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Updated: May 15, 2025
"He's the long, snaky knife that hangs in the parlor," said Hortense. "Then there's Alligator Sofa, too. We'll get him to play, if he'll wake up. He's so slow I suspect he'll always be It." Highboy shivered until he creaked. "They sound fierce and dangerous to me," he said, "worse than Coal and Ember." "Perhaps we can set him on Jeremiah and the other one," said Hortense.
"Highboy and Lowboy are in the cooky jar," said the Clock, not waiting to be asked. "Make haste!" It was not easy to free them. The jar was far taller than Andy and Hortense, and as smooth and slippery as ice.
"Then you must surely come," Hortense urged. "You might be captured, or something, and then you could be dreadfully melancholy and write the beautifullest poetry!" "True," said Highboy. "Sorrow is the food of poets."
Andy and Hortense, with open mouths, watched the horses and riders grow smaller and smaller against the moon, and finally disappear. "Did you ever!" Hortense gasped at last. Hortense and Andy crawled out from under their sacks and found the rest of their band. Highboy and Lowboy, hand in hand, were leaning against the wall, fast asleep, and had seen nothing at all.
"Then you'd better talk with my brother, Lowboy," said Highboy tartly. "He's always cheery. Nothing depresses me so much as people who are always cheerful. Tiresome, I say." "You could learn much from your brother," said Hortense severely. "Why don't you go down and see him now? I'm sure it would do you good." Highboy shivered. "It's so cold and dark in the hall," he said.
"I slept all day," said Highboy, "and I'm fit as a fiddle." "Why do you say fit as a fiddle?" asked Hortense. "Do fiddles have fits? Cats have, of course!" "And dresses," added Highboy, "and things fit into boxes. Your grandmother says when she puts things into me, 'This will fit nicely, so I suppose a fiddle fits or has fits the same way." "It doesn't seem clear to me," said Hortense.
"Alas," mourned Highboy. "Never again will I stand on a good Brussels carpet and see the sunshine pour in the south window. Many a sad year shall I weep for the last embraces of my brother Lowboy and the dull life of home." Hortense was struck to admiration by these moving words. "How lovely," said she. "I didn't know you wrote poetry." "I have a drawer full," said Highboy, perking up a bit.
Then she had an inspiration. Quickly unclasping the charm, she reached down to Highboy and said, "Swallow this, quick!" "Is it can ," Highboy began but could say no more, for she crammed it into his mouth. "I'm sure it's indigestible," Highboy complained, "and it wasn't sweet. I don't like it." "Hurry!"
The doctor, turning puzzled eyes back to the mirror, saw now that a large oil painting hung beside it on the wall. "I wasn't talking about your pictures, man," he scoffed then. "I was looking at that mirror there, and I'd like the highboy downstairs, if I could persuade you to part with them, and WOULD you be willing to part with them?" "What do you think!" Make your own selection, doctor.
"Why, they do, too," interfered Dorothy, with suddenly pink cheeks. "This room is just full of the loveliest kind of old things, just like the things father is always getting only nicer. Now that, right there in the corner, all full of drawers We've got one almost just exactly like that out home, and father just dotes on it. That IS a a highboy, isn't it?" she appealed to Susan.
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