Chapter 2

In one of the upper rooms of Lina's house you would see, if you happened to walk in, another whole house built. It is two stories high: its front is red brick; and a flight of brown stone steps, made of sand-paper glued over wood, leads up to the entrance. It has real sashes in the windows, which open French fashion; a silver door-plate, with the name of "Montague" upon it; and a little mat, about as large as a half dollar, on the upper step! If we could make ourselves as small as dolls, we might walk in, and find out that the hall has a dark wood floor, some cunning little pictures hanging on the wall, a noble black walnut staircase, and is lighted with a real little hall lamp.

The parlor, on one side of this hall, has a velvet carpet on the floor, satin chairs and sofas, a centre table covered with tiny books, an étagere full of ornaments, and a wicker-work flower stand filled with flowers. Real little mantel and pier glasses are over the fire place, and between the front windows, which are hung with elegant lace curtains; and there is, besides, a piano-forte, a gold chandelier stuck full of china wax-candles, and a little clock that can wind up--though as to its going, that has to be imagined, for it obstinately represents the time as a quarter to twelve, morning, noon, and night!

On the opposite side of the hall is the dining-room. It is furnished with a fine side-board, holding a silver tea-set and some tiny glass goblets and decanters; a round table, which is abominably disorderly, it must be confessed, being spread with a table cloth all awry, and covered with a grand dinner of wooden chickens and vegetables of various sorts; a mould of yellow-glass jelly, and a pair of fancy fruit dishes, made of cream candy. The dining-room chairs, with real leather seats, are scattered about, and there is even the daily newspaper thrown down on the floor, where the master of the house may have left it! Up stairs there are three bedrooms, furnished in the same fashionable style; and, in short, such an elegant doll's house is not to be found anywhere but in a French toy shop. This one was brought from Paris by Lina's elder brother, and set up in this very room last Christmas as a surprise for his dear little sister. But it is time I should describe the family who lived in this elegant mansion. So, little reader, if you will only take fast hold of the end of the author's pen, shut up your eyes tight, and then open them very quick on this page, heigh! presto! you and she will be turned into little personages just the size of dolls, able to walk up the brown stone steps, enter the house, and take a peep at the Montague family.

On a lounge by the parlor fire sits an elegant lady, who is rather skimpy about the wig, and therefore holds the honorable post of mamma to the family; as this circumstance, combined with her looking excessively inky about the nose, gives her a somewhat aged and anxious appearance. She wears a blue silk dress with five flounces, a lace cap, and a watch and chain; and her name is Mrs. Charles Augustus Montague. Her husband, _Mr._ Charles Augustus, is a china doll with a crop of rather scrubby flaxen hair, which can be combed and brushed as much as Lina chooses. Although he is so rich, he has only one suit of clothes, and must even go to parties in a pair of checked gingham trowsers, a red vest, and a blue coat with brass buttons! He is supposed to be down town at present, which circumstance is represented by his being unceremoniously thrust into a corner upside down.

Several smaller wax and china boys and girls represent the family of the ill-used Mr. Montague; but the belle of the whole doll-community is his eldest daughter, Miss Isabella Belmont Montague. She is a waxen young lady of the most splendid description; her hair is arranged like the empress', whom, indeed, she greatly resembles; her feet and hands are of wax, and she has more dresses than I can possibly count. I am afraid you will scarcely believe me, but she actually has a real little ermine muff and tippet, a pair of india-rubbers, an umbrella, a camels' hair shawl, and _real corsets_! and was won, with all her wardrobe, at one of the raffles in the great Union Bazaar. You went there, didn't you--you cunning little kitten? and saw all the dolls? I hope you got one too, so I do, certainly!

Besides the Montague family, there is a numerous colony of other dolls; but they, poor things, live in any corner where Lina chooses to put them; and all day Sunday are shut up in a dark closet, with nothing to do but count their fingers and toes, if they can contrive to see them; though they have nearly as fine a wardrobe--for Lina's great amusement, next to playing with the whole colony, is to make new dresses for them.

One Saturday afternoon, Lina was playing with her dolls in the baby house, with two of her little neighbors, Minnie and Maggie Elliott, to keep her company. It was a dark, rainy sort of day; but what difference did that make to the children? _They_ never wanted to make a parcel of stupid morning calls, or go out shopping and spend all their money on silly finery; no--they were full of their play in the house, and didn't care a doll's shoe-string how hard it rained.

"Oh, dear!" said Lina at last; "seems to me this play is getting very stupid! I wish we knew something else to play at but everlasting 'house!'"

"I'll tell you what would be great fun!" said little Minnie, looking wise. "You know, Lina, we spent a week once in the country with 'Alice Nightcaps;' and her sister, 'Aunt Fanny's' daughter, showed us such a nice, funny play! Instead of our being mothers, and aunts, and fathers, and the dolls our children, the dolls were all the people themselves, and we moved them about and spoke for them."

"Yes, it was such a nice plan!" said Maggie; "you can't think, Lina. Suppose we divide these dolls into families, and play that Miss Isabella Belmont Montague was going to be married, and all about it."

"Oh, yes! yes! that will be splendid!" cried Lina. "Whom will you manage, Maggie?"

"I'd rather have Miss Isabella," said Maggie.

"And I want Mr. Morris," said Minnie. "He shall be the lover."

"Very well, then I'll make the father and mother talk," said Lina, generously taking the less splendid dolls, without a word of mean complaint, such as "There, you hateful thing, you always want the best;" or, "I _do_ wish I could do as I like with _my own_ dolls!" forgetting that company must be allowed to take the best always. The other dolls were equally divided between the children, and then Lina exclaimed, with a delighted little skip in the air, "Now, we are all ready to begin! Come, girls, what time shall it be?"

"Oh, have them at breakfast!" chimed both the little visitors; and so, in defiance of the parlor clock, the time of day was supposed to be eight in the morning. The children, with many little chuckling pauses, while they considered what to do next, twitched the unlucky table cloth straight, put the tea-set on the table, and gave the family a wooden beefsteak for breakfast, and a large plateful of wooden buttered toast, which came from a box full of such indigestible dainties. Then they fished Mr. Charles Augustus Montague out of the corner, and set him upright in a chair at the head of the table, with his newspaper fastened in his hands, by having a couple of large pins stuck through it and them. The points of the pins showed on the other side, and looked as if he had a few extra finger nails growing on the backs of his hands. Quite a curiosity he'd have been for Barnum's Museum, wouldn't he? you precious little old toad.

Mrs. Montague was seated behind the tea-tray, and Miss Isabella was reclining on a sofa up stairs, as if she was too lazy to come down when the rest of the family did. As the front door was only large enough for the dolls, the whole back of the house came away. Lina and her visitors delightedly sat down cross-legged on the floor behind it, and the play began, the children talking for the dolls.

* * * * *

MRS. MONTAGUE. (Lina speaks for her in a fine voice.) I wish you would lay down your paper a moment, Charles; I want to speak to you.

MR. M. Well, my dear, I am listening.

MRS. M. No, you are not; put down the paper! [As this couldn't very well be done by the gentleman himself, Maggie twitched it away for him, and threw it under the table.]

MRS. M. Now, Charles, I must say I think it is high time Isabella was married. She is most six months old, I declare! and it strikes me we had better see if we can find her a husband.

MR. M. What you say is very sensible, my dear; so I will call to-day on my friend Mr. Morris, and invite him to dinner. Perhaps they will fall in love with each other.

MRS. M. Oh! but is he handsome, Mr. Montague?

MR. M. Handsome! I should rather think so! Why, he is nearly two feet high, with curly black hair; a nose that can be seen at the side--which is more than yours can be, Mrs. Montague--and eyes which open and shut of themselves when he lies down or sits up. Then he is a Seventh Regimenter, too, and always wears his uniform; which makes him look very genteel.

MRS. M. Oh, I am sure he must be lovely! Do bring him to dinner this very day.

Here Maggie made the dining-room door open, and in walked Miss Isabella. She wore a pink merino morning dress, open in front, to show her embroidered petticoat, a pair of bronze slippers with pink bows, and a net with steel beads in it. Maggie set her down hard in one of the chairs, and pushed her up to the table; while Minnie, who moved the nigger boy doll, who waited on table, picked him up by his woolly top-knot, from the floor, where he had tumbled, and made him hand the young lady a cup of tea. Then Maggie began:

MISS ISABELLA. Dear me, mamma! this tea's as cold as a stone! I wish you would have breakfast a little later; as I'm so tired when I come home from a party, that I can't think of getting up at seven o'clock.

MRS. M. But you must get up, my love. Besides, we want plenty of time to-day, so's we can be ready; for we are going to have company to dinner.

ISABELLA. Who is coming, mamma?

MRS. M. Mr. Morris, my dear.

ISABELLA. Oh, I am so glad!

MRS. M. Yes, you're going to be married to-morrow, my dear; we will invite all our relations and friends, and you must have a white satin wedding dress; you certainly must.

ISABELLA. How nice! S'pose we go out and buy it now.

MRS. M. We can't go to-day; it's our _eceptin_ (reception) day, you know.

MR. M. Well, I 'spect I must go down town. Good-by, my dears. I shall certainly ask Mr. Morris to dinner. He's a very nice young man for a small dinner party.

So the children made Mr. Montague kiss his wife and daughter; which they did by bumping his china nose against their cheeks, until it nearly made a dent in the wax; and then pranced him down the front steps, and put him in his corner again.

Then Minnie's doll came in. She took up Mr. Morris, a composition doll, in a Seventh Regiment uniform, who had been bought at a fair, and began moving him across the floor until he was opposite the door. Then she commenced talking.

MR. MORRIS. Why, I declare! here is Mr. Montague's house. I think I will go in and make a call.

And he ran up the steps, and pretended to ring the bell; but as it was only a handle, Lina rang the dinner bell instead.

MR. MORRIS. It's very funny they don't answer the bell! (Ting-a-ling-ling.) Come! make haste, I want to get in.

Here Minnie took up Toby, the black boy, carried him to the front door, and kindly opened it for him.

TOBY. Laws, massa! is dat you? I was jus' tastin' de jolly, to be sure it was good for dinner! so I couldn't come no sooner.

MR. MORRIS. Is Miss Isabella Belmont Montague at home?

TOBY. Yes, massa, de ladies is to hum; walk in de parlor.

So Mr. Morris came in (with Minnie's hand behind him), and sat down on the sofa. It was rather small for him, and he covered it up so much that there wasn't a bit of room for Miss Isabella, when she came down. Maggie had dressed her meanwhile in her green silk skirt, which had real little three-cornered pockets, with an embroidered pocket handkerchief sticking out of one, and her white tucked waist.

Up jumped Mr. Morris, and made her such an elegant bow, that his cap, which he was obliged to keep on all the time, in consequence of the strap being glued fast under his chin, fell all to one side; and looked as if the top of his head had accidentally come off and been stuck on crooked.

MR. MORRIS. Good morning, Miss Isabella; how do you do?

_Isabella_. Very well, thank you. How do you do, Mr. Morris?

MR. MORRIS. Oh, Miss Isabella, I should be quite well if I hadn't _sitch_ a pain in my heart!

ISABELLA. A pain in your heart! What makes you have that, Mr. Morris?

MR. MORRIS. YOU!

ISABELLA. I!

MR. MORRIS. Oh, Miss Isabella, you can't think how I adore you! I love you so much that it makes my eyes shut up when I don't want them to; and my heart beats so that it shakes my cap all to one side!

ISABELLA. Dear me, Mr. Morris, you are quite _afflitted_! but never mind--papa is going to have you to dinner to-day; you'd better go right down town, so he can ask you.

MR. MORRIS. But I can't eat any dinner, Miss Isabella, without you will marry me!

Here Minnie tried to make Mr. Morris pop down on his knees; but as he wasn't a jointed doll, he lost his balance, and tumbled flat on his face instead.

MISS ISABELLA. Here, what are you doing? get up, do, and stop your noise! [For Minnie couldn't help a long-sounding o--h! when her doll flopped down. So Maggie made the young lady catch hold of Mr. Morris's shoulder straps and help twitch him on the sofa again, to go on with his proposal.]

MR. MORRIS. Will you marry me, Miss Isabella? I'm such a nice young man--you don't know--and we'll live in a real pretty house.

MISS ISABELLA. No, I can't marry you till after you have come to dinner; mamma said so.

MR. MORRIS. Well, then, I must wait; but only say that you will have me.

ISABELLA. Oh, yes!

At this point the children laid down the dolls and broke into such a merry trill of laughter, that it would have done anybody's heart good to hear them. It seemed so funny to have the dolls making love in this fashion, they couldn't help it. As soon as they were sober again, the play went on thus:

MR. MORRIS. Well, Miss Isabella, I b'lieve I must go now; I've got an old sister at home, who will scold me if I don't come back. Can't you 'vite her too? She has a pretty bad time, poor thing! 'cause she is so oldy that she is kept on a shelf till she's all dusty. Her wig is dreadful fuzzy, and some of it comes out and stands up at the top. But I'll dust her well and stick a pin in her wig to keep it on, and make her look real nice, if you'll only ask her.

ISABELLA. Well, I guess she can come; but she must have a new dress for the wedding.

MR. MORRIS. Yes, she shall, certainly. Good-by, Miss Isabella. I'm going down town pretty soon, so your father can ask me to come.

MISS ISABELLA. Oh yes, do! I want you to come _velly_ much.

* * * * *

"Now, Maggie, we must stop the play a little while," said Lina, "and fix the dinner for them."

"Yes, do," cried Maggie; "let's see, what shall be for dinner?"

"Oh, chicken, that's the nicest!" said Minnie.

"No, they had chicken yesterday," said Lina; "let them have roast beef."

"Very well," went on Maggie, who was looking over the dishes in the box of "eatables," as Lina called them. "Roast beef, mashed potatoes, and macaroni."

"Oh, not macaroni," cried Minnie; "the cheese will bite their tongues."

"Oh, yes! Mr. Morris likes macaroni," said her sister.

"Well, macaroni, then; and plum-pudding for dessert--and apples."

"Ah, make them have jelly," said Lina; "that's the prettiest thing in the box."

So the dinner was hunted out, and the three children set the table in fine style; while Toby, the black boy, whose business it certainly was to have done it, sat coolly in Mr. Montague's armchair, with his master's newspaper in his lap, and goggled at the table without moving an inch. Then Lina dressed Mrs. Montague, and Maggie and Minnie together dressed Miss Isabella; and nobody dressed poor Mr. Morris, or Mr. Charles Augustus Montague; because they unluckily had but one suit a piece, sewed fast on to them at that.

This time Miss Isabella wore a pink silk frock, with a deep puffing round the bottom, finished at each edge with black velvet. Then she had a long pink sash, edged with two rows of narrow black velvet; a pointed belt encircled her waist, and the body of her dress was a mass of puffs, with narrow black velvet between. On her head was a pink wreath, with long ribbon ends hanging down her back; and tied fast to her wrist was a pink feather fan with gold sticks. In fact, Miss Isabella looked rather as if she were going to a party than coming down to dinner; but the children thought the pink silk so charming, that she must wear it, whether or no.

Mrs. Montague wore a purple silk, a black lace shawl, and a head-dress of pink rosebuds and black lace.

When the ladies were fairly seated in the parlor, Lina rang the bell, and Minnie and Maggie made Mr. Morris come in, leading his sister by the hand. She was a dismal object to behold, sure enough! and if she could have blushed for herself, I think she certainly would. She wore a green barège dress, trimmed with flaming red ribbons; some of the gathers were out at the waist, and her petticoat showed at the bottom.

Mr. Morris, or Minnie--I don't know which--had stuck the ends of her wig down for her once, but they had come up again, and looked as if her hair had taken to growing with the roots uppermost. The end of her nose was blacker than Mrs. Montague's, and her eyes, which moved with a wire like other wax dolls, had got out of order somehow, and remained stationary, with nothing but the whites showing; and, altogether, poor Miss Morris looked like a two-legged rag-bag come home from the wars, with both eyes out, half a nose, and no hair worth mentioning.

Lina made Mr. Montague come home as soon as she was rid of the dinner bell; and after they had all shaken hands until their wax and kid and china wrists must have ached, the company rather unceremoniously marched right into the dining-room. I suppose Mr. Montague was tremendously hungry, and gave his wife's hand a good pinch when he shook it, to make her hurry things up; but, however that may be, they were walked in to dinner in straight order. Mr. Morris sat by Miss Isabella, with his forlorn old sister on the other hand, and as the opposite side of the table looked rather bare, Minnie proposed that some of the children should come down to fill up.

"Oh, yes--and let them be dreadfully naughty and do all sorts of mischief," said Maggie. So Miss Angelina Seraphina Montague, and Master Algernon Pop-eyes Montague (so called because he had glass eyes, which stuck out in a lobster-ish fashion), were sent for in a hurry and brought down by their nurse, a beautiful doll dressed as a French bonne, and Maggie. Algernon wore the costume of a sailor boy, and Angelina was no other than a nun in a black robe! But never mind, they did very well to fill up, and sat smirking at the company very genteelly.

So, then, Lina made Mr. Montague begin.

MR. MONT. Will you take some roast beef, Miss Morris?

ALGERNON. No, papa, help me first!

MR. M. Algy Pop-eyes Montague! be still! Here, Toby, hand Miss Morris her plate.

ALGY. Don't you do it, Toby!

MRS. M. Hush up, you naughty boy!

MR. M. Mr. Morris, here's some meat for you.

MRS. M. Take some macaroni, Mr. Morris; it's real good.

MR. MORRIS. Thank you, ma'am; I think I will.

So the company were helped; though, as the meat and vegetables were glued fast to the dishes they were on, I'm afraid they must have had rather a slim dinner.

Then Maggie went on.

MISS ISABELLA. Mr. Morris, I think I am rather tired of that uniform of yours; it makes you look too high in the neck. When we are married, you ought to have a dress coat.

ANGELINA. H-a! h-a-a-a! he hasn't got any other coat! _I_ wouldn't marry an old goose with only one suit!

MRS. M. For shame, Miss! your father hadn't but one when we were married; but, bless me! what _is_ Algernon doing?

Sure enough, Master Algy _was_ doing something extraordinary, for Maggie had made him overset the dish of potatoes in the middle of the table, and then jump up and sit on the back of his chair, with both legs in the air!

MRS. M. My pasence! _what_ a naughty boy! Toby, take this bad boy right up stairs; I am socked! (shocked.)

ALGY. Oh, boo-hoo! boo-hoo! please let me stay!

MRS. M. Well, then, behave yourself.

MISS MORRIS. Mrs. Montague, I think you had _better_ send your children away; they are too bad for anything.

ANGELINA. Oh! oh! I wouldn't be your child for a dollar! ("That's just what I say to my big sister!" put in Maggie in her proper person.)

MRS. M. Oh, they are dear little things; they only do it in fun, Miss Morris.

MR. MORRIS. Well, I don't see it. If they were my children, I should lock them up in a dark closet.

MISS MORRIS. So should I.

ANGELINA. H-a! h-a-a-a! that's just where you are kept yourself!

MISS MORRIS. Oh, I _shall_ faint!

MRS. M. Angelina! you sha'n't have any pudding for being so bad. There, I guess it's time for dessert,"--and without condescending to ask if the company were through dinner, Mrs. Montague, with a wave of her lily-white kid hand, ordered Toby to clear away the dishes; and, the pudding and jelly being put on the table, Lina went on:

MR. M. Miss Morris, have some plum-pudding?

TOBY. No, take some ob de jolly, missis; he so _jolly_ good! _I_ taste um!

Mr. M. Toby, I am _astonissed_! I shall have to discharge you to-morrow.

"And have an Irishman come!" cried Minnie; "and talk funny, like our Patrick!"

"Yes, that will be real fun!" said Lina. "There, they have had dinner enough; let them go in the parlor now."

Accordingly, the company had their chairs pushed back for them and were taken into the parlor, all but the naughty children, who had to be sent straight to bed, they were so bad. Mr. and Mrs. Montague took possession of the arm chairs, as they were the oldest; Miss Morris was accommodated with an uncommonly hard ottoman without any back, in the corner; Mr. Morris plumped down on the sofa, as that was the only seat large enough for him, and the play went on (Minnie speaking).

MR. MORRIS. Miss Isabella, I wish you would sing us a song.

ISABELLA. Oh, really, I have _sitch_ a bad cold. I don't think I can.

MR. MORRIS. Oh, please do, Miss Isabella! Sing that pretty song about the little milkmaid.

ISABELLA. Well, I'll see if I can.

So Maggie made the young lady take a funny little scrap of music out of the stand (called a Canterbury), and put it on the piano. The title of the piece on the outside was, "Souvenirs de l'Opera," which means in English "Recollections of the Opera," but it did just as well for a song. Miss Isabella was seated at the piano, and Maggie moved her hands up and down the keys, to look as if she were playing; while in her own sweet bird-like voice she sang for her this song:

"'Where are you going, my pretty maid? Where are you going, my pretty maid?' 'I'm going a milking, sir,' she said, 'I'm going a milking, sir,' she said.

"'May I go with you, my pretty maid? May I go with you, my pretty maid?' 'Yes, if you please, kind sir,' she said, 'Yes, if you please, kind sir,' she said.

"'What is your father, my pretty maid? What is your father, my pretty maid?' 'My father's a farmer, sir,' she said, 'My father's a farmer, sir,' she said.