“That’s exactly what I mean. It all goes into character-building.”
CHAPTER XV.
A DAY IN THE NURSERY.
Have I said that George Washington—and, of course, Martha—had accompanied the children to town when they returned home? He became as much an institution at No. 25——Street as at Marbury. He had his apartments in the nursery, and behaved himself very haughtily to the kitchen cat, when the latter was occasionally brought up from the regions below for a visit.
George Washington had grown up to be a big, black, lustrous creature, with emerald eyes, and a bit of white fur under his chin, just like a cravat. The boys called him the bishop for his stateliness. He no longer played with Martha, nor chased her around. Unmolested, she waved proudly over his back in a stately curve.
George Washington was moderately obedient, but went his own way just often enough to assert his perfect independence. He submitted with quiet dignity to the many performances that the children put him through, yet if they went a step too far, he would look at them so severely with his emerald eyes that the mere glance would immediately make them change their minds and pretend they meant something altogether different.
Thursday was Eliza’s afternoon out. On this particular Thursday, Marjorie was left in charge of the nursery. Mamma was obliged to attend some important club meeting, and Eunice and Cricket had gone to see Emily Drayton. It was a damp, drizzling day, so that the little nursery people could not get their usual walk, and they all missed it. Zaidie, particularly, was always very dependent upon the out-of-door exercise, which her vigorous little body needed.
Marjorie, who often took charge of the nursery in Eliza’s off-days, sat reading by the broad window, curled up on the window-seat, while the children played about the room. As they were always used to entertaining themselves, and were usually left, as far as possible, to their own devices, the person in charge only needed to keep a general oversight.
The twins were playing church, which was one of their favourite amusements. George Washington was the minister. He was clad in a doll’s petticoat, fastened about his neck for a surplice, and a black ribbon for a stole. He was sitting up in state behind a pile of books that served for a lectern. He knew his part perfectly, and sat as still as any bishop. By pinching his tail very slightly and carefully, he could be made to mew at the proper moments, without disturbing him much.
Helen played the mother, bringing her child, Zaidie, to church. Zaidie, of course, pretended she was a naughty girl, and talked out loud in service. Kenneth played the father, who was to take Zaidie out of church, when she grew too naughty. It was also his business to pinch George Washington’s tail at the right time,—which was whenever Zaidie gave him orders. Just a little pinch, most carefully given, was all that was required, but now and then Kenneth forgot, and gave too hard a squeeze. When this happened, George Washington turned and slapped at them with his paw, with a very emphatic mew, which plainly meant, “I am quite willing to do my part towards your amusement, but if you take too many liberties, I won’t play.”
On one of these occasions, Zaidie suddenly stopped in the midst of a pretended roar at having her ears boxed by Helen,—very tenderly boxed,—and listened.