Children -- Fiction; Families -- Fiction; Small cities -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Summer -- Fiction
The solution seemed to fit the case, but how was I to prove it? How
was I to look at any of these charming things? The chest was locked,
and locked it was likely to remain. A sort of decree had issued from
Jimmy Toppan's great-aunt: no one was to see the inside of the chest.
Nay, more, one must not even ask about it. It was locked tight, and
there was an end of it. I never heard Jimmy's great-aunt say this; I
never mentioned the chest in her presence. Nor did Jimmy say that the
unlocking of the chest was forbidden. He described its contents in a
way to set my imagination aflame. He did not say definitely that he had
ever looked in it. But he let it be known that it held such glories
that a glimpse therein was a vision of fairyland. And he somehow cast
an air of mystery and awe about it, till I would no more have asked to
have the cover raised than I would have presented myself, snub-nosed
and with holes in the knees of my stockings, at the gates of Paradise
with a request to be enrolled in the cherubs' chorus.
I never knew why there was such a curse upon the chest. But I gathered,
somehow, that the great-uncle, or grandfather, or whoever he was,
who had brought it from foreign parts, had uttered, with his dying
breath, a solemn injunction that it was to stay closed. The opening of
Pandora's box was to be a holiday recreation compared to opening that
green chest. It was no more to be disturbed than Shakespeare's bones.
Why he should have transported it such a distance, with such infinite
care, and then sealed it up forever, passed my understanding. Did the
prohibition extend to grown-ups, or was it only for boys? That, also,
I never could find out.
I used to fancy that Jimmy's great-aunt stole down to the basement in
the dark hours of night to gloat over the silver sea and its delicate
inhabitants. Once, in the late afternoon, I detected her going
chestwards, and I followed with beating heart. I got behind an apple
barrel and watched her movements. But she only went to an ice-box, from
which she took out a plate of mutton chops.
The intolerable curiosity aroused in me by Jimmy's account of the chest
was equalled only by the fear I had to make any inquiries about it. I
was convinced that a painful family secret overhung that green chest.
Night after night I dreamed that I had been permitted to look within.
Sometimes it was all I had imagined, and more. The ships, the mermaids,
the turtles, and all the rest were there indeed. And others, new
and indescribable forms, floated or swam in that enchanted ocean,
glittering, fragile, wonderful. I could take them in my hand, play with
them, and set them again in their element.
They did not merely act the lifeless part of china figures in an
aquarium. They moved about with an intelligence of their own; the ships
spread gauzy sails to catch a magic wind, and flew before it. The
whales rose to the surface, disported themselves heavily, like true
whales, and blew jets of spray into the air.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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