Part 10

As Oceanicus said this, he looked straight at young Turtle in the most impertinent manner. But for once Columbus was his match, for he said coolly, "Old Barnacle vows he will have Cockle imprisoned, if he can find a fit place for such a young rascal, and I advised him to try a lobster-pot."

Now that was a direct insult, for Oceanicus had been caught in one not long ago, on his way home from a frolic, and would have been boiled if his friends had not gone to the rescue. It was considered a sad disgrace to die by boiling, or to be caught in any way; so the Lobster family hushed it up as carefully as the Turtles did Theresa's runaway match. Oceanicus gave Columbus a look which he long remembered, but said nothing to him; and turning to Miss Crab, as if they were alone, he murmured regretfully, "My dear Lily, it must be dreadfully dull for you with no dancing. Won't you let me bring you something to eat? I see they have begun supper at last."

"I was about to take Miss Crab down myself," said young Turtle, haughtily.

"Now don't quarrel and be absurd about me. I am going to stay here, and you may each bring me something. I could fancy a shrimp, and a glass of briny," said Miss Lily, hoping to soothe the angry gentlemen.

Both rushed away; but Oceanicus, who was always brisk, got back first, and whispered, as he handed the glass, "Remember after the tableaux."

"Oh, dear, no! I couldn't think of it!" cried Miss Lily, with a little scream. "Now you may hold my things, while I eat. Be careful not to break that, for I value it very much," she added, as she handed Turtle the fan he had given her. "How sweet they are! I do so love flowers," she went on taking a long sniff at her bouquet before she gave it to Lobster to hold. Then, taking off her gloves, she coquettishly sipped her wine; and, holding the shrimp in one delicate claw, she daintily picked off its legs, putting them bit by bit into her mouth, till nothing but the tail remained, which Turtle kept as a love-token.

"My dear creature, how miserably you are looking: I'm afraid this gay season has been too much for you. People at your time of life should be careful of themselves," said Miss Mosquito to Fanny Firefly, who was a universal favorite, being a bright, merry little lady.

"I'm very well, thank you, dear, and none the worse for my gayeties. If you can stand a dissipated season, I guess I can, for you are older than me, you know," returned Miss Fanny, sweetly, as she walked away with Tom Periwinkle, who shunned "Miss Skeet," as he called her, as if she had been a walking pest,--a flying one she certainly was.

"Poor girl! I'm sorry she is losing her good looks so fast, and getting so sharp and sour. She used to be rather pretty and amiable, but she is quite spoilt, and having neither money nor accomplishments she will soon be quite forgotten," said Xantippe, with a sigh that said plainly, "If she was like me, now, she'd be every thing that was good and charming."

"How are the Horse-shoes getting on, Miss Mosquito?" asked Mrs. Turtle.

"I don't see much of them, they are not in my set, you know. People who rose from mud, and still have relations living there, are not the sort of persons with whom I care to associate," replied Xantippe, with a scornful perk of her long nose.

Now both the Turtles and Lobsters had connections in Mudville, and so of course were offended by that speech. Old Mrs. Lobster turned as red as if she had been boiled; but Mrs. Turtle never forgot herself, and changed the subject by saying politely, "We are going to have supper early on account of the tableaux: as you are going to act, won't you step down with me and have some refreshment before the rush begins?"

"Thank you, I'm going to supper at the hotel by and by. I'm rather delicate, you know, and I find the things I get there agree with me better than common suppers. I see Mrs. Barnacle is expecting me to come and amuse her, so I must fly. Pray take care and not excite yourself, my dear lady, for you know apoplexy is sadly fatal to your family. You, Mrs. Lobster, are happy in being free from that aristocratic complaint." And with these farewell stings, Miss Mosquito buzzed away, leaving the two old ladies to exclaim angrily, as they settled their cap-ribbons, "Xantippe gets quite unbearable. She is regularly blood-thirsty, and stabs right and left with her cruel tongue. Let us go and have a comfortable dish of tea, my dear; I'm sure we need it."

It was very amusing to see the company at supper; the alderman trying to think of his guests before himself; the young ladies delicately picking at their food, and pretending to have no appetite after taking a hearty tea at home; the young men eating every thing they could lay their hands on, and drinking more than was good for them. The old ladies were rather neglected, but made the best of it, and slipped a few trifles into their pockets for the dears at home; while their stout husbands stuffed till they were speechless.

After supper, there was singing; and the Petrels came out splendidly, for they were a glee club, and sung all sorts of sea-songs in fine style, particularly "A Life on the Ocean Wave," and "Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep." Miss Mosquito, in a shrill small voice, sang Tennyson's "Blow, Bugle, blow;" and Mrs. Shrew-mouse gave a lullaby very sweetly. Old Lobster, who was a gay fellow still, warbled "I know a bank," which made Old Turtle laugh till they thought he would certainly go off in a fit; and, to Lily's delight, young Lobster's serenade entirely eclipsed young Turtle's _barcarolle_. After this, the Flying-Fish performed some wonderful feats in the pool; and the Beetles were allowed as a special favor to show the young people the new Grasshopper-step which was all the rage.

Then came the tableaux. A row of fireflies made capital foot-lights; a thick cobweb was the curtain, and two spiders were engaged to work it. Monsieur Hyla, a tree-frog, piped sweetly between the pictures, and every thing went smoothly. The first was a scene from "The Tempest." A venerable Horse-shoe was Prospero, and his stiff tail was very effective as the magic wand. Lily Crab was Miranda, and looked lovely as she gazed admiringly at Oceanicus, who played Ferdinand. A Hedgehog did Caliban; a Firefly was Ariel; and the picture was a great success everybody said but Columbus Turtle.

The alderman himself consented to appear in the next as the Ancient Mariner telling his story to the wedding guest. His face was wanting in expression, and he was rather stout for the haunted man; but as several members of his family had led seafaring lives, and died at fabulously great ages, he felt it was an appropriate part for him. Young Lobster was the detained guest, and was really fine in the longing look he gave at the bridal train just passing by. Columbus was the bridegroom, and Lily the bride, and very sweet she looked under her veil; while Turtle was absolutely brilliant with momentary excitement.

The "Three Fishers" followed, and was the gem of the whole, for one of the Petrels chanted the words as the scenes were shown. First, the fishers were seen "sailing out into the west" on the pool in large shells. A Jelly-fish, young Cockle, and Tom Periwinkle were the fishers, and the ladies applauded violently, as they rowed gallantly away. Then the three wives appeared up in the light-house tower, which was made by collecting the fireflies on the top of the rock, while the Shrew-mouse, Miss Beetle, and Miss Snail, as the wives, looked anxiously out for the boats "that would never come back to the land." The gentlemen quite brought down the house at this, but the ladies thought it "just a trifle flat." The last scene was really thrilling, for the "three corpses lay out on the shining sands," and "the women were weeping and wringing their hands" most tragically. Young Jelly-fish was very ghostly, and the anguish of Mrs. Shrew-mouse so capitally acted it was evident she had known sorrow. "The Lily Maid of Astolat" followed, for that and the "Fishers" are always favorites at the seaside. Of course Lily Crab was the maid, laid on a bed of splendid sea-weeds in the great rosy-lipped shell which was the boat. In the prow sat a toad, as the faithful old dwarf who steered her down to Camelot, and his ugliness made her beauty more dazzling. On the shore of the pool stood the handsomest Petrel, as King Arthur; another was Lancelot; and a pretty Miss Periwinkle was Guinevere. A good many of the company had not read "Idyls of the King," and hadn't the least idea what it all meant; but they took care to look as if they did, and patted their hands with an approving, "Very sweet," "Quite exquisite;" "Really, it does the young people a vast deal of credit;" "Altogether _commy la faut_," as old Mrs. Lobster said, trying to be elegant, though she was a very ordinary woman, who could do nothing but make salads, for her father kept a restaurant years ago.

The last one was the "Corsair's Bride." Columbus was the stern papa, and Lily the lovely daughter, both in the Greek costume, and it is easy for one to imagine how becoming it must have been.

This was an acted tableau; for, as Haidee lay listlessly on her divan, thinking of the gallant being who had sung under her window one moonlight night, the same gallant being magnificently got up as a corsair burst into the room, followed by his band. Oceanicus looked as dark, fierce, and melodramatic as half-a-dozen Byrons, and quite electrified the audience by knocking down the stately papa, exclaiming, "Tyrant, I defy thee! Ha! ha! she is mine!" and rushing from the stage with Lily on his arm.

This thrilling display of tragic power produced round after round of tumultuous applause, and cries of "Lob! Lob!" from all parts of the house. The curtain rose, but no one appeared except Columbus, still on the ground, having been half-stunned and wholly bewildered by the attack, that not having been planned beforehand. He lay staring blankly, and looking so forlorn that the wags who had pulled up the curtain dropped it, and raised him instead. Everybody laughed at him, and praised Oceanicus. The Lobsters quite glowed with pride; the young ladies declared it was "perfectly thrilling;" and the young gentlemen vowed that "Lob outdid himself, by Jove!"

By the time the excitement subsided, people began to wonder why the "stars" didn't appear to receive their honors. But nowhere could they be found, and Mrs. Crab began to look anxious. Some one suggested that they might be strolling on the beach to cool and compose themselves. A careful search was made, but no trace of them was discovered, till an old Jelly-fish who was lying on the sand informed them that a young couple had sailed away not long before, and that he heard them say there would be just time to stop at the Rev. Dr. Cod's before they caught the outward-bound steamer.

When this dreadful intelligence was carried back to the party, Mrs. Crab fainted dead away, and the Commodore stamped about, using very strong language. Miss Mosquito triumphantly exclaimed, "I told you so;" and every one was much excited.

The party broke up at once, and as the last wave left the door Mrs. Turtle said with a long sigh, "For my part, I'm glad the season's over, that we are done with fashion and frivolity, and can go back to our simple, sensible ways, and live like respectable creatures."

Cambridge: Press of John Wilson & Son.

End of Project Gutenberg's Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag, Volume 3, by Louisa May Alcott