The Parent's Assistant; Or, Stories for Children

'My brother? I have no brother, dunce,' said Mrs. Theresa.

'Mr. Eden, madam.'

'Ho, ho!' said Mrs. Tattle, in a more complacent tone, 'the boy takes me for Miss Bertha Eden, I perceive'; and, flattered to be taken in the dark by a chimney-sweeper for a young and handsome lady, Mrs. Theresa laughed, and informed him 'that they had mistaken the room; and they must go up another pair of stairs, and turn to the left.'

The chimney-sweeper with the squeaking voice bowed, thanked her ladyship for this information, said, 'Good-night to ye, quality'; and they both moved towards the door.

'Stay,' said Mrs. Tattle, whose curiosity was excited; 'what can the Edens want with chimney-sweepers at this time o' night, I wonder? Christopher, did you hear anything about it?' said the lady to her footman, who was now lighting the candles.

'Upon my word, ma'am,' said the servant, 'I can't say; but I'll step down below and inquire. I heard them talking about it in the kitchen; but I only got a word here and there, for I was hunting for the snuff-dish, as I knew it must be for candles when I heard the bell ring, ma'am; so I thought to find the snuff-dish before I answered the bell, for I knew it must be for candles you rang. But, if you please, I'll step down now, ma'am, and see about the chimney-sweepers.'

'Yes, step down, do; and, Christopher, bring up the cowslip-wine, and some more macaroons for my little Marianne.'

Marianne withdrew rather coldly from a kiss which Mrs. Tattle was going to give her; for she was somewhat surprised at the familiarity with which this lady talked to her footman. She had not been accustomed to these familiarities in her father and mother, and she did not like them.

'Well,' said Mrs. Tattle to Christopher, who was now returned, 'what is the news?'

'Ma'am, the little fellow with the squeaking voice has been telling me the whole story. The other morning, ma'am, early, he and the other were down the hill sweeping in Paradise Row. Those chimneys, they say, are difficult; and the square fellow, ma'am, the biggest of the two boys, got wedged in the chimney. The other little fellow was up at the top at the time, and he heard the cry; but in his fright, and all, he did not know what to do, ma'am; for he looked about from the top of the chimney, and not a soul could he see stirring, but a few that he could not make attend to his screech; the boy within almost stifling too. So he screeched, and screeched, all he could; and by the greatest chance in life, ma'am, old Mr. Eden was just going down the hill to fetch his morning walk.'

'Ay,' interrupted Mrs. Theresa, 'friend Ephraim is one of your early risers.'

'Well?' said Marianne, impatiently.

'So, ma'am, hearing the screech, he turns and sees the sweep; and at once he understands the matter – '

'I'm sure he must have taken some time to understand it,' interposed Mrs. Tattle, 'for he's the slowest creature breathing, and the deafest in company. Go on, Christopher. So the sweep did make him hear.'

'So he says, ma'am; and so the old gentleman went in and pulled the boy out of the chimney, with much ado, ma'am.'

'Bless me!' exclaimed Mrs. Theresa; 'but did old Eden go up the chimney himself after the boy, wig and all?'

'Why, ma'am,' said Christopher, with a look of great delight, 'that was all as one, as the very 'dentical words I put to the boy myself, when he telled me his story. But, ma'am, that was what I couldn't get out of him, neither, rightly, for he is a churl – the big boy that was stuck in the chimney, I mean; for when I put the question to him about the wig, laughing like, he wouldn't take it laughing like at all; but would only make answer to us like a bear, 'He saved my life, that's all I know'; and this over again, ma'am, to all the kitchen round, that cross-questioned him. But I finds him stupid and ill-mannered like, for I offered him a shilling, ma'am, myself, to tell about the wig; but he put it back in a way that did not become such as he, to no lady's butler, ma'am; whereupon I turns to the slim fellow (and he's smarterer, and more mannerly, ma'am, with a tongue in his head for his betters), but he could not resolve me my question either; for he was up at the top of the chimney the best part o' the time; and when he came down Mr. Eden had his wig on, but had his arm all bare and bloody, ma'am.'

'Poor Mr. Eden!' exclaimed Marianne.

'Oh, miss,' continued the servant, 'and the chimney-sweep himself was so bruised, and must have been killed.'

'Well, well! but he's alive now; go on with your story, Christopher,' said Mrs. T. 'Chimney-sweepers get wedged in chimneys every day; it's part of their trade, and it's a happy thing when they come off with a few bruises.[15 - This atrocious practice is now happily superseded by the use of sweeping machines.] To be sure,' added she, observing that both Frederick and Marianne looked displeased at this speech, 'to be sure, if one may believe this story, there was some real danger.'

'Real danger! yes, indeed,' said Marianne; 'and I'm sure I think Mr. Eden was very good.'

'Certainly it was a most commendable action, and quite providential. So I shall take an opportunity of saying, when I tell the story in all companies; and the boy may thank his kind stars, I'm sure, to the end of his days, for such an escape – But pray, Christopher,' said she, persisting in her conversation with Christopher, who was now laying the cloth for supper, 'pray, which house was it in Paradise Row? where the Eagles or the Miss Ropers lodge? or which?'

'It was at my Lady Battersby's, ma'am.'

'Ha! ha!' cried Mrs. Theresa, 'I thought we should get to the bottom of the affair at last. This is excellent! This will make an admirable story for my Lady Battersby the next time I see her. These Quakers are so sly! Old Eden, I know, has long wanted to obtain an introduction into that house; and a charming charitable expedient hit upon! My Lady Battersby will enjoy this, of all things.'

CHAPTER III

'Now,' continued Mrs. Theresa, turning to Frederick, as soon as the servant had left the room, 'now, Mr. Frederick Montague, I have a favour – such a favour – to ask of you; it's a favour which only you can grant; you have such talents, and would do the thing so admirably; and my Lady Battersby would quite adore you for it. She will do me the honour to be here to spend an evening to-morrow. I'm convinced Mr. and Mrs. Montague will find themselves obliged to stay out another day, and I so long to show you off to her ladyship; and your Doctor Carbuncle, and your Counsellor Puff, and your Miss Croker, and all your charming characters. You must let me introduce you to her ladyship to-morrow evening. Promise me.'

'Oh, ma'am,' said Frederick, 'I cannot promise you any such thing, indeed. I am much obliged to you; but indeed I cannot come.'

'Why not, my dear sir? why not? You don't think I mean you should promise, if you are certain your papa and mamma will be home.'

'If they do come home, I will ask them about it,' said Frederick, hesitating; for though he by no means wished to accept the invitation, he had not yet acquired the necessary power of decidedly saying No.

'Ask them!' repeated Mrs. Theresa. 'My dear sir, at your age, must you ask your papa and mamma about such things?'

'Must! no, ma'am,' said Frederick; 'but I said I would. I know I need not, because my father and mother always let me judge for myself almost about everything.'

'And about this, I am sure,' cried Marianne. 'Papa and mamma, you know, just as they were going away, said, "If Mrs. Theresa asks you to come, do as you think best."'

'Well, then,' said Mrs. Theresa, 'you know it rests with yourselves, if you may do as you please.'

'To be sure I may, madam,' said Frederick, colouring from that species of emotion which is justly called false shame, and which often conquers real shame; 'to be sure, ma'am, I may do as I please.'

'Then I may make sure of you,' said Mrs. Theresa; 'for now it would be downright rudeness to tell a lady you won't do as she pleases. Mr. Frederick Montague, I'm sure, is too well-bred a young gentleman to do so unpolite, so ungallant a thing!'

The jargon of politeness and gallantry is frequently brought by the silly acquaintance of young people to confuse their simple morality and clear good sense. A new and unintelligible system is presented to them in a language foreign to their understanding, and contradictory to their feelings. They hesitate between new motives and old principles. From the fear of being thought ignorant, they become affected; and from the dread of being thought to be children act like fools. But all this they feel only when they are in the company of such people as Mrs. Theresa Tattle.

'Ma'am,' Frederick began, 'I don't mean to be rude; but I hope you'll excuse me from coming to drink tea with you to-morrow, because my father and mother are not acquainted with Lady Battersby, and maybe they might not like – '

'Take care, take care,' said Mrs. Theresa, laughing at his perplexity; 'you want to get off from obliging me, and you don't know how. You had very nearly made a most shocking blunder in putting it all upon poor Lady Battersby. Now you know it's impossible that Mr. and Mrs. Montague could have in nature the slightest objection to introducing you to my Lady Battersby at my own house; for, don't you know, that, besides her ladyship's many unquestionable qualities, which one need not talk of, she is cousin, but once removed, to the Trotters of Lancashire – your mother's great favourites? And there is not a person at the Wells, I'll venture to say, could be of more advantage to your sister Sophy, in the way of partners, when she comes to go to balls, which it's to be supposed she will, some time or other; and as you are so good a brother, that's a thing to be looked to, you know. Besides, as to yourself, there's nothing her ladyship delights in so much as in a good mimic; and she'll quite adore you!'

'But I don't want her to adore me, ma'am,' said Frederick, bluntly; then, correcting himself, added, 'I mean for being a mimic.'

'Why not, my love? Between friends, can there be any harm in showing one's talents? You that have such talents to show. She'll keep your secret, I'll answer for her; and,' added she, 'you needn't be afraid of her criticism; for, between you and me, she's no great critic: so you'll come. Well, thank you, that's settled. How you have made me beg and pray! but you know your own value, I see; as you entertaining people always do. One must ask a wit, like a fine singer, so often. Well, but now for the favour I was going to ask you.'

Frederick looked surprised; for he thought that the favour of his company was what she meant; but she explained herself farther.

'As to the old Quaker who lodges above, old Ephraim Eden – my Lady Battersby and I have so much diversion about him. He is the best character, the oddest creature! If you were but to see him come into the rooms with those stiff skirts, or walking with his eternal sister Bertha, and his everlasting broad-brimmed hat! One knows him a mile off! But then his voice and way, and altogether, if one could get them to the life, they'd be better than anything on the stage; better even than anything I've seen to-night; and I think you'd make a capital Quaker for my Lady Battersby; but then the thing is, one can never get to hear the old quiz talk. Now you, who have so much invention and cleverness – I have no invention myself – but could you not hit upon some way of seeing him, so that you might get him by heart? I'm sure you, who are so quick, would only want to see him, and hear him, for half a minute, to be able to take him off, so as to kill one with laughing. But I have no invention.'

'Oh, as to the invention,' said Frederick, 'I know an admirable way of doing the thing, if that is all; but then remember, I don't say I will do the thing, for I will not. But I know a way of getting up into his room, and seeing him, without his knowing me to be there.'

'Oh, tell it me, you charming, clever creature!'

'But, remember, I do not say I will do it.'

'Well, well, let us hear it; and you shall do as you please afterwards. Merciful goodness!' exclaimed Mrs. Tattle, 'do my ears deceive me? I declare I looked round, and thought I heard the squeaking chimney-sweeper was in the room!'

'So did I, Frederick, I declare,' cried Marianne, laughing, 'I never heard anything so like his voice in my life.'

Frederick imitated the squeaking voice of this chimney-sweeper to great perfection.

'Now,' continued he, 'this fellow is just my height. The old Quaker, if my face were blackened, and if I were to change clothes with the chimney-sweeper, I'll answer for it, would never know me.'

'Oh, it's an admirable invention! I give you infinite credit for it!' exclaimed Mrs. Theresa. 'It shall, it must be done. I'll ring, and have the fellow up this minute.'