The Wonderful Bed Page 3

  CHAPTER III

  A VISIT TO THE GOOSE

  The door flew open almost before Rudolf had stopped knocking, butthere was nothing very alarming about the person who stood on thethreshold. Ann said afterward she had thought at first it was a MissSpriggins who came sometimes to sew for her mother, but it was not; itwas only a very large gray goose neatly dressed in blue and whitebed-ticking, with a large white apron tied round her waist and wearingbig spectacles with black rims to them.

  "Nothing to-day, thank you," said the Goose.

  "But please--" began Rudolf.

  "No soap, no baking powder, no lightning rods, no hearth-brooms, nocake tins, no life insurance--" rattled the Goose so rapidly that thechildren could hardly understand her--"nothing at all to-day, _thank_you!"

  "But _we_ want something," Ann cried, "we want to come in!"

  "I never let in peddlers," said the Goose, and she slammed the door intheir faces. As she slammed it one of her broad apron-strings caughtin the crack, and Rudolf seized the end of it. When the Goose openedthe door an inch or so to free herself he held on firmly and said:

  "Tell us, please, are you the Warming-pan's aunt?"

  The Gray Goose looked immensely pleased, but shook her head.

  "Nothing so simple," said she, "nor, so to speak, commonplace, sincethe relationship or connection if you will have it, is, thoughperfectly to be distinguished, not always, as it were, entirelyclear, through his great-grandfather who, as I hope you are aware, wasa Dutch-Oven, having run away with a cousin of my mother's uncle'sstepfather, who was three times married, numbers one, two and threeall having children but none of 'em resembling one another in theslightest, which, as you may have perceived, is only the beginning ofthe story, but if you will now come in, not forgetting to wipe yourfeet, and try to follow me very carefully, I'll be delighted toexplain all particulars."

  The children were glad to follow the Lady Goose into the house, thoughthey thought she had been quite particular enough. They found itimpossible to wipe their feet upon the mat because it was thick withsnow, and when the door was closed behind them, they were surprised tofeel that it was snowing even harder inside the house than it wasout. For a moment they stood half blinded by the storm, unable to seeclearly what kind of room they were in or to tell whose were thevoices they heard so plainly. A great fluttering, cackling, andcomplaining was going on close to them, and a hoarse voice cried out:

  "One hundred and seventeen and three-quarters feathers to bemultiplied by two-sevenths of a pound. That's a sweet one! Do that ifyou can, Squealer."

  "You can't do it yourself," a whining voice replied. "I've tried theback and the corners and the edges--there's no more room--"

  Then came the sound of a sudden smack, as if some one's ears had beenboxed when he least expected it, and this was followed by a loud angrysquawk. Now the flakes, which had been gradually thinning, died awayentirely, and the children suddenly discovered that they had not beensnowflakes at all but only a cloud of white feathers sent whirlingthrough the house, out of the windows, and up the chimney by somedisturbance in the midst of a great heap in one corner of the room ashigh as a haystack. From the middle of this heap of feathers stuck uptwo very thin yellow legs with shabby boots that gave one lastdespairing kick and then were still. Near by at a counter a GentlemanGoose in a long apron was weighing feathers on a very small pair ofscales, and at his elbow stood a little duck apprentice with the tearsrunning down his cheeks. He was doing sums in a greasy sort ofbutcher's book that seemed quite full already of funny scratchyfigures.

  "That must be Squealer, the one who got his ears boxed," whispered Annto Rudolf, "but what do you suppose is the matter with the otherduck, the one in the heap? He will be smothered, I know he will!"

  Rudolf thought so, too, yet it didn't seem polite to mention it. TheLady Goose had been busily helping the children to brush off thefeathers that were sticking to them, and patting Peter on the backwith her bill because he said he was sure he had swallowed at least apound. She now brought forward chairs for them all. As the childrenlooked around more closely they saw that the room they were in was avery cozy sort of place, long and low and neatly furnished with awhite deal table, a shiny black cook-stove, a great many bright coppersaucepans, and a red geranium in the window. A large iron pot wasboiling merrily on the stove and from time to time the Gray Goosestirred its contents with a wooden spoon. It smelled rather good, andPeter, sniffing, began to put on his hungry expression.

  "No, not even a family resemblance," went on the Gray Goose, wavingher spoon, "although, as is generally known, a Roman nose ischaracteristic in our family, having developed in fact at the time ofthat little affair when we repelled the Gauls in the year--"

  But Rudolf felt he could not stand much more of this. "I beg yourpardon," he interrupted, "but would you mind if we helped the littleone out of the heap, the--the--duck who is getting so thoroughlysmothered?"

  "Not at all, if you care about it," said the Gray Goose kindly."Squawker'll be good now, won't he, Father?"

  "Oh, I'm sure he'll be good," Ann cried, and she ran ahead of Rudolfto catch hold of one of the thin yellow legs and give it a mightypull.

  "He'll be good," said the Gentleman Goose gravely, speaking for thefirst time, "when he's roasted. Very good indeed'll Squawker be--withapple sauce!" And he smacked his lips and winked at Peter who wasstanding close beside him, looking up earnestly into his face.

  Peter thought a moment. Then he said: "_I_ likes currant jelly on myduck. I eats apple sauce on goose."

  The Gentleman Goose appeared suddenly uncomfortable. He begannervously stuffing little parcels of the feathers he had been weighinginto small blue and white striped bags, which he threw one after theother to Squealer, who never by any chance caught them as he turnedhis back at every throw. "I suppose," said the Gentleman Goose toPeter in a hesitating, anxious sort of voice, "you believe along withall the rest, what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander,don't you? I suppose there's nothing sauce-y about yourself now, isthere?" And apparently comforted by his miserable little joke he wenton with his weighing.

  By this time the other little duck had been hauled out of the heap offeathers by Ann and Rudolf, and stood coughing and sneezing andgasping in the middle of the floor. As soon as he had breath enough hebegan calling pitifully for some one to brush the down off his Sundaytrousers. The Gray Goose came good-naturedly to his assistance, but asshe brushed him all the wrong way, the children couldn't see that sheimproved him very much. Squawker seemed quite pleased, however, andturned himself round and round for their approval.

  "What kind of birds are these new ones?" he asked the Lady Goose whenshe had finished with him.

  "Why just three more of us, Squawker, dear," she answered.

  This remark made all three children open their eyes very wide.

  "Nonsense," began Rudolf angrily, "_we_ aren't geese!"

  From the other end of the room came the voice of the Gentleman Goose,who spoke without turning round. "What makes you think that?" heasked.

  "Because we aren't--we--"

  --"You're molting pretty badly, of course, now you mention it,"interrupted the Lady Goose, "you and the little one. But this one'sfeathers seem in nice condition." As she spoke she laid a long clawlovingly on Ann's head. "How much would you say a pound, father?"

  "Can't say till I get 'em in the scales, of course," and, smoothingdown his apron, the Gentleman Goose advanced toward Ann in abusinesslike fashion. The two little apprentices, carrying bags,followed at his heels.

  Ann clung to Rudolf. "I haven't any feathers," she screamed. "They'recurls. I'm not a nasty bird--I'm a little girl with hair!"

  "She doesn't want to be plucked!" exclaimed the Gray Goose who hadreturned to the stove to stir the contents of the iron pot. "Well,now, did you ever! Maybe it goes in her family. I had a great-auntonce on my father's side who--"

  "They're feathers, all right," chuckled Squawker. "You're a perfectlittle duck, that's what I thin
k."

  "Me, too," chimed in Squealer.

  The Gentleman Goose reached over the Lady Goose's shoulder, snatchedthe spectacles off her nose without so much as by your leave, set themcrookedly on his own, and looked over them long and earnestly at Ann."So you want to call 'em hair, do you?" he snapped. "I suppose youthink you belong in a hair mattress!"

  Ann was ready to cry, and Rudolf had drawn his sword with theintention of doing his best to protect her, when at that moment a newvoice was heard. Looking in at the little window over the top of thered geranium the children saw a good-humored furry face with longbristly whiskers and bright twinkly eyes.

  "Anybody mention my name?" said the voice, and a large Belgian Hareleaped lightly into the room. He was handsomely dressed in a lightovercoat and checked trousers, and wore gaiters over hispatent-leather boots. He had a thick gold watch-chain, gold studs andcuff buttons besides other jewelry, and in one hand he carried a highhat, in the other a small dress-suit case and a tightly rolledumbrella.

  "What's the matter here?" he inquired cheerfully.

  "Why, this bird," explained the Gentleman Goose, pointing his clawdisdainfully at Ann, "says it has no feathers, which you can see foryourself is not the case. It has feathers, therefore it is a bird.Birds of a feather flock together. That settles it, I think! Comealong, boys. To work!"

  At his command the two duck apprentices, who were standing one oneither side of Ann, made feeble dashes at the two long curls nearestthem. Rudolf stepped forward but the Hare was before him. He onlyneeded to stare at the two ducks through a single eye-glass he hadscrewed into one of his eyes to make them turn pale and drop theirclaws to their sides.

  "Now once more," said the Hare to Ann. "What did you say you callthose unpleasantly long whiskers of yours?"

  "Hair," Ann answered meekly, for she was too frightened to beoffended.

  "Hair!" echoed Rudolf and Peter loudly.

  "Bless me," said their new friend, "that's not at all _my_ business,is it? Not at all in my line--oh, no!" He gathered up his hat,dress-suit case, and little umbrella from the floor where he haddropped them. "Be sure you don't follow me," he said, noddingpleasantly and winking at the children. Then he stepped to the doorwithout so much as a look at the Gentleman Goose who called outangrily:

  "Stop, stop! Catch 'em, Squealer--at 'em, Squawker--hold 'em, boys!"

  It was too late. The boys were too much afraid of the Hare to do morethan flutter and squawk a little, and as the Gentleman Goose did notseem inclined to make an attack single-handed, the Hare, with thechildren behind him, got to the door in safety. Peter, however, hadto be dragged along by Ann and Rudolf, for the Lady Goose had justremoved the great pot from the stove in time to prevent its contentsfrom boiling over, and the little boy was sniffing hungrily at thesteam. Now she came after the children carrying a large spoonful ofthe bubbling stuff. "All done, all done," she cried. "Don't go withouta taste, dears."

  "What's done?" asked Peter, eagerly turning back to her.

  "Worms, dear; red ones and brown ones," answered the LadyGoose,--"boiled in vinegar, you know--just like mother used tomake--with a wee bit of a grasshopper here and there for flavoring.Mother had the recipe handed down in her family--her side--you know,from my great-great-grandmother's half-sister who was a De l'Oie butmarried a Mr. Gans and was potted in the year--"

  They got Peter through the door by main force, Ann and Rudolf pushingbehind and the Hare pulling in front. Even then, I am ashamed to say,Peter kept calling out that he would like "just a taste", and hedidn't see why the Goose's worms wouldn't be just as good as the whitekind cook sent up with cheese on the top!