CHAPTER XXVI.
AN IMPERIAL BIRTHDAY.
The next day was General Napoleon Smith's birthday. Outwardly itlooked much like other days. There were not, as there ought to havebeen, great, golden imperial capital N's all over the sky. Natureindeed was more than usually calm; but, to strike a balance, there wasexcitement enough and to spare in and about the house of WindyStandard. Very early, when it was not yet properly light, but onlysort of misty white along the wet grass and streaky combed-out grey upabove in the sky, Prissy waked Sir Toady Lion, who promptly rolledover to the back of his cot, and stuck his funny head right downbetween the wall and the edge of the wire mattress, so that only hislegs and square sturdy back could be seen.
Toady Lion always preferred to sleep in the most curious positions. Inwinter he usually turned right round in bed till his head was farunder the bed-clothes, and his fat, twinkly, pink toes reposedpeacefully on the pillow. Nothing ever mattered to Toady Lion. Hecould breathe through his feet just as well as through his mouth, and(as we have seen) much better than through his nose. The attention ofprofessors of physiology is called to this fact, which can beestablished upon the amplest evidence and the most unimpeachabletestimony. In summer he generally rolled out of bed during the firsthalf hour, and slept comfortably all the rest of the night on thefloor.
"Get up, Toady Lion," said his sister softly, so as not to waken HughJohn; "it is the birthday."
"Ow don' care!" grumbled Toady Lion, turning over and over three orfour times very fast till he had all the bed-clothes wrapped about himlike a cocoon; "don' care wat it is. I'se goin' to sleep some more.Don't go 'prog' me like that!"
"Come," said Prissy gently, to tempt him; "we are going to give HughJohn a surprise, and sing a lovely hymn at his door. You can have myivory Prayer-book----"
"For keeps?" asked Toady Lion, opening his eyes with his first gleamof interest.
"Oh, no, you know that was mother's, and father gave it to me to takecare of. But you shall have it to hold in your hand while we aresinging."
"Well, then, can I have the picture of the anzel Michael castin' outthe baddy-baddy anzels and hittin' the Bad Black Man O-such-a-whack onthe head?"
Prissy considered. The print was particularly dear to her heart, andshe had spent a happy wet Saturday colouring it. But she did want tomake the birthday hymn a success, and Toady Lion had undeniably a finevoice when he liked to use it--which was not often.
"All right," she said, "you can have my 'Michael and the Bad Angels,'but you are not to spoil it."
"Shan't play then," grumbled Toady Lion, who knew well the strength ofhis position, and was as troublesome as a _prima donna_ when she knowsher manager cannot do without her--"shan't sing, not unless 'Michaeland the Bad Angels' is mine to spoil if I like."
"But you won't--will you, dear Toady Lion?" pleaded Prissy. "You'llkeep it so nice and careful, and then next Saturday, when I have myweek's money and you are poor, I'll buy it off you again."
"Shan't promise," said the Obstinate Brat--as Janet, happily inspired,had once called him after being worsted in an argument, "p'rhaps yes,and p'rhaps no."
"Come on then, Toady Lion," whispered Prissy, giving him a hand anddeciding to trust to luck for the preservation of her precious print.Toady Lion was often much better than his word, and she knew fromexperience that by Saturday his financial embarrassments wouldcertainly be such that no reasonable offer was likely to be refused.
Toady Lion rose, and taking his sister's hand they went into her room,carefully shutting the door after them. Here Prissy proceeded toequip Toady Lion in one of her own "nighties," very much against thatchorister's will.
"You see, pink flannel pyjams are not proper to sing in church in,"she whispered: "now--you must hold your hymn-book so, and look up atthe roof when you sing--like the 'Child Samuel' on the nursery wall."
"Mine eyes don't goggle like his," said Toady Lion, who felt thatNature had not designed him for the part, and who was sleepy and crossanyway. Birthdays were no good--except his own.
It happened that Janet Sheepshanks was going downstairs early to setthe maids to their morning work, and this is what she saw. At theclosed door of Hugh John's chamber stood two quaint little figures,clad in lawny white, one tall and slim, the other short and chubby asa painted cherub on a ceiling. They had each white hymn-booksreverently placed between their hands. Their eyes were raisedheavenwards and their lips were red and parted with excitement.
The stern Scotswoman felt something suddenly strike her heart.
"Eh, sir," she said, telling the tale afterwards, "the lassiePriscilla was sae like her mither, my puir bairn that is noo singingpsalms wi' the angels o' God, that I declare, my verra heart stoodstill, for I thocht that she had come back for yin o' the bairns. And,oh! I couldna pairt wi' ony o' them noo. It wad fairly break my heart.And there the twa young things stood at the door, but when they beganto sing, I declare I juist slippit awa' doon to the closet and graton the tap o' a cask o' paraffeen!"
And this is what Janet Sheepshanks heard them sing. It was not perhapsvery appropriate, but it was one of the only two hymns of which ToadyLion knew the words; and I think even Mr. Charles Wesley, who wroteit, would not have objected if he had seen the angelic devotion onPrissy's face or the fraudulent cherub innocence shining from that ofSir Toady Lion.
"Now, mind, your eyes on the crack of the door above," whisperedPrissy; "and when I count three under my breath--sing out for yourvery life."
Toady Lion nodded.
"One--two--three!" counted Prissy.
"_Hark! the herald angels sing, Glory to the new-born King, Peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled._"
"What is 'weconciled'?" asked Toady Lion, who must always asksomething on principle.
"Oh, never mind now," whispered Prissy hastily; "keep your eyes on thetop crack of the door and open your mouth wide."
"Don't know no more!" said Toady Lion obstinately.
"Oh yes, you do," said Prissy, almost in tears; "go on. Sing _La-La_,if you don't, and we'll soon be at the chorus, and you know thatanyway!"
Then the voice of Prissy escaped, soaring aloft in the early gloom,and if any human music can, reaching the Seventh Sphere itself, where,amid the harmonies of the universe, the Eternal Ear hearkens for thenote of sinful human praise.
The sweet shrill pipe of Toady Lion accompanied her like a heavenlylute of infinite sweetness. It was at this point that Janet made offin the direction of the paraffin barrel.
"_Joyful all ye nations rise, Join the triumph of the skies: Universal nature, say, 'Christ the Lord is risen to-day!'_"
The door opened, and the head of Hugh John appeared, his hair all onend and his pyjama jacket open at the neck. He was hitching up theother division of the suit with one hand.
"'Tain't Christmas, what's the horrid row? Shut it!" growled hesleepily. Prissy made him the impatient sign of silence so wellunderstood of children, and which means that the proceedings are notto be interrupted.
"Your birthday, silly!" she said; "chorus now!" And Hugh John himself,who knew the value of discipline, lined up and opened his mouth in theloud rejoicing refrain:--
"_Hark! the herald angels sing, Glory to the newborn King!_"
A slight noise behind made them turn round, and there the childrenbeheld with indignation the whole body of the servants groupedtogether on the landing, most of them with their handkerchiefs totheir eyes; while Jane Housemaid who had none, was sobbingundisguisedly with the tears rolling down her cheeks, and vainlyendeavouring to express her opinion that "it was just beautiful--theywas for all the world like little angels a-praisin' God, and--_a-hoo!_I can't help it, no more I can't! And their mother never to see themgrowed up--her bein' in her grave, the blessed lamb!"
"_I_ don't see nuffin to kye for," said Toady Lion unsympathetically,trying to find pockets in Prissy's night-gown; "it was a nicesing-song!"
At this moment Janet Sheepshanks came on the scene.
She had beencrying more than anybody, but you would never have guessed it. Andnow, perhaps ashamed of her own emotion, she pretended great scandaland indignation at the unseemly and irregular spectacle, and drove theservants below to their morning tasks, being specially severe withJane Housemaid, who, for some occult reason, found it as difficult tostop crying as it had been easy to begin--so that, as Hugh John said,"it was as good as a watering-can, and useful too, for it laid thedust on Jane's carpets ready for sweeping, ever so much better thantea-leaves."