Chapter V: The Day of the Fair

Oh, how it rained and rained for days and days before the one appointed for the fair, and how many anxious eyes were turned up towards the clouds which looked so heavy and gray and pitiless, as if they never intended to stop raining again! It was hard to believe that behind the dark mass the sun was still shining, and the children watched in vain for the “silver lining” which is said to invest every cloud. But it appeared at last on the very day of the fair, and patches of blue sky showed here and there in the heavens, and before noon the October sun was drying the walks and the wet grass, and brightening up the little faces which for days had been overcast with gloom. The fair was to be held at a private house, and I wish you could have seen the multitude of pretty things which came pouring in, until the Brown Cottage looked like one great bazaar of toys and fancy articles. There were cushions of pink and cushions of blue, and penwipers and book-racks, and a beautiful whirling butterfly which Lulu bought on Broadway, and needle-books and spool-cases, and tidies of various devices and colors, with mittens and gloves, and fanciful lines with tinkling bells attached, and I know a little boy, among the Massachusetts hills, who to-day drives his miniature horses, of which he has forty or more, with a pair of those very lines. Then there were toys of every description sent from New York by Susie Ganson’s mother, and spread out upon the tables in the upper room, whose glass door looked into the garden. There were jumping-jacks, which turned the boys wild, and churns, which made the little girls scream with delight. There were washbowls and tubs, tin-kitchens and rolling-pins, and bars to dry the dolly’s clothes on, and chairs, and tables, and dishes, with balls and canes, and old Santa Claus himself bearing his Christmas-tree with the gifts to put upon it. There was a negro, too, with his woolly head and calico frock, looking so life-like and real that some of the smaller children drew back from him in terror, fancying he was alive.

Downstairs, in the bay window, and on a table where it could be distinctly seen, was the “Beauty of the Fair,”—a little stained bedstead, which an ingenious gentleman had whittled out with his penknife. It was a most perfect thing, with castors and mattress tufted with pink, with ruffled sheets and pillow-cases, the ruffles all nicely fluted and showing well against the covering of white Marseilles. Upon it lay a handsome doll, in her muslin dress and scarlet cloak, ready for the opera. The two were to go together, and many a little girl hoped she might be made the happy possessor of so beautiful a gift. In a corner of the parlor, the books which a kind New York publisher had given, were arranged, together with the Fate Eggs, which looked so pretty, suspended from the branch of evergreen made to resemble a tree. The books and the eggs were to be Jennie’s charge,—dear little Jennie, with the pale, sweet face, whom everybody loves and pities so much,—for Jennie is lame; and when the other children of her age are at their merry play, she can only lean upon her crutches and watch the sport in which she can take no part. Near Jennie’s corner the candy and flower tables stood, and Annie and Carrie were to preside there, and send out little peddlers with baskets of candy and bouquets to sell.

I must not forget to tell you of the famous fish pond, as it was something new in Carrollton, and proved a great success. A corner of the room was divided off with a heavy curtain, on which the printed words,

FISH POND

were pinned, while standing near were fishing rods and lines, with hooks made out of wire. With these the children were to fish, throwing the lines over the curtain and into a box filled with toys of various kinds, which a boy fastened upon the hooks as fast as they came over.

At last everything was ready. The drapery had been taken from the windows and the pictures from the walls; the furniture had been removed from the rooms, which looked bare and empty enough, I assure you. There were curtains before the doors of the library where the tableaux were to be, and on the piano stood the big _shoe_ where Louise was to sit and sell her three dozen dolls. There were loaves and loaves of cake in the kitchen, which served as the restaurant, and gallons of ice-cream in the freezers. And all over the town the excited children were getting ready, and watching for the sun to set and the clock to point the hour when it was time for them to start.