ONE afternoon, Lucy went to see her cousin Rollo. Rollo was younger than Lucy, being then about four or five years old. Lucy was six or seven. She was going to spend the evening at her uncle’s, and Royal, her brother, was to come for her in the chaise about half-past eight o’clock.
Before tea, Lucy and Rollo had been playing with picture-books. Lucy sat upon a cricket before a little book-case, looking at the books. Rollo had a stick for a gun, and was marching about, stopping occasionally to make believe fire his gun. He did not care much about the picture-books as he had seen them a great many times.
After tea, Rollo’s father went into a little back parlor, where he had been writing, and Rollo and Lucy returned to the little book-case. They had a lamp now, for by this time it was dark. Rollo wanted Lucy to make him a little cap, so that he could play soldier better. He had a feather, which he told her she could put into it.
So Lucy took a piece of paper, which was in the book-case, and cut a narrow strip, which she put around Rollo’s head like a band, and pinned the ends together. Then she contrived to fasten the feather in at the side of it. Rollo said it would do very well for a cap, and he went marching about and firing his gun.
Lucy found that she could not see very well; so she followed Rollo out into the entry. She wanted to see where he was going. Rollo marched along until he came to the door leading into his father’s back parlor. He opened the door and went in. Lucy remained at the door, looking to see what he would do.
Rollo’s father was seated at a table near the window, with his back to the door, writing very busily; and he paid no attention to Rollo, but went on with his work. Rollo marched backwards and forwards, imitating the sound of a trumpet with his lips, and stopping occasionally to point his stick towards his father, or towards Lucy, and say, Bang, as if he was shooting them.
“Come in, Lucy,” said Rollo.
“No,” said Lucy, in a low tone, and shaking her head.
“Yes,” said Rollo, “come in; my father will let us come in.”
But Lucy was afraid of interrupting her uncle, and so she did not come in, immediately; but finding, at length, that her uncle went on with his work without appearing to pay any attention to Rollo, she presently glided in, and took her seat upon a sofa which was upon the side of the room opposite to where her uncle was sitting.
Presently Rollo’s father paused in his work, and laid down a ruler, which he had been using in copying a plan into a letter that he had been writing, upon the table. He then rose from his seat, and turned around to look at Rollo. Rollo immediately began to march back and forth again, trumpeting with his lips, and shooting at his father with his gun.
“Come,” said his father, “I think I should like to have the enemy march out of my kingdom.”
“Why, father,” said Rollo; “I’m not the enemy.”
“O,” said his father, “I thought it was the enemy.”
“Yes, come, Rollo,” said Lucy; “we had better go out.”
“No,” said Rollo; “mayn’t we stay here, father?”
While Lucy and Rollo were saying this, Mr. Holiday had gone to his secretary, and opened it, and was taking down a bundle of papers.
“Why, I am afraid,” said he, “that you will interrupt me. I am engaged in some very perplexing work.”
“No, sir, we won’t,” said Rollo. “We will be ever so still. I’ll put my gun away, and my cap. Lucy, you take out my feather, and then I’ll take off my cap, and we’ll put it away, and come and sit down upon the sofa, and be still, and look at father’s great picture-book. May we have your great picture-book, father?”
“Why, I have no objection,” said his father, “to your having the great picture-book; but then I am very certain that you’ll interrupt me if you stay here.”
Rollo’s father talked very indistinctly as he said this, for his pen was across his mouth, both hands being occupied in turning over the file of papers which he had taken down from the secretary.
At length, he took his seat at the table again, and began to write, saying, however, before he began, that Rollo and Lucy might see if they could stay in his room without interrupting him.
“Come, Lucy,” said Rollo, “let us go and get my little table to put up by the sofa, and then we can put the great picture-book upon it, and then sit upon the sofa, and look at the pictures.”
They accordingly went off to get the table. It was a small, square table, with a drawer in it. It was just high enough for Rollo and Lucy, and so light that it was very easy to carry about. Rollo took hold of one side, and Lucy of the other, and they brought it into the room very easily.
“Now,” said Rollo, looking about, “now for a light.”
He observed that there were two lamps upon his father’s table, and so he went up to the table abruptly, saying,—
“Father, will you be good enough to let us have one of your lights?”
“There,” said his father. “I thought that you would come pretty soon and interrupt me.”
“But, father,” said Rollo, “we can’t see without a light.”
“No,” said his father; “that is true, no doubt; but it does not make it any the less an interruption to me for you to come and ask me for one.”
“Well, but, father,” said Rollo, moving back slowly, and speaking in a disappointed tone, “then I don’t see what we shall do.”
“I thought you had a light yourselves, by your book-case.”
“O yes,” said Lucy, “so we did. I’ll run and get it, Rollo.”
So Lucy jumped up, and ran off after the light, while Rollo went to get the great picture-book.
What Rollo called the great picture-book was a very large and heavy volume, in his father’s library, which contained a great many large and beautiful pictures. His father never allowed him to carry it out of the room, but sometimes let him put it in a chair, and turn over the leaves very carefully, to see the pictures. Rollo took this book down, which he accomplished without much difficulty; for it was on the lower part of the book-case, not very far from the floor. He carried it to the little table, and pretty soon after Lucy came in with a light.
But here an unexpected difficulty occurred. The book was so large that, when it was opened, it covered the whole top of the table, and so there was no room for the lamp.
“Move the book,” said Lucy.
Rollo moved it as far as he could, but there was scarcely room for the lamp to stand.
“No,” said Lucy, “that won’t do. The lamp will get knocked off the table, and will fall upon the carpet.”
“No it won’t,” said Rollo; “I’ll watch it.”
“But I’m afraid to have it there,” said Lucy. “By and by, we shall push the book against it, and knock it over; and then my aunt will be very sorry indeed.”
“No, but, Lucy,” said Rollo, in a very positive tone, “I tell you I’ll watch it.”
Here Rollo’s father turned around again, and said, “Now, children, you are interrupting me again.”
“Well, father,” said Rollo, “it is because our table is not big enough.”
“Yes,” said his father, “I see the reason, and I don’t blame you particularly; only I have not time now to attend to you, and it interrupts me to hear of your difficulties. I wish you’d go into the front parlor, and amuse yourselves there.”
“Well, come, Rollo,” said Lucy, “let us go.”
“I’d rather stay here, sir,” said Rollo, in a supplicating tone. “If you’ll only tell us how we can put our light,” he continued, “then we shall not interrupt you again. We shall not have any thing to interrupt you for.”
“Well,” said his father, “I’ll do that, and then I’ll keep an account, and after you have interrupted me three times more, you must go out. Will you agree to that?”
Rollo and Lucy both said that they would agree to that, and so Mr. Holiday left his work, and went over to the sofa. He saw at once that the table was not large enough to render it safe to put the lamp and the book upon it together. So he brought a chair, and placed it near to the little table, and then laid the book, open, upon the chair. The chair was placed so near to the table that the light shone down upon the book.
“Now,” said he, “children, you must go and get a couple of crickets, or one long one, and put before the chair for your seats. So the crickets will serve for your chairs, the chair for your table, and the table for your light-stand.”
They accordingly went and got the crickets, and they found that the arrangement answered very well. They could see the pictures distinctly, and there was no danger now that the lamp would fall down. Mr. Holiday laid out a small piece of paper upon the corner of his table, and said that, every time that they interrupted him, in any way, he should make a mark upon that paper, and that, as soon as there were three marks made, they must go out.
The children turned over the leaves of the great book very carefully for some time, and were much amused by them. Rollo was greatly delighted at the picture of a dog standing on his head; and he talked and laughed about him with a great deal of glee. Lucy said, “Hush!” to him several times, for she was afraid that he would make so much noise that her uncle would be interrupted, and make a mark against them. But he seemed to take no notice of it.
At last, they got through the book, and Rollo shut it up and put it away. They then did not immediately know what to do next; but very soon Lucy said that, if she only had a pencil and a piece of paper, she would draw Rollo a house. Royal, she said, had showed her how.
“Only,” said she, “this chair would not be a good table to draw upon.”
The chair was what is commonly called a cane-bottomed chair. The seat was made of narrow strips of ratan, woven together in such a way as to leave a great many curious octagonal interstices. This did not prevent its answering a very good purpose as a support for a book; but it was plain that it would not do at all to write upon.
“I know how to manage,” said Rollo.
He said no more, but went immediately to a corner of the room, where there was a small space at the end of the secretary, and he pulled out a smooth pine board, about as wide, and twice as long, as the top of his little table. He brought this out with an air of great satisfaction, and they placed another chair at a little distance from the one which they had been using as a table, in such a manner that he could rest this board upon the two chairs, one end of the board upon each.
“That’s a good smooth table,” said Lucy. “What is this board made for?”
“It is one my father has. He uses it for a great many things,” said Rollo. “When he makes me a little book, he pares the edges upon it.”
“Why does not he do it on his table?” asked Lucy.
“Because,” said Rollo, “then his knife would cut through down to the table, and so cut the cloth.”
Rollo then went and got some paper out of a drawer where he knew that there was some kept, and where he often went to get some for his mother. But then he had no pencil; so he went over to his father’s table, and said,—
“Father, do you know where there is a pencil?—two pencils? We shall want two.”
His father did not answer his question, but quietly took up the piece of paper which he had placed upon the corner of the table, and made a mark upon it, saying, at the same time,—
“There’s one interruption.”
“Why, father,” said Rollo, “we only want two pencils, and I thought that you could just tell us if you knew where there are any.”
“That makes two interruptions,” said his father. “One more, and you’ll have to go out.”
Rollo looked confounded; he turned round, and walked slowly away, with a very anxious expression of countenance.
“Don’t you know where you can find any pencils yourself?” asked Lucy.
“No,” said Rollo.
Then he walked back slowly towards his father’s table, but was very careful not to say a word, or make any noise, so as not to make an interruption. His father had often told him that, when he was busy, he ought not to speak, but come and stand quietly by his side, until he was spoken to. So he thought he would adopt this plan at this time. He went up cautiously to the table, standing round in such a position that his father could see him; and there he remained still, waiting for his father to look up and ask him what he wanted.
His father waited a few minutes, and then looked up. But, to Rollo’s grief and consternation, instead of asking him, as usual, what he wanted, he took up the paper, and made another mark upon it, saying,—
“There’s the third interruption.”
Rollo could barely articulate the words, “Now, father,” and then, overcome with grief and disappointment, he turned around, and burst into tears.
“Why, Rollo,” said his father, “you must not be so much troubled.”
He took him by the hand, and drew him gently towards him, and took him up in his lap.
“You promised,” continued his father, “that, if you interrupted me three times, you would go out willingly.”
“Yes, sir,” said Rollo, though he was so much in trouble that he could not speak very distinctly; “but I don’t think you ought to call that an interruption.”
“Come to think of it,” replied his father, “perhaps I ought not to. You came and stood by me, very still, so as not to interrupt me, but to wait until I was at leisure.”
“Yes, sir,” said Rollo, still sobbing. “I did not speak a word.”
“Well,” said his father, “I will not count that, then.”
And so saying, he took his pen, and crossed out the third mark, which he made on the paper that contained the record of interruptions. This restored Rollo’s composure, though he still looked very unhappy. He could not imagine why his father should have even intended to have made a mark against him in such a case.
“I see,” said his father, “you and I had a different understanding about the interruptions. You did not speak to me, and interrupt me in the common way; but still, do you suppose that I could go on with my writing, while you were standing there, waiting to speak to me?”
“Why, no, sir,” said Rollo.
“No,” added his father; “so that your coming to me, and waiting to ask me for a pencil, really interrupted my work; and that was the reason why I was going to mark it. But, then, it was not what you have commonly understood by an interruption, and so I ought not to have marked it. And, in fact,” he continued, “now I have given you so much trouble to no purpose, I believe that I will erase all the marks, and begin again. Only now you must understand that you must take care of yourselves altogether, and that, if you do any thing, in any way, to take off my attention from my work, I shall have to mark it.”
“Well, sir,” said Rollo.
He spoke this in a tone of great satisfaction and pleasure, and jumped down, and went away to Lucy.
During all this time, Lucy had been standing near the board table, looking at Rollo and his father with a countenance expressive of great concern. She now, however, appeared very much relieved, and she proposed, in a whisper, that they should go out and ask her aunt to lend them some pencils. Accordingly Rollo went and got them in that manner, without any difficulty.