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town； and must have been exceedingly coquettish and pretty； judging from
a certain portrait on ivory still in the possession of the family。 According
to Dame Jocelyn； George Washington flirted with her just a little bit…in
what a stately and highly finished manner can be imagined。
There was a mirror with a deep filigreed frame hanging over the
mantel…piece in this room。 The glass was cracked and the quicksilver
rubbed off or discolored in many places。 When it reflected your face you
had the singular pleasure of not recognizing yourself。 It gave your features
the appearance of having been run through a mince…meat machine。 But
what rendered the looking…glass a thing of enchantment to me was a faded
green feather； tipped with scarlet； which drooped from the top of the
tarnished gilt mouldings。 This feather Washington took from the plume of
his three…cornered hat； and presented with his own hand to the worshipful
Mistress Jocelyn the day he left Rivermouth forever。 I wish I could
describe the mincing genteel air； and the ill…concealed self…complacency；
with which the dear old lady related the incident。
Many a Saturday afternoon have I climbed up the rickety staircase to
that dingy room； which always had a flavor of snuff about it； to sit on a
stiff…backed chair and listen for hours together to Dame Jocelyn's stories
of the olden time。 How she would prattle！ She was bedridden…poor
creature！…and had not been out of the chamber for fourteen years。
Meanwhile the world had shot ahead of Dame Jocelyn。 The changes that
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had taken place under her very nose were unknown to this faded； crooning
old gentlewoman； whom the eighteenth century had neglected to take
away with the rest of its odd traps。 She had no patience with newfangled
notions。 The old ways and the old times were good enough for her。 She
had never seen a steam engine； though she had heard 〃the dratted thing〃
screech in the distance。 In her day； when gentlefolk traveled； they went in
their own coaches。 She didn't see how respectable people could bring
themselves down to 〃riding in a car with rag…tag and bobtail and Lord…
knows…who。〃 Poor old aristocrat The landlord charged her no rent for the
room； and the neighbors took turns in supplying her with meals。 Towards
the close of her life…she lived to be ninety…nine…she grew very fretful and
capricious about her food。 If she didn't chance to fancy what was sent her；
she had no hesitation in sending it back to the giver with 〃Miss Jocelyn's
respectful compliments。〃
But I have been gossiping too long…and yet not too long if I have
impressed upon the reader an idea of what a rusty； delightful old town it
was to which I had come to spend the next three or four years of my
boyhood。
A drive of twenty minutes from the station brought us to the door…step
of Grandfather Nutter's house。 What kind of house it was； and what sort of
people lived in it； shall be told in another chapter。
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The Story of a Bad Boy
CHAPTER Five
The Nutter House and the Nutter Family
The Nutter House…all the more prominent dwellings in Rivermouth are
named after somebody； for instance； there is the Walford House； the
Venner House； the Trefethen House； etc。； though it by no means follows
that they are inhabited by the people whose names they bear…the Nutter
House； to resume； has been in our family nearly a hundred years； and is an
honor to the builder （an ancestor of ours； I believe）； supposing durability
to be a merit。 If our ancestor was a carpenter； he knew his trade。 I wish I
knew mine as well。 Such timber and such workmanship don't often come
together in houses built nowadays。
Imagine a low…studded structure； with a wide hall running through the
middle。 At your right band； as you enter； stands a tall black mahogany
clock； looking like an Egyptian mummy set up on end。 On each side of the
hall are doors （whose knobs； it must be confessed； do not turn very easily）；
opening into large rooms wainscoted and rich in wood…carvings about the
mantel…pieces and cornices。 The walls are covered with pictured paper；
representing landscapes and sea…views。 In the parlor； for example； this
enlivening figure is repeated all over the room。 A group of English
peasants； wearing Italian hats； are dancing on a lawn that abruptly resolves
itself into a sea…beach； upon which stands a flabby fisherman （nationality
unknown）； quietly hauling in what appears to be a small whale； and totally
regardless of the dreadful naval combat going on just beyond the end of
his fishing…rod。 On the other side of the ships is the main…land again； with
the same peasants dancing。 Our ancestors were very worthy people； but
their wall…papers were abominable。
There are neither grates nor stoves in these quaint chambers； but
splendid open chimney…places； with room enough for the corpulent back…
log to turn over comfortably on the polished andirons。 A wide staircase
leads from the hall to the second story； which is arranged much like the
first。 Over this is the garret。 I needn't tell a New England boy what…a
museum of curiosities is the garret of a well…regulated New England house
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The Story of a Bad Boy
of fifty or sixty years' standing。 Here meet together； as if by some
preconcerted arrangement； all the broken…down chairs of the household；
all the spavined tables； all the seedy hats； all the intoxicated…looking boots；
all the split walking…sticks that have retired from business； 〃weary with the
march of life。〃 The pots； the pans； the trunks； the bottles…who may hope to
make an inventory of the numberless odds and ends collected in this
bewildering lumber…room？ But what a place it is to sit of an afternoon
with the rain pattering on the roof！ 20What a place in which to read
Gulliver's Travels； or the famous adventures of Rinaldo Rinaldini！
My grandfather's house stood a little back f