Chapter XIX: Another Surprise

IT was the next day at noon, or a trifle before, that the boxes arrived. The same good-natured men who had loaded down the parlour with furniture, appeared again, and one of them told Karl with a laugh, "he reckoned he must have found out by this time that Miss Christie Tucker lived here, for she seemed to have a good many things coming to her, off and on."

But Karl was so amazed at the size of one of the boxes that he had no answer ready for this hint at his former bewilderment. He stood dumb with astonishment, while the two men and the two helpers that they had brought with them, tugged and groaned, and with the greatest difficulty lifted their burden.

"I don't know whether it is a meetin'-house or a new school-house," declared one, "but it seems to me it is rather heavy for either."

The Tucker family were all at home, and had as much as they could do to keep out of the way of the men, and to wonder what the thing could be, and where it was to go, and whether, after all, there wasn't some mistake.

Don't expect me to go over in detail all the excitements of the hours that followed. Mother Tucker said afterwards, that she was sure she should go crazy if she had another day like it in her life; and it might have a bad effect on her to hear all about it.

All I can tell you about it is, that after much trial and much delay, and much running to the far lot for helpers, the thing was stood up and unpacked. And when it first showed its shining surface, Christie gave a queer little squeal and clasped her hands, and grew white even to her lips.

"I thought as true as the world that ridiculous child was going to faint!" her mother said, when she told off the strange doings to her friend the next day, fanning herself with her apron at the thought of it, though the day was cold. "I did really, and she don't know anything about such a thing, either. I never fainted in my life, and I don't mean she shall, if I can help it. But she turned that white that I just reached out and snatched her, and it's my opinion if I hadn't, she would have tumbled right down in a heap! It seems she had some kind of a notion how a piano would look. She has dreamed about one, and talked about one, and asked me questions enough, until she had got an idea, and she knew the thing by hearing and imagination. She knew it was a piano the minute her father took the last covering off. But she had had no more idea of ever seeing one in our parlour than she had of seeing a star there, not a bit more.

"Karl, now, isn't of that sort. He was excited enough, but at the same time he was quiet about it, and did not seem so dreadfully astonished. I really don't know what to make of that boy. He seems to have such queer ideas about things.

"'I meant you should have one, sometime,' he said to Christie, 'but I did not think it could be brought about so soon.'

"Christie does all the imagining, and she is first-rate at it, and Karl always seemed to stick to facts. But then, he has such extraordinary things that he calls facts come into his head!

"'When you get your sewing machine, mother,' he said to me one day, 'will it sew overhand, do you think?'

"Now, I expect to have a sewing machine about as much as Christie expected a piano, and no more, and I told him so, and says he:

"'That may be, but there's the piano setting there, you see, and the machine will come, you see if it don't.'"

The visitor knit twice around her stocking before she answered. Then she pushed her spectacles up on her forehead, and said:

"Well now, Mrs. Tucker, I shouldn't wonder if it would, and if that boy would get it for you one of these days. I do say that you are blessed in your children if ever a woman was."

So now the secret is out, and you know it was actually a piano that was set up in the Tucker parlour.

I took this way of telling you, because I really could not explain what Christie felt, or even what she said, though she said little enough.

In fact, her mother, who was a little frightened about her, told her that she acted like a goose. The white look on her face lasted until her father called her to put her hand on the keys. And when she touched the gleaming things, thereby bringing forth such sounds as she had dreamed of in her little music-loving heart, but never heard, she looked up into her father's face, and the blood rolled up in great waves to the roots of her hair, and then what did she do but cry.

Of course Nettie cried immediately and loudly. Tears on Christie's face were something unusual, and not to be borne without a protest. I don't know as it is any wonder that the startled mother was ready to say just at this point:

"Why, Christie, what does make you act so like a little goose?"

But Father Tucker put his great protecting arms around her and said: "Never mind, mother, she is kind of 'upsot,' and it ain't to be wondered at. Pianos don't grow on every potato lot, and our little girl never even saw one before, and this thing is hers, you know, and it is kind of too much."

She got over it after a while, and had only very rosy cheeks and bright eyes all the afternoon. The pretty music stool was unpacked, and Christie mounted it, and drew forth such soft, sweet sounds from the wonderful instrument that her father said admiringly:

"Well, I declare! I thought they had to spend months learning to play the piano, but I don't see but you make pretty music on it without any learning."

It was that very afternoon that Lucius and Lucy Cox were to come to tea.

"Enough in itself to upset a whole family," Mrs. Tucker said, "and when you added a piano, it was, as Father Tucker said, 'too much.'"

But that afternoon is the very thing that you must hear about.

The first one who came was Wells Burton.

"I didn't mean to come so early, for fear I should be in the way," he explained, "but it is lonesome enough at home. My mother was hindered from coming home yesterday, my brother isn't so well, and father has been delayed by a freshet, and everything was disappointing and dismal, so I ran away. I would have gone into town this morning if it had not been for the warmed up potatoes, you know, and other things. Besides, I was in a hurry to see something that I knew had come."

"Oh," said Christie, her eyes aglow, "do you know about it? Did you know before? Come in quick and see it. I don't know what to think nor to do."

"What you must do is to take music lessons, and make the thing talk to you," Wells said, walking into the bright little parlour, and going boldly up to the great shining beauty, which seemed to the rest of the family to fill all the space in the room.

Wells seemed in no wise amazed at its appearance, called it a "neat little thing," drew out the music stool, adjusted it to the right height with great deliberation, and then seating himself, whirled his fingers over the keys in a fashion that almost took Christie's breath away. The sounds that he produced were quite unlike those which Christie had made.

Even Father Tucker in the kitchen, wiping his great brown hands on the great brown towel, felt that, and stopped and listened and nodded his head, and said:

"That is music, eh, mother! Our girl must make it go like that."

"Yes," said Mrs. Tucker, "that is music; just think of that boy being able to play like that!"

There was a worried look in her eyes, and after a moment's silence she added: "That will be the next thing. The child will want to learn, and she will be crazy to, I can see it in her eyes, and how is she ever going to do it? Music lessons cost a sight of money, even East, and of course they are worse out here, everything is. And you know, Jonas, we might as well try to have her fly and be done with it, as to give her a chance to take music lessons."

Her father laughed. "I should as soon have tried to fly myself as to get her a piano, and yet there the thing is, and she is playing on it. There's no tellin' what may come, in this world, I've given up trying. We must talk with the minister about it. There may be some kind of a way of turning work. Who knows?"

But the troubled look did not go out of the mother's eyes. "There's another thing," she said, as she laid the spoons she had been polishing in a shining heap on the white table. "Jonas, don't it seem wonderful strange to you that they should send her such a great big present as that? Why, pianos cost almost a fortune. And that is a good toned one; I remember the one at grandfather's well enough to know that. I don't see but it sounds every bit as good as the one at Uncle Daniel's; and to send it to a stranger, and a little girl! I don't understand it, and sometimes it doesn't seem quite the thing for us to let her take such things as a matter of course and say nothing."

"Well, now," Father Tucker said, taking his wet head out of the shining wash basin, and beginning to polish his face on the towel, "there's two ways of looking at things. In one sense it is a big present, and a wonderful thing to happen to a little girl like Christie; and in another sense how do you suppose it compares with that baby of hers that Christie took care of? I don't say but that it would have got taken care of somehow if Christie hadn't been there, though there didn't seem to be a great many people of sense to depend upon that day, besides Christie: anyhow, she was the one did it, and did it well, and while she didn't do it for pay, nor expect pay, still, I suppose it was an awful day to the mother. And if I was rich, and it was our baby, seems to me I wouldn't consider even a piano very great things when it came to showing what I thought of my baby."

"Well," said Mother Tucker reflectively, "that way of looking at it does make a difference, to be sure. What are forty pianos compared with a baby?"

Meantime, in the front room, the same thing was being talked about from a different standpoint.

"Did you ever hear of people doing such a wonderful thing?" This was the question that Christie asked of Wells.

He let the music soften, so he could answer.

"Why, it was a nice thing, and I rather like my lady for thinking of it. It is the first time I have forgiven her for leaving her baby and spoiling our day, but on the whole, I am glad now that she did it. But as to being wonderful, it was natural enough. Her husband is a piano dealer; they have a great warehouse in Pearl Street, full of pianos, of all sorts and sizes. And when she heard that you liked music, and wanted to see a piano, what was more reasonable than to suppose that you would like one of your own?"

"How did she know that Christie wanted to see a piano?" asked Karl, who was watching this entire conversation with the greatest interest.

"Why, you see, we spent quite a long day together when we went our journey, and we talked about a good many things, pianos among the rest, and I suppose somebody happened to mention to her something that Christie said. Look here, let me play this 'Rain Dance' for you, and you listen and see if you can't hear the drops patter!"

There were reasons why Wells did not want that subject looked into any farther, so he bewitched them with the rain-drops.

During the playing, the door opened softly, and there came in Lucy and Lucius Cox. I wish I had photographs of them for you. They had been all day getting ready to make a good appearance. Lucy had not only combed her black hair, but banged it, and the straight locks hung down over her eyebrows, straight into her eyes, so that she winked and blinked continually. Her brown calico dress was soiled and torn, but she had pinned the torn place as well as she could, and then tried to cover its defects with a bit of very soiled, very faded, pink ribbon, which she had knotted up and fastened over it, and as the rent was half-way down the skirt on the left side, towards the back breadth, you may imagine how she looked. Face and hands, however, were clean, and poor Lucy having put on an old-fashioned linen collar of her mother's that had not been used in seven years, nor washed, had done all that she could to honour the great day. Such efforts were beyond Lucius, but he, too, had combed his hair, and washed his face and hands, and tied his shoes with green strings, and although his clothes needed washing and patching, on the whole, he looked better than Karl had feared.

Christie turned toward them timidly, and glanced in great doubt and distress from them to Wells. He did not know them, and she had a dim idea that they ought to be introduced, but how was it to be done, and what would he say?

"I am glad you have come," she said gently. "Will you sit down?"

Now what should she say? "This is Mr. Wells Burton?" And if she did, what would they say, or would he notice them?

He did not give her long to study the question. He swung himself from the piano stool and went towards the staring children.

"How are you, Lucius?" he said, nodding pleasantly, as though they had visited together all their lives. "So this is your little sister Lucy. Why, Lucius, how far ahead of her you have grown! Aren't you the same age?"

Lucius nodded.

"And yet you are a head taller! That's good. I always like to see a boy taller than a girl. He can take care of her better. How old are you, Lucy? Ten? I had a little sister once who would be just your age now if she had lived. Her name was Lorine. Well, what are we going to do first?"

"What's that?" asked Lucy, pointing her small thin finger at the shining case of the piano.

"That," said Wells, "is a music box. It plays any tune that you are a mind to make it. Do you want to hear it?"

He seated himself again on the music stool, and the group closed in around him, while he rushed through waltzes and marches, and snatches of tunes which he hummed and whistled.

Christie in her delight and relief almost forgot that she was hostess, and had the great care of entertaining the Cox children on her heart. Indeed, from that moment she had no need to feel it a burden. Wells gave himself to the work with such zeal and success, telling stories, singing songs, playing tunes, answering questions, that when, promptly at five o'clock, Mr. Keith made his appearance, he found the five young people well acquainted, and apparently entirely satisfied with one another.

There was no denying that both Lucius and Lucy were a good deal startled at the coming of the minister. They knew him by sight, and had scud over the fields in alarm many a time to avoid speaking to him, or rather having him speak to them, but, finding that he took very little notice of them, that the others were glad to see him, and that he gave most of his attention to the new piano, they settled down, the startled look going out of their eyes, and I don't think either of them know just when they began to join in the talk, and even answer the minister's questions, without feeling afraid.

And now the supper was ready. That wonderful supper, the like of which the Cox children had never seen. How their plates were heaped up with the warmed up potatoes, what dishes of hot apple sauce did they make away with! And as for the bread, Christie had as much as she could do to keep from looking her astonishment, for though the visitors were frightened at the idea of sitting down to a table covered with a white cloth, and using knife and fork, yet the taste of the food had overcome their timidity to such an extent that they gave themselves up to the joy of eating and having enough.

It was when they were all back in the parlour, the father talking with Mr. Keith, and the young people gathered into a corner by themselves, that Lucy Cox spoke suddenly, with the air of one who had puzzled over this thing long enough and now felt determined to have satisfaction.

"Look here, I want to know now what you did it for?"

"Did what?" asked startled Christie, for Lucy had pushed away her bangs, and her great black eyes were fixed on Christie's face.

"Had us come here, me and Lucius, and eat supper and have cake and milk and good things, and sit in your big nice chairs and see that machine and all. What did you do it for?"

Her voice was so loud and earnest that it had stopped the talk of the boys, and Wells was looking right at Christie with a curious smile on his face, that said to her:

"Yes, if you please, I am interested in that very same question. What did you want of the little Coxes?"

"We wanted you to have a good time," said Christie, looking down, her cheeks growing red. "We thought you would like it, and we wanted you to."

"What for?" It was Lucy again; she had a talent for asking questions, it seemed, and she kept those black eyes fixed on Christie.

Wells laughed a very little, he could not help it. That was coming right to the point. Why should she be so anxious to have the little Coxes have a good time? To be sure he had a dim idea what she was after, but how was she going to explain to them? That was just what Christie did not know. She hesitated a little, and glanced timidly up at Wells.

He would help her if he could; she began to understand this thoroughly, but his face told her that he did not see how she was going to answer this.

She looked over at Mr. Keith, but he was busy with her father, their voices dropped low, and their faces looking as though earnest words were being said; Christie would not have interrupted them for a great deal.

She must help herself out, and to do so she must begin at the beginning.

"Do you know about Jesus Christ, Lucy?"

"No. I don't want to know any stories now. I want you to tell me what you did this for?"

"I am trying to tell you. Don't you truly know anything about Jesus Christ?"

"No."

"Then," said Christie, a little shocked, and more doubtful than ever how to tell her story, "you know about God, don't you?"

"Not much; and that hasn't got anything to do with it, anyway."

"Yes it has. It has everything to do with it. Lucy, you know God made you, don't you?"

Lucy nodded.

"Well, He wanted you to have a good time here, and He wanted me to, and everybody, and He made a beautiful world and sunshine and everything so we could. But there is a wicked spirit named Satan who hates us and wants us to be ugly and unhappy; he made us do wrong things. Lucy, do you know about Heaven?"

"No."

"Well, that is the world where God lives, and it is beautiful, and there is nothing bad there ever, and God wanted us all to come there and Satan didn't. Then Jesus, God's son, said He would come and help us, and He came away from Heaven and died for us, and helped everybody, and showed us what to do to get away from Satan, and get ready to go to Heaven."

"But I want to know what you wanted Lute and me to come over here to supper for, and gave us lots of good things? That don't tell."

Christie looked pained and puzzled, and stole another glance at Wells, which made that young fellow feel as though it would be worth a good deal to understand this story as well as he did multiplication, for instance, so that he might help Christie. But he had not the least idea what to say, so he kept still. Christie tried again.

"Lucy, I belong to Jesus Christ. I am His servant, and He told me He wanted me to ask you to come here and have a good time."

"Why does He?"

"Because He loves you, and wants you to belong to Him. He has a beautiful place in Heaven that He wants you to live in, and He wants you to get ready to go."

"How will I get there?"

"Why, He will send for you as soon as you are ready. But you must get ready first, and there is a good deal to do."

Lucy looked down at herself.

"I haven't got any better clothes," she said gravely, "and I haven't got any more ribbon to cover up the holes; I found this on the road. I can't get any more ready than I am. And I don't know as I want to go, anyhow. Besides, you ain't told the truth; that ain't got nothing to do with Lute and me coming here to supper."

"Look a here," said Lucius, speaking for the first time, "you had better keep still. We're having a good time, and you needn't go and spoil it."