“LITTLE JACK JANITOR”

And there, in that ripe Summer-night, once more

A wintry coolness through the open door

And window seemed to touch each glowing face

Refreshingly; and, for a fleeting space,

The quickened fancy, through the fragrant air,

Saw snowflakes whirling where the roseleaves were,

And sounds of veriest jingling bells again

Were heard in tinkling spoons and glasses then.

Thus Uncle Mart's old poem sounded young

And crisp and fresh and clear as when first sung,

Away back in the wakening of Spring

When his rhyme and the robin, chorusing,

Rumored, in duo-fanfare, of the soon

Invading johnny-jump-ups, with platoon

On platoon of sweet-williams, marshaled fine

To blooméd blarings of the trumpet-vine.

The poet turned to whisperingly confer

A moment with “The Noted Traveler.”

Then left the room, tripped up the stairs, and then

An instant later reappeared again,

Bearing a little, lacquered box, or chest,

Which, as all marked with curious interest,

He gave to the old Traveler, who in

One hand upheld it, pulling back his thin

Black lustre coat-sleeves, saying he had sent

Up for his “Magic Box,” and that he meant

To test it there — especially to show

The Children. “It is empty now, you know.” —

He humped it with his knuckles, so they heard

The hollow sound — “But lest it be inferred

It is not really empty, I will ask

Little Jack Janitor, whose pleasant task

It is to keep it ship-shape.”

Then he tried

And rapped the little drawer in the side,

And called out sharply “Are you in there, Jack?”

And then a little, squeaky voice came back,—

“Of course I'm in here — ai n't you got the key

Turned on me!”

Then the Traveler leisurely

Felt through his pockets, and at last took out

The smallest key they ever heard about!—

It, was n't any longer than a pin:

And this at last he managed to fit in

The little keyhole, turned it, and then cried,

“Is everything swept out clean there inside?”

“Open the drawer and see!— Do n't talk to much;

Or else,” the little voice squeaked, “talk in Dutch —

You age me, asking questions!”

Then the man

Looked hurt, so that the little folks began

To feel so sorry for him, he put down

His face against the box and had to frown.—

“Come, sir!” he called,— “no impudence to me!—

You've swept out clean?”

“Open the drawer and see!”

And so he drew the drawer out: Nothing there,

But just the empty drawer, stark and bare.

He shoved it back again, with a shark click.—

“Ouch!” yelled the little voice — “un-snap it — quick!—

You've got my nose pinched in the crack!”

And then

The frightened man drew out the drawer again,

The little voice exclaiming, “Jeemi-nee!—

Say what you want, but please do n't murder me!”

“Well, then,” the man said, as he closed the drawer

With care, “I want some cotton-batting for

My supper! Have you got it?”

And inside,

All muffled like, the little voice replied,

“Open the drawer and see!”

And, sure enough,

He drew it out, filled with the cotton stuff.

He then asked for a candle to be brought

And held for him: and tuft by tuft he caught

And lit the cotton, and, while blazing, took

It in his mouth and ate it, with a look

Of purest satisfaction.

“Now,” said he,

“I've eaten the drawer empty, let me see

What this is in my mouth:” And with both hands

He began drawing from his lips long strands

Of narrow silken ribbons, every hue

And tint;— and crisp they were and bright and new

As if just purchased at some Fancy-Store.

“And now, Bub, bring your cap,” he said, “before

Something might happen!” And he stuffed the cap

Full of the ribbons. “There, my little chap,

Hold tight to them,” he said, “and take them to

The ladies there, for they know what to do

With all such rainbow finery!”

He smiled

Half sadly, as it seemed, to see the child

Open his cap first to his mother..... There

Was not a ribbon in it anywhere!

“Jack Janitor!” the man said sternly through

The Magic Box — “Jack Janitor, did you

Conceal those ribbons anywhere?”

“Well, yes,”

The little voice piped — “but you'd never guess

The place I hid‘ em if you'd guess a year!”

“Well, wo n't you tell me?”

“Not until you clear

Your mean old conscience” said the voice, “and make

Me first do something for the Children's sake.”

“Well, then, fill up the drawer,” the Traveler said,

“With whitest white on earth and reddest red!—

Your terms accepted — Are you satisfied?”

“Open the drawer and see!” the voice replied.

“Why, bless my soul!” — the man said, as he drew

The contents of the drawer into view —

“It's level-full of candy!— Pass it‘ round —

Jack Janitor sha n't steal that, I'll be bound!” —

He raised and crunched a stick of it and smacked

His lips.— “Yes, that is candy, for a fact!—

And it's all yours!”

And how the children there

Lit into it!— O never anywhere

Was such a feast of sweetness!

“And now, then,”

The man said, as the empty drawer again

Slid to its place, he bending over it,—

“Now, then, Jack Janitor, before we quit

Our entertainment for the evening, tell

Us where you hid the ribbons — can n't you?”

“Well,”

The squeaky little voice drawled sleepily —

“Under your old hat, maybe.— Look and see!”

All carefully the man took off his hat:

But there was not a ribbon under that.—

He shook his heavy hair, and all in vain

The old white hat — then put it on again:

“Now, tell me, honest, Jack, where did you hide

The ribbons?”

“Under your hat” the voice replied.—

“Mind! I said‘ under’ and not‘ in’ it.— Wo n't

You ever take the hint on earth?— or do n't

You want to show folks where the ribbons at?—

Law! but I'm sleepy!— Under — unner your hat!”

Again the old man carefully took off

The empty hat, with an embarrassed cough,

Saying, all gravely to the children: “You

Must promise not to laugh — you'll all want to —

When you see where Jack Janitor has dared

To hide those ribbons — when he might have spared

My feelings.— But no matter!— Know the worst —

Here are the ribbons, as I feared at first.” —

And, quick as snap of thumb and finger, there

The old man's head had not a sign of hair,

And in his lap a wig of iron-gray

Lay, stuffed with all that glittering array

Of ribbons... “Take‘ em to the ladies — Yes.

Good-night to everybody, and God bless

The Children.”

In a whisper no one missed

The Hired Man yawned: “He's a vantrilloquist”

So gloried all the night Each trundle-bed

And pallet was enchanted — each child-head

Was packed with happy dreams. And long before

The dawn's first far-off rooster crowed, the snore

Of Uncle Mart was stilled, as round him pressed

The bare arms of the wakeful little guest

That he had carried home with him....

“I think,”

An awed voice said — “( No: I do n't want a dwink.—

Lay still. ) — I think‘ The Noted Traveler’ he

‘ S the inscrutibul-est man I ever see!”