A Flat Iron for a Farthing; or, Some Passages in the Life of an only SonEwing, Juliana Horatia
General
A Flat Iron for a Farthing; or, Some Passages in the Life of an only Son
Ewing, Juliana Horatia
Boys -- Juvenile fiction; Children's stories
I heard them, by the bye, before I saw them. It was whilst I was
dressing, the morning after my arrival, that I heard sounds in the
room below, which were interpreted by Nurse as being "Miss Maria
doing her music." The peculiarity of Miss Maria's music was that after
a scramble over the notes, suggestive of some one running to get
impetus for a jump, and when the ear waited impatiently for the
consummation, Miss Maria baulked her leap, so to speak, and got no
farther, and began the scramble again, and stuck once more, and so on.
And as, whilst finding the running passage quite too much for one
hand, she struggled on with a different phrase in the other hand at
the same time, instead of practising the two hands separately, her
chances of final success seemed remote indeed. Then I heard the
performance in peculiar circumstances. Nurse Bundle had opened my
window, and about two minutes after my cousin commenced her practice,
an organ-grinder in the street below began his. The subject of poor
Maria's piece knew no completion, as she stuck halfway; but the
organ-grinder's melodies only stopped for a touch to the mechanism,
and Black-Eyed Susan passed into the Old Hundredth, awkwardly, but
with hardly a perceptible pause. The effect of the joint performance
was at first ludicrous, and by degrees maddening, especially when we
had come to the Old Hundredth, which was so familiar in connection
with the words of the Psalm.
"Three and four and--" began poor Maria afresh, with desperate
resolution; and then off she went up the key-board; "one and two and
three and four and, one and two and three and four and--"
"--joy--His--courts--un--to," ground the organ in the inevitable
pause. And then my cousin took courage and made another start--"Three
and four and one and two and," etc.; but at the old place the nasal
notes of the other instrument evoked "al--ways," from my memory; and
Maria pausing in despair, the Old Hundredth finished triumphantly,
"For--it--is--seemly--so--to--do."
At half-past eight Maria stopped abruptly in the middle of her run,
and Nurse took me down to the school-room for breakfast.
The school-room was high and narrow, with a very old carpet, and a
very old piano, some books, two globes, and a good deal of feminine
rubbish in the way of old work-baskets, unfinished sewing, etc. There
were two long windows, the lower halves of which were covered with
paint. This mattered the less as the only view from them was of
backyards, roofs, and chimneys. Living as I did, so much alone with my
father, I was at first oppressed by the number of petticoats in the
room--five girls of ages ranging from twelve to six, and a grown-up
lady in a spare brown stuff dress and spectacles.
As we entered she came quickly forward and shook Nurse by the hand.
"How do you do, Mrs. Bundle? Very glad to see you again, Mrs. Bundle."
Nurse Bundle shook hands first, and curtsied afterwards.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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