Delphi Complete Works of Thorne Smith (Illustrated), page 309
Lazy Bear patted Albert gently on the head and smiled.
“The trouble with you, Albert,” he said, “is that you worry too much. The first thing you know you’ll be turning gray and getting wrinkles.”
Albert was horrified at the thought, and for a long time he kept telling himself: “Don’t worry. Don’t worry. Everything is going to be all right.”
All the time the enchanted Christmas tree had been turning round and round, and as it turned, more packages gathered beneath its silver branches. Soon there were so many that it was as much as everyone could do to carry them. The Twins carried their packages in baskets which they held in their mouths. The pink packages were for the little girls and the blue ones for the little boys. Both Albert and Rudolph insisted that their baskets were much too heavily filled.
“They will soon be lighter,” said Lazy Bear.
“And in the meantime?” asked Albert.
“Have a mean time,” replied Lazy Bear, and was very much pleased with his merry quip.
With Lazy Bear at their head they all left the room and found their way to the Poorest Part of the city where, a few hours before, Mr. Bingle had given away his Christmas tree.
“I’m dying of sheer neck-break,” complained Albert through his clenched teeth, because the basket was in his mouth.
“My spine is so contorted it looks like a storm at sea,” replied Rudolph. “It’s a mere matter of dips and waves.”
When the packages were all distributed and the streets were empty of children, the party moved away. Lazy Bear and Mr. Budge walked arm in arm. The Twins were greatly annoyed because Squirrel insisted on taking turns at riding on their backs.
“Did you ever hear of the straw that broke the camel’s back?” asked Albert.
“No,” replied Squirrel. “What about it?”
“You’re it,” said Albert.
“I never rode on a lion before,” remarked Squirrel, jumping up and down excitedly.
“Well, this is your last chance,” answered Rudy. “We’re getting lower to the ground all the time. Already my stomach is leaving its footprints in the snow.”
“And don’t jump up and down so,” pleaded Albert. “If you must ride, try to do so calmly, quietly, and decently. Make yourself light.”
“Oh, I must jump! I must jump!” cried Squirrel, bounding high in the air and coming down with a thud on Albert’s back.
Albert was shaken in every bone. He staggered and nearly fell on his nose.
“A thing like this would happen,” he observed to his brother.
“At the end of the day, too,” said Rudy.
“It seems to be the start for us,” answered Albert, bleakly.
“Now,” said Lazy Bear, when they had come to open country and the white road ran beneath the stars into the whispering darkness of the forest, “it’s as easy as falling out of bed.”
“Which can be very painful,” interrupted Albert. “You should try it.”
“I have,” replied Lazy Bear, “but that’s not what I started in to say. Don’t interrupt me. All you have to do is to stick to this road and turn to the left whenever you think of it.”
“Whenever who thinks of it?” asked Albert.
“Whenever any of you think of it,” replied Lazy Bear.
“But suppose the road turns to the right at the same time that one of us thinks of turning to the left?” demanded Rudy. “What then, I ask you?”
“Then just stop thinking,” replied Lazy Bear, good-naturedly.
“That’s easy to do,” said Albert, “and it’s about the most sensible thing you’ve said so far.”
“Just keep turning to the left,” continued Lazy Bear, “and soon you’ll come to Summer.”
“As the crow laboriously plods along,” remarked Albert, nudging his brother.
“By the way, Mr. Budge,” said Lazy Bear, “if you don’t mind my asking, did you pay for your room in advance?”
“I had to pay a week in advance,” replied Mr. Budge. “That’s what took all my money.”
“That reminds me,” said Lazy Bear, giving Mr. Budge a neat leather wallet. “I meant to give you this before. It will never get empty. Now you can take care of the children and everybody. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go back to your room and sleep until the week is through. Do you know the way, Squirrel?”
“Surest thing you know,” said Squirrel, snappily.
“Then good night, all,” said Lazy Bear with a yawn. “I’m fatigued.”
And before anyone could thank him, Lazy Bear and Squirrel were gone. The white road ran ahead. The night was cold. Summer was somewhere in the night. They must find it.
“Forward!” cried Mr. Budge.
The party moved forward down the soft, noiseless road.
“Fatigued,” murmured Albert. “Fatigued.”
“He must be sound asleep by this time,” said Rudolph. “Warm and snug in bed.”
The Twins padded after the others, keeping close to them as they entered into the shadow of the forest.
CHAPTER 9. The Forest of Floating Melody
AS THEY PASSED through the forest they could hear the trees talking in their sleep. This did not make the Twins feel any more comfortable. And from some of the remarks the trees made it would seem they were not quite asleep. The remarks were altogether too personal and to the point.
“Imagine them taking a walk at this time of night,” grumbled one old tree.
“And such a mixed company, too,” grumbled another tree. “They have a couple of brutes with them — brute beasts.”
“Take one good look at them, then thank your stars you’re a tree,” said the first old tree to speak.
“Do you hear what they’re saying about us?” asked Albert, under his breath.
“Perhaps,” replied Rudolph. “What if I do hear them? Do you expect me to tear a tree down with my bare teeth? Anyway, we’ve passed it.”
“There’ll be others,” said Albert.
“Listen, brother,” answered Rudolph. “If all of the trees in all of this forest insult me at the top of their voices, I’m going to keep on moving quietly along this road and mind my own business. I don’t want to get into any trouble with a tree. That’s that. If you want to tree-fight, just help yourself.”
“I don’t want to tree-fight,” hastily replied Albert.
“I didn’t think you did,” said Rudy.
At this moment Peter began to sing a marching song. Here are the words:
THE BUDGE BRIGADE
By Peter, the Poet
“Oh, we belong to the Budge Brigade.
We plunge through shadow. We dash through shade.
The road is lonesome and long and white,
And we’ll be walking the livelong night.
“Oh, we belong to the Budge Brigade.
We meet all dangers quite undismayed.
Our gallant lions will face the foe
While we make tracks in the fallen snow.
“Yes, we belong to the Budge Brigade.
Our noble leader is unafraid.
In search of Summer we slip and slide —
We use our feet, for we cannot ride.
“Oh, we belong to the Budge Brigade.
We have to climb and we have to wade.
The task is equal for one and all.
If one of us slips the rest of us fall.
“Oh, we belong to the Budge Brigade.
We can play any game that was ever played,
And one of the things we can do among
Is to sing any song that was ever sung.
“For we belong to the Budge Brigade.
We walk for pleasure. We are not paid.
Pinkie and Bluie, they love to walk.
They hate to rest and they hate to talk.
“Oh, we belong to the Budge Brigade.
We’ll walk till the stars in the heavens fade.
When we get tired we’ll ride the Twins
And make them run till they lose their skins.
“Oh, we belong to the Budge Brigade.
We’ll make them hustle up hill and grade
We’ll run them ragged. We’ll make them trudge,
Those brother lions. Hurrah for Budge!”
“Stop!” screamed Albert. “Stop!”
“Enough!” shouted Rudolph. “You’re breaking my heart.”
Peter tried to continue, but the lions set up such a din that his voice could not be heard.
“That’s a terrible song,” said Albert. “It gives the wrong impression entirely.”
“You know very well that we hate to face the foe,” protested Rudy. “And as for riding us up hill and grade,” put in Albert, “that would be impossible.”
“You’ll have to drag us up hill and grade,” put in Albert. “I’m dying on my feet as it is.”
“Don’t torment us,” pleaded Rudy.
“Don’t be grim,” urged Albert.
“If you must sing,” added Rudy, “sing something comforting — a cradle song, perhaps.”
“I think,” remarked Mr. Budge, “that it is a very good song, an exceptionally good song, especially the last part, the ‘Hurrah for Budge!’ part!”
“He didn’t suggest riding you,” retorted Albert.
“Nor leaving you alone to face the foe,” said Rudy.
“He has more sense,” replied Mr. Budge.
“He has no sense at all if he thinks I’m going to face the foe,” said Albert.
“And he has much less sense than that,” put in Rudy, “if he thinks I’m going to let anyone ride me.”
“It was only a song,” explained Peter.
“It was more than a song,” replied Albert. “It was a form of torture. Do something about it, Floret. Never let him sing that kind of song again. It hurts, I tell you, it hurts.”
Mr. Budge suddenly turned to the left, and before they had time to draw another breath they were back in Summer. It was the most surprising thing. The Twins lay down and rolled in the sweet, fresh grass, and Floret went dancing across the fields while the children ran after her. It was Summer again.
Mr. Bingle sat down on a log and looked at his watch. Mr. Bingle was always looking at his watch. Mr. Bingle loved his watch.
“It’s Summer,” he said, “and it’s six o’clock in the morning. Hear the chimes.”
Mr. Budge stooped over and listened to the tiny music of the watch.
“It’s a great watch,” said Mr. Budge.
“Yes,” replied Mr. Bingle, “it’s a grand watch.”
And he put it away.
Sunlight was dancing among the blades of grass and painting the trunks of the trees. Birds flashed through the clear air and made musical remarks about one another. There was a feeling of life and well-being all about them. They had returned from the snow of Winter City to the flower-dappled fields of Summer. All of them were well pleased.
Mr. Budge picked out a smooth strip of grass near a brook and took from his basket a large tablecloth. This he laid on the ground, and there busied himself setting out breakfast. The Twins stopped rolling and sat as close to the tablecloth as they could. Their paws just barely touched the edge. But the Twins did not touch any of the good things on the cloth. They just looked at them long and thoughtfully, then looked at Mr. Budge. They loved Mr. Budge. He was a real good man. And they loved Mr. Budge’s basket, which was almost the same thing, for the basket was a part of Mr. Budge. Without the basket he would have been a different man. He would not have been the same Mr. Budge. The Twins could not bear the thought.
When everything was ready, Mr. Budge called to Floret and the children. The Twins called to Floret and the children. Mr. Bingle called to Floret and the children. Then Mr. Budge, Mr. Bingle, and the Twins called to Floret and the children. And presently Floret and the children appeared.
“Were you calling us?” they asked innocently.
Albert gave them a sick look.
“No,” he said, “not exactly calling, nor could it honestly be said we were whispering. We were wondering aloud, let us say. Wondering at the top of our lungs. Does my voice sound hoarse? Don’t worry about it. That comes from wondering out loud about people and where they are. Wondering at the top of my lungs, that’s all.”
“Hope you had a real nice time,” remarked Rudolph. “It must be pleasant to dance while others starve. Bah!”
“Oh, don’t go on so,” exclaimed Floret. “The way you two talk, one would think you never had a thing to eat in your lives.”
“There you go,” replied Albert. “I knew it. I expected it. Begrudging us the few snacks we’ve been able to snatch here and there. Mr. Budge, we are all present.”
Then they all sat down to breakfast. And when Mr. Budge served breakfast he used his brains. If you had tried for the rest of the day to think of something you wanted you wouldn’t have been able to think of a single thing. Mr. Budge had already thought of it.
After breakfast they all lay down and went to sleep. The snoring of the lions mingled with the singing of the birds until at last the birds became discouraged and gave it up or went somewhere else. What was the good in trying to sing against a pair of snoring lions? The birds were disgusted.
The party slept until luncheon time, then everyone woke up and ate luncheon.
“This,” remarked Albert, stretching himself lazily, “is the pleasant way to live.”
“The civilized way,” commented Rudolph.
“Persons of culture and refinement always live this way,” went on Albert.
“Trudging through the snow and listening to Tormenting Songs is no way to live,” said Rudolph. “Note the difference — how jolly and bright we are.”
“Fix your bows,” was all Floret said.
“After luncheon,” replied Albert. “We might get all untidy while at it.”
“You will,” remarked Mr. Bingle. “No doubt about it.”
“There was no call for that remark,” replied Rudolph.
“Fall to!” cried Mr. Budge, and for some time after that the Twins were unable to continue their constant chatter. They were too busy with their luncheon.
When the meal was over they all went to the brook to wash their hands and faces. Neither Albert nor Rudolph liked this very much, because they were afraid of the fishes that were swimming round in the clear, chuckling water.
“I like my fishes cooked,” protested Albert.
“Well, you won’t cook me, funny-face,” snapped an old trout who was lurking under an out-jutting stone.
“You’re too tough and old to cook,” retorted Albert. “I’ll bet you’ve been tossed back into that stream so often by disgusted fishermen that your skin is like rubber. And another thing, as long as you insist on talking, my face is not funny. We’re lions.”
“What are those?” asked the trout.
“What ignorance!” replied Albert. “If you don’t know that already, how are we going to tell you?”
“By word of mouth,” said the trout.
“Naturally,” retorted Albert. “That goes without saying.”
“Not naturally at all,” snapped the trout. “You might write me a letter about it. That would be by word of hand.”
“Pen, pen, pen,” screamed Albert, losing his temper.
The trout merely smiled.
“You might use a pencil, you know,” he observed.
“Oh, you’re so irritating,” Albert almost sobbed. “So exasperating. Always arguing.”
At this moment Rudolph leaned far over the pool in the brook and looked fiercely at the trout.
“I think I’ll bite your head off,” he said.
“Who’s your sweet young girl friend?” asked the trout. “Yo-hoo, dearie!”
“I’m not a girl!” yelled Rudolph. “I’m a he-lion, full-grown and dangerous.”
“Now, sweetheart, don’t upset yourself,” warned the trout.
“I’ll upset you if I gnash your head off!” cried Rudolph.
“If and when,” jeered the trout. “Let’s see you do it.”
By this time the Twins had become so excited that both of them were leaning far over the edge of the pool. Suddenly there were two loud plops. The Twins had fallen in. They were no longer on the bank. They were thrashing around in the water.
“Help!” cried Rudolph. “Help!”
“Floret!” shouted Albert. “Mr. Budge! Everybody!”
Peter was the first to reach the spot. He was quickly followed by Mary and Floret. Mr. Budge and Mr. Bingle brought up the rear.
“What shall we do?” asked Floret, jumping up and down in her excitement.
“Nothing, my dear,” replied Mr. Budge. “It’s not over their heads in that pool. A good bath won’t hurt them.”
“Don’t just stand there looking at us,” called Albert. “We’re drowning.”
“This isn’t an exhibition,” yelled Rudolph. “It’s a fatal accident — two valuable lives lost, and all that sort of thing. You’ll read of it in tomorrow’s papers.”
“In the funnies,” said Mr. Bingle, unfeelingly. “Have you tried to stand?”
“What do you think we are, mermaids?” gasped Albert. “Standing! What a question!”
“No,” replied Mr. Bingle. “You certainly are not mermaids, but if I were you I would really try to stand.”
“Isn’t it over our heads?” asked Rudolph.
“It’s not even up to your necks,” Mr. Budge assured them.
“Oh,” said Rudolph. “That’s altogether different.”
He stood up and looked sheepishly about him. Albert also stopped thrashing and sat down suddenly.
“We were trying to bite the head off a certain party,” he explained, “but the coward has run away.”
“No, he hasn’t,” came a breathless voice from the brook. “You’re sitting on me with all your weight.”
Albert looked startled. He rose hastily.
“I have no desire to sit on a fallen fish,” he said with dignity. “Fish-sitting is not among my other failings.”
He crawled out of the pool and Rudolph followed him. Both of them fell down on the grass and lay there panting.
“Well, this finishes us for the day,” breathed Albert.
“Forever,” groaned Rudolph.
“Get up,” commanded Mr. Bingle. “We must be on our way. Mr. Budge is starting already with his basket.”
