The Old Tobacco Shop. Bowen William
or the trouble and excitement they made for everybody, or of the beautiful young lady who – and such leapings and twistings and climbings and tumblings as no mere human beings with bones in them could ever have performed – it is no use; it is best not to try to describe it. But there was one part which, although it may seem to you the most unlikely thing in the world, really had a good deal to do with Freddie afterwards. There was the same man whose picture he had seen outside on the signboard; and he could climb straight walls and leap through high windows and tumble across floors in a way which passed belief; but there was one thing he could not do; he could not talk; he never spoke a word from beginning to end. Once, after having escaped from a parcel of wicked red imps, he sat down, tired out and starved to death, before a table loaded with food, and he commenced to make a hearty meal; but just as he was about to sample each plate it disappeared, vanished, completely out of sight, right under his nose. His distress was pitiable, and Freddie thought it cruel of everybody to laugh, as everybody did. On his plate were sausages, and he nearly got them; but just as he thought he had them, they actually jumped off the table and ran along the floor and up the wall; and the poor man had to climb the wall after them, which he did like a cat, and even then he never came up with them; he was terribly disappointed; and to finish off his miseries, at last a wicked creature with a sword came up behind him, as he was leaning his head down on the table in despair, and cut off his head before your very eyes; really and truly cut it off; there was no doubt about it; the head was on the table and the poor man was in the chair; Freddie was terrified, and clutched Mr. Toby's arm. But when the wicked murderer had gone away, back popped the head onto the dead man's neck, his eyes opened, he grinned from ear to ear, and there he was on his feet, skipping and tumbling, as lively as ever; and at that Freddie and all the others in the house roared and shouted and clapped their hands.
"Is that Mr. Hanlon?" whispered Freddie into Mr. Toby's ear.
"Reckon it is," said Toby, too excited himself to pay much attention to Freddie.
But it could not last forever. Even the peanuts, which Toby bought for Freddie between the first and second acts, were all gone, and the curtain was down for the last time, and the crowd crushed through the doors, and Mr. Toby put on his white derby hat.
They were in the street, and the speechless Mr. Hanlon was a thing of the past. Freddie did not believe that he would ever see that dumb and loose-headed man again; but in that he was mistaken, as you shall see.
Toby left him at the corner near his father's house.
"What I say is," said Toby, "three cheers for our growing-up party!"
"Yes," said Freddie, "and three cheers for Mr. Hanlon!"
CHAPTER V
THE CHINAMAN'S HEAD
For a long time afterwards, Freddie dreamed at night of a hunchbacked man whose head came off and popped on again, and wicked red demons who chased a poor man with a white face who tried to cry for help and could not speak a word, and of a Chinaman's head without a body, smoking a long clay pipe. In the daytime, he thought a good deal about the people he was now acquainted with: Mr. Toby with his white derby hat, Aunt Amanda swallowing pins, the sailorman from China, Mr. Punch and his father, Mr. Hanlon with his head on the table, the Churchwarden smoking his churchwarden pipe, and the two old Codgers, one so sly and the other so beggarly; but that which occupied his mind more than anything else was the Chinaman's head on Mr. Toby's shelf.
Freddie was older now, and as time went on it might be thought that he would have grown accustomed to all these strange things; but he had not; far from it; he thought about them more and more, and most of all about the Chinaman's head and the magic tobacco. He really could not get that Chinaman's head out of his mind. Here was magic just within reach of your hand, and you were told that you mustn't touch it. You might as well have Aladdin's lamp in your bureau drawer, and be told to keep away from the bureau; even parents ought to know better than to expect such a thing. Anyway, what harm could just one or two little whiffs do? You needn't smoke a whole pipeful, if you didn't want to. However, Mr. Toby would not be pleased, and Freddie did not intend to do anything to displease Mr. Toby. Still, it did seem a pity, with such a chance right over your head – Oh, well, he would think no more about it; he fixed his mind on other things; he thought especially about a hymn they sang nearly every Sunday in Sunday-school; it was a great help; he knew it by heart, and it went like this:
"Yield not to temptation,
For yielding is sin,
Each vict'ry will help you
Some other to win."
He resolved he would never think about the magic tobacco again; he went to sleep saying over to himself, "Yield not to temptation," and dreamed all night about the Chinaman's head, and thought about it all the next day.
In order to get it out of his mind, he called on Aunt Amanda. It was late in the afternoon; he sat on his hassock and watched Aunt Amanda sewing. Mr. Toby was in the shop, waiting on customers. Freddie watched for a long time, and then said:
"What are you doing?"
"Basting," said Aunt Amanda.
"I thought that was what you did to a turkey," said Freddie.
"So it is," said Aunt Amanda.
"That isn't a turkey," said Freddie.
"No," said Aunt Amanda, "you baste a turkey with gravy."
"That isn't gravy," said Freddie.
"It's different," said Aunt Amanda. "You see, I have to sew this up with needle and thread, and – "
"You sew up a turkey with needle and thread, too," said Freddie.
"But that's different," said Aunt Amanda. "You couldn't baste a turkey with needle and thread, and you couldn't baste dress-goods with gravy – "
"Why not?" said Freddie.
"Well," said Aunt Amanda, "well, you see, they don't do it that way; it's different; it ain't the same thing at all; it's like this; when you baste a turkey – "
"Have you ever had any children?" said Freddie.
Aunt Amanda put her hand to her heart suddenly, as if she had received a shot there, and caught her breath; then she looked out of the window, and then round at the wax flowers on the table, and then at the door, and she really seemed to be thinking of running away. But she was too lame to do that, and she at last clasped her fingers together tight in her lap, and looked hard at Freddie. He was gazing at her calmly, waiting for information.
"No," said Aunt Amanda, "I have never – had – any – children."
"Why not?" said Freddie.
"I have – never – been married," said Aunt Amanda.
Freddie thought about this for a moment.
"Didn't anybody ever want you?" said he.
"No," said she, "nobody – ever – wanted – me."
Freddie was puzzled.
"But you're nice," said he.
"That ain't enough," said Aunt Amanda.
"What else do you have to be?"
"You have to be pretty."
"Weren't you ever pretty?"
"I thought – so – once, but – but – I must have been mistaken. I guess I never was."
Freddie thought it over, and announced his decision seriously.
"I would want you, anyway."
Aunt Amanda stretched out a trembling hand to him and ran her fingers through his hair; then she threw both her arms around him and pressed him against her knee. He was much annoyed. He was afraid she might be going to kiss him; but she did not; instead, she pulled out her handkerchief and blew her nose.
"How many children were there that you didn't have?" said Freddie, to change the subject. Aunt Amanda did not understand this at first, but she finally saw what he meant. What did he mean? you may say. What he meant was – well, it is perfectly clear, but it is hard to explain. Anyway, Aunt