第39章 The Twenty-Second of February(1)
Of course,the young ladies and gentlemen had a ball on the evening of that day,but the boys and girls were full of excitement about their "Scenes from the Life of Washington and other brilliant tableaux,"as the programme announced.The Bird Room was the theatre,being very large,with four doors conveniently placed.
Ralph was in his element,putting up a little stage,drilling boys,arranging groups,and uniting in himself carpenter,scene-painter,manager,and gas man.Mrs.Minot permitted the house to be turned topsy-turvy,and Mrs.Pecq flew about,lending a hand everywhere.Jill was costumer,with help from Miss Delano,who did not care for balls,and kindly took charge of the girls.Jack printed tickets,programmes,and placards of the most imposing sort,and the work went gayly on till all was ready.
When the evening came,the Bird Room presented a fine appearance.One end was curtained off with red drapery;and real footlights,with tin shades,gave a truly theatrical air to the little stage.Rows of chairs,filled with mammas and little people,occupied the rest of the space.The hall and Frank's room were full of amused papas,uncles,and old gentlemen whose patriotism brought them out in spite of rheumatism.There was a great rustling of skirts,fluttering of fans,and much lively chat,till a bell rang and the orchestra struck up.
Yes,there really was an orchestra,for Ed declared that the national airs must be played,or the whole thing would be a failure.So he had exerted himself to collect all the musical talent he could find,a horn,a fiddle,and a flute,with drum and fife for the martial scenes.Ed looked more beaming than ever,as he waved his baton and led off with Yankee Doodle as a safe beginning,for everyone knew that.It was fun to see little Johnny Cooper bang away on a big drum,and old Mr.Munson,who had been a flEer all his days,blow till he was as red as a lobster,while everyone kept time to the music which put them all in good spirits for the opening scene.
Up went the curtain and several trees in tubs appeared,then a stately gentleman in small clothes,cocked hat,gray wig,and an imposing cane,came slowly walking in.It was Gus,who had been unanimously chosen not only for Washington but for the f ather of the hero also,that the family traits of long legs and a somewhat massive nose might be preserved.
"Ahem!My trees are doing finely,"observed Mr.W.senior,strolling along with his hands behind him,casting satisfied glances at the dwarf orange,oleander,abutilon,and little pine that represented his orchard.
Suddenly he starts,pauses,frowns,and,after examining the latter shrub,which displayed several hacks in its stem and a broken limb with six red-velvet cherries hanging on it,he gave a thump with his cane that made the little ones jump,and cried out,"Can it have been my son?"He evidently thought it was,for he called,in tones of thunder,"George!George Washington,come hither this moment!"Great suspense on the part of the audience,then a general burst of laughter as Boo trotted in,a perfect miniature of his honored parent,knee breeches,cocked hat,shoe buckles and all.He was so fat that the little tails of his coat stuck out in the drollest way,his chubby legs could hardly carry the big buckles,and the rosy face displayed,when he took his hat off with a dutiful bow,was so solemn,the real George could not have looked more anxious when he gave the immortal answer.
"Sirrah,did you cut that tree?"demanded the papa,with another rap of the cane,and such a frown that poor Boo looked dismayed,till Molly wispered,"Put your hand up,dear."Then he remembered his part,and,putting one finger in his mouth,looked down at his square-toed shoes,the image of a shame-stricken boy.
"My son,do not deceive me.If you have done this deed I shall chastise you,for it is my duty not to spare the rod,lest I spoil the child.But if you lie about it you disgrace the name of Washington forever."This appeal seemed to convulse George with inward agony,for he squirmed most effectively as he drew from his pocket a toy hatchet,which would not have cut a straw,then looking straight up into the awe-inspiring countenance of his parent,he bravely lisped,"Papa,I tannot tell a lie.I'd id tut it with my little hanchet.""Noble boy--come to my arms!I had rather you spoilt all my cherry trees than tell one lie!"cried the delighted gentleman,catching his son in an embrace so close that the fat legs kicked convulsively,and the little coat-tails waved in the breeze,while cane and hatchet fell with a dramatic bang.
The curtain descended on this affccting tableau;but the audience called out both Washingtons,and they came,hand in hand,bowing with the cocked hats pressed to their breasts,the elder smiling blandly,while the younger,still flushed by his exertions,nodded to his friends,asking,with engaging frankness,"Wasn't it nice?"The next was a marine piece,for a boat was seen,surrounded by tumultuous waves of blue cambric,and rowed by a party of stalwart men in regimentals,who with difficulty kept their seats,for the boat was only a painted board,and they sat on boxes or stools behind it.But few marked the rowers,for in their midst,tall,straight,and steadfast as a mast,stood one figure in a cloak,with folded arms,high boots,and,under the turned-up hat,a noble countenance,stern with indomitable courage.A sword glittered at his side,and a banner waved over him,but his eye was fixed on the distant shore,and he was evidently unconscious of the roaring billows,the blocks of ice,the discouragement of his men,or the danger and death that might await him.Napoleon crossing the Alps was not half so sublime,and with one voice the audiencc cried,'Washington crossing the Delaware!"while the band burst forth with,"See,the conquering hero comes!"all out of tune,but bound to play it or die in the attempt.