Melchiors Dream and Other Tales | Page 5

capitals was the word TIME.
"'You're a nice old beggar,' said Melchior, dreamily. 'You look like an old hay-maker who has come to work in his shirt-sleeves, and forgotten the rest of his clothes. Time! time you went to the tailor's, I think.'
"This was very irreverent; but Melchior was not in a respectful mood; and as for the old man, he was as calm as any philosopher.
"The night wore on, and the fire got lower and lower, and at last went out altogether.
"'How stupid of me not to have mended it!' said Melchior; but he had not mended it, and so there was nothing for it but to go to bed; and to bed he went accordingly.
"'But I won't go to sleep,' he said; 'no, no; I shall keep awake, and to-morrow they shall know that I have had a bad night.'
"So he lay in bed with his eyes wide open, and staring still at the old print, which he could see from his bed by the light of the candle, which he had left alight on the mantelpiece to keep him awake. The flame waved up and down, for the room was draughty; and as the lights and shadows passed over the old man's face, Melchior almost fancied that it nodded to him, so he nodded back again; and as that tired him he shut his eyes for a few seconds. When he opened them again, there was no longer any doubt--the old man's head was moving; and not only his head, but his legs, and his whole body. Finally, he put his feet out of the frame, and prepared to step right over the mantelpiece, candle, and all.
"'Take care,' Melchior tried to say, 'you'll set fire to your shirt.' But he could not utter a sound; and the old man arrived safely on the floor, where he seemed to grow larger and larger, till he was fully the size of a man, but still with the same scythe and hour-glass, and the same airy costume. Then he came across the room, and sat down by Melchior's bedside.
"'Who are you?' said Melchior, feeling rather creepy.
"'TIME,' said his visitor in a deep voice, which sounded as if it came from a distance.
"'Oh, to be sure, yes! In copper-plate capitals.'
"'What's in copper-plate capitals?' inquired Time.
"'Your name, under the print.'
"'Very likely,' said Time.
"Melchior felt more and more uneasy. 'You must be very cold,' he said. 'Perhaps you would feel warmer if you went back into the picture.'
"'Not at all,' said Time; 'I have come on purpose to see you.'
"'I have not the pleasure of knowing you,' said Melchior, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.
"'There are not many people who have a personal acquaintance with me,' said his visitor. 'You have an advantage--I am your godfather.'
"'Indeed,' said Melchior; 'I never heard of it.'
"'Yes,' said his visitor; 'and you will find it a great advantage.'
"'Would you like to put on my coat?' said Melchior, trying to be civil.
"'No, thank you,' was the answer. 'You will want it yourself. We must be driving soon.'
"'Driving!' said Melchior.
"'Yes,' was the answer; 'all the world is driving; and you must drive; and here come your brothers and sisters.'
"Melchior sat up; and there they were, sure enough, all dressed, and climbing one after the other on to the bed--his bed!
"There was that little minx of a sister with her curls (he always called them carrot shavings), who was so conceited (girls always are!) and always trying to attract notice, in spite of Melchior's incessant snubbings. There was that clever brother, with his untidy hair and bent shoulders, who was just as bad the other way; who always ran out of the back door when visitors called, and was for ever moping and reading: and this, in spite of Melchior's hiding his books, and continually telling him that he was a disgrace to the family, a perfect bear, not fit to be seen, etc.--all with the laudable desire of his improvement. There was that little Hop-o'-my-Thumb, as lively as any of them, a young monkey, the worst of all; who was always in mischief, and consorting with the low boys in the village; though Melchior did not fail to tell him that he was not fit company for gentlemen's sons, that he was certain to be cut when he went to school, and that he would probably end his days by being transported, if not hanged. There was the second brother, who was Melchior's chief companion, and against whom he had no particular quarrel. And there was the little pale lame sister, whom he dearly loved; but whom, odd to say, he never tried to improve at all; his remedy for her failings was generally, 'Let her do as she likes, will you?' There were others who were all tiresome