Speaker 1: The Whizzer by Mary Hartwell Catherwood. That was a cold evening.
The snow was just as dry as flower and had
been beat down till the road looked slick as a
ribbon far up and far down, and squeaked every step.
I pulled mar on our sled. All the boys went
home by the creek to skate, but I was afraid
Mariar would get cold. She's such a little thing. I
like to play with the girls if the boys do laugh,
for some of the big ones might push Maurar down
and hurt her. She misses her mother, so I babies
are more than I used to. We's almost out of
side of the schoolhouse and just where the road elbows
by the Widow Briggs's place. When something passed us like whiz.
I'd been pulling along with the sled rope over my
arm and my hands in my pockets, and didn't hear
a team or anything, but it made me shy off
the side of the road and pretty near upset Marar.
School lets out at four o'clock and dust come soon
after that. But it was wooly gray yet, so you
could see Plaine except in the fence corners and the
thing that passed us was a man riding on nothing
but one big wheel. Oh see there, says Marar, scared
as could be. I felt glad on her account. We's
close to Wit to Briggs's place. It would be easy
to hustle her over Briggs's fence. But the thing runs
so still and fast it might take fences as well
as a straight road. The man turned round after he
passed us and came rearing back away up on that wheel,
and I stood as close before the sled as I could.
He sat high up in the air and wiggled his
feet on each side of the wheel. And I never
saw a camel or elephant or any kind of wild
thing at a show. That made me feel so funny.
But just when I thought he's going to cut through us,
he turned short and stopped. He had on an overcoat
to his ears, and a fur cap down to his nose,
and hairy gloves on, and a little satchel strapped over
his shoulder. And I saw there was a real small
wheel behind the big one that balanced him up. He
wasn't sitting on the tire neither, but on a saddle place,
and the big wheel had lots of silver spoats, crossing
back and forward. Whose children are you, says the man.
Noboddy's says I. But who owns and switches you? Says he.
The schoolmaster switches me, says I. But we ain't own
since mother died. Marar begun to cry. We live at
Uncle Mosey, says she. They don't want to give us away.
The man laughed and says, are you right sure? But
I hated to have her scared, so I told her
the wheel couldn't hurt her nor him either. I've seen
the car as many a time, I says, And I've
seen balloons and reading the paper about things that went
on three wheels. But this it's a bicycle, says he.
I'm a wheelman, That's what I thought, says I. Then
he wanted to know our names. Mine's Seal petticoord I
says an. This is my little sister Marar. His eyes
looked sharp at us, and he says, your mother died
about six weeks ago. Yes, sir, says I. Tomorrow won't
be a very nice Christmas for you, says he. No,
sir says I, digging my heel in the snow, for
he had no business to talk that way and make
Ma feel bad when I had a little wagon all
whittled out in my pocket to give her. And she
cried most every night anyhow, until Aunt Abby threatened to
switch her if she waked the family any more. I
slept with the boys, but when I heard Ma sniffling
in the big bed a good many nights, I slipped
out and sat by her and whispered stories to take
her attention as long as my jaws worked, But when
they chattered too much with the cold, I'd lay down
on the cover with my arm across her till she
went to sleep. I like mar He said we might
go up to cousin Andy Sanders's to stay over. Says I.
We don't have to be at Uncle Moses at Christmas.
That's some consolation, is it? Says he. I was not
going to let him know what the relations did. But
I never liked relations outside of our place. At aunt
Ibby and Uncle Moses. The children fight like cats, and
they always act poor at Christmas and make fun of
hanging your stockings or setting your plate, for you'd only
get ashes or corn cobs. Aunt Abby keeps her sleeves
rolled up so she can slap real handy, and Uncle
Mose has yellow streaks in his eyes, and he shivers
over the stove and keeps everybody else back at Cousin
Andy Sanders, as they have no children and don't want them.
You durst hardly come in out of the snow, and
all the best things on the table will make you sick.
If there is a piece in the paper that is
hard to read and ugly as it can be, they
will make you sit still and read it, and if
you get done too quick, they will say you skipped,
and you have to read it out loud while they
find fault. I knew Cousin Andy Sanders never had any
can into your taffy for Christmas. But Mara and me
could be peaceful there, for they don't push her around
so bad. Well hand me your rope, says the man,
and I'll give you a ride. I liked that notion,
so I handed him the rope, and he waited till
I got on the slede in front of Marar. That's
what O'riggs's home said, isn't it? He said, just before
he started. I told him it was and asked if
he ever lived down our way. He laughed and said
he knew something about every place, and then he set
the wheel Agoin. Marar held tight to me, and I
braced my heels against the front round of the sled.
The fence corners went faster and faster, and the wind
whistled through our ears while you could not see one
dry blade in the fodder shocks. Move. Ain't he a whizzer,
says I to Marar. We turned another jog and spokes
in the wheel looked all smeared together. It did beat
horse racing. I got excited and hollered for him to
go it old whizzer, and he went it till we's
passed Cousin Andy Sanders. As before I knew the place
was nigh cass loose. Now, mister, we're much obliged, says I.
But he kept right on like he never heard me.
So I yelled up louder and told him he's there,
and he turned to round his head a minute and laughed.
Please let go, mister, I says, that's Cousin Andy Sanders
is a way back there. We're obliged, but we'll have
to go back. The wizzard never let on. He whizzed
ahead as fast as ever I thought it was a
mean trick for him to play on marar, and wished
I could trip up his wheel. It would be dark
long before I got her back to cousin Andy Sanders's,
and the Wizard whizzed ahead like he was running off
with us. I had a notion to cut the rope,
but there was no telling when i'd get another, and
it was new. I made up my mind to do it, though,
when we come along by our old place. But there
the Wizard turned round and jumped off in the road.
I picked up the end of my rope and shook
my head because I was mad. Why didn't you let go?
Says I. Haven't I brought you home? He says. I
looked at the shut up house and felt a good
deal worse than when I thought he was running off
with us. Oh, steely, says Maurart. Let's go in and stay.
I want to come home so bad. He was a
man grown an I's only ten years old, but he
ought to know better than to made Mark cry till
the tears run down her chin. I'd been to look
at the house myself, but never say a word to
her about it. Once about noon, I slipped up there
by the cornfields round about, and sat on the fence
and thought about mother till I could hardly stand it.
The house looked lonesomer than an old cabin about to fall,
because an old cabin about to fall has forgot its folks.
But all our things were locked up here except what
aunt Ibby and cousin Andy Sanders had carried off. Our
sale was to be in January. The snow was knee
deep in the yard and drifted even on the porch.
The tracks showed where aunt Ibby walked when she got
out a load of provisions and bedclothes. She had the
front door key, and took even the blue and white
coverlet with birds woven that I heard Mother say was
to be Mars, and the canned fruit, for fear it
would freeze when our cellar is warmer than there stove.
She said to Uncle Mo's when I was by unbeknown
that Murr and me would have ten times as much
property as her children anyhow, and she ought to be
paid more for keeping us. She might have our money
for all I cared, But I did not know how
to stand her robbing things out of mother's house, and
wished the sale would come quick and scatter them all.
The wizard lant his chin on his breast and looked
pitiful out of his eyes at Marar, for seemed like
the tears had a notion to freeze on her face,
only she kept them running down too fast. And he says,
let's go into the house. Oh deo steally, says mar
hugging my knee, for I was alongside the sled. And
I'll cook all your dinners and we'll hang up our
Christmas stockings every Sunday, says she. And Aunt Hibby's boys
won't durst to take away my lead pencil, mother give me,
and if you see them coming here, you'll set bounce
on them. Marar says, I. We will go in and
make a fire and act like mother's just gone out
to a neighbor's. Then she begun to laugh, and one
of her tears stuck to an indspot that comes and
goes in her face, like it was denied with your finger.
But now you mind, I says. If Aunt Ibby or
Uncle Mos goes to whip us for this, you tell
em I put you up to it and made you
go along with me. Marar looked scared, and you tell them,
says the wizard lifting his wheel across the snow toward
the gate that I put you both up to it
and made you go along with me. I pulled Mara
over the drifts and we went to the side door.
Aunt Ibby's got the big key, I says, and I'll
have to raise a window while you wait here the
window as we're all locked down. But we went round
and round till the one in the shed give way,
and I crawled through and bursted the latch off the
kitchen door. I breathed so fast it made my heart thump.
When I unlocked the side door and let the whizzard
and Mar into the sitting room. I noticed then he'd
hung his wheel on the limb of a tree, for
it glittered. Bounce ain't here to jump on us, Izzy
Marr says, I no, and he hates to stay at
cousin Andy Sanders's says she. Bounce would come to the
schoolhouse and kind of cry till ask the master please
may I go out, And then bouncin me'd have a
talk behind the schoolhouse, and I'd tell him I could
not help it, and he'd own that he might live
at aunt Ibby's with us if he could only keep
from chawing up their miserable yellow dogs, and we'd both
feel better. But I did miss him that minute I
opened the door when here he come, like a house
a fire, and lit down on the floor, panting and
pounding his tail and laughing. And then he jumped up
and paught us in the dark, till Marr had to
hold him round the neck to keep him still while
I got a light. He must a snuffed our tracks
when we whizz past cousin Andy Sanders's. I felt to
the pantry and put my hand in the candle box,
but Aunt Ibby never left one. I knew there's a
piece and a candlestick in the shed cupboard, though it
burnt half out the night mother died, so I got it,
and the Wizard scraped a match and lit the wick.
The Wizard and me set too then, and brought in
loads from the wood house. We built a fire, clean
up into the chimney, and Rar took the broom and
swept all the dust into it. Bounce laid on the
carpet and licked at us and whacked his tail till
we's in a broad laugh. The fire got me warmer
than i'd been since Mother died. The Wizard took out
a thick gold watch and wound our clock and set it.
Then he says, let's go over the house, and we did.
I carried the candle, and Rar and the dog went along.
The Wizard looked in all the upstairs presses and opened
the bureau drawers. I stayed outside of the parlor, and
rarm Bounce did too. I did not want to think
of the sheet stretched in the corner, for it was
not like Mother under the sheet, but her picture hung
up in there, and so did my father's. The Wizzard
stayed in with the candle a good while. I heard
him going from one thing to another, and wondered what
he was about. I'd rather gone out to the graveyard, though,
and set on the fence, watching mother's and father's graves,
and heard the dry sumac bushes scrape together. Then to
stepped into the parlor. Father died a year before mother,
but I didn't like him the same as I did her.
Then we looked down cellar, and I thought I ought
to tell the wizzer about the provisions and bedclothes being
taken out of the house, or he'd suppose Mother never
kept us nice he smiled under his cap, and I
found one jar of canned honey behind some bars, where
Aunt Ibby overlooked it. We carried that up to the
sitting room. Marar likes candid honey better than anything. Just
as we come into the sitting room, I heard somebody
pound on the front door. They're after us, says Marar.
Let me see to it, says the Whizzer. So we
stepped around the house and came back with his wheel
on his arm, and held the door open. The snow
made out doors light, and we saw a little fellow
lead a horse and buggy through the yard into the
barn lot, and he came right in carrying a couple
of baskets. All right, Sam, says the Wizzar. Put your
horse in the stable, and then build a fire in
the kitchen stove. The man he called Sam, stopped to
warm himself at our heart. And I never saw such
a looking creature before. He had a cap with a
button on top of his head, and his hair was
braided and a long tail behind. He laughed, and as
his eyes glittered and they sloped up like a ladder
set against the house, he was just as yellow as
brass and wore a cloth circular with big sleeves, but
the rest of 'em looked like other folks. Mara went
back into the corner, and I noticed the Wizard set
his wheel against the wall, and I wondered if he'd
left it out for a sign so the little yellow
man would know where to stop. The yellow Man went
out to his horse, and the Whizzard took off his
cap and gloves and coat and hung them in the
sitting room. He looked nice. His eyes snapped, and his
hair was cut off close except a brush right along
the middle of his head. We set our chairs up
to the fire, and I watched him and watched him.
If you and that fellow travel together, I says, What
makes him go in a buggy and you on a wheel? Oh?
I like the bicycle, says he. I've run thousands of
miles on it. I sent Sam out from San Francisco
by the railroad, but I came through on the wheel.
It took me three months. I thought he was a
funny man, but I liked him too. When Sam came
in from the stable, Maura and I went to the
kitchen and saw him cook supper for One of the
baskets was jammed full of vittals. He heated a roasted
turkey and made oysters soup, and mashed potatoes and chopped cabbage.
There were preserves the Wizzar called scotch, and hot rolls
and jelly, and cold chicken, and little round cakes that
melted in your mouth, pickles and nuts and oranges. And
we put the candied honey on the table. The coffee
smelt like thanksgiving. Sam waited on us and I eat
till I's ashamed. We never expected to have such a
dinner in mother's house any more. When Ura and I
got down and begun to toss our oranges, the Wizzard
told Sam to clear the things away and have his
supper in the kitchen, and then to fix the beds
as comfortable as he could. I'd made up my mind.
Even if the Wizard did travel, had that Morron mean
stay there all night, aunt Ibby's would think we were
at Cousin Andy Sanders's, and Cousin Andy Sanders's would think
we were at aunt Ibby's. He sat in Mother's big
chair before the fire, and I felt willing. If it
had been Uncle Mo's in the chair, I wouldn't felt
willing when a stick broke on the dog irons. We
piled on more wood, and the clock ticked and struck nine,
and I wished we's never going away from there again.
R and I played and jumped, and he was blind man,
and we had solid fun till he's tired out. I
showed him my books, for I never took one to
Uncle Moses. The boys there make ye give up everything,
and they licked their dirty thumbs to turn leaves. Marr
and I stood and looked into the glass doors of
the bookcase like we used to when the fire made
them like a looking glass. And there were our faces,
hers round and wide between the eyes, and curly headed,
and mine long and narrow between the eyes, and my hair,
and a black roach. I told the wizards she'd better
have a bed made down by the fire, considering the
blankets and comforts were most all out of visitin'. And
he guessed so too, And Sam helped me bring lots
of quilts and a feather tick from my old room
to fix up the lounge. With Sam went into the
kitchen and slept by the stove. Then I undressed Marr
and heard her prayers. After I tucked her in she's
six years old and dressed herself before mother died, all
but hooking up. I hooked her up, and sometimes she's
swell out for mischief when she ought to swell in.
But now I tended to her entirely because she missed
her mother. The Whizzard acted like he saw something in
the fire. But when Mara was asleep and I sat
down by him, he pushed up my roach and he says,
you're a very fatherly little fellow, Steel Petticourt. It put
me in mind to ask him if he sam'spy but
he laughed out loud at the notion. Sam's smaller than you.
And he minds so well, says I. And I never
saw a man that was so handy at girl's work.
Sam's an excellent fellow, says the Wizar. But I don't
deserve to have a chinaman and called my son. Oh,
I says, is he a chinaman? Well, I've read about them,
but I never saw one before. Then I concluded to
ask the wizard what his own name was, But just
then he got up from his chair and brought the
other basket to the fire. Do you know whose Santa
Claus is? He says, talking low. I found that out
two years ago, says I. Well, get her little stockings.
Then he says, I thought you'd like to do this yourself,
says the Wizzer, He acted just like mother. We took
the things out of the basket. There were toy sheep
and dogs, and dolls, and tubs and dishes, and underneath
them all kinds of candies enough to treat a school.
I felt like the Wizzer was Santa Claus. We stuffed
her a little stocking. Still, they stood alone like kegs,
and tied bundles to them, and fastened them together and
hung them on the mantelpiece. Bounced, wake up and watch us,
and then he doze off, for Bounce was full o
turkey bones than he ever expected to be again, and
Marars leapt away, looking like a doll in the fire shine.
But all at once Bounce gave a jump and a bark.
Back went the door like the wind had tore it open,
and there stood Uncle MOA's and Aunt Ibby, and cousin
Andy Sanders, and the widow Briggs's grown son, and two
or three men behind them. They all looked scared or mad,
and Aunt Ibby's face was so white that her mules
all bristled. This is a pretty how to do, says she,
speaking up loud, like she did on wash days or
times she took a stick and drove the boys to
the woodpile. What's going on in this house? To night?
Fires and candles burning, and travelers putting up and children
running away when they're let go some place else to
stay all night? You little sneak, says she. You'll get
one such a whipping as you waked for when your
mother was alive. Stop, stop, says the whizzard peaceably. What
are you doing in this house, says cousin Andy Sanders.
Are you the man I saw go past my place
to night on that wheel pulling the children? I am,
says the Whizzar, and I've been making notes of the
personal property that has been carried out of the house. Well,
says uncle Mos. I'm the constable, and this is my posse.
The whizzer laughed, and he says, this thorn bush is
my thorn bush, and this dog my dog. I did
not know what he meant, and they acted as if
they did not either. I arrest you, says Uncle Mos,
for breaking into a house and disturbing the peace. You
can't do it, says the Whizzer. Go in and take him,
says Uncle Mos to the other men. Because this is
my house, says the Whizzer. I swallowed my breath when
he said that. I wish you'd shut the door, he says.
And since tomorrow is Christmas and I don't want to
harbor any ill, will you can shut it behind instead
of in front of you. I'm Steel Pettichord, this boy's father,
as you might all know by looking at me. Even
cousin Andy Sanders didn't jump any more than I did.
But I jumped for gladness, and seemed like he jumped
for something else. I'm appointed gerdyon to the children, he says.
And I don't want any impudent talk from a stranger.
You pretend you don't know me, Andy Sanders, says the wizard.
But I always knew you. You expected to settle on
their land while Mose and his wife pillaged their goods.
I didn't grow up with you for nothing. Steel Petticoord
died when that boy was a year old, says Aunt Abby.
And she looked so awful and so big I could
hardly bear to watch her. He was killed by the
Indians on his way from California after he sent his
money home. He was only kept prisoner by the Indians,
says my father, and sick and ill used. But he
had no notion he was dead till he got away
after a few years and heard his widow was married
again and even mother to another child. It's a likely story,
says cousin Andy Sanders, that a man wouldn't come forward
and claim his own in such case. Your notion of
a man and mine never did agree, Andy Sanders, says
my father, she wasn't to blame, and her second husband
was my best friend. The boy and girl are mine now.
It's some robbing scheme, says Aunt Abby. But she looked
as if she knew him well enough. I've more to
give them than you could have taken from them, he says,
And you may begin to investigate to night. Is that
the widow Briggs's boy, he says. The Briggs boy came
up and shook hands with them, and the other men
stepped in and shook hands too. They all begun to talk,
but Uncle Mose and Aunt Ibby and cousin Andy Sanders
left the door, and I heard them slam the gate.
Mar slept right along, though the neighbors talked so loud
and fast, and I sat down on the lounge at
her feet, wondering what she would say Christmas morning when
she found out the wizard was my own father, the
mother thought was dead since I was a year old.
I felt so queer and glad that something in me
whizzed like the wheel. And while my father was not looking,
and everybody sat up to the fire asking questions, I
slipped over and tried to hug it around the cranks
that he wiggled with his feet. You can read pieces
about Santa Claus comin on a sledge, but that's nothing
to havin your own father that you think is dead
and gone, Ride up like a regular whizzer and open
the house for Christmas. End of the Whizzer by Mary
Hartwell Catherwood