Neighbor Nelly Socks Being the Sixth and Last Book of the Series

Excerpt

THE OLD BACHELOR'S STORY.

In the city block where I live, there are just twenty-four houses on the other side of the street, and twenty-four on this side, six lamp posts, and eight ailanthus trees in green boxes. Oh, dear me, what a tiresome row! That's what I thought when I first came to lodge here; for, as I am an old bachelor, I don't want a whole house to myself; but now, when I sit at my window and look out at the street, I find no end of things to amuse and interest me; particularly when the gas is lighted of an evening, and I can see a little way into the parlors of the opposite neighbors. I suppose they know that an old bachelor like Josiah Oldbird can do no harm by looking on at their evening amusements; so they do not pull the blinds down if they chance to see me, sitting lonely at my window, and willing to accept such crumbs of their society and happiness as I can glean over the way.

First, then, is the family at No. 7, three maiden sisters and a bachelor brother. As I don't in the least know their names, I have dubbed them the Bluejays, because the three maiden sisters always wear blue merino gowns in winter, and blue muslin ones in summer; and because they are all so fond of singing that no family of birds could be more musical. They have a pet poodle and a pet squirrel, too. The poodle is very fat, and his hair sticks out so much all over him, that he looks perpetually astonished, as if he had just seen a spook. He always stands on the window sill, when the sash is raised of an afternoon, and glares into the street until he sees the bachelor brother coming. Then he achieves a series of frantic yells and bounces, until somebody comes to open the door and lets him out, when he waddles to the front steps to meet his master, wagging his tail to that tremendous extent, that it looks like the shuttle of a steam power loom.

The squirrel is slim and sleek, and seems to enjoy life amazingly, he hops about so. When one of the Miss Bluejays takes him in her arms, he won't stay there, but gets away, and walks all over her head and shoulders; and at last runs down her back and disappears.

Then, at No. 11, a very fat gentleman lives with his fat and pretty wife, and round dumpling of a baby. As I don't know him either, I call him Mr. Fatty, and he seems to be a "good-natured giant." I saw a little boy actually stop short to stare at him the other day, when he was sitting out at his front door—he is such a regular roly-poly of a gentleman—but he only laughed good-temperedly, and never got vexed in the least. I don't advise you to try this with all fat gentlemen though; they might accidentally sit down on a chair—where you were—afterward, and that would be the last of you. This piece of advice, however, is a great secret between you and me!

He is so glad to meet the fat baby when he comes home at night, that I can see him in the parlor first kissing it almost black and blue, and then tossing it up in the air until I feel as though its head must come bump against the ceiling, but it doesn't—and at last, carrying it off perched on his shoulder, and looking very much perturbed in its spirits....