CHAPTER III.
PUMPKIN HOUSE.
When Mrs. Grahame and Hildegarde went to call on their newneighbours, two days after the meeting in the garden, they foundthem already entirely at home, the house looking as if they hadalways lived in it. The furniture was plain, and showed marks ofhard usage; but there were plenty of pictures, and the right kindof pictures, as Hildegarde said to herself, with satisfaction; andthere were books,--books everywhere. In the wide, sunny sitting-room, into which they were ushered by a pleasant-faced maid, lowbookcases ran all round the walls, and were not only filled, butheaped with books, the volumes lying in piles along the top. Thecentre-table was a magazine-stand, where Saint Nicholas and TheCentury, The Forum and The Scientific American jostled each otherin friendly rivalry. Mrs. Merryweather sat in a low chair, withher lap full of books, and had some difficulty in rising toreceive her visitors. Her hearty welcome assured them that theyhad not come a day too soon, as Mrs. Grahame feared.
"My dear lady, no! I am charmed to see you. Bell has had suchpleasure in making friends with your daughter. Miss Grahame, I amdelighted to see you!" and Mrs. Merryweather held out what shethought was her hand, but Hildegarde shook instead a small moroccovolume, and was well content when she saw that it was the "GoldenTreasury."
"Bell has had such pleasure that I have been most anxious to shareit, and to know you and your daughter. Shall we be neighbourly? Iam the most unceremonious person in the world. Dear me! isn'tthere a chair without books on it? Here, my dear Mrs. Grahame, sitdown here, pray! It is Dr. Johnson himself who makes room for you,and you must excuse the great man for being slow in hismovements."
With a merry smile, she offered the chair from which she had justremoved a huge folio dictionary. Hildegarde found an ottoman whichshe could easily share with a volume of Punch, and Mrs.Merryweather beamed at them over her spectacles, and said againthat she was delighted to see them.
"We are getting the books to rights gradually," she said, "but ittakes time, as you see. I have to do this myself, with Bell'shelp. She will be down in a moment, my dear. We have establishedan overflow bookcase in a cupboard upstairs, and she has just goneup with a load. Ah! here she is. Bell, my dear, Mrs. and MissGrahame. So kind of them to come and see us!"
Bell shook hands warmly, her frank, pleasant face shining withgood-will. "I am so glad to see you!" she cried, sitting down byHildegarde on a pile of Punches. "I hoped you would come to-day,even if the books are not in order yet. They are so dear, thebooks; they are part of the family, and we want to be sure thatthey have places they like. I suppose Punch ought by rights to gowith people of his own sort--if there is anybody!--but one wantshim close at hand, don't you think so? where one can take him upany time,--when it rains, or when things bother one. Do youremember that Leech picture?" and they babbled of Punch, theirbeloved, for ten minutes, and liked each other better at every oneof the ten.
"Bell, I want Mrs. and Miss Grahame to see our other children,"said Mrs. Merryweather, presently. "Where is Toots, and where arethe boys?"
"Toots is upstairs, poor lamb!" Bell replied. "When Mary came totell me of our visitors' arrival I was just putting away Sibbes's'Soul's Conflict,' and various other dreadful persons whom youwould not let me burn; so I dumped them in Toots's arms, and ranoff and left her. Being a ''bedient old soul,' she is probablystanding just where I left her. I will go--"
But at this moment Toots appeared,--a girl of fifteen, tall, shyand blushing, and was introduced as "my daughter Gertrude." Sheconfessed, on interrogation, that she had dropped Sibbes's "Soul'sConflict" out of the window, and was on her way to pick it up.
"Why didn't you drop it down the well?" asked her sister. "It isso dry, I am sure a wetting would do it good!"
"Sit down, my dear!" said Mrs. Merryweather, comfortably. "One ofthe boys is sure to be about, and will bring in the book. SibbesIS a little dry, Bell, but very sound writing, much sounder than agood deal of the controversial writing of--bless me! what's that?"
Something resembling a human wheel had revolved swiftly past thewindow, emitting unearthly cries.
Hildegarde blushed and hesitated. "I--I think it was your brotherObadiah," she said to Bell.
The latter stared, open-eyed. "My brother Obadiah?" she repeated."How did you know--I beg your pardon! but why do you say Obadiah?"
Hildegarde glanced at her mother, who was laughing openly. "Youwill have to make full confession, Hilda," she said. "I do notthink Mrs. Merryweather will be very severe with you."
"It is a dreadful thing to confess," said Hildegarde, laughing andblushing. "I--to tell the truth, I happened to be walking in ourgarden, on the other side of the tall hedge, just when you droveup, the other day; and--there is a most convenient little peep-hole, and I wanted to see our new neighbours, and--and--I peeped!Are you much shocked, Mrs. Merryweather? I heard several names,--Bell, and Toots, and--I--I heard the handsome red-haired boycalled Obadiah."
The Merryweathers laughed merrily, and Mrs. Merryweather was aboutto speak, when a voice was heard in the hall, chanting in asingular, nasal key,--
"Dropsy dropped a book, And she's going to be shook! Dropsy dropped a volume, Which makes her very solume!"
The door was pushed open, and the handsome red-haired boy entered,walking on his hands, holding aloft between his feet the missing"Soul's Conflict."
"My son Gerald," said Mrs. Merryweather, with a wicked smile."Gerald, my love, Mrs. and Miss Grahame."
If Hildegarde was crimson (and she undoubtedly was), GeraldMerryweather was brilliant scarlet when he rose to his feet andsaluted the strangers; but he was also atwinkle with laughter, thewhole lithe, graceful body of him seeming to radiate fun. Oneglance at Bell, another at Hildegarde, and the whole party brokeinto peal on peal of merriment.
"How do you do?" said Scarlet to Crimson, holding out a strongbrown hand, and gripping hers cordially. "Awfully glad! Pleaseexcuse me, Mrs. Grahame, for coming in like that. I thought therewas no one here but the mother, and she is as used to one end ofme as the other."
"So you are Gerald, and not Obadiah." said Mrs. Grahame. "Icongratulate you on the prettier name."
"Oh, Ferguson calls me Obadiah!" said Gerald, laughing again."He's the other of me, you know. Beg pardon! you don't know,perhaps. We are twins, Ferguson and I."
"And Ferguson, my dear Mrs. Grahame," interposed Mrs.Merryweather, "is my son Philip. Why these boys cannot call eachother by their rightful names is a family mystery; but so it is."
"Is your brother Fer--Philip like you?" asked Hildegarde, feelingsure that he was not, as the other boy she had seen certainly hadnot red hair.
"Not a bit!" replied Gerald, cheerfully. "No resemblance, Ibelieve. 'Beauty and the Beast' we call each other, too. SometimesI am Beauty, and more times I am the Beast; depends on which hashad his hair cut last."
"Or brushed," said Bell, glancing at the curly hair, which wascertainly in rather a wild condition.
"Oh, yes! beg pardon!" said Gerald, glancing ruefully at themirror, and running his hand through his curly mop.
"Beast this time, and no mistake. Grass rather long, you see, andtore my locks of gold. Happy thought! Desiring to tear your hairin sorrow, walk on hands through long grass; effect admirable.Wonder Hamlet never tried it!"
"Hamlet's hair was black," said Toots, seriously.
"And therefore he could not walk on his hands," said Gerald. "Isee! Dropsy, you are a genius; that's the trouble with you."
A long gray leg appeared at the open window, and after wavingwildly for a moment, disappeared suddenly.
"Ferguson!" said Gerald, turning to Hildegarde. "His mountain way!Becoming aware of your presence, he has retired, to reverse legs,and will shortly reappear, fondly hoping that you did not see himbefore."
Sure enough, in a few moments another tall boy entered, lookingpreternaturally grave, with his hair scrupulously smooth.
"Been upstairs, you see," said the irrepressible Gerald, "andslicked himself all up. Quite the Be
auty, Fergs."
"Gerald, do be quiet!" said Mrs. Merryweather. "This is Philip, myother twin boy, Mrs. Grahame."
Philip greeted Hildegarde and her mother with grave courtesy,taking no notice of his brother's gibes.
"You find us in a good deal of confusion," he said to Hildegarde,sitting down on a table, the only available seat. "It takes a longtime to get settled, don't you think so?"
"Oh--yes!" said Hildegarde, struggling for composure, andconscious of Gerald's eyes fixed intently on her. "But you alllook so home-like and comfortable here."
"Especially Ferguson!" broke in Gerald, sotto voce. "Howcomfortable he looks, doesn't he, Miss Grahame? No use, Fergs! Wemarked your little footprints in the air, my son."
"Oh!" said Philip, looking much discomposed. "Well, I'll punchyour head, Obe, anyhow."
"Suppose we come out and look at the tennis-court," said Bell. "Iam sure you play tennis, Miss Grahame."
"Indeed I do," said Hildegarde, heartily. "I have often lookedlongingly at that nice smooth lawn, and I hoped you were going tolay it out for a court."
"Phil," said Gertrude aside to her brother, who was still blushingand uncomfortable, "you needn't mind a bit. Jerry came in walkingon his hands, right into the room, before he saw them at all; andthey are so nice, they didn't care; they liked it."
"Did they?" said Phil, also in a whisper. "Well, that's somecomfort; but I'll punch his head for him, all the same."
And Gerald cried aloud,--
"Away, away to the mountain's brow, For Ferguson glares like anangry cow. He'll punch my head, and kill me dead, Before I havetime to say 'Bow-wow.'"
And the five young people went off laughing to the tennis-court.