and pieces have been hacked out of the edges, trying the sharpness of sundry new knives. The old table is not at all ornamental, but we couldn't get on without it, and we older ones have quite an affection for our old Jumbo. Some pictures—three or four of them by Felix—are hung up on the walls. And now you know how our schoolroom looks.