Alas! it was even so. Maud had poked the beautiful blue glass eyes till they fell in, and only empty sockets were hidden by the green ribbon. There was a great outcry, of course; but it did not disturb Maud in the least. She wanted a blind doll, and she had one; and no pet could be more carefully tended than was poor blind Polly.
More precious than any doll could be, rises in my memory the majestic form of Pistachio. It was Flossy, ever fertile in invention, who discovered the true worth of Pistachio, and taught us to regard with awe and reverence this object of her affection. Pistachio was an oval mahogany footstool, covered with green cloth of the color of the nut whose name he bore. I have the impression that he had lost a leg, but am not positive on this point. He was considered an invalid, and every morning he was put in the baby-carriage and taken in solemn procession down to the brook for his morning bath. One child held a parasol over his sacred head (only he had no head!), two more propelled the carriage, while the other two went before as outriders. No mirth was allowed on this occasion, the solemnity of which was deeply impressed on us. Arrived at the brook, Pistachio was lifted from the carriage by his chief officer, Flossy herself, and set carefully down on the flat stone beside the brook. His sacred legs were dipped one by one into the clear water, and dried with a towel. Happy was the child who was allowed to perform this function! After the bath, he was walked gently up and down, and rubbed, to assist the circulation; then he was put back in his carriage, and the procession started for home again, with the same gravity and decorum as before. The younger children felt sure there was some mystery about Pistachio. I cannot feel sure, even now, that he was nothing more than an ordinary oval cricket; but his secret, whatever it was, has perished with him.
I perceive that I have said little or nothing thus far about Harry; yet he was a very important member of the family. The only boy: and such a boy! He was by nature a Very Imp, such as has been described by Mr. Stockton in one of his delightful stories. Not two years old was he when he began to pull the tails of all the little dogs he met,—a habit which he long maintained. The love of mischief was deeply rooted in him. It was not safe to put him in the closet for misbehavior; for he cut off the pockets of the dresses hanging there, and snipped the fringe off his teacher’s best shawl. Yet he was a sweet and affectionate child, with a tender heart and sensitive withal. When about four years old, he had the habit of summoning our father to breakfast; and, not being able to say the word, would announce, “Brescott is ready!” This excited mirth among the other children, which he never could endure; accordingly, one morning he appeared at the door of the dressing-room and said solemnly, “Papa, your food is prepared!”
It is recorded of this child that he went once to pay a visit to some dear relatives, and kept them in a fever of anxiety until he was taken home again. One day it was his little cousin’s rocking-horse, which disappeared from the nursery, and shortly after was seen airing itself on the top of the chimney, kicking its heels in the sunshine, and appearing to enjoy its outing. Another time it was down the chimney that the stream of mischief took its way; and a dear and venerable visitor (no other than Dr. Coggeshall, of Astor Library fame), sitting before the fire in the twilight, was amazed by a sudden shower of boots tumbling down, one after another, into the ashes, whence he conscientiously rescued them with the tongs, at peril of receiving some on his good white head.
Such boots and shoes as escaped this fiery ordeal were tacked by Master Harry to the floor of the closets in the various rooms; and while he was in the closet, what could be easier or pleasanter than to cut off the pockets of the dresses hanging there? Altogether, Egypt was glad when Harry departed; and I do not think he made many more visits away from home, till he had outgrown the days of childhood.
At the age of six, Harry determined to marry, and offered his hand and heart to Mary, the nurse, an excellent woman some thirty years older than he. He sternly forbade her to sew or do other nursery work, saying that his wife must not work for her living. About this time, too, he told our mother that he thought he felt his beard growing.
He was just two years older than Laura, and the tie between them was very close. Laura’s first question to a stranger was always, “Does you know my bulla Hally? I hope you does!” and she was truly sorry for any one who had not that privilege.
The two children slept in tiny rooms adjoining each other. It was both easy and pleasant to “talk across” while lying in bed, when they were supposed to be sound asleep. Neither liked to give up the last word of greeting, and they would sometimes say “Good-night!” “Good-night!” over and over, backward and forward, for ten minutes together. In general, Harry was very kind to Laura, playing with her, and protecting her from any roughness of neighbor children. (They said “bunnit” and “apurn,” and “I wunt;” and we were fond of correcting them, which they not brooking, quarrels were apt to ensue.) But truth compels me to tell of one occasion on which Harry did not show a brotherly spirit. In the garden, under a great birch-tree, stood a trough for watering the horses. It was a large and deep trough, and always full of beautiful, clear water. It was pleasant to lean over the edge, and see the sky and the leaves of the tree reflected as if in a crystal mirror; to see one’s own rosy, freckled face, too, and make other faces; to see which could open eyes or mouth widest.
Now one day, as little Laura, being perhaps four years old, was hanging over the edge of the trough, forgetful of all save the delight of gazing, it chanced that Harry came up behind her; and the spirit of mischief that was always in him triumphed over brotherly affection, and he
“Ups with her heels,
And smothers her squeals”