The Cuckoo Clock | Page 7

impossible to fly or run across the great saloon!
Even in daylight this would have been a difficult matter. Griselda felt
her way as best she could, past the Chinese cabinet and the pot-pourri
jar, till she got to the ante-room door. It was open, and now, knowing
her way better, she hurried in. But what was the use? All was silent,
save the tick-tick of the cuckoo clock in the corner. Oh, if only the
cuckoo would come out and call the hour as usual, what a weight
would be lifted off Griselda's heart!
She had no idea what o'clock it was. It might be close to the hour, or it
might be just past it. She stood listening for a few minutes, then hearing
Miss Grizzel's voice in the distance, she felt that she dared not stay any
longer, and turned to feel her way out of the room again. Just as she got
to the door it seemed to her that something softly brushed her cheek,
and a very, very faint "cuckoo" sounded as it were in the air close to

her.
Startled, but not frightened, Griselda stood perfectly still.
"Cuckoo," she said, softly. But there was no answer.
Again the tones of Miss Grizzel's voice coming upstairs reached her
ear.
"I must go," said Griselda; and finding her way across the saloon
without, by great good luck, tumbling against any of the many
breakable treasures with which it was filled, she flew down the long
passage again, reaching her own room just before Dorcas appeared with
her supper.
Griselda slept badly that night. She was constantly dreaming of the
cuckoo, fancying she heard his voice, and then waking with a start to
find it was only fancy. She looked pale and heavy-eyed when she came
down to breakfast the next morning; and her Aunt Tabitha, who was
alone in the room when she entered, began immediately asking her
what was the matter.
"I am sure you are going to be ill, child," she said, nervously. "Sister
Grizzel must give you some medicine. I wonder what would be the best.
Tansy tea is an excellent thing when one has taken cold, or----"
But the rest of Miss Tabitha's sentence was never heard, for at this
moment Miss Grizzel came hurriedly into the room--her cap awry, her
shawl disarranged, her face very pale. I hardly think any one had ever
seen her so discomposed before.
"Sister Tabitha!" she exclaimed, "what can be going to happen? The
cuckoo clock has stopped."
"The cuckoo clock has stopped!" repeated Miss Tabitha, holding up her
hands; "_im_possible!"
"But it has, or rather I should say--dear me, I am so upset I cannot

explain myself--the cuckoo has stopped. The clock is going on, but the
cuckoo has not told the hours, and Dorcas is of opinion that he left off
doing so yesterday. What can be going to happen? What shall we do?"
"What can we do?" said Miss Tabitha. "Should we send for the
watch-maker?"
Miss Grizzel shook her head.
"'Twould be worse than useless. Were we to search the world over, we
could find no one to put it right. Fifty years and more, Tabitha, fifty
years and more, it has never missed an hour! We are getting old,
Tabitha, our day is nearly over; perhaps 'tis to remind us of this."
Miss Tabitha did not reply. She was weeping silently. The old ladies
seemed to have forgotten the presence of their niece, but Griselda could
not bear to see their distress. She finished her breakfast as quickly as
she could, and left the room.
On her way upstairs she met Dorcas.
"Have you heard what has happened, little missie?" said the old
servant.
"Yes," replied Griselda.
"My ladies are in great trouble," continued Dorcas, who seemed
inclined to be more communicative than usual, "and no wonder. For
fifty years that clock has never gone wrong."
"Can't it be put right?" asked the child.
Dorcas shook her head.
"No good would come of interfering," she said. "What must be, must
be. The luck of the house hangs on that clock. Its maker spent a good
part of his life over it, and his last words were that it would bring good
luck to the house that owned it, but that trouble would follow its silence.
It's my belief," she added solemnly, "that it's a fairy clock, neither more

nor less, for good luck it has brought there's no denying. There are no
cows like ours, missie--their milk is a proverb hereabouts; there are no
hens like ours for laying all the year round; there are no roses like ours.
And there's always a friendly feeling in this house, and always has been.
'Tis not a house for wrangling and jangling, and sharp words. The