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Page 45
"The dogs are noisy," said the tutor, "too noisy. We must have
quiet--peace and quiet." His lean hand was once more in his pocket, and
he pulled out a box, from which he took some powder, which he scattered
on the burning log. A slight smoke now rose from the hot embers, and
floated into the room. Was the powder one of those strange compounds
that act upon the brain? Was it a magician's powder? Who knows? With it
came a sweet, subtle fragrance. It was strange--every one fancied he
had smelt it before, and all were absorbed in wondering what it was,
and where they had met with it. Even the dogs sat on their haunches
with their noses up, sniffing in a speculative manner.
"It's not lavender," said the grandmother, slowly, "and it's not
rosemary. There is a something of tansy in it (and a very fine tonic
flavour too, my dears, though it's _not_ in fashion now). Depend upon it,
it's a potpourri, and from an excellent receipt, sir"--and the old lady
bowed courteously towards the tutor. "My mother made the best potpourri
in the county, and it was very much like this. Not quite,
perhaps, but much the same, much the same."
The grandmother was a fine old gentlewoman "of the old school," as the
phrase is. She was very stately and gracious in her manners, daintily
neat in her person, and much attached to the old parson of the parish,
who now sat near her chair. All her life she had been very proud of her
fine stock of fair linen, both household and personal; and for many
years past had kept her own graveclothes ready in a drawer. They were
bleached as white as snow, and lay amongst bags of dried lavender and
potpourri. Many times had it seemed likely that they would be needed,
for the old lady had had severe illnesses of late, when the good parson
sat by her bedside, and read to her of the coming of the Bridegroom,
and of that "fine linen clean and white," which is "the righteousness
of the saints." It was of that drawer, with its lavender and potpourri
bags, that the scented smoke had reminded her.
"It has rather an overpowering odour," said the old parson; "it is
suggestive of incense. I am sure I once smelt something like it in the
Church of the Nativity at Bethlehem. It is very delicious."
The parson's long residence in his parish had been marked by one great
holiday. With the savings of many years he had performed a pilgrimage
to the Holy Land; and it was rather a joke against him that he
illustrated a large variety of subjects by reference to his favourite
topic, the holiday of his life.
"It smells of gunpowder," said Jim, decidedly, "and something else. I
can't tell what."
"Something one smells in a seaport town," said Tom.
"Can't be very delicious then," Jim retorted.
"It's not _quite_ the same," piped the widow; "but it reminds me very
much of an old bottle of attar of roses that was given to me when I
was at school, with a copy of verses, by a young gentleman who was
brother to one of the pupils. I remember Mr. Jones was quite annoyed
when he found it in an old box, where I am sure I had not touched it
for ten years or more; and I never spoke to him but once, on
Examination Day (the young gentleman, I mean). And its like--yes it's
certainly like a hair-wash Mr. Jones used to use. I've forgotten what
it was called, but I know it cost fifteen shillings a bottle; and
Macready threw one over a few weeks before his dear papa's death, and
annoyed him extremely."
Whilst the company were thus engaged, Master MacGreedy took advantage
of the general abstraction to secure half-a-dozen crackers to his own
share; he retired to a corner with them, where he meant to pick them
quietly to pieces by himself. He wanted the gay paper, and the motto,
and the sweetmeats; but he did not like the report of the cracker. And
then what he did want, he wanted all to himself.
"Give us a cracker," said Master Jim, dreamily.
The dogs, after a few dissatisfied snorts, had dropped from their
sitting posture, and were lying close together on the rug, dreaming and
uttering short commenting barks and whines at intervals. The twins were
now reposing lazily at the tutor's feet, and did not feel disposed to
exert themselves even so far as to fetch their own bonbons.
"There's one," said the tutor, taking a fresh cracker from his pocket.
One end of it was of red and gold paper, the other of transparent green
stuff with silver lines. The boys pulled it.
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