Mollie and the Unwiseman. Bangs John Kendrick

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ open wide. "Why, what a pleasant surprise! I had no idea you were coming. Walk right in. So glad to see you."

      Whistlebinkie giggled slightly through his beaver hat as he and Mollie, accepting the invitation, walked in and seated themselves in a droll little parlor that opened on the left-hand side of the hall.

      "So this is your house, is it?" said Mollie, glancing about her with much interest.

      "Yes," said the Unwiseman; "but, Miss Whistlebinkie, won't you kindly sit on the table instead of on that chair? So many people have been hurt by chairs breaking under them – many times more than are hurt from sitting on tables – that I have to be very careful. I have no doubt the chairs are strong enough to hold you, but I don't want to take any chances. I think it will rain next year, don't you?" he added. "And you haven't brought any umbrellas! Too bad, too bad. If you should get wet, you'd find it very damp. Really, you ought never to go out without an umbrella. I always do, but then I know enough to go in when it rains, so of course don't need one."

      "I see you have a piano," said Whistlebinkie, taking in the furniture of the parlor.

      "Yes," replied the Unwiseman. "It's a very fine one, too. It has lots of tunes locked up in it."

      "Are you fond of music?" asked Mollie.

      "No, I hate it," said the Unwiseman. "That's why I have the piano. There's just so much less music in the world. Nobody can get at the keys of that piano, so you see it's never played, which pleases me very much. If I were rich enough, I'd buy all the pianos, and organs, and fiddles, and horns, and drums in the world, and I'd keep 'em all locked up so that there never would be any more music at all."

      "I am sorry to hear that," said Mollie. "I love music."

      "Well," said the old man, generously, "you can have my share. Whenever anybody brings any music around where I am hereafter, I'll do it up in a package, and send it to you."

      "Thank you very much," said Mollie. "It's very good of you."

      "Oh, it's no favor to you, I am sure!" put in the Unwiseman, hastily. "In fact, it's the other way. I'm obliged to you for taking it off my hands. If you want to you can open the piano right away, and take out all the tunes there are in it. I'll go off on the mountains while you are doing it, so that it won't annoy me any."

      "Oh, no!" said Mollie. "I'd a great deal rather have you to talk to than all the tunes in the piano."

      "Very well," said the old man, with a smile of pleasure. "What shall we talk about, frogs?"

      "I don't know anything about frogs," said Mollie.

      "Neither do I," returned the Unwiseman. "I don't know the difference between a frog and a watch-chain, except that one chains watches and the other doesn't, but which does and which doesn't I haven't a notion."

      "I see you have all your pictures with their faces turned to the wall," said Mollie, looking about the room again so as to avoid laughing in the Unwiseman's face. "What is that for?"

      "That's to make them more interesting," replied the Unwiseman. "They're a very uninteresting lot of pictures, and I never could get anybody to look at 'em until I turned them hind side before, that way. Now everybody wants to see them."

      Mollie rose up, and turned one of them about so that she could see it.

      "It's very pretty," she said. "What is it a picture of – a meadow?"

      "No. It's a picture of me," said the Unwiseman. "And it's one of the best I ever had taken."

      "But I don't see you in it," said Mollie. "All I can see is a great field of grass and a big bowlder down in one corner."

      "I know it," said the Unwiseman. "I'm lying on my back behind the bowlder asleep. If you could move the bowlder you could see me, but you can't. It's too heavy, and, besides, I think the paint is glued on."

      "I hope you don't lie on the ground asleep very much," said Mollie, gravely, for she had taken a great liking to this strange old man who didn't know anything. "You might catch your death of cold."

      "I didn't say I was lying on the ground," said the Unwiseman. "I said I was lying on my back. People ought not to catch cold lying on a nice warm back like mine."

      "And do you live here all alone?" asked Mollie.

      "Yes, I don't need anybody to live with. Other people know things, and it always makes them proud, and I don't like proud people."

      "I hope you like me," said Mollie, softly.

      "Yes, indeed, I do," cried the Unwiseman. "I like you and Whistlebinkie very much, because you don't either of you know anything either, and so, of course, you aren't stuck up like some people I meet who think just because they know the difference between a polar bear and a fog horn while I don't that they're so much better than I am. I like you, and I hope you will come and see me again."

      "I will, truly," said Mollie.

      "Very well – and that you may get back sooner you'd better run right home now. It is getting late, and, besides, I have an engagement."

      "You?" asked Mollie. "What with?"

      "Well, don't you tell anybody," said the Unwiseman; "but I'm going up to the village to the drug store. I promised to meet myself up there at six o'clock, and it's quarter past now, so I must hurry."

      "But what on earth are you going to do there?" asked Mollie.

      "I'm going to buy myself a beaver hat just like Whistlebinkie's," returned the Unwiseman, gleefully, "I've got to have something to keep my tablecloth in, and a beaver hat strikes me as just the thing."

      Saying which the Unwiseman bowed Mollie and Whistlebinkie out, and sped off like lightning in the direction of the village drug store, but whether or not he succeeded in getting a beaver hat there I don't know, for he never told me.

      III

      In the House of the Unwiseman

      In which Mollie Reads Some Strange Rules

      A Few days later Mollie and Whistlebinkie were strolling together through the meadows when most unexpectedly they came upon the little red house of the Unwiseman.

      "Why, I thought this house was under the willow tree," said Mollie.

      "Sotwuz," whistled Whistlebinkie through his hat.

      "What are you trying to say, Whistlebinkie?" asked Mollie.

      "So – it – was," replied Whistlebinkie. "He must have moved it."

      "But this isn't half as nice a place for it as the old one," said Mollie. "There isn't any shade here at all. Let's knock at the door, and see if he is at home. Maybe he will tell us why he has moved again."

      Mollie tapped gently on the door, but received no response. Then she tried the knob, but the door was fastened.

      "Nobody's home, I guess," she said.

      "The back door is open," cried Whistlebinkie, running around to the rear of the house. "Come around this way, Mollie, and we can get in."

      So around Mollie went, and sure enough there was the kitchen door standing wide open. A chicken was being grilled on the fire, and three eggs were in the СКАЧАТЬ