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Everychild by Louis Dodge
Chapter 1 THE TWO STRANGERS
It did not seem a very pleasant room. To be sure, there were a great many nice things in it. There was rose-colored paper on the wall, and the woodwork was of ivory, with gilt lines. There were pictures of ships on the ocean and of high trees and of the sun going down behind a hill, and there was one of an old mill with nobody at all in sight. And there was one picture with dogs in it.
There was a soft rug, also of rose-color, and a fine clock, shaped like a state capitol, on the mantel. There was a silver gong in the clock which made beautiful music. There was a nice reading table with books on it, and a lamp. The lamp had a shade made up of queerly-shaped bits of material like onyx, and a fringe of rose-colored beads. Yet for all this, it did not seem a pleasant room. You could feel that something was wrong. You know, there are always so many things in a room which you cannot see.
A lady and a gentleman sat at the reading-table, one on either side. It seemed they hadn't a word to say to each other. They did not even look at each other. The lady turned the pages of a magazine without seeing a single thing. The gentleman sat staring straight before him, and after a long time he stretched himself and said: "Ho-hum!" And then he began to frown and to stare at an oak chair over against the wall.
You might have supposed he had a grudge against the chair; and it seemed that the chair might be crying out to him in its own language: "I am not merely a chair. Look at me! I was a limb on a mighty oak. I was a child of the sun and the rain and the earth. I used to sing and dance. Oh, do not look at me like that!" But the gentleman knew nothing of all this.
Both the lady and the gentleman were thinking of nothing but themselves and they continued to do this even when a door opened and their son entered the room.
Their son's name was Everychild; and because he is to be the most important person in this story I should like to tell you as much about him as I can. But really, there is very little I can tell. His mother often said that he was a peculiar child. It was almost impossible to tell what his thoughts were, or his dreams, or how much he loved this person or that, or what he desired most.
It was difficult for him to get into the room. He was carrying something which he could not manage very well. But no one offered to help him. Presently he had got quite into the room, leaving the door open.
The thing he carried was a kite, and he was holding it high to keep it free of the ground. The tail had got caught in the string and there was a rent in the blue paper.
The clock struck just as he entered and he stopped to count the strokes. Seven. The last stroke died away with a quivering sound. Then with faltering feet he approached his father.
His father was frowning. He stopped and pondered. He had seen that frown on his father's face many times before, and it had always puzzled him. Sometimes it would come while you watched, and you couldn't think what made it come. Or it would go away in the strangest manner, without anything having happened at all. It was a great mystery.
The frown did not go away this time; and presently Everychild approached his father timidly. It was rather difficult for him to speak; but he managed to say:
"Daddy, do you think you could fix it for me?" He brought the torn kite further forward and held it higher.
His father did not look at him at all!
Everychild's heart pounded loudly. How could one go on speaking to a person who would not even look? Yet he persisted. "Could you?" he repeated.
His father moved a little, but still he did not look at Everychild. He said rather impatiently: "Never mind now, son."
Then his mother spoke. She had glanced up from her magazine. "You've left the door open, Everychild," she said.
Everychild put his kite down with care. He returned to the door. It was a stubborn door. He pulled at it once and again. It closed with a bang.
"Everychild!" exclaimed his mother. The noise had made her jump a little.
"It always bangs when you close it," said Everychild.
"It wouldn't bang if you didn't open it," said his mother.
He returned and stood beside his father.
"You know you used to fix things for me," he said. He reflected and brightened a little. "And play with me," he added. "Don't you remember?"
But just then it seemed that his father and mother thought of something to say to each other. Their manner was quite unpleasant. They talked without waiting for each other to get through, and Everychild could not understand a thing they were saying. He withdrew a little and waited.
But when his parents had talked a little while, rather loudly, his father got up and went out. He put his hat on, pulling it down over his eyes. And he banged the door. But it was the outside door this time, which never banged at all if you were careful.
And then his mother got up and went to her own room-which meant that she mustn't be disturbed.
Everychild stood for a moment, puzzled; and then he thought of the broken kite in his hands. He plucked at it slowly. You would have supposed that he did not care greatly, now, whether the kite got mended or not. But little by little he became interested in the kite. He sat down on the floor and began to untangle the tail.
He scarcely knew when the inner door opened and the cook entered the room.
She was a large, plain person. Her face was redder than Everychild's mother's face, but not so pretty. Her eyes often seemed tired, but never too tired to beam a little.
"Are you all alone, Everychild?" she asked. She did not wait for a reply, but asked another question: "Is something wrong with your kite?" And again without waiting for a reply she added: "Maybe I could fix it for you!"
And she got down on the rug on her knees and took the kite from his hands.
Everychild, standing beside her, looked into her rather sad, kind eyes, which were closer to him than he remembered their ever having been before. There were little moist lines about them, and they were faded. Her hands were not at all like his mother's hands. Not nearly so nice: and yet how clever they were! She was really untangling the tail of the kite, moving it here and there with large gestures.
And then Everychild forgot all about the kite. Certain amazing things had begun to happen near by.
It had been getting dark in the room; and now it suddenly became quite bright, though no one had turned the lights on. And there was a sound of music-a short bit of a march, which ended all of a sudden. And then Everychild realized that by some strange process two persons had entered the room.
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Chapter 1 THE TWO STRANGERS
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Chapter 2 EVERYCHILD'S ENCOUNTER WITH THE GIANT
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Chapter 3 EVERYCHILD ENCOUNTERS ALADDIN OF THE WONDERFUL LAMP
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Chapter 4 EVERYCHILD IS JOINED BY HANSEL AND GRETTEL
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Chapter 5 A DASHING YOUTH IN THE FOREST
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Chapter 6 A FIGHT WHICH WAS STRANGELY ENDED
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Chapter 7 THE ADVENTURE OF WILL O'DREAMS
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Chapter 8 A PURSUIT IN THE DARK
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Chapter 9 CINDERELLA AT HOME
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Chapter 10 CINDERELLA'S DECISION
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Chapter 11 SOME ONE PASSES WITH A SONG ON THE ROAD
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Chapter 12 EVERYCHILD BECOMES ACQUAINTED WITH A POOR DOG
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Chapter 13 A TERRIBLE LADY AT HOME
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Chapter 14 MR. LITERAL'S WARNING
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Chapter 15 A STRANGE HOUSE IN THE FOREST
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Chapter 16 AN ELABORATION OF ONE OF HISTORY'S
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Chapter 17 EVERYCHILD WITH ADDITIONAL COMPANIONS
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Chapter 18 HOW THE HAND OF A CHAMBERLAIN TREMBLED
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Chapter 19 HOW AN UNFORTUNATE PRINCE ESCAPED
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Chapter 20 A SONG IN THE GARDEN
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Chapter 21 AN ENCOUNTER IN THE ATTIC
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Chapter 22 THE END OF A HUNDRED YEARS
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Chapter 23 THE AWAKENING
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Chapter 24 TIME PASSES
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Chapter 25 WILL O'DREAMS REPORTS A DISCOVERY
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Chapter 26 THE HIDDEN TEMPLE
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Chapter 27 HOW EVIL DAYS CAME UPON THE CASTLE
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Chapter 28 THE MOUNTAIN OF REALITY
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Chapter 29 THE MASKED LADY'S SECRET
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Chapter 30 WILL O'DREAMS MAKES A DISCOVERY
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Chapter 31 HOW ALADDIN MADE A WISH
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Chapter 32 THE HALL OF PARENTS
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