<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
<h3>A BIRTHDAY PARTY.</h3>
<p>"<span class="smcap">Uncle Jack!</span>" said Fluff, one morning, as she came and stood
by her uncle's side in the porch, while he was reading his newspaper.</p>
<p>"Well, Blossom!" said Uncle Jack, looking up, "what is it? any
more murders in the nursery? we shall have to hang all those dolls
before long, I am firmly convinced of it."</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs085.png" width-obs="450" height-obs="302" alt="Playing on the floor" title="" /></div>
<p>"No! no! Uncle Jack," exclaimed Fluff, looking much distressed.
"It is nothing about the dolls; and you <i>know</i> that was a waxidental<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</SPAN></span>
murder, Uncle, and I don't see why you laugh about it." "There!
there! little woman," said the good uncle, taking her on his knee and
kissing her; "she shall not be teased about her children. But now
let me hear quickly what you want to say, Blossom, for I must finish
reading my newspaper."</p>
<p>"Well, Uncle," said Fluff, in a confidential tone, "this is Peepsy's
birthday, you know, and I want to make some pottery for him. I
have made a little, but there is something queer about it, and I want
you to help me."</p>
<p>"Stop!" said Uncle Jack, gravely. "Let us understand this
thing thoroughly. Peepsy, you say? Peepsy? I don't seem to
recall the name. Is she a doll?"</p>
<p>"Oh! <i>no!</i> Uncle Jacket!" cried Fluff. "How could she be a
doll when she is a bird? and besides, she isn't she at all; she is he."</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs086.png" width-obs="293" height-obs="300" alt="Broken pottery" title="" /></div>
<p>"Oh!" said Uncle
Jack; "a bird! ah yes!
that alters the case.
And you want to make
some pottery for him,
eh? why, what's the
matter? have you
broken his water-dish,
or his bath-tub?"</p>
<p>Fluffy sighed and
looked despondent.
Then she said very gently,
"Perhaps you are<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</SPAN></span>
not quite well this morning, Uncle Jack, for I cannot make you possibly
understand anything. When I say pottery, I mean pottery
with rhymes in it, like the Riginal Poems. Don't you know 'The
Lobster's black, when boiled he's red?' that's what I mean."</p>
<p>"To be sure!" <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'suid'">said</ins> Uncle Jack. "I am certainly very stupid
this morning, but now I understand. We are to make some rhymes,
(we call it <i>poetry</i>, Fluffy dear, not pottery,) about Peepsy, a bird,
whose birthday is to be celebrated to-day. And it is to be like
the Original Poems for Infant Minds; and you have made part of it,
and I am to help you with the rest. Is that all right, my Blossom?"</p>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs087.png" width-obs="298" height-obs="300" alt="Sleeping dolly" title="" /></div>
<p>"Yes, you clever Uncle!" cried Fluff, clapping her hands. "That
is all right, and the paper is all ready in the library, please, dear."</p>
<p>"Oh! you little monkey!" said Uncle Jack, laughing and laying
aside his paper. "Well, the sooner it is done the sooner it is done
with, as Mrs. Posset says. So run along, and I will follow you."</p>
<p>Fluff led the way joyfully
to the library, and
for some time the two
were closeted together, in
deep and earnest consultation.
At length Fluff
came out, looking very
happy and proud, waving
a paper in her hand. She
ran up to the nursery,
where Puff and Downy
were, busy with the doll<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</SPAN></span>
family, the remaining members of which were more tenderly
cherished than ever, since the deaths of Vashti Ann and her daughter.
Fluff entered in triumph with her paper. "Here is the pottery,
Puffy!" she said. "Uncle Jack says it isn't pottery, but something
else; but here it is, anyhow."</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs088.png" width-obs="372" height-obs="500" alt="THE DOLL'S NURSERY." title="" /> <span class="caption">THE DOLL'S NURSERY.</span></div>
<p>"Oh! how nice!" said Puff. "Sit down and read it to the
children and Peepsy, won't you, Fluff?"</p>
<p>So Fluff sat down, and as soon as she had recovered her breath,
read as follows:</p>
<div class='poem'>
Our Puffy has a little bird,<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Peepsy is his name,</span><br/>
And now I'll sing a little song,<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To celebrate the same.</span><br/>
<br/>
He's yellow all from head to foot,<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he is very sweet,</span><br/>
And very little trouble, for<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He never wants to eat.</span><br/>
<br/>
He never asks for water clear,<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He never chirps for seed,</span><br/>
For cracker or for cuttlefish,<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For sugar or chickweed.</span><br/>
<br/>
"Oh what a perfect pet!" you cry,<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But there's one little thing,</span><br/>
One drawback to the bonny bird,<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our Peepsy cannot sing.</span><br/>
<br/>
He chirps no song at dawn or eve,<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He makes no merry din,</span><br/>
But this, one cannot wonder at,<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For Peepsy's made of tin.</span><br/></div>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs089a.png" width-obs="331" height-obs="300" alt="Bird" title="" /></div>
<p>"Isn't it lovely?" said Puff, drawing a long breath. "It prescribes<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</SPAN></span>
him perfectly. Doesn't it, you dear Peepsy?" she added,
holding up a blue cage about
two inches square, in which
hung the precious bird. "And
did you make it almost all,
Fluffy?"</p>
<p>"Well—no!" said Fluff,
considering, "not almost <i>all</i>,
but almost a good deal of it.
I said all the things I wanted
to say, and Uncle Jack
changed some of the words, and put rhymes into them. I think it
<i>is</i> nice," she continued, "and I am glad you like it, Puff. But now
we must make haste and dress all the dolls in their best clothes, for
Nibble and Brighteyes promised to give Peepsy a birthday party,
you know, and they are
getting it ready in the
garden, under the cotton-wool
tree."</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs089b.png" width-obs="316" height-obs="325" alt="Gathering" title="" /></div>
<p>"The cotton-wool
tree!" said I to myself.
"I think I must look and
see what that means."
So I tipped my glass
just a hair's breadth,
towards the lower part of
the garden. There, sure<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</SPAN></span>
enough, were Nibble and Brighteyes, hard at work amid the new-mown
hay. They were making it into five hay-cocks, which were
arranged in a circle under a huge balm-of-Gilead tree. The ground
was covered with the pods which had fallen from the tree, all filled
with white soft silk cotton, and I knew this must be the cotton-wool
tree. Grim was tied to
another tree hard by, a
position which he did not
enjoy, to judge from his
impatient jumping and
barking.</p>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs090.png" width-obs="325" height-obs="210" alt="Grim tied to a tree" title="" /></div>
<p>"Yes, Grim, I know it
isn't at all nice to be tied
up!" said Nibble, in reply to a long howl of protest from the dog.
"But we cannot have you jumping over our thrones. When the
party is all ready, you shall come to it, so you ought to be patient.
Now, Brighteyes, if you will make a little cotton-wool throne in the
middle for Peepsy. I will get the lunch ready. Where are the three
bones for the dogs?"</p>
<p>"Over there, behind Fluff's hay-cock," said Brighteyes. "And
there are five gingerbread birds that Susan made, one for each of
us, and the wooden turkey out of the doll-house for Peepsy, because
he won't really eat it, you know. Oh! and we ought to have something
for Tomty, Nibble, for we invited him, and he said he would
certainly come. You might ask Susan for a cup of tea when you go
up to call the children, for I heard Tomty tell her yesterday that all
the vegetables he wanted were bread and tea."<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Well, so I will!" said Nibble. "And if Susan will not give us
any, he can have a cup of milk, and play it is tea."</p>
<p>So away went Nibble, jumping on the hay-cocks, and whistling as
he went. Soon he returned, with the three little mice trotting behind
him, and Tomty, with his rake over his shoulder, bringing up the
rear.</p>
<p>"Here we all are!" cried Puff, joyfully. "Is the party ready,
Brighteyes? I think Peepsy is very impatient, though he behaves
beautifully."</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs091.png" width-obs="378" height-obs="300" alt="Waiting for the party" title="" /></div>
<p>"Yes, everything is ready!" replied Brighteyes. "Here is
Peepsy's throne in the
middle, and these
hay-cocks are ours.
Put him on his throne,
Puffy—so! now all
sit down yourselves,
please, and take the
dolls in your laps."
The mice and Tomty
obeyed meekly, and
perched themselves
on the hay-cocks as best they might.</p>
<p>"Now," continued Brighteyes, "we must all have names, of course,
because it isn't any fun just to be ourselves at a party. I will be the
Countess Kinchinjunga. What will you be, Nibble!"</p>
<p>"Oh! I am the Bold Baron of Borodino," said Nibble. "Puff
and Fluff can be the Princess Perriwinkle and the Marchioness of<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</SPAN></span>
Mulligatawney, and Downy shall be Nosolio, the Niggardly Knife-Grinder
of Nineveh. There's a fine name for you, Downy, boy!"</p>
<p>The Niggardly Knife-Grinder smiled contentedly, and said, "Yef,
I'm dat, only I tan't say it."</p>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs092.png" width-obs="419" height-obs="325" alt="On a pillow" title="" /></div>
<p>"And now," said Nibble, "we will have the lunch, and then we
must all make speeches to Peepsy, because that is the proper thing.
Countess Kinchinjunga, produce the feast!" Nibble said this with
a very lordly air, and waved his hand with great dignity; but unfortunately
at that moment he lost his balance, and rolled off the hay-cock,
to the great amusement of the other mice. But Brighteyes
uttered a cry of distress. "Oh! Nibble, you have rolled on Tomty's
cup of tea and upset it. What shall we do?"</p>
<p>"Never mind, Miss!" said Tomty, smiling, "sure I'm not hungry,
Miss, let alone it's almost dinner time. And thank ye kindly all the
same, Miss
Brighteyes."</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs093.png" width-obs="246" height-obs="400" alt="Tomty" title="" /></div>
<p>"Well,
Tomty, you
shall hear the
speeches,
anyhow," said
Nibble, consolingly,
"and
that will be
the best part
of it; though
I am very sorry I upset the tea," he added, "and you shall have my<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</SPAN></span>
gingerbread bird, if you like, instead." But Tomty declined the
bird, with many thanks; and now the "party" began in earnest.
Grim was untied, and a sharp whistle from Tomty brought Gruff and
Grab to see what was going on. Each dog received a huge bone as
his share of the feast, and each showed his delight in his own way.
Then the five gingerbread birds were distributed, and the wooden
turkey, which was certainly a work of art, was placed before Peepsy's
cage with a great deal of
ceremony. Peepsy himself
manifested no excitement,
but no doubt he
enjoyed himself in his
own way. Then the turkey
was handed round to
all the dolls, Fanny Elssler
and Katinka and
Sally Bradford; and Puff
declared that they all had
as much as they could
possibly eat, which was
probably true. When the
feast was over, Nibble
rose and said, solemnly,
"the speeches will now
begin. Tomty, you are
the oldest, and you shall
make the first speech to<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</SPAN></span>
Peepsy." "Is it the little tin fowl in the cage, sir?" asked Tomty.
"Well, Mr. Peepsy, I've lived forty years, men and boy, and never
made a speech yet, sir, but here's wishing you good health, and long
life to you, Mr. Peepsy; and if you live till you sing a song, you'll
come to a good old age, I'm thinking." And Tomty sat down, amid
the applause of his audience.</p>
<p>"That was a very good speech, Tomty," said Nibble, with a patronizing
air, "though it was short. Now hear mine, all of you. Ahem!"
and the young orator, standing on the top of his hay-cock, struck an
imposing attitude. "Friends, Romans, and Tomty, lend me your
ears! this is Peepsy's birthday, and he is one year old. I bought
him myself at Jane Evans's shop, so I ought to know. He will
never be one year old again, and neither shall we, which makes us all
sad." "I isn't fad a bit!" interrupted Downy, with a gleeful
chuckle. "Well, you ought to be!" said Nibble, "but you are too
young to know much, I suppose. Peepsy is sad, and he might weep
if he had any eyes, but they are only little holes in his head. It is
sad not to have any eyes, but it is an advantage not to be able to
weep. If Puff hadn't had any eyes, she wouldn't have made such a
fuss yesterday when I jumped on her toe from the apple tree, because
I didn't mean to." "I don't think that is very nice to put in a
speech, Nibble!" said Puff, looking rather hurt. "Well," said Nibble,
hastily, "I won't say anything more about it, but I want to say
this:</p>
<div class='poem2'>
"When I bought him at Jane Evans's shop,<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Peepsy was glad.</span><br/>
<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Now that he is one year old and knows that he won't be it any more,</span><br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Peepsy is sad."</span><br/>
<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</SPAN></span></div>
<p>"That is poetry," he added, "and that is the best way to finish a
speech."</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs094.png" width-obs="350" height-obs="339" alt="Bird in a tree" title="" /></div>
<p>Upon this Nibble sat down, and after a moment's pause, Brighteyes
rose, and spoke as follows: "Peepsy, I am afraid you think it is
very hard that you have to stay in your cage all the time. I know I
should not like to live
in a cage, but then I
am not afraid of cats.
But if you were to
come out and be alive,
you would be dreadfully
afraid of the china
cat in the doll-house,
you know you would.
Thus we see that all
things are for the best!
and I am sure your
cage is a perfect beauty,
which must be a great comfort. Perhaps you think you would like
some worms, Peepsy; and we would certainly get you some if you
could eat them, but you cannot. My dear Peepsy, I will now conclude
my speech, wishing you many happy returns of the day."</p>
<p>Now it was Puff's turn, but to my surprise, this little mouse, who
is generally very ready with her tongue, seemed to hang back. "Let
Fluffy read the pottery!" said Puff. "I am so hot, and my head
aches so, I don't think I can make my speech."</p>
<p>So Fluff read the famous piece of pottery, to the great delight of<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</SPAN></span>
all. Meanwhile I was looking more closely at Puff, and though I
was—well, how many miles off? answer, some of you big children!
certainly a great many!—still I could see plainly enough that the
child was not well. Her
cheeks were hot and
flushed, and her blue
eyes shone with a strange
brightness, very different
from their usual sunny
light. I was glad to see
that Tomty was also observing
his little pet; and
presently he said quietly,
"Miss Puff, dear, the sun is too hot for you. Shall Tomty give you
a ride on his shoulder, and we'll find Mrs. Posset?"</p>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs095.png" width-obs="330" height-obs="251" alt="Child not well" title="" /></div>
<p>"Yes, please, Tomty!" said Puff, wearily; "I am so <i>very</i> tired,
though I don't know why I should be."</p>
<p>The other mice clustered round their sister, and kissed and patted
her. They saw that Tomty looked anxious, and when he had carried
Puff up to the house in his arms, they soon followed, taking Peepsy
and the dolls with them. The three dogs only remained under the
cotton-wool tree, discussing the party very gravely, and wondering
why it was that human beings never cared to gnaw bones. And so,
rather sadly, ended Peepsy's birthday party.<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class='center'> <table class="dragonfly" summary="dragonfly">
<tr><td align='left'><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>
<div class='poem'>
I jumped on the back of a dragon-fly,<br/>
And flew and flew till I reached the sky.<br/>
<br/><br/><br/><br/>
I pulled down a cloud that was hiding the blue,<br/>
And all the wee stars came tumbling through.<br/>
<br/><br/><br/><br/>
They tumbled down and they tumbled round,<br/>
And turned into flowers as they touched the ground.<br/>
<br/><br/><br/><br/>
So come with me, little children, come,<br/>
And down in the meadow I'll pick you some.<br/></div>
<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/></td>
</tr></table></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</SPAN></span></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />