[XIII.]
MR. NUTCRACKER.
And so it came about that Polly began on the morrow, without any more ado, the story of Mr. Nutcracker; for Mother Pepper said that she might sit down as soon as the dishes were washed, and tell it to Joel. So this is it:—
“Mr. Nutcracker,” began Polly in her gayest fashion, “was very high up in the world. In fact, he didn’t like to have anybody above him. So he built his house clear up ever so far above everybody else. Then he was quite satisfied.”
“What kind of a house?” broke in Joel.
“Never mind. You wait till you hear more of the story,” said Polly. “Well, Mrs. Nutcracker liked her house that he built her very much indeed. That is, she would have liked it, but the children, the little Nutcrackers, you see, wouldn’t stay in.”
“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Joel.
“No; they kept jumping out as fast as they could. And those that didn’t jump out, tumbled out.”
“Oh, dear me!” said Joel again.
“Until it was very dreadful,” declared Polly, shaking her brown head; “for it kept poor Mrs. Nutcracker running every minute to the door of her house to try to keep her children in. At last she said to her husband, Mr. Nutcracker, ‘Pa, you surely must build me a house nearer to the ground.’”