In old Narragansett; romances and realitiesEarle, Alice Morse
History
In old Narragansett; romances and realities
Earle, Alice Morse
Narragansett Bay Region (R.I.) -- History -- Fiction; Short stories, American
How the boys stormed and mourned! how fiercely they descended
on the “colored” Johnsons, more than suspected in the past of
chicken-stealing! how they hunted the woods and meadows! how they
fretted and fumed!--but to no avail. To check their worry and anger,
their mother sent them off to Boston to spend Thanksgiving week with
their married sister.
With the sea-loving curiosity of all boys, they haunted the wharves
and lower portions of the city, and on the day before Thanksgiving, as
they wandered up from the docks through a crowded and noisy street,
they joined a little group gathered around the show-window of a “dime
musee,” for in the window stood as a lure, a promise of treasures and
wonders within, an enormous turkey, penned in a wire coop, drooping of
feather, and listlessly feeding.
“He isn’t nearly as big as Gobbo,” said Bill, contemptuously. “Not
much,” answered Ralph; but even as they spoke there gathered in their
questioning brains, in their eager eyes, a conviction which burst forth
from their lips: “It is Gobbo!”
Now they were Yankee boys, slow but shrewd, and they knew every feather
of the wings, every fold of the comb and wattle of their pet; but each
paid his dime and entered the museum to be sure. Past the voluble
showman, the wax figures, the stuffed animals, they silently strolled
to the window. No one else stood near within doors. “Dance, Gobbo,
dance for the ladies!” cried Bill, excitedly, striking the floor
with his cane, and his heart beat high. Oh! how the crowd outside on
the street laughed as Gobbo spread his tail and danced “most high and
disposedly,” as the French ambassador said of Queen Elizabeth in the
gavotte.
A great printed card hung over Gobbo’s pen; he was to be raffled that
very night. Made suspicious by fraud, the boys scarcely dared leave
the hall even for food, but with the instinctive good sense of many of
country birth, Bill interviewed a friendly policeman on the beat, and
another policeman appeared at the raffling at eight o’clock and sat
near the Prime boys on the front row of seats in the hall.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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