CHAPTER II
“GRANNY,” said Toto the next day, when the afternoon shadows began to lengthen, “I am expecting some friends here this afternoon.”
“Some friends, Toto!” exclaimed his grandmother in astonishment. “My dear boy, what friend have you in the world except your old Granny? You are laughing at me.”
“No, I am not, Granny,” said the boy. “Of course you are the best friend, very much the best; but I have some other very good ones. And I have told them about your being lonely,” he went on hurriedly, glancing towards the wood, “and they are coming to see you this afternoon, to talk to you and tell you stories. In fact, I think I hear one of them coming now.”
“But who are they?” cried the astonished old woman, putting her hand up at the same time to settle her cap straight, and smoothing her apron, 22 in great trepidation at the approach of these unexpected visitors.
“Oh,” said Toto, “they are – here is one of them!” and he ran to meet the huge bear, who at that moment made his appearance, walking slowly and solemnly towards the cottage. He seemed ill at ease, and turned frequently to look back, in hopes of seeing his companions.
“Grandmother, this is my friend Bruin!” said Toto, leading the bear up to the horrified old lady. “I am very fond of Bruin,” he added, “and I hope you and he will be great friends. He tells the most delightful stories.”
Poor Granny made a trembling courtesy, and Bruin stood up on his hind-legs and rocked slowly backwards and forwards, which was the nearest approach he could make to a bow. (N. B. He looked so very formidable in this attitude, that if the old lady had seen him, she would certainly have fainted away. But she did not see, and Toto was used to it, and saw nothing out of the way in it.)
“Your servant, ma’am,” said the bear. “I hope I see you well.”
Granny courtesied again, and replied in a faltering voice, “Quite well, thank you, Mr. Bruin. It’s – it’s a fine day, sir.”
“It is indeed!” said the bear with alacrity. “It is a very fine day. I was just about to make the same remark myself. I – don’t know when I have seen a finer day. In fact, I don’t believe there ever was a finer day. A – yesterday was – a —not a fine day. A —
“Look here!” he added, in a low growl, aside to Toto, “I can’t stand much more of this. Where is Coon? He knows how to talk to people, and I don’t. I’m not accustomed to it. Now, when I go to see my grandmother, I take her a good bone, and she hits me on the head by way of saying thank you, and that’s all. I have a bone somewhere about me now,” said poor Bruin hesitatingly, “but I don’t suppose she – eh?”
“No, certainly not!” replied Toto promptly. “Not upon any account. And here’s Coon now, 24 and the others too, so you needn’t make any more fine speeches.”
Bruin, much relieved, sat down on his haunches, and watched the approach of his companions.
The raccoon advanced cautiously, yet with a very jaunty air. The squirrel was perched on his back, and the wood-pigeon fluttered about his head, in company with a very distinguished-looking gray parrot, with a red tail; while behind came a fat woodchuck, who seemed scarcely more than half-awake.
The creatures all paid their respects to Toto’s grandmother, each in his best manner; the raccoon professed himself charmed to make her acquaintance. “It is more than a year,” he said, “since I had the pleasure of meeting your accomplished grandson. I have esteemed it a high privilege to converse with him, and have enjoyed his society immensely. Now that I have the further happiness of becoming acquainted with his elegant and highly intellectual progenitress, I feel that I am indeed most fortunate. I – ”
But here Toto broke in upon the stream of eloquence. “Oh, come, Coon!” he cried, “your politeness is as bad as Bruin’s shyness. Why can’t we all be jolly, as we usually are? You need not be afraid of Granny.
“Come,” he continued, “let us have our story. We can all sit down in a circle, and fancy ourselves around the pool. Whose turn is it to-day? Yours, isn’t it, Cracker?”
“No,” said the squirrel. “It is Coon’s turn. I told my story yesterday.”
“You see, Granny,” said Toto, turning to his grandmother, “we take turns in telling stories, every afternoon. It is such fun! you’d like to hear a story, wouldn’t you, Granny?”
“Very much indeed!” replied the good woman. “Will you take a chair, Mr. – Mr. Coon?” she asked.
“Thank you, no,” replied the raccoon graciously. “My mother earth shall suffice me.” And sitting down, he curled up his tail in a very effective manner, and looked about him 26 meditatively, as if in search of a subject for his story.
“My natural diffidence,” he said, “will render it a difficult task, but still – ”
“Oh yes, we know!” said the squirrel. “Your natural diffidence is a fine thing. Go ahead, old fellow!”
At this moment Mr. Coon’s sharp eyes fell upon the poultry-yard, on the fence of which a fine Shanghai cock was sitting. His face lighted up, as if an idea had just struck him. “That is a very fine rooster, madam!” he said, addressing the grandmother, – “a remarkably fine bird. That bird, madam, reminds me strongly of the Golden-breasted Kootoo.”
“And what is the Golden-breasted Kootoo?” asked the grandmother.
The raccoon smiled, and looked slyly round upon his auditors, who had all assumed comfortable attitudes of listening, sure that the story was now coming.
“The story of the Golden-breasted Kootoo,” he 27 said, “was told to me several years ago by a distinguished foreigner, a learned and highly accomplished magpie, who formerly resided in this vicinity, but who is now, unhappily, no longer in our midst.”
“That’s a good one, that is!” whispered the wood chuck to Toto. “He ate that magpie about a year ago; said he loved her so much he couldn’t help it. What a fellow he is!”
“Hush!” said Toto. “He’s beginning!”
And Mr. Coon, dropping his airs and graces, told his story in tolerably plain language, as follows: —
Once upon a time – and a good time it was – there lived a king. I do not know exactly what his name was, or just where he lived; but it doesn’t matter at all: his kingdom was somewhere between Ashantee and Holland, and his name sounded a little like Samuel, and a little like Dolabella, and a good deal like Chimborazo, and yet it was not quite 28 any of them. But, as I said before, it doesn’t matter. We will call him the King, and that will be all that is necessary, as there is no other king in the story.
This King was very fond of music; in fact, he was excessively fond of it. He kept four bands of music playing all day long. The first was a brass band, the second was a string band, the third was a rubber band, and the fourth was a man who played on the jews-harp. (Some people thought he ought not to be called a band, but he said he was all the jews-harp band there was, and that was very true.) The four bands played all day long on the four sides of the grand courtyard, and the king sat on a throne in the middle and transacted affairs of state. And when His Majesty went to bed at night, the grand chamberlain wound up a musical-box that was in his pillow, and another one in the top bureau-drawer, and they played “The Dog’s-meat Man” and “Pride of the Pirate’s Heart” till daylight did appear.
One day it occurred to the King that it would be 29 an excellent plan for him to learn to sing. He wondered that he had never thought of it before. “You see,” he said, “it would amuse me very much to sing while I am out hunting. I cannot take the bands with me to the forest, for they would frighten away the wild beasts; and I miss my music very much on such occasions. Yes, decidedly,