The Magic Egg, and Other StoriesStockton, Frank R.
Science
The Magic Egg, and Other Stories
Stockton, Frank R.
Short stories; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Captain Cephas waited a long time for his friend to return, and at last
he thought it would be well to go and look for him. When he entered
the house he found Mrs. Trimmer sitting on the sofa in the parlor, with
Captain Eli on one side of her and her brother on the other, and each
of them holding one of her hands.
"It looks as if I was in port, don't it?" said Captain Eli to his
astonished friend. "Well, here I am, and here's my fust mate,"
inclining his head toward Mrs. Trimmer. "And she's in port too, safe
and sound. And that strange captain on the other side of her, he's her
brother Bob, who's been away for years and years, and is just home from
Madagascar."
"Singapore," amended Brother Bob.
Captain Cephas looked from one to the other of the three occupants of
the sofa, but made no immediate remark. Presently a smile of genial
maliciousness stole over his face, and he asked, "How about the poor
little gal? Have you sent her back to Mrs. Crumley's?"
The little girl came out from behind the Christmas tree, her stocking,
now but half filled, in her hand. "Here I am," she said. "Don't you
want to give me a Christmas hug, Captain Cephas? You and me's the only
ones that hasn't had any."
The Christmas dinner was as truly and perfectly a sailor-cooked meal as
ever was served on board a ship or off it. Captain Cephas had said
that, and when he had so spoken there was no need of further words.
It was nearly dark that afternoon, and they were all sitting around the
kitchen fire, the three seafaring men smoking, and Mrs. Trimmer greatly
enjoying it. There could be no objection to the smell of tobacco in
this house so long as its future mistress enjoyed it. The little girl
sat on the floor nursing a Chinese idol which had been one of her
presents.
"After all," said Captain Eli, meditatively, "this whole business come
out of my sleepin' with my best ear up. Fer if I'd slept with my
hard-o'-hearin' ear up--" Mrs. Trimmer put one finger on his lips.
"All right," said Captain Eli, "I won't say no more. But it would have
been different."
Even now, several years after that Christmas, when there is no Mrs.
Trimmer, and the little girl, who has been regularly adopted by Captain
Eli and his wife, is studying geography, and knows more about latitude
and longitude than her teacher at school, Captain Eli has still a
slight superstitious dread of sleeping with his best ear uppermost.
"Of course it's the most all-fired nonsense," he says to himself over
and over again. Nevertheless, he feels safer when it is his
"hard-o'-hearin' ear" that is not upon the pillow.
LOVE BEFORE BREAKFAST
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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