<h2><SPAN name="OH_DEAR" id="OH_DEAR">“OH, DEAR!”</SPAN></h2>
<p><span class="upper">Chimborazo</span> was a very
unhappy boy. He
pouted, and he sulked,
and he said, “Oh, dear!
oh, dear! oh, dear! oh,
dear!” He said it till
everybody was tired of
hearing it.</p>
<p>“Chimborazo,” his mother would say,
“please don’t say, ‘Oh, dear!’ any more.
It is very annoying. Say something else.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear!” the boy would answer,
“I can’t! I don’t know anything else to
say. Oh, dear! Oh, <em>dear</em>!! oh, <strong>DEAR</strong>!!!”</p>
<p>One day his mother could not bear it
any longer, and she sent for his fairy godmother,
and told her all about it.</p>
<p>“Humph!” said the fairy godmother.
“I will see to it. Send the boy to me!”</p>
<p>So Chimborazo was sent for, and came,
hanging his head as usual. When he
saw his fairy godmother, he said, “Oh,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</SPAN></span>
dear!” for he was rather afraid of her.</p>
<p>“‘Oh, dear!’ it is!” said the godmother
sharply; and she put on her
spectacles and looked at him. “Do
you know what a bell-punch is?”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear!” said Chimborazo. “No,
ma’am, I don’t!”</p>
<p>“Well,” said the godmother, “I am
going to give you one.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear!” said Chimborazo, “I
don’t want one.”</p>
<p>“Probably not,” replied she, “but that
doesn’t make much difference. You have
it now, in your jacket pocket.”</p>
<p>Chimborazo felt in his pocket, and took
out a queer-looking instrument of shining
metal. “Oh, dear!” he said.</p>
<p>“‘Oh, dear!’ it is!” said the fairy
godmother. “Now,” she continued,
“listen to me, Chimborazo! I am going
to put you on an allowance of ‘Oh, dears.’
This is a self-acting bell-punch, and it
will ring whenever you say ‘Oh, dear!’
How many times do you generally say
it in the course of the day?”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear!” said Chimborazo, “I
don’t know. Oh, <em>dear</em>!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“<em>Ting! ting!</em>” the bell-punch rang
twice sharply; and looking at it in dismay,
he saw two little round holes punched
in a long slip of pasteboard which was
fastened to the instrument.</p>
<p>“Exactly!” said the fairy. “That
is the way it works, and a very pretty
way, too. Now, my boy, I am going to
make you a very liberal allowance. You
may say ‘Oh, dear!’ forty-five times a
day. There’s liberality for you!”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear!” cried Chimborazo, “I——”</p>
<p>“<em>Ting!</em>” said the bell-punch.</p>
<p>“You see!” observed the fairy. “Nothing
could be prettier. You have now
had three of this day’s allowance. It is
still some hours before noon, so I advise
you to be careful. If you exceed the
allowance——” Here she paused, and
glowered through her spectacles in a
very dreadful manner.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear!” cried Chimborazo. “What
will happen then?”</p>
<p>“You will see!” said the fairy godmother,
with a nod. “<em>Something</em> will
happen, you may be very sure of that.
Good-by. Remember, only forty-five!”<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</SPAN></span>
And away she flew out of the window.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear!” cried Chimborazo, bursting
into tears. “I don’t want it! I won’t
have it! Oh, <em>dear</em>! oh, dear! oh, dear!
oh, dear! oh, <strong>DEAR</strong>!!!”</p>
<p>“Ting! ting! ting-ting-ting-<em>ting</em>!”
said the bell-punch; and now there were
ten round holes in the strip of pasteboard.
Chimborazo was now really frightened.
He was silent for some time; and when
his mother called him to his lessons he
tried very hard not to say the dangerous
words. But the habit was so strong that
he said them unconsciously. By dinnertime
there were twenty-five holes in the
cardboard strip; by tea-time there were
forty! Poor Chimborazo! he was afraid
to open his lips, for whenever he did the
words would slip out in spite of him.</p>
<p>“Well, Chimbo,” said his father after
tea, “I hear you have had a visit from
your fairy godmother. What did she say
to you, eh?”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear!” said Chimborazo, “she
said—oh, dear! I’ve said it again!”</p>
<p>“She said, ‘Oh, dear! I’ve said it
again!’” repeated his father. “What
do you mean by that?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Oh, dear! I didn’t mean that,” cried
Chimborazo hastily; and again the inexorable
bell rang, and he knew that
another hole was punched in the fatal
cardboard. He pressed his lips firmly
together, and did not open them again
except to say “Good-night,” until he
was safe in his own room. Then he hastily
drew the hated bell-punch from his pocket,
and counted the holes in the strip of cardboard;
there were forty-three! “Oh,
<em>dear</em>!” cried the boy, forgetting himself
again in his alarm, “only two more!
Oh, <em>dear</em>! oh, <strong>DEAR</strong>! I’ve done it again!
oh——” “Ting! ting!” went the bell-punch;
and the cardboard was punched
to the end. “Oh, dear!” cried Chimborazo,
now beside himself with terror.
“Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear! oh,
<em>dear</em>!! what will become of me?”</p>
<p>A strange whirring noise was heard,
then a loud clang; and the next moment
the bell-punch, as if it were alive, flew
out of his hand, out of the window, and
was gone!</p>
<p>Chimborazo stood breathless with terror
for a few minutes, momentarily expecting<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</SPAN></span>
that the roof would fall in on his head,
or the floor blow up under his feet, or
some appalling catastrophe of some kind
follow; but nothing followed. Everything
was quiet, and there seemed to be nothing
to do but go to bed; and so to bed he went,
and slept, only to dream that he was shot
through the head with a bell-punch, and
died saying, “Oh, dear!”</p>
<p>The next morning, when Chimborazo
came downstairs, his father said, “My
boy, I am going to drive over to your
grandfather’s farm this morning; would
you like to go with me?”</p>
<p>A drive to the farm was one of the
greatest pleasures Chimborazo had, so he
answered promptly, “Oh, <em>dear</em>!”</p>
<p>“Oh, very well!” said his father,
looking much surprised. “You need not
go, my son, if you do not want to. I will
take Robert instead.”</p>
<p>Poor Chimborazo! He had opened his
lips to say, “Thank you, papa. I should
like to go <em>very</em> much!” and, instead of
these words, out had popped, in his most
doleful tone, the now hated “Oh, dear!”
He sat amazed; but was roused by his
mother’s calling him to breakfast.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Come, Chimbo,” she said. “Here
are sausages and scrambled eggs: and
you are very fond of both of them. Which
will you have?”</p>
<p>Chimborazo hastened to say, “Sausages,
please, mamma,”—that is, he
hastened to <em>try</em> to say it; but all his
mother heard was, “Oh, <em>dear</em>!”</p>
<p>His father looked much displeased.
“Give the boy some bread and water,
wife,” he said sternly. “If he cannot answer
properly, he must be taught. I have
had enough of this ‘oh, dear!’ business.”</p>
<p>Poor Chimborazo! He saw plainly
enough now what his punishment was
to be; and the thought of it made him
tremble. He tried to ask for some more
bread, but only brought out his “Oh,
<em>dear</em>!” in such a lamentable tone that his
father ordered him to leave the room. He
went out into the garden, and there he met
John the gardener, carrying a basket of
rosy apples. Oh! how good they looked!</p>
<p>“I am bringing some of the finest apples
up to the house, little master,” said John.
“Will you have one to put in your pocket?”</p>
<p>“Oh, <em>dear</em>!” was all the poor boy could<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</SPAN></span>
say, though he wanted an apple, oh, so
much! And when John heard that he
put the apple back in his basket, muttering
something about ungrateful monkeys.</p>
<p>Poor Chimborazo! I will not give the
whole history of that miserable day,—a
miserable day it was from beginning to
end. He fared no better at dinner than
at breakfast; for at the second “Oh,
dear!” his father sent him up to his room,
“to stay there until he knew how to take
what was given him, and be thankful
for it.” He knew well enough by this
time; but he could not tell his father so.
He went to his room, and sat looking out
of the window, a hungry and miserable boy.</p>
<p>In the afternoon his cousin Will came
up to see him. “Why, Chimbo!” he
cried. “Why do you sit moping here in
the house, when all the boys are out?
Come and play marbles with me on the
piazza. Ned and Harry are out there
waiting for you. Come on!”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear!” said Chimborazo.</p>
<p>“What’s the matter?” asked Will.
“Haven’t you any marbles? Never mind.
I’ll give you half of mine, if you like.
Come!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Oh, <strong>DEAR</strong>!” said Chimborazo.</p>
<p>“Well,” said Will, “if that’s all you
have to say when I offer you marbles, I’ll
keep them myself. I suppose you expected
me to give you all of them, did you?
I never saw such a fellow!” and off he
went in a huff.</p>
<p class="tb">. . . . . . . .</p>
<p>“Well, Chimborazo,” said the fairy
godmother, “what do you think of ‘Oh,
dear!’ now?”</p>
<p>Chimborazo looked at her beseechingly,
but said nothing.</p>
<p>“Finding that forty-five times was not
enough for you yesterday, I thought I
would let you have all you wanted to-day,
you see,” said the fairy wickedly.</p>
<p>The boy still looked imploringly at her,
but did not open his lips.</p>
<p>“Well, well,” she said at last, touching
his lips with her wand, “I think that is
enough in the way of punishment, though
I am sorry you broke the bell-punch.
Good-by! I don’t believe you will say
‘Oh, dear!’ any more.”</p>
<p>And he didn’t.</p>
<hr class="l1" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</SPAN></span></p>
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